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Chapter Text

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing

8.4 hours after "The Incident"

There was a dull pressure pulling at the undersides of Senator Mon Mothma's forehead, as she carefully set her freshly-brewed cup of hot Chandrillan herbal tea on the desk in front of her. (Extra strength tension tamer, an expensive blend.)

She sank into her seat with a weary, kind of bone-tired exhaustion.

The kind of exhaustion she used to get back in her Senate days when Palpatine called them all into the chamber for one of his long dramatic speeches to "motivate" them to vote for his latest pet tyranny measure. (By the galaxies could that shriveled prune drone on and on!)

The kind of exhaustion she'd felt after laboring twenty-six hours (by herself, with no medication thank you so much, Perrin, you were a big help) giving birth to Leida.

That kind of exhaustion.

Exhaling heavily, she spoke.

"All right," she said. "Let's go over everything again, just to be sure we have it all straight."

She glanced up at the three sheepish-looking women seated across from her: a green-skinned Twi'lek pilot, a young, composed Alderaanian princess, and a lady in plainclothes of varying browns and tans—who all seemed in that moment much less like the brave and competent Rebel leaders they were and much more like juvenile delinquents having a conference with the principal to discuss the terms of their detention.

The three exchanged chagrined glances.

"General Syndulla, why don't you start?" Mon Mothma prompted, curling hands around her teacup.

"Of course, Senator." Hera Syndulla straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat, lekku bouncing a bit against her back.

Assuming an air of professionalism (as much as there could be anything professional about the situation) she began.

"At 0700 hours yesterday morning, my crew and I—Rebel Designation: Spectre Cell of Phoenix Group—" she added for the benefit of Mothma's notes. "—received a mission assignment from Major Bren Derlin, concerning some classified Imperial intelligence data the Alliance wanted retrieved from IRO facility Alpha-Four, located on the Imperial occupied planet Klipspree in the capital city Jargoon, near Hanger 37 of the city's main spaceport."

She paused a moment, expectantly.

A tick or two passed.

"...Do you need to write any of that down?" she asked, when Mon Mothma merely nursed her cup and sipped from it with a morose expression.

The Senator waved her off, gesturing vaguely at the rectangular black box on her desk. "We're recording," she told her. "Go on."

Hera nodded and resumed. "Our mission was to retrieve information pertaining to secret Imperial construction projects out in the Rishi Maze. The files were believed to be stored in the facility's main data core, in the North Tower." Hera adjusted her seating, getting a smidge more comfortable. "We left Yavin no later than 0730, I filled my team in on the mission details while in hyperspace, and we made it to Klipspree around 1100." She lifted her hands open-palmed with a wry, embarrassed smile. "And then, well..."

She trailed off.

"Poodoo hit the aerator?" Mon Mothma guessed.

"To put it mildly."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Mon Mothma addressed the next person in the line. "What about you, Senator Organa?" she asked.

Princess Leia Organa came to attention. Her hair in its single low-rise bun was still impeccably in place (remarkable, considering), though her white jacket showed traces of carbon dusting and splatters of something greenish that looked almost like slime.

"We were en route back to Yavin from Malastare, after a mostly successful negotiation with the underground Dug Council," she said.

"Mostly successful?" Mon Mothma pressed, tiredly.

"Well, Han didn't shoot anyone this time... but he's probably not going to be invited back anytime soon," the princess explained, smiling a bit at the memory, leaning back in the chair with her arms crossed.

Mon Mothma didn't have the mental capacity to deal with or process that at the moment.

"We'll unpack that at a later briefing," she decided. "Let's just focus on today."

Leia made a face. "Right. Today." Seemingly reluctant to continue, she nevertheless forged on ahead. "Well, at about 0900 we received a coded message from Lieutenant Draven, with a request we assumed at the time came from Rebel High Command, to intercept some highly classified lists of known Rebel sympathizers on Klipspree and surrounding worlds and prevent their transmission through ISB channels. The list was kept on a data disk locked inside a secure console locker."

She glanced significantly towards Hera, face twisting as if being forced to confess some mortal sin.

"Also at IRO Alpha-Four in the North Tower."

"Huh," Hera said in mild fascination. "Did Draven know we were already assigned to a mission at that location?"

Leia's brows wrinkled. "I'm not sure," she confessed. "I don't think so. I looked into the logs later and it didn't look like our assignment was properly entered into the active missions manifest until later. May have just been a miscommunication between branches."

"An oversight I can assure you will not happen again," Mon Mothma said, shuddering.

"We were already in the general quadrant and Han wasn't exactly eager to return to Yavin—" Leia continued.

"Unpacking that later," Mon Mothma mumbled again, staring down into her cup. The tea wasn't nearly strong enough.

"—so we just diverted course and headed straight there."

Emerging from a long drag of her tea—which was doing nothing for her headache, she really ought to get her money back—Mon Mothma asked, "And approximately what time did you get to Klipspree?"

Leia looked at Hera again. "I think it was at 1109, local time," she said, embarrassed.

Mon Mothma still wasn't sure if she believed in the Force but she wondered in that moment if it was laughing at her.

They turned to the last person sitting.

The woman cleared her throat, ducking her eyes a bit at being suddenly the new center of attention. "Cere Junda, Senator," she introduced. "I've been operating a Rebel cell out of an S-161 "Stinger" XL—"

"Oh that's a beautiful model," Mon Mothma said appreciatively as she set down her cup.

"Thank you—called the Stinger Mantis, captained by one Greez Dritus of Latero, for about seventeen years now."

Managing a tired smile, Mon Mothma extended a hand. "Well I wish it were under better circumstance but... welcome to the Alliance, Miss Junda."

The woman held up a palm. "Please," she said, "call me Cere." Switching tacks, "As for what brought my crew to Klipspree, let's just say we have a vested interest in tracking down and liberating stolen Jedi artifacts and happened to trace one to IRO Alpha-Four in—"

"Let me guess," Mon Mothma interrupted wearily. "The North Tower?"

Cere's mouth twitched, bemused. "Adjacent to it, actually," she corrected. "Down a short hallway."

"Oh good!" the Senator burst out with unexpected sarcasm, throwing her hands out and her eyes up towards the ceiling. "It was down a short hallway! At least you weren't all stepping on each other's toes!"

"Ohhhhhh I'd say there was a bit of toes-stepping involved," Hera piped up.

"And zapping," added Leia. "And explosions."

Cere shifted in her seat. "Is your friend okay?" she asked. "The little blonde padawan? He took a pretty hard hit, BD-1 was worried."

"He bashed his head like only a Skywalker can," Leia sighed. "But the med-droid says he'll be fine, wanted me to discharge him early on account of he won't shut up about his new Jedi friends and the droid says its 'distracting from his primary function'. Han was down there too inhaling a whole bottle of blood pressure medication last I saw him."

"Sabine can paint back over her artwork," Hera offered. Checking herself, she amended, "Let me rephrase: She will paint back over her artwork and return the Falcon to normal."

Leia smirked. "Actually I think the color is an improvement," she said.

Mon Mothma watched the three converse with a spinning head.

Oh yeah, no, the Force was definitely laughing at her now.

She let her hand drop into one of the drawers in her desk and surreptitiously skimmed a migraine tablet from the bottle, tossing it back dry and following it with a gulp of tea.

"—missing a crate of Corellian hooch and I can't get hold of Zeb, so that's where he and Chewbacca must have—" Hera stopped herself when she noticed Mon Mothma's dead glassy exhaustion. "I'm sorry," she said, putting up apologetic hands. "Let me start at the beginning."

"Please do," the Senator begged, sagging in her seat and gesturing limply towards the recording device.

Hera took a slow, deep breath.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

Incident reports were a necessary evil he knew, but by the galaxy there was nothing ISB Agent Gideon hated more. The naked incompetence these reports often revealed in the rank and file of what was supposed to be the Empire's finest almost made him want to strangle someone.

...Though he suspected he wouldn't be doing most of the strangling today, he thought, glancing aside at the hulking black mass of mechanical anger and death to his left that was Darth Vader.

Darth kriffing Vader. You knew you were screwed when the Emperor's right hand man (Machine? Gideon wasn't sure but he wasn't stupid enough to ask.) was called in. Vader hadn't said anything in the twenty minutes he'd been hovering at Gideon's shoulder—hadn't done much of anything aside from breathe menacingly, really—but Gideon swore there was a palpable vibrating fury in the constant hrrrrrch-choock of the black respirator that made him want to instinctively protect his own throat, nervous.

A preliminary perusal through the notes already collected on his datapad all but confirmed it to Gideon: Someone was getting shanked today.

(Possibly multiple someones, it depended on his and Vader's moods, the subjective reasonableness of the excuses given, who happened to owe Palpatine personal favors, whose daughter Gideon might have liked to take out to drinks that night after everything...)

Gideon sighed and dropped the datapad down on the desk. Ignoring the looming cloud of Bad Vibes And Wrath standing at his left shoulder for now he spoke up and prompted the person on his right.

"Date and time?"

The Imperial stenographer adjusted her trim silver spectacles, other hand poised over her typing pad. "Already recorded, Sir," she replied in a clipped, pleasant voice.

Inhaling, Gideon braced himself. "All right, let's get this kriffshow overwith," he grumbled. He held up a finger sharply. "Don't put that in the report," he told the stenographer.

She nodded, her neat gray ponytail bobbing under her cap.

Gideon cleared his throat.

"Incident Report, Case Code 003-4A-5672-T078: Inquiry into Rebel incursion at Imperial Research Outpost Alpha-Four in Jargoon on Klipspree. Presiding investigator, ISB Agent Gideon. Also in observance, His Eminence Lord Darth Vader." Gideon paused and checked his stenographer, who was tacking away at her typing pad in an even, steady rhythm, stopping moments after he stopped.

He faced towards Vader.

"Lord Vader, do you have any comments you wish to add?"

The steely black mask continued to look menacingly forward, Vader's sinister breathing continuing unabated.

Hrrrrrch-choock... hrrrrrch-choock...

"No," Vader growled.

Oooh, he was pissed. Well, more pissed than usual, Gideon amended mentally, hiding a gulp.

Turning back forward he continued. "Beginning intake of material and eyewitness testimony." He pressed the comm button on the desk, speaking to the troopers just outside the door. "Send them in," he ordered.

The doors to the room opened with a hiss and two Imperial officers stepped in, facing the desk. The taller one's face was blanched and sweating, and shorter stouter one was wringing his cap in his hands with a tight expression, both men clearly already aware of the deep banthashit they were in.

"Commander Dreyn Yalbrook, chief officer of the Jargoon Imperial garrison," Gideon acknowledged, nodding slightly at the taller man. "And Commander Bells Wan, facilities director of Imperial Research Outpost Alpha-Four."

He waited expectantly for 'Yes Sir's from both of them.

Dreyn swayed in place on his feet and Bells just coughed.

Disappointed and already more than a little annoyed, Gideon leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands together sternly on the desk in front of him, rather akin to the posture of a strict but well-meaning teacher addressing a pair of problem students that he nevertheless somehow—despite all evidence to the contrary—believed were worthy and capable.

"I assume you understand why you're here, Commanders?" he asked.

"We—" Bells started to squeak out, then cleared his throat with a slightly louder cough. "—we uh... we had an... incident... involving some Rebels... Sir," he somehow managed to stutter out.

"Let us not mince words, gentlemen," came the sharp baritone voice of Vader, making the two startle and jump. The blank eyes glared daggers down at them. "You allowed no less than three separate Rebel ships to land in Jargoon, infiltrate the IRO facility, and brazenly attack your forces." The next hrrrrrch-choock sounded a bit strained through the breath slots, as if beneath the mask Vader was having some kind of conniption. "After which," he snarled, "you were unable to prevent these Rebels—five of whom were known Jedi fugitives—from escaping."

"F-Five, Sir?" Bells strained.

"Five," Vader confirmed darkly.

Dreyn was practically glistening with sweat now.

Gideon jumped in, picking up the data pad and reading from it. "Property damage to major parts of Hanger number 37, including collapsed wall between Bay 3 and Bay 4, additional damage to surrounding buildings in Jargoon, estimated at a total of a hundred and thirty million Imperial credits," he read off. "Extensive damage to the Imperial facility itself, with multiple impacted walls, traces of graffiti, a blown data core, and one hallway inundated by an as-yet-unidentified gelatin. 157 known Imperial casualties, ranging from 16 lacerations, 102 blaster wounds, 12 dismemberments, two-dozen concussions and instances of head trauma, five cases of electric shock, and one death by suffocation in said aforementioned gelatin."

By this point the two officers were both whiter than a sheet and looking ready to puke.

(Gideon pulled his polished Imperial boots a bit further under the safety of the desk.)

He let the data pad clatter back onto its surface.

"Now," he said, "in your own words and to the best of your ability, can you tell us what, exactly, happened?"

He and Vader waited for a long... pregnant... pause.

The air unit hummed quietly in the background.

The stenographer waited, fingers baited.

...

...

Commander Dreyn burst into hysterical tears.

A long wheezing sound came from Vader as his broad shoulders deflated. Dreyn sobbed and blubbered, large mucus bubbles escaping his nose, abandoning any sort of Imperial dignity altogether.

Suppressing a twitch Gideon glanced aside towards a whimpering Bells. Aaaaand yep, the other officer had peed his pants. Wonderful.

The stenographer's hands hovered uncertainly over her typing pad as she looked on with concern. "Should... I write that down?" she asked.

Gideon sighed and dug out the flask from his coat, untwisting the cap and taking a quick drag.

This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Outside Conference Room B

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

The betting pool on the Revenant was in a bit of a scattered disarray. The going over-under rate for "Length of time it takes for Vader and/or Gideon to strangle someone" had been sitting pretty at "Approximately 40 minutes" but now that the current favored first targets for their wrath—Dreyn and Bells—had escaped their debriefing interview remarkably with throats intact (reigning popular theory was that Vader and Gideon had found them just too pathetic to kill), everyone was scrambling to re-place their bets with the Commissary bookie. The new favorite times were "one hour", "halfway in", and "right before lunch".

Brysi Tanner up on Deck 4 had already somehow made a killing within the first hour, and that was something TK-8574 absolutely could not let stand.

He went down the row of nervous, soon-to-be-intervieweds and advised them all to play up the same traumatized meltdown that had let Dreyn and Bells escape, figuring that watching the same sniveling performance over and over was bound to wear Vader and Gideon down faster.

Sooner or later one of them would snap. And then TK-8574 would be raking in more credits than a prissy stuck-up OPS director could ever dream.

"Take that Brysi, you blonde pompous pinhead," he muttered to himself as he watched a new set of officers step into the conference room.

-SW-

Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Ghost Freighter Living Area

1 hour before "The Incident"

Hera switched on the holoprojector in the dejarik table, bringing up the blueprints provided to them by Rebel High Command.

"All right, IRO Alpha-Four, can everyone see okay?" she asked.

"No, but don't let that stop you," Kanan immediately quipped, standing against the near wall with arms crossed, grinning beneath his eyemask.

Hera smiled and chuckled. "Would you like me to turn on the closed captioning, dear?" she teased sweetly.

"Nah, that's what padawans are for," he joked back. "Right, Ezra?"

Ezra let his eyes roll a little bit, but then studied the map dutifully. "Doesn't look too different from a lot of other Imperial installations," he said. "Big courtyard for deploying TIEs and walkers in the front, barracks in one corner, labs and offices in the other. North Tower high up at the top of the facility past all the guard stations and security." He leaned back on one foot. "Pretty standard, actually."

"You'd think, but they also have one of those nasty rapid-warning systems that gave us trouble on Felucia," Hera told them. Her hands leaned intently on the rim of the dejarik table, glaring narrowly at the holoprojection. "Trip that and you bring down basically the whole garrison on you," she continued, tapping a button and zooming out a little, to encompass the wider general area. The Imperial garrison was clearly marked with bright danger red, in stark contrast to the blue of their target and the neutral yellow of the surrounding city. Chopper had even marked the facility with a blinking digital arrow and a label in binary that flashed, "LOTTA IMPS. KEEP AWAY."

"Sounds to me like we're going to need a distraction to draw the garrison away," piped the voice of Sabine. The brightly armored Mandalorian had an eager gleam in her eyes. "I'm thinking three explosions, one here, here and here," she said, pointing at various places on the map.

"No explosions," Hera shot down immediately. "Major Derlin was very explicit that this remain a stealth mission. In and out. Undetected."

From his seat in the booth, Zeb huffed. "You know that's never how it happens," he said dryly.

"Well, let's be optimistic," Hera replied with a smile. She studied the map for a bit. "All right, looks like here's going to be the easiest access point."

"Maintenance hatch on the south side, 'bout fifty clicks up from the street," Ezra described to Kanan in an unobtrusive whisper.

"You'll infiltrate the lower levels first, then take this turbolift up to Floor 7," Hera continued.

"Near the top, gonna be six chimes."

Sabine, meanwhile, was not quite willing to give up on her favorite incendiary pastime. "Can I talk you down to two explosions?" she asked. "I can time them to cover our escape."

"No explosions," Hera repeated. "Split up once you reach the North Tower, cover the doors and this hallway while Chopper gets into the data core and downloads the intelligence."

"Oooh, that hallway's got a flashbang light defense grid. Better let you handle that one if things get hairy, since it won't affect you," Ezra quipped.

Kanan cuffed him softly upside the head. "Don't be cheeky," he chided playfully.

"Signal me once you've got it and I'll start heading over with the Ghost. I can land in the courtyard here," Hera kept going.

"I'm hearing one and a half explosions," Sabine pitched again.

"How can you have half an explosion?" Zeb muttered.

"They'll probably know something's up when I approach so you might have to fight your way through this auxiliary exit," Hera said. "If that's blocked you can take this passage through the main doors. Oh and take care to avoid Sector 4B, from my preliminary research they're experimenting with some kind of prototype nutrient gel intended to replace parts of standard Imperial rations," she finished up.

"Oh come on, that's gotta merit at least one grenade!" Sabine argued desperately. "Hera, that has 'Let Sabine make a big splattery mess' written all over it!"

"Kanan, you take point. Ezra, I want you inside the North Tower covering Chopper. Sabine will..."

Hera trailed off, glancing at the girl.

Sabine quivered with anticipation, giving her best Loth-Wolf puppy eyes.

"...You know what? Maybe you should stay here with me and hold the hanger instead, Sabine," Hera quickly changed her mind.

"What?! But—!" Sabine sputtered, immediately scandalized.

"Ah heh heh heh heh!" Zeb gave a loud guffaw and slapped the table, laughing at the girl's expression and misfortune.

"You too, Zeb, I want you stationed by this door until extraction."

The laughing immediately stopped, grin dropping off Zeb's face and replaced with a sour frown. "Awww!" he groaned, pouting with crossed arms.

Hera put her fists on her hips as she straightened. "Everyone understand the plan?" she asked.

A round of mumbled, "Yes Hera"s, some more resentful than others.

"Good. Then we'll—"

Chopper interrupted her, rolling brazenly into the room with loud blorts.

"What is it, Chopper?" Hera asked.

"WAAAAAAAAAAB WUB WHAB WUB," he beeped.

Hera furrowed her eyes. "A message from the Alliance?" she repeated, confusion pinching between her brows. "What did it say?"

Chopper waved his pincers dismissively with another series of warbles.

"Well, why didn't you answer?!" Hera demanded. She ran a palm down her face, switching off the holotable. "Ugh, nevermind, I'll listen to it later. Go time is at 1100, people. Be ready," she ordered, marching off down the hallway towards the cockpit.

Sabine waited until she was safely out of hearing range and then slumped in the booth, in a mirror-image crossed-armed pose to Zeb's, face sour like a child deprived of their favorite candy.

"She takes the fun out of everything," she grumbled.

Ezra patted her shoulder sympathetically.

-SW-

Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Millennium Falcon cockpit

40 minutes before "The Incident"

"Ccchhhkkk—come in Fal—skkkhhhh—please please respon—krshhhh—shhhhhkk—nother team at the same—skkkkkrrrrr—watch—"

"Sir?" Threepio inquired towards the legs stuck halfway inside an open panel. "There appears to be a message coming through to us from Rebel Command."

"Yeah?" came Han Solo's voice, muffled by the machinery and wires he was currently stuck up inside. "What d'they want?"

"Unclear sir, the message is very garbled," Threepio reported regretfully. "I'm quite unable to parse it at all I'm afraid."

Sighing, Han pulled himself out from the open access panel, hydrospanner in hand. "Yeah the comm's been on the fritz for a while," he told Threepio. He gestured with the hydrospanner. "Get Artoo to look at it, see if he can't figure out what's wrong with it."

"Right away sir," Threepio said, bobbing his head.

"Just out of curiosity," came a feminine voice from behind them. "Is there anything on this steaming junk heap that isn't on the fritz?"

Han resisted the sour twist that came over his face, plastering on a congenial smile as he turned to face the princess, who was leaned against the side of the hallway just outside the cockpit.

"All right, so the Falcon isn't in the best of shape right now—" he admitted.

Leia snorted. "Is it ever?" she challenged.

"Hey!" Han's voice turned just slightly sharper, losing the smile. "Watch it, she's sensitive."

"Yeah Han, that's our problem," Leia pointed out. She shouldered off the wall and dropped her hands as she gestured. "We've got an air cycling unit that only works half the time, the repulsor coils are filling up with gunk, and there's a smell in the 'fresher pipes from something that I don't even wanna know about but it's vile."

Deeper in the cabin, Chewbacca roared out an addition.

"And we've still got a leak in the hyperspace fuel line, thank you Chewie," Leia finished.

"Yeah, thanks Chewie," Han muttered.

Threepio had borne witness to the argument (this made number three-hundred and seventy one this week, a new record) silently up until now, merely tilting his head towards each party in turn, but now he piped up.

"In fairness, Your Highness," he addressed Leia, "the fuel line leak could have been avoided had the Dugs not turned their alternating mounted carbine turbolaser on us."

"Han didn't have to shoot at the Head Councilman!" Leia pointed out indignantly.

"He was a pain in the ass and he smelled bad," Han defended grumpily. "Look, stand here and keep flapping your gums if you want," he said, turning his back on her and bending down to look through the open toolbox next to the panel. "Otherwise... make yourself useful."

Leia began rolling up her sleeves. "All right, fine," she declared.

Han felt a jolt of alarm as she knelt down panel level, looking like she was reaching into the open access.

"Woah woah hey, what are you doing?!" he demanded, protectively inserting himself between her and the blue-lit wires and parts, hand splaying across the open panel.

Fixing him with an incredulous look, Leia said, "I'm helping repair the Falcon."

"No you aren't, are you crazy?!" Han asked her, poking his head just inside and checking to make sure she hadn't gotten any of her icky princess germs in the interior veins of his baby. "You don't just touch a man's ship!" He grabbed a rag and rubbed furiously at a spot he thought she might have breathed on too closely.

He leaned back on his heels, satisfied he'd removed all traces of princess from the walls. He reached for the toolbox's handle and handed the whole thing pointedly to Leia. Turning, he slid himself back into the hatch, head and upper torso disappearing inside the ship.

"You wanna help you can pass me the tools like a good girl," he called back out at her.

Leia stood slowly, the toolbox in her arms, almost too offended to even fume properly.

She considered her options for a moment, rifling through until she decided on petty.

She upturned the box and dumped the contents squarely onto Han's stomach.

Han yawped loudly as several heavy wrenches introduced themselves to his solar plexus. And... lower down.

Leia let the toolbox itself drop, releasing it out of her hands dismissively. Han grunted, the legs stuck out from the vent curling up comically in pain. Leia swiveled on her heel and stalked out, shoes tapping on the floor.

Han screwed his mouth, heavily thinking every single swear word he knew in Shyriiwook, Huttese, Rodian, Galactic Basic, and one really foul expletive he'd learned from Sullust. He pulled himself out of the open panel with a grimace, gingerly maneuvering due to his ah... injured area.

"I really hate that woman," he muttered, reaching for the tool he needed.

"I don't think she's very fond of you either, Sir," Threepio observed.

Glowering, Han glared at the protocol droid. "Fix the damn comms," he ordered, his head disappearing into the open compartment again.

-SW-

Luke slumped at the dejarik table, arms draped across the edges, and rolled his father's lightsaber back and forth with his fingers on the surface. He stared straight down the emitter as he idly fidgeted with it.

Entering, Chewbacca shuffled into the room with a separate (un-upturned) toolbox, fur a bit greasy from having fixed the leak in the hyperspace fuel line. The Wookie took one look at Luke and grunted a concerned-but-blunt question.

"Arrrrr rraaaagh rrrraaa?"

"I'm not moping," Luke denied, flicking his saber again. It rolled a few inches left, it returned those few inches right, back to his hands.

Chewbacca gave a skeptical huff.

Sighing, Luke stopped his fidgeting and straightened up, leaving the saber on the table. His back slumped into the seat now, instead. "It's just... there was so much more that I needed to learn about all this 'being a Jedi' stuff," he admitted. His eyes were saddened, his smile grim and humorless. "I'm not any good at it without Ben."

Chewbacca barked some encouragement, gesturing with a paw.

Luke's smile twitched, turning a smidge more genuine. "Thanks Chewie. Glad at least you think I've made progress." He shifted in his seat, turning more forward. "You knew some Jedi, you said? Back in the Clone Wars?"

"Rraf!" Chewbacca confirmed, with a proud and vigorous nod.

"I don't suppose you have any advice for a greenback Jedi learner do you?" he asked hopefully. "Any Force techniques you could tell me about?"

The Wookie barked apologetically, giving a chagrined shrug.

Optimism falling right off his face, Luke sighed again. "No, yeah, I guess that makes sense. It would be hard to describe if you don't 'have it', you know?"

"Rrmmmph," Chewbacca agreed.

A flutter from the doorway announced a new presence. "Kid having his usual moping session about how he's the only Jedi left in the galaxy?" Han asked, wiping his hands on a cloth as he entered.

"I'm not moping," Luke pouted sourly.

"Rrraaa grraa rrhmph!" Chewbacca chimed in in agreement at almost the same time.

Han rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever, kid. Listen: Rebel Command has got some new task they need us to do so if you can pull yourself out of your pity party, your limited skills would be much appreciated."

A little incensed, Luke put his hands flat on the dejarik table. "Come on, Han, you're old enough to remember the Jedi. Don't you ever wonder where they all went?" he challenged.

"Not sure if I should feel insulted by that," Han muttered. He tossed the handcloth aside haphazardly into a random corner and stepped over to the booth. "I mean, yeah, one minute they're all over the holonet, leading armies and fighting battle droids, stuff of living legends, all that." He shrugged, his shoulder sloughing nonchalantly. "And then the next they're just... all gone."

Luke was vibrating, hanging on Han's every word, as meager as it was. "What do you think happened to them all?" he asked breathlessly.

Han groaned. "I dunno, kid, I was ten. Intergalactic politics wasn't exactly at the top of my mind back then." At a stern look from Chewbacca he continued, "There were some whispers about them being traitors or something. Assassination attempt on the chancellor I think." He dropped into the booth, sitting across from Luke. Glancing from side to side with his eyes, he lowered his voice, spoke almost conspiratorially. "You think maybe the Empire... pulled an Alderaan on them?" he asked.

There was a scrape and shuffle from somewhere further in the ship.

"REALLY?!" Leia's voice bellowed out, incensed and offended. "Oh, real mature, Han! Real sensitive!"

Not even questioning how Leia could possibly have heard him Han immediately defended, "What?! I'm saying the Empire probably wiped them all out, that's a bad thing!"

Luke groaned, turning his head in aggravation. What was that, the third time this hour Han and Leia had gotten into it?

Being on this junk heap was insufferable enough without those two butting heads every few minutes.

He half wanted to tell them to get a room to work their issues out.

Only half.

He dropped his curious questions about the Jedi and their fate, choosing instead, as Han's voice rose even louder to counter Leia's shouts from somewhere in the belly of the ship, to dismiss himself with an overeager, "You know what? I'm gonna go clean the air cycler conduits." as he stood up from the table.

Chewbacca quickly agreed with him, and the two hastily exited as the shouting grew even louder behind them.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Communications and OPS Ready Room

30 minutes before "The Incident"

There seemed be an unusual agitation at the comms station, Mon Mothma noticed, as she made her rounds of the Command Center, having already checked in with Espionage, Maintenance, Supplies and Storage, and the Music Division. (She still wasn't quite sure why they had that last sect but she supposed it was for morale purposes and didn't interrogate it much further.)

One of the operators looked stressed out of his mind, repeatedly calling into the speaker on his console with pinched features.

She caught snatches of what he was saying as she walked up.

"Rebel Command to Millennium Falcon? Falcon come in." An anxious beat or two and then, "Please come in, Falcon," the operator begged.

Concern growing inside her, Mon Mothma hastened her pace to step up behind the stressed operator.

"Ensign?" she addressed him. "Is something wrong?"

The young officer hung his head, his hand still stretched out over the console like he wanted to collapse on top of it.

"Draven said he assigned the Falcon a mission," he explained, muttering wearily.

Her brows scrunched. Draven had a bad habit of not waiting for authorization to give out assignments but that wasn't anything new. The Rebellion was full of cocksure mavericks, it was as infuriating as it was effective.

"All... right...?" she said carefully, tone subtly plying for more information. "Was there a problem?"

Turning in his seat, swiveling towards her with chagrin on his face, the operator grabbed a flimsi sheet from off the console and handed it to her. She took it in her hands carefully, eyes scanning over it briefly and recognizing it as one of their official mission logs, records of each ship and team they had sent out into the field and when.

"The Ghost was already assigned to a mission at the same facility," the operator told her, miserably. "I've been trying to raise both ships for almost half an hour now to warn them, but they won't respond," he continued.

Mon Mothma's face froze as she confirmed the discrepancy for herself in the log and then it did several things in rapid succession:

First, she blanched, turning whiter than a sheet.

Then her face turned a little greenish, mouth pinching in a flat line against some kind of horrified scream.

Finally, she cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing rapidly pink as she turned her eyes and handed the flimsi sheet back to the technician.

"I'm... sure it will be all right," she said, voice strained, not sounding sure of that at all. "Both teams are... competent and professional." She was going to be sick. "They'll be okay," she lied, drifting away from the comms station in a daze.

There was going to be sooooo much paperwork after this, she thought with dread.

-SW-

Corsin - Docking Bay 53 - Stinger Mantis Main Living Area

20 minutes before "The Incident"

"Cere!" came the excited, over-eager call.

The Jedi woman glanced up from her datapad. Cal was trying to shove his own pad in front of her eyes—Cere glimpsed the headline of an article about some kind of rare discovery in an archeological dig and leaned her head back, squinting.

"Another Jedi artifact?" she guessed.

"Saw says the Imperial Survey Corps is moving it from IRO Alpha-Four on Klipspree to the Inner Core in two days," he explained, withdrawing the pad and scrolling down through its contents. "Which means the best chance we have of grabbing it is right now."

"Exactly how many Jedi artifacts do we need to liberate, Cal, before you are satisfied?" came Merrin's skeptical comment from where she sat on the other side of the couch, feet up on the small table and nose buried in Arleen Tarokin's latest sordid romance novel. "We are running out of room on the ship," she grumbled, thinking of the overcrowded engine room where Cal had been storing most of their captures. It was getting exceedingly hard to move around in there, which made seducing—ah, courting her Jedi companion increasingly difficult.

"Plus Klipspree is horrible this time of year," Greez added from his seat in the cockpit, voice drifting back to them from the open hallway. "Bad weather, worse fuel prices, and it's feymaker season," he complained. "Damn pollens will make my allergies flare up like the frills of a Tontine lizard in heat. My nose is getting itchy just thinking about it."

"But it's the Winged Goddess from the library of Ossus!" Cal protested, eyes pinching, looking almost crestfallen as he turned the pad around again for Cere to see. "You remember, Cere? Younglings would take field trips to go see the gallery. That statue used to sit in the main corridor."

"I remember," Cere said carefully, already feeling her resolve beginning to crack. Cal was hitting her right in the "Hey, our entire culture was genocided" nostalgia and it was just a little bit aggravating how well the tactic worked.

"Kid, no. That place will be crawling with Stormtroopers," Greez argued from the cockpit.

All Cal had to do was turn his big blue eyes towards her.

"Please Cere?" he begged, eager and earnest.

Cere bit her lip, trying to hold out.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing

8.4 hours after "The Incident"

Cere shifted a bit uncomfortably at the incredulous looks that were being pinned on her.

"In my defense..." she said, "...he has very convincing puppy dog eyes."

The other women shifted their looks away, shuffling in their seats with murmurs of understanding and agreement.

Chapter Text

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 Air Traffic Control Tower - Visual Control Room

12 minutes before "The Incident"

Celeste Pells, Imperial air traffic coordinator, clocked into her shift at exactly 1058 standard galactic time, smile bright and cheery as ever.

"Morning everyone!" she greeted in a chipper tone, to various unenthused flat mumbles from her co-workers.

The techie didn't mind, crossing right over to her station and dropping her bag next to the chair. Plopping into her seat, she immediately snuck her personal datapad out of the bag and turned it on, opening it back up to Chapter Thirteen of Arleen Tarokin's Sabers of Passion.

The book was technically contraband—as most fun things in life were—banned by most official holobook outlets for its positive (if salacious) depiction of the Jedi Order and for general indecency. It was a relic from the days of the Republic. Or so she was told. But if one knew where to look (and had a decent private holonet connection), they were still available for download and purchase in the deepest recesses of cyberspace, and Celeste was nothing if not persistent in her quest for Arleen Tarokin's full body of work.

Modern romance writers just didn't come close to the passion and tension and sizzling chemistry, she bemoaned again to herself.

Surreptitiously checking to make sure no one was watching—because this was definitely material not safe for work and would get her in a lot of trouble—she skimmed the page until she found the place where she'd left off.

She settled into the exploits of Princess Antiphone of Naboo and her handsome Jedi Knight bodyguard Kin-Adi Nightstriker, eagerly devouring the words like the two leads devoured each other's mouths.

The radio chatter continued behind her in a steady stream.

-SW-

"VCX-100 please transmit your clearance codes for landing approval."

"Copy that, Tower, transmission commencing."

"Thank you VCX freighter Tontine, you are cleared to land at Platform A in Bay 3."

A very ordinary-looking, unassuming Corellian freighter pulled up in the air and hovered for a moment before slowly descending into one of the hanger's open air bays, right at 1100 standard time.

-SW-

"Control Tower this is the Solaris Massis requesting permission to dock for repairs."

"We see you Solaris, stand by for clearance."

A beat over the line and then:

"Proceed to Platform B, Solaris, we'll have a repair crew sent to the bay and waiting for you."

"No need, Tower, we can enact repairs ourselves. The old girl here is a bit of a finicky model, doesn't like unfamiliar hands touching her, if you know what I mean."

A soft, aggravated, "Oh my god..." from a female voice.

"Understood. Let us know if you change your minds."

"We will do that," promised the pilot.

Another unassuming Corellian ship, slightly more ragged and less put-together looking than the VCX, descended from above and carefully slotted itself into its assigned bay.

It completed its landing cycle at 1109.

-SW-

A flash of silver blipped by the window, circling the spaceport.

"S-161 XL, we have you on our scopes, please identify."

A soft garbled word that sounded like it may have been a swear and then, "Uh, hey there Control Tower, this is the luxury yacht, uh... Velvet One, you got any room down there for one more?"

"Transmit your credentials Velvet One, we'll see if we can fit you in."

"You don't need our credentials."

"...We don't need your credentials. Please descend to Platform C in Bay 4, S-161."

"Thanks!"

The sleek bodied ship dropped and settled into place a few seconds into 1110.

-SW-

The technician who'd cleared them blinked and then shrugged, bending over his station again.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 Air Traffic Control Tower - Visual Control Room

THE INCIDENT

Kin-Adi's sky blue eyes sizzled like the heat off his saber.

"Oh Princess," he sighed, broad shoulders dipping with the motion, "I fear my attachment to you has grown very strong indeed." He fixed her with a white, winsome smile, stealing across his perfect cheeks. "It's enough to make me Fall."

"To the Dark Side?" Antiphone asked, quirking a manicured eyebrow.

His powerful arms swept her up suddenly and she gasped as she found herself flush against his chiseled chest.

"Into your embrace, My Lady," he purred, voice low and husky with a thrilling edge.

Celeste muffled a rather embarrassing noise of delight and skimmed to the next page, leaning back in her chair and putting her heels up in her seat, curling up with her datapad in her lap like a schoolgirl with her pillow at a sleepover.

The quiet room took no notice of her squealing, the soft murmur of radio chatter from patrols on the ground and ships in the air playing out in a steady, calm stream.

The air unit cycled on, thrumming.

Someone to her right coughed a bit, clearing their throat.

Celeste brushed some loose hair out of her face.

"LS-506 can your patrol divert to Sector 4? Getting reports from the technicians down there a grate is loose in the outer wall, south side."

"Copy that Sergeant, we'll take a look."

Someone moved a piece of flimsi.

A quiet slurp of caf echoed from various stations.

The supervisor chewed his lip, studying his word puzzle very intently.

"Uh, this is LS-022, was there supposed to be maintenance working in the lower corridors?"

"Not to my knowledge, LS-022, what's wrong?"

"Door Mark B-7 looks like it's been removed from its tracks."

"Huh. That's weird, let me check with the crew."

The air unit hummed pleasantly.

A chair squeaked.

There was a scritch of a stylus on flimsi as the supervisor marked down an answer in his puzzle.

"Dry dock to Security, can I get a squad down here? There are unauthorized persons walking around in Level 4."

A creak. Someone stretched, yawning widely.

A ship lifted off from a bay on the far side, the vibrations rattling the windows a little.

Celeste thumbed down another page.

"LS-3347 reporting what sounds like blaster shots fired in Hall KY8, moving to intercept and investigate."

...

"What the? Is that a Wooki—"

The voice cut off with a yelp.

A couple eyebrows raised curiously, but the techies soon settled back into their normal mundane tasks.

Someone munched a bit of sandwich from their lunch bag..

The supervisor whispered to an underling, plying for an answer to part of his word puzzle.

The chrono on the wall ticked.

"Sorry, can you repeat that, director?"

"I said put all sectors on alert! There are intruders in the facility!"

Blasterfire could be heard in the background of one of the comm lines.

Celeste sighed, puffing out a breath in aggravation. She was this close to the big damn kiss, she could feel it, and all the racket was making it harder to read.

She pinned her eyes on the line she'd left off on, determined to soldier on.

Kin-Adi was waxing poetic about the princess's star-filled eyes.

"Come in LS-506, can you confirm the insurgents are on Level 5 now?"

"Negative, Sergeant, I said Level 6 ."

"Hang on a minute, getting a report of another squad encountering them on Level 3."

"How many breaches do we have?!"

There was some cheek caressing now, okay, that was promising. Celeste read on, almost skipping over the words of an eloquently penned love confession in her haste and eagerness.

"By the stars above you are insufferable," the princess murmured, the flush in her cheeks belying her words and demonstrating her true feelings. She leaned into Kin-Adi's touch, her face drawing closer to his...

A comm chirped. With some annoyance the supervisor pulled himself from his puzzle and answered it.

"Yes?"

He listened for a minute.

"Understood." He clicked the comm off and signaled. "Commander says lock it down."

Someone else took up the order—Thank stars, Celeste thought—punching the button for the general alert PA system and warning the entire hanger that all departures were grounded until further notice.

Celeste adjusted herself in her seat and read on, and was rewarded for her efforts with the long-awaited kiss she'd been expecting.

...And then things started getting saucier and she got even more intrigued and excited.

"All sectors on alert, there are Rebels inside the facility! Repeat: There are Rebels inside the facility!"

"They're in the North Tower! Squads 10 and 11, we need backup on Level 8!"

Celeste leaned in a bit closer to her datapad. Oh ho, were clothes beginning to come off? Spicy indeed. She bent like a gremlin, almost in half, the increasingly frantic chatter on the comms washing over her like light rain.

Someone muffled a yawn, startling to attention.

A cough came from the far side.

The air unit ticked up a notch, humming pleasantly.

The passion between the two leads in her holonovel was increasing and Celeste was riveted in place. Just a few more pages. She'd read just a few more—

"What d'you mean there's four Jedi?!"

Celeste's eyes froze, widening slightly. She didn't look up, but now her attention was fully captured by the voices behind her, and she listened with a kind of horrified fascination.

"Five?! And a Nightsister?!"

Concerned murmurs fluttered around the room and in spite of their training and long-honed habits of ennui, multiple techies were now starting to look a bit nervous.

"We can't hold out! We're being overrun!"

"We're gettin' killed out here!"

" Someone tell me what's going on?!"

There was a long shriek of terror that rang out over one line.

The supervisor had now put away his puzzle, setting it to the side and standing up to lean over the shoulder of one of the techs, brows furrowed.

"Commander Bells, ah... do you... do you want us to do anything? Else? Hello?"

The supervisor's question went unanswered, and the comms dissolved into increasingly alarming updates.

Which seemed to consist mostly of screaming.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"The project's out of control! It's overtaking the hallway! It's—blubblubblubblurble!"

"The hell's a Lasat doing here?!"

"Mommy!"

Celeste listened with morbid intrigue as someone in the room straightened and scooted closer to their station.

"VCX freighter, you are not authorized to take off right now. I repeat—You are not authorized to—"

"Blow it out all your holes."

KA-BOOOOM!

The control tower shook as a massive orange explosion shook the structure, pluming from the hanger below them.

Fire alarms joined the shrieking general alert to produce an even louder cacophony as the gathered crew watched with numb dismay as several ships made a break for it, some lifting off into the air and getting the hell out of dodge, a couple heading towards the beleaguered IRO facility.

The supervisor took a while to stir and when he did he just pressed the open PA system with a small, inadequate, "Uhhhhh... be advised Imperial garrison, we have structural damage to Bay 3 and 4, requesting assistance from a fire crew, over."

None of the hysterical voices on the line answered him.

Celeste curled up tighter into her seat, her back sliding down the chair as she pulled her datapad up closer to cover her face, focusing back on the sordid words with a long Nooooooooooope echoing through her thoughts.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

"Do you mean to tell me," Gideon said tersely, a vein in his temple throbbing purple, "that while a city-wide Imperial alert was going on... you were sitting there reading smutty romance novels?!"

Celeste felt sweat beading on her brow and resisted the urge to swipe at it, gulping nervously.

"I kind of figured if I didn't look at it it wouldn't be my problem?" she offered with a timid grimace, her face screwing up with the most embarrassed of chagrin.

Darth Vader leaned forward slightly, the hrrrrrch-choock of his breath loud and ominous.

Oh she was dead. She was so dead. Celeste meeped, wide-eyes gaping at the black, skull-like mask.

A pregnant beat, in which she bade goodbye to all her loved ones and her pet rock Sandy.

Then, Vader asked:

"What is the holonovel you were reading?"

Celeste swallowed back a lump. "Uhhhh..." she stammered. "Sabers of Passion? By Arleen Tarokin?" she answered.

...

Vader leaned back, nodding a bit with satisfaction.

"You have excellent taste," he complimented. "That was one of Senator Amidala's favorites as well." His weight shifted to his back foot as all seven feet of him adopted an air of casual lightness. "Arleen Tarokin remains unparalleled in her grasp of the genre."

Hysterical relief crashing over her, Celeste sagged, blurting, "Omigosh right?! I can't stand these new authors, no appreciation for the craft whatsoever!"

"Indeed," Vader agreed with a sage nod.

Encouraged, Celeste continued ranting. "And don't even get me started on the whole 'clandestine Imperial lovers' trope it's just so played out and—"

Gideon gaped at the conversation unfolding before him. He drew out his flask and looked at it, focusing and refocusing his eyes on the little silver bottle before holding it away from him and starting to upturn it.

Before he could pour it out the Imperial stenographer snatched it from him with both hands, slotting it to her lips and taking a long couple of swigs, swallowing audibly with several loud gulps as she horked it down like her life depended on it.

"Gah!" she breathed once she finally came up for air, smacking the bottle's bottom solidly on the desk.

Gideon figured she needed it more than he did and didn't comment further.

Chapter Text

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 4 - Platform C

THE INCIDENT

Greez started to turn in his pilot's seat as he shut the engines down and lowered the ramp.

"You take a sonic shower the moment you get back, you hear me?" he warned Cal. "I don't want a hint of feymaker pollen catching a ride in with you."

"He's already gone, Greez," Cere told him, stepping into the cockpit and patting his shoulder sympathetically.

Undeterred, Greez turned back around and opened the channel to Cal's comlink. "I mean it, kid. Don't go climbing up any weird vines today. Because it's gonna be feymaker. And I'm gonna hate you forever."

"No you won't, Greez," Cal argued, voice entirely too chipper. "Who would bring you plants for your terrarium?"

Greez leaned off the button. "Well, he's got me there," he admitted with a shrug.

"Should I not go into town also?" Merrin asked, coming up into the cockpit as well. "Be on hand and within range should he need backup?"

"You do what you want, lady," Greez dismissed, waving both left hands. "But same rules apply to you."

She nodded, pale gray lips cracking a genuine smile. "Of course, Greez. I will not bring back any flowers."

She started stepping towards the open side door and Greez called after her:

"Or weird crystals! That last one from Mimban gave me a shock I'm still feeling!"

"I make no promises!" she yelled back as she descended the ramp.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 3 - Platform A

THE INCIDENT

Hera climbed up the ladder from the cargo bay, leaving the ramp down for now just in case things went sour faster than they anticipated. The Imperial presence in Jargoon wasn't overwhelming per se, but also not something to sniff at.

If she were a betting woman she would put good money down on them tripping the rapid-warning system at some point.

Once back in the cockpit Hera stepped past a still-sulking Sabine, slumped in her custom-painted passenger seat, and settled into the pilot's chair, checking on a few things and making sure the engines were idling but not draining power.

That was when she noticed the blinking message waiting light on the dashboard.

Hera stared down at it, confused, for a moment.

Somewhere in the back of her head she suddenly remembered Chopper telling them about a transmission from Rebel Command. In their rush she'd forgotten to check it.

Hera flipped a switch, a screen on the console flicking on and scrolling a transcript of the message.

Her eyes widened a sliver.

"Ohhhhhh... kaaaaay..." she said, tone uncertain. Her hand drifted across the buttons until she found the comlink switch. She opened it up. "Uhhh, Spectre 2 to Spectre 1?" she called. "Be advised, there is apparently another Rebel unit operating in the area."

Silence for a moment, then the line crackled.

"...Come again?" asked a very confused-sounding Kanan.

"Just what I said," Hera repeated. "I checked on the message Chopper said we got from Rebel Command and they said there's another Rebel team going to be hitting Jargoon."

Sabine glanced up from her pouting, straightening up, alerting to the conversation and stupefied.

"Did they say which team?" Ezra asked, piping up on the line.

Hera checked the transcript again. "No, they didn't say," she relayed.

"Did they say where in Jargoon they're operating?" Kanan asked.

"Nope, didn't say."

"Did they say what kind of mission the other team is on?" Sabine joined in on the interrogation, scooting forward in her chair.

"They didn't say."

"Are we supposed to join up with them or...?" Ezra piped again.

"They didn't say that either."

Ezra gave an aggravated sound of frustration. "Well what did they say, Hera?"

"'Oh god oh god, please don't interfere with each other's missions'?" Hera read from the message transcript.

"Helpful," Ezra grumbled. "Guessing we can't call Rebel Command and ask for clarification?"

Hera shook her head, lekku bouncing. "Can't risk sending a transmission at this point. I guess just... try not to shoot anyone who doesn't look Imperial?"

"They know they put a blind man on this mission, right?" Kanan drawled witheringly. "That's not gonna help me."

"And what if they're in disguise?" Ezra asked, agitated. "Or what if we're in disguise and they shoot us? Or what if—?"

Hera threw up her hands. "Just be careful, okay!" she snapped.

Kanan gave a heavy sigh. "We'll do our best. Spectre 1 out."

The line disconnected and went silent.

Hera smeared a hand down her face.

"Well," commented Sabine, standing now, arms crossed with an amused smile. "Barely been on the ground a minute and things are already messy. That's gotta be a record for us."

The Twi'lek pilot exhaled. "...Go prep some of your paint bombs," she ordered. "Just... just in case."

Sabine lit up like a firework sparkler and rushed for the door.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 3 - Platform B

THE INCIDENT

Leia was taking advantage of Han's absence to put the wall panel in the cockpit back together. Her mechanical aptitude was a little rusty but she was fairly confident in her ability to splice wires together, at least.

And then she got an actual look at the interior.

Wires crisscrossed in a messy, haphazard tangle, attached to all the wrong sprockets and clearly not up to standard code. There were loose chip boards floating in the wire nest—still connected—and there were pieces of parts she didn't even recognize spliced in and hotwired.

"How is this heap still flying?" she wondered in disbelief.

As she fiddled and made some attempt at understanding the configuration, Threepio came to stand next to her nervously.

"You do think they'll be okay out there, don't you?" he fretted, tilting back to look out the window in a worried fashion.

"Han's a big boy and can take care of himself," Leia assured him, slightly muffled from sticking her head inside the compartment. "Only question is will anything still be left standing when he's done with it," she grumbled. She stared at the tangled wires. "Did he fuse these together with a soldering iron?!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "What was he thinking?!"

"I sincerely wish I knew that, Princess," Threepio commiserated, stealing a glance out his photoreceptors at the tower of the IRO facility in the distance and resisting the quite-irrational urge to call Artoo for updates every five minutes.

(Artoo sent him some anyway, because he knew how Threepio worried.)

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Lower Corridors

THE INCIDENT

BD-1 chirped on Cal's shoulder softly as the Jedi stepped carefully across the scaffolding beams. Cal's boots tapped almost silently as he made his way across—or rather over—the long hall, trailing just behind a pair of Stormtoopers involved in a very... heated conversation.

"It's absolute sithspit is what is it! I get docked for taking 'excessive breaks' 'cause I got a bladder condition and meanwhile Mister Shiny Lapels up there can just take off on unannounced vacations whenever he pleases and suffer zero consequences!"

The other man shook his helmeted head in sympathy. "Preaching to the Rodian Chorus, pal," he complained. "I haven't been able to get any vacation time approved in years. I think the staffing lady in Offices personally hates me."

Cal came to the end of his beam and stopped, cursing quietly. He was still about five feet short of and ten feet high up from the door, which unlike the other passage he'd just came through had no overhang above it that he could land on, no auxiliary exits or vents to pass through. He crouched down on the beam, considering his options, biting his lip.

"I know!" the first trooper exclaimed, as he and his companion stopped rather inconveniently right in front of the door. "My sister's wedding is next week and I can't even get any personal time off! You wanna know what that schutta said?" He put on a falsetto mimicry. "'You're married to the Empire now, dear, and you should be grateful.'"

"What a bitch," the other agreed.

"Yeah, so now Yahnna is gonna be on my ass for the rest of our lives for ruining her big day, and we already don't get along—"

Cal tapped a heel in place impatiently, glancing back down the corridor. He tapped BD-1 on the side of the little droid's head. "We can't go around this door, can we?" he asked.

BD-1 helpfully brought up the map, blue-white hologram shivering in the air a moment, allowing Cal to make a quick study and judgment.

"Great," he groaned, mouth pulling down.

Sensing he was done looking, BD-1 shut off the map and cooed sympathetically, patting a little clawed foot on his shoulder.

"Maybe you could fake medical leave?" the other trooper suggested.

"Are you kidding? Then I'd have to deal with Kevin and he doesn't give out leave for anything short of dismemberment!"

Cal gave one more glance down the corridor, then checked the chrono on his wrist. Straightening up, the Jedi pulled out his lightsaber with a sigh. "I guess there's no way around it," he said to BD-1.

"I still think it could be worth a shot," the other trooper insisted.

Skeptical, the first trooper spread his arms to indicate the empty hallway. "Oh what, you think we're just gonna be attacked out of the blue, like some Rebel or Jedi is gonna drop from the ceiling just like tha—"

He happened to glance up just in time to see Cal Kestis dropping from the scaffolding beams, blue lightsaber held high over his head.

"—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Human Resources Room

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

Kevin stamped the flimsi sheet and cheerfully handed it back.

"Enjoy your medical leave!" he said.

The now-left-armless trooper took the paper grouchily.

"Yay," he grumbled.

He turned stiffly, careful not to pull at the extensive bandaging, and marched past the long line of Imperial personnel waiting behind him.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Floor 7 - Light Defense Grid Hallway

THE INCIDENT

Ezra gingerly lowered the latest unconscious Imperial technician to the ground. Chopper gave a cackle as he put up his electric shock prod, immensely pleased with himself.

"Last one," Ezra told Kanan, who was standing at the ready and pulling his saber from one of the door controls.

The other door locked shut, blocking that hallway off. Now they just had two exits to cover: the turbolift, and the door at the far side of the light defense grid.

Kanan inclined his head. "That sounds like a lot of buzzing," he commented. "Is that...?"

"Yep," Ezra confirmed. "That's the defense grid. Comes right up to the foot of the data core entrance."

"Of course it does," Kanan sighed. "We'd better be careful. These things are super sensitive. And I wouldn't be surprised if they're wired into the rapid warning—"

He stopped abruptly, turning a sharp glare down.

"Chopper!"

Chopper, whose squeaking wheels had given him away, immediately stopped inches from the grid pattern on the floor that would trigger the flashbang sequence.

"BWHUB?" he blorted innocently.

Kanan reached forward and grabbed Chopper by the top antenna, yanking him back like he would a misbehaving child, to Chopper's indignant screeching.

"One of us still has working eyes," Kanan chided, pulling the droid back out of range. To Ezra, he asked, "Can you see the control panel?"

"Yeah," Ezra said. "It's on the far side of the hall. I think I can turn it off from here."

"All right. Carefully though, we don't want—"

BRAAAAAANG! BRAAAAAANG! BRAAAAAANG! BRAAAAAANG!

Ezra threw up his hands. "I didn't touch anything!" he defended immediately.

Kanan gave a long, heavy, tired sigh, just raising his lightsaber and urging the boy forward. "Nothing for it now, you'd better go with Chopper into the data core, cover him!"

Chopper rolled smugly forward, grabbing onto one of Ezra's thigh straps and dragging him forward onto the gridded floor. Ezra barely had enough time to fling up his arm to cover his eyes as the bright flashbangs went off, strobing down the hall like some kind of unholy rave.

"Ow, Chopper!" Ezra complained. He stumbled as Chopper yanked at him. "I'm coming! Cut it out!"

"Play nice!" Kanan scolded from behind them.

Chopper blew a pointed electronic raspberry.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Tanar Marketplace

THE INCIDENT

Merrin had run afoul of that most dreaded bane of retail service—what her clan mother used to call a "gusty".

"Prattles on and on and never gets to an actual point," she'd been warned.

She was trying to edge away from the table of goods, making frantic glances towards the shopkeeper behind the table to come to her rescue and interrupt.

Alas, it seemed the shopkeeper had buried their nose in a magazine for just such a purpose as to ignore the one-sided conversation completely.

"Fantastic summer weather there, you'd love it. You're far too pale, darling, you need some sun."

Merrin gave a chagrined smile, quite certain she had heard an entire travelogue's worth of information about Spira and the 'magical holiday' the old woman had spent there.

She was only too relieved to hear the distant loud siren coming from the IRO facility.

She excused herself with a hurried, "YesIseethisisallveryfascinatingbutI'mafraidIhavetogorescuemyidiotJediboyfriendnow!", which was about the most she could squeeze out between the woman's breaths, and promptly vanished in a green sparkle and flourish.

"And that's when we tried out skyfishing and—good lord!" the woman yelped, interrupting herself, gaping at the spot where the nice young lady in red had been just moments before and falling, for a moment, blessedly silent.

The shopkeeper made a mental note to offer Merrin a discount, if she saw her again.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 4 - Hall KY8

THE INCIDENT

White boots went head over keister as Han clotheslined another trooper in the neck, felling him with one strike. The Stormtrooper went down hard, groaning and lying dazed on the floor.

Behind the smuggler, Luke casually deflected a blaster bolt back into its shooter with his saber.

"You know, Han," he commented, already turning his back on the shrieking trooper, "I can't help but notice the 'shortcut' you were convinced we should take is taking a lot longer than our original path."

Han grit his teeth, wresting with another trooper for possession of his sidearm. "Not the time, Luke," he growled with irritation.

Seemingly oblivious to Han's annoyance, Luke continued. "And that there's a lot more troopers in our way since you touched that device that you swore 'wasn't connected to any alarms'," he added, tone just on the edge of witheringly sarcastic.

Han managed to finally wrestle the blaster from the other trooper, shooting him point blank in the stomach before throwing back at Luke dismissively, "Everything's under control. Chewie and I have been through loads of scrapes like this."

Chewie put in a comment of agreement. The Wookie finished off the last man in the hallway, upending him and sending him slamming into the ceiling before dropping him pointedly onto the floor, insensate.

Smug, Han turned around to grin. "See?" he said. "Nothing we can't handle."

Luke made a doubtful face and noise, which grated on Han's nerves way more than any of Leia's pointed verbal barbs.

He didn't comment though, turning to the turbolift doors and prying then open, ushering everyone in. Artoo took a minute longer than he liked, maneuvering around the fallen bodies (he swore that droid had rocket boosters and was just refusing to use them to make his life difficult) but finally made it in with a cheerful chirp.

The doors hissed shut.

Calm, upbeat music filtered in through the speakers as they ascended.

One floor... two floors... three floors...

...

"...So did you have a plan or—?" Luke started to ask.

Han held up a sharp warning finger.

"Okay," Luke acquiesced, backing off, holding up his hands. "Just asking."

...

The group fidgeted as the elevator climbed.

...

Ding!

With a bright chime the turbolift came to a stop, opening to a short auxiliary hallway just off the North Tower data core. All was quiet, even the buzzing from the light defense grid around the corner was more ambient noise than anything.

Feeling self-satisfied and vindicated, Han let a sly grin steal over his face.

"There, see?" he said, stepping forward. "What'd I tell ya? A quick pop into the data core and we're home free."

He reached for the door controls to the side entrance, pressing them.

"You worry too much, kid," he was saying, as he walked boldly into the data core room. "Stick with me and you'll do just—"

Whatever he was about to brag was lost as he was assaulted at shin level by a searing electric shock.

"Hnngfnhhghhhh!" Han grunted as he seized up, eyes widening.

He toppled forward, near senseless, with enough time to spy an orange-domed astromech and wonder who had painted it such a hideous color before he fell unconscious on the floor.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - North Tower Data Core

THE INCIDENT

"Chopper!" Ezra snapped.

Chopper blared out a loud blort that sounded very much like an indignant, WHAT?!

Ezra threw hands out in exasperation, gesturing with agitated motions to the prone body on the floor. "What did Hera say about not attacking anyone who wasn't Imperial?!" he cried, annoyance in every syllable.

Chopper hotly rushed to defend himself as the other Rebel team filed in. The trim R2 unit moved professionally to the bank of computers after only a cursory glance down at the unconscious man. The Wookie, on the other hand, knelt down by his companion with a huff of concern, turning him over and beginning to slap a paw to his face.

The blonde-haired kid, meanwhile, just kind of stared unnervingly at Ezra. Ezra ignored that for now, focusing on Chopper's binary complaining.

"How do I know they're not—For kriff's sake, Chopper, you think the Empire employs Wookies?" Ezra scolded, pointing at said Wookie in question.

(Said Wookie had given up on tapping at his friend's face and was now just kind of... rolling his torso upright and letting him thump back down.)

Kthunk! Kthunk!

Chopped pouted sourly, crossing his manipulators and turning his dome away with a grumble.

"And you can't just zap someone because they 'looked like an asshole'!" Ezra complained.

"Are you a Jedi?"

Annoyance at Chopper entirely forgotten, Ezra glanced back to see the kid still staring at him, bug-eyed with awe this time.

He was suddenly very aware of his ignited green blade.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." he said, nervous and slightly panicked and starting to wonder if he was going to have to murder a kid his own age to keep his secrets.

The other young man fumbled with something in his hands, hastening to show him. "No no—Look! Look, see!" He held up a silver hilt, and pressed the button to sprout its blue blade again. "See? I have one too!" he said excitedly.

Ezra's face lit up with a kind of 'Did we just become best friends?' expression.

He practically dive-bombed in for a closer look.

"Where'd you get your kyber crystal?" he asked excitedly.

"My what?" the other boy asked cluelessly.

"It's what powers the lightsaber, I got mine at an abandoned Jedi Temple on Lothal."

Luke turned the hilt around, peering at it now curiously. "Mine just came with it, I think. It was my father's."

Ezra flailed a bit. "Your father was a Jedi?!" he asked, too excited to hold still.

"Yeah," Luke said, grinning a bit. "Anakin Skywalker."

"YOUR FATHER WAS ANAKIN SKYWALKER?!"

"YOU KNOW MY FATHER?!"

"I HAVE LIKE A HALF-DOZEN LIGHTSABER TRAINING INSTRUCTIONAL KATAS OF HIM ON MY HOLOCRON!"

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS BUT IT SOUNDS AWESOME!"

Both of them were vibrating out of their skins now, operating on the same hyperactive wavelength. Neither of them heard it when Ezra's comlink chirped on, a very concerned-sounding Kanan on the line calling.

"Ezra, what's going on in there? Did you get the information? Hello? Ezra?"

Chopper huffed and turned on a wheel, deciding he'd better get to work before the cranky older Jedi decided he needed to come inside the Data Core. He butted Artoo out of the way, and Artoo gave a surly beep and whacked him back. Both droids cursed at each other in binary, jostling for access to the port.

Meanwhile on the floor behind them, Chewbacca gave a satisfied grunt and leaned back as Han finally began to stir.

"Ugh..." he groaned, lifting a land to his eyes. "...what hit me?"

Chapter Text

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 3 - Platform A

THE INCIDENT

Hera was not concerned.

She definitely was not considering breaking comm silence and calling in to Rebel Command to ask for clarification on the decidedly alarming message they'd sent.

She was not currently fighting the urge to go out with her little blaster and shoot at the streams of Stormtroopers that were now frantically running towards the IRO facility, to pick them off and make her crew's job getting out just a little bit easier, no sir.

Even when the rapid-warning klaxon began blaring out across the spaceport and the PA system helpfully informed them that the hanger was locked down (as if they could possibly hope to contain her ship, ha!), Hera was absolutely, positively, 100% Not Concerned.

...All right, she was maybe a little anxious.

Rapping her fingers on the console and bouncing her foot, she checked the ship's internal chrono and sighed.

She opened the comm channel.

"Any progress, Kanan? What's happening up there?"

"I don't know what's happening!" Kanan replied, extremely exasperated to point where Hera could clearly picture the way he was throwing up his hands. "Ezra's in the data core with Chopper and this alarm is trying to steal one of my remaining functional senses!"

"So everything's fine then?" Hera pressed.

"I guess???"

Hera bit her lip.

"I'm sending Zeb and Sabine in," she decided.

"I don't need backup, I need this stupid siren to stop yelling in my—"

Hera cut off the transmission and stood up, going to the ladder and yelling down into the cargo bay.

"Zeb! Sabine! Go see if you can help Kanan!"

Sabine appeared at the bottom of the ladder, proudly displaying an open knapsack of grenades. "Way ahead of you," she bragged with a grin. Calling back behind her shoulder, the Mandalorian yelled, "Hey Zeb! Last one to the perimeter does the other's chores for a week!"

"Make it two weeks and yer on!" Zeb yelled back.

Both Spectres tramped down the ramp with heavy thumping footsteps.

Hera sighed wearily.

Children. I work with children.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 3 - Platform A

THE INCIDENT

Sabine cackled to herself, knapsack bouncing against her hip. As Zeb veered left to exit the bay through the doors, electing to fry the control circuitry with his bo-rifle and then pry the locked metal slabs physically apart, she engaged her jetpack, rising up above the walls with ease.

"Cheaters get nothing!" Zeb shouted at her in complaint.

"Not my fault you don't have the right hardware!" she yelled back. Whipping her face forward, towards the IRO facility in the distance, helmet's HUD picking out the shortest distance, she angled her body, ready to pour on the steam.

Just as she was flying over the wall separating Bay 3 from Bay 4, she caught sight of something ghastly and pulled up short with a screeching halt.

She lurched in the air a moment, then doubled-back, to make sure she'd really seen it.

About 30 yards from the pad where the Ghost was parked, hidden from her initial line of sight on the ground due to stacks of cargo crates, was what had to be the ugliest ship she'd ever seen.

It was another Corellian freighter, a YT-1300 by the looks of it, but it had been so heavily modified with garish, mismatched accoutrements that it was nigh unrecognizable. The hull platework was patchy and scratched all over and it looked three feet vertical hover and a stiff breeze away from falling apart.

Sabine dropped from the air, feet finding the ground as she pulled her helmet off, horrified.

"Oh no," she said. She shook her head, dropping her helmet and stepping a bit closer to confirm the ship's pitiful condition and appearance. "Oh no no no, this is a travesty," she bemoaned.

The hideous eyesore sat there, mocking her with its poor design choices and junky aesthetics.

Sabine glanced towards the IRO's North Tower, visible over the hanger wall, then back at the horrific sight of the galaxy's most unattractive ship, biting her lip.

As if pulled by some unseen compulsion, she stepped towards the Corellian vessel, one hand absently pulling a paint sprayer from her belt pouches.

Just a touch-up, she told herself. Just a few bits of color here and there. I've got time.

That was what she told herself, anyway.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing

8.4 hours after "The Incident"

Ezra stepped into the room and stopped, glancing around. Mon Mothma's office was spacious and clean, with a prominent window overlooking the dimly-lit early morning jungle.

And she, Hera, Leia, and Cere Junda were all staring back at him.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked nervously, curling a hand behind his neck.

From behind her desk, a very tired-looking Mon Mothma stirred.

"No, Commander Bridger," she assured him. "We just need you to fill in a few gaps in the report. Apparently—" she said, shooting a glare forward, "—none of these ladies were in the facility with the rest of you and thus have no idea what any of you were doing."

The other three women wore sheepish expressions, and Ezra relaxed a little bit.

"Honestly, I'm not sure we knew what we were doing either," he quipped, grinning faintly.

An awkward, dead silence.

Mon Mothma slurped at the dregs of her tea.

Ezra coughed loudly into his fist.

"Ahem! So after Chopper zapped the ever-loving bejeezers out of Captain Solo and he and Artoo retrieved the data disc and the intel from the data core..." he began to explain.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - North Tower Data Core

THE INCIDENT

Finished at the data port (despite Artoo's annoying meddling), Chopper made his way straight for the now-open console locker, deciding—out of his own volition and not because the R2 unit had asked him, thank you very much—to go ahead and retrieve the data disc too.

He rolled right over the asshole human's toes along the way.

"OW!" Han complained sharply, drawing his injured foot back and away indignantly. Hissing while he held his shin, he yelled at the weird friend Luke had apparently made. "Hey kid!" he barked. "There something wrong with your droid!"

Ezra glanced briefly towards him, then waved him off.

"Huh? Oh no, he's a jerk to everyone. That's normal."

Incredulous, Han gaped as he tested his injured toe gingerly, finding he was able to put his weight on it after a while.

"Great," he muttered, as Chopper roughly rolled past him again, bumping him hard in the side. "Now there's two of them," he complained, throwing his hands out to indicate Luke and Ezra.

Chewbacca patted his shoulder sympathetically with an encouraging, "Aaaaarrf."

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - North Tower Storage Hall

THE INCIDENT

Well, Cal had found what he'd been looking for; the Winged Goddess was right in front of him, and just as beautiful as he remembered.

Only problem was that it was a fair bit... ah... bigger than he remembered.

BD-1 beeped softly as Cal examined the sculpture from all angles, hands on his hips, looking it up and down with scrunched brows.

"This..." he said, stepping back to take in the statue's full height, "...is going to pose a problem."

"Bwee-doo boop bee?" BD-1 asked.

Cal sighed. "I really don't want to leave it here, the Empire having this makes my skin crawl." He lit up with an idea. "Oh wait—hang on—" He rummaged for his comlink a few moments. Lifting it to his face he switched it on. "Merrin—"

She appeared in a burst of green flame and smoke almost before he'd even finished, brows flat and expression unamused.

"You are lucky I think you are cute," she grumbled, uncrossing her arms and turning towards the gold-plated sculpture.

He beamed. "Thanks Merrin!" he gushed.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

"It's not my fault!" insisted the head of security, flailing his arms and leaning back at the waist. (Vader was encroaching a little bit uncomfortably into his personal space, even with the table between them.) "Nightsisters have been extinct for two decades! No one makes any kind of security sensor to detect magic flame teleportation. How would that even work?! How the hell do you program a sensor to detect magic?! Does it generate any kind of particles that could be collected, does it give off any kind of discernible heat? You can't proof against something that doesn't affect the physical world!"

Vader's slowly angrier and angrier loom towards the man was halted by Gideon putting a hand on his gloved wrist.

"No no, he's got a point," Gideon said.

Vader simmered back down, giving a long annoyed, "Hhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrr." through his rebreather.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - North Tower Storage Hall

THE INCIDENT

Cal trotted back down the hallway, Merrin's stern warning and caution that, "If I do not see you back downstairs in ten minutes I will assume the worst and scorch this facility to the ground to avenge your death." echoing in his ears.

All in all, aside from the alarm tripping—which he was pretty sure he hadn't caused this time, though he couldn't explain why it was going off—it had been a very uneventful venture.

He almost felt like whistling to himself, as he found the door that led to the turbolift junction and pushed the button.

Any jaunty tune he might have made withered as the door refused to open.

Huh. That was weird. He didn't think he'd locked it coming in.

Oh well.

Drawing his arms back, he thrust his palms forward and shoved hard with the Force, Pushing the doors, blowing them off their hinges so that they fell noisily into the space beyond.

The move startled a man standing there, stationed in front of the turbolifts.

A man with a lightsaber.

Cal stared at him.

He stared back.

(At least, Cal assumed, hard to tell with the plate mask in front of his face.)

BD-1 booped a little, "Ooh."

Cal and the stranger both raised fingers at each other, pointing stiffly and shouting at the same time:

"You're a Jedi!"

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

"In... my defense..." the head of security strained out, rasping slightly, raised an inch above the floor despite Gideon's best efforts of holding Lord Vader back, clinging to his arm like a bog leech. "...the statistical probability... of more than two Jedi... in one spot... is astronomically unlikely."

"And yet..." Vader growled, tightening his telepathic hold.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Floor 7 - Light Defense Grid Hallway

THE INCIDENT

"You look old enough to be a survivor," Cal observed, as he and the other man turned to face a glut of Stormtroopers now coming up from the auxiliary hallway. Cal looked at his momentary companion, deliberately looking away from the light grid defense strobes as they were set off by the advancing troopers, nonchalantly blocking shots. "What clan were you?"

"Bear Clan," Kanan answered automatically, even though this situation probably called for entirely less calm than he was displaying right now. (Hera should give him a medal, honestly.) "You?"

"Same."

"No way," Kanan marveled. He scrunched his eyes behind the mask suddenly. "Wait—" he said, blocking a high blaster shot without looking. "Describe yourself for me, real quick," he requested.

Cal had to think a minute. (That light grid's strobing was really giving him a headache.) "Uhh... Pasty? Red hair? Freckles? Facial scars?"

He mumbled the next part and Kanan had to ask a "What was that?" in clarification.

"...poncho," Cal admitted with reluctance.

Kanan lit up with recognition. "Cal Kestis!" he declared.

Cal grimaced to have been pegged so quickly, peering at the other man. "And you?" he prompted.

The other man turned away, evasively. "I go by Kanan nowadays," he said. Shaking himself he said in a rush, "Listen, my padawan's inside with my droid, you think you can nudge them, let them know it's time to make a quick exit?"

Cal and BD-1 both saluted jauntily. "Anything for a fellow Initiate," he promised.

He blocked one last shot, eliciting a scream from the trooper he'd hit, and sensed more than felt his way forward, eyes tightly closed against the horrible flashing.

Now he understood why the other Jedi was wearing a mask.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - North Tower Data Core

THE INCIDENT

Han tapped his foot a bit impatiently for one more moment. He didn't understand any of what was going on but the rapid-warning klaxon was still blaring and he had been in enough Imperial facilities to know it would be soon be bringing a lot of company to their location.

Finally he just interrupted Luke and Ezra's excitable babbling.

"All right, I'm happy you found a new Jedi friend or whatever, Luke, but we really need to—"

The door opened behind him and Han yelped as a foot pushed off from his head.

"OW!"

He uncovered himself in time to gawk up incredulously at the poncho-clad ginger (with a lightsaber in his hand naturally, two Lukes seemingly wasn't enough for the universe to throw at him today) parkouring up the data core tower until he found a stable position, whereupon he grabbed a handhold and called down:

"Kanan says it's time to go, Stormtroopers are coming up the hallway."

And with no further fanfare, the strange Jedi leapt off the tower and ran along the edge of the wall about three yards before disappearing out a high window at the top.

The gathered Rebels gaped after him, thunderstruck silent.

Then:

"THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!" Luke shouted, vibrating so hard Han was worried particles would start flaking off.

Ezra shook his head, expression more serious. "Man, I need to practice more," he bemoaned. "I can't get nearly that kind of distance."

Han decided he was going to ignore all of that (mostly because he couldn't begin to process what the kriff had even just happened) and just snapped, "Can we focus?!"

To his credit, Ezra startled out of his admiring trance and snapped into a more professional business mode.

"Right," he said. "Chopper, you got it?"

Chopper blorted in the affirmative, while batting off Artoo's manipulator arm, which was reaching for their group's data disc objective. Chopper held the disc away from the other droid pointedly a few moments before an annoyed Artoo zapped him with with electric prod. Chopper screeched indignantly and whapped Artoo in the dome before handing over the data disc.

Artoo chirped a cheerful sounding thank you.

Grumpy, Chopper jabbed his own shock prod into Han's calf as he began following Ezra out.

"Gah!" Han yelped, hopping on his one foot a few times. "Would you stop that?" he cried, affronted.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Floor 7 - Light Defense Grid Hallway

THE INCIDENT

Kanan heard and sensed the chaotic gaggle of beings that spilled out of the near door into the junction with him. There was Ezra, and then another person staggeringly radiant in the Force—(Another Jedi? Damn it was a day for miracles.)—there was Chopper and what sounded like an R2 unit, poking and quarreling with each other, and then some asshole, and then... was that a Wookie?

Said Wookie immediately began complaining about the still-flashing light defense grid, as it and the still-blaring warning klaxon were basically murder on his sensitive ears and eyes.

"Yeah me too, pal!" he commented lightly, blocking a shot and sending it into one of the lights.

Chopper and Artoo immediately began beeping and blorting, talking over each other, sounding very proud of themselves.

"What do you mean you 'fixed it'?" asked Han, blaster out, pressing himself to the wall.

The white strobes cut out abruptly, and the speakers in the hall stopped transmitting the klaxon sound, though it could still be heard blaring elsewhere in the compound. The lights began blinking purple, yellow, green, blue, and red in a repeating cycle and a cheerful ritzy techno-pop tune piped in from the speakers, a mechanical female voice singing happily.

Oooa oooa ahhh

Dansa med oss

Klappa era händer

Gör som vi gör

Ta några steg åt vänster

"Oh. Well." Han grimaced, voice flat. "This is... awful."

"I LOVE THIS SONG!" a trooper in the back exclaimed excitedly.

His commander whapped him across the back of the helmet with the barrel of his blaster.

"Kanan! Kanan, guess what?" Ezra called eagerly. Even though he couldn't see it, Ezra gestured widely at Luke, hands in a 'ta-da!' like formation. "General Skywalker boned!" he announced with entirely too much enthusiasm.

Luke waved shyly as Kanan studied him briefly with the Force.

The man grinned suddenly.

"Ha!" he exclaimed. "I knew he and that senator had a thing!"

Luke was now turned towards the light-grid hallway, blocked and inundated by Stormtroopers pouring in from the other turbolift. "Uh... that was our exit," he pointed out, dismayed and slightly sheepish.

Kanan shrugged. "Guess you're going to have to use ours." He checked with Ezra a moment. "This the other Rebel team Hera was talking about?" he asked, whispering. On the off chance he was wrong, you know.

"Must be," Ezra whispered back. "That other Jedi with them?"

"No idea."

"Huh."

Kanan straightened. "All right, everyone into the lift, it's time to go," he ordered. He pressed the button to slide open the doors.

"Wait wait no don't—!" Han protested, as he was pushed and shoved and carried along into the narrow lift by Chopper and Artoo and Chewbacca, all crowding into the limited space.

There was a flurry of fumbling and jostling as all seven of them struggled to fit.

"Sorry!" Ezra squeaked. "It's gonna be a little tight!"

"Watch your—"

"Ow!"

"Elbows in, Ezra."

"Rrrraaaaaaaaahhh!"

"Trying! Sorry!"

"Move your big—"

"BWAAAAHH!"

"Would you just—"

The doors slid closed on them. There was a pause as blaster bolts thunked on the durasteel from the outside.

...

Calm, upbeat music filtered in through the speakers as they descended.

One floor... two floors... three floors...

...

Squished in tight in the middle of the uncomfortable cluster, one arm squashed between his chest and Luke's back, the other arm doing a very good impression of a tall tree above his head, Han's forehead vein twitched.

"Whose hand is that?" he demanded grumpily.

Manic droid laughter came from Chopper somewhere behind him and around his feet.

...

The group fidgeted as the elevator dropped.

...

Ding!

A chorus of yelps rang out as pressure-squished group spilled out into the hallway once the doors opened.

Arms and legs splayed everywhere, multiple people tripping over each other and toppling into a messy pile onto the floor.

"Ow!"

"Ooof!"

"Ugh!"

Chopper and Artoo screeched indignantly from their upside-down positions. Luke's stomach was splayed across Kanan's middle, but he couldn't get off because Han was sprawled across his back, flailing like a fallen turtle.

Ezra was squashed at the bottom of the pile and desperately hoping the funky smell was just Chewbacca's unwashed fur.

Zeb lowered his bo-rifle, coming up to look down at the tangled mass of bodies.

"Do I want to know?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Groaning from his position in the middle of the pile, Luke's elbows stabbing him as he tried to extricate himself, Kanan replied wearily, "No, Zeb. You don't."

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 4 - Platform C

THE INCIDENT

"I told him to be back here in ten minutes!" Merrin grumbled, pacing back and forth in the Mantis' living area.

Cere thumbed down a page in her datapad nonchalantly. "He probably just got delayed letting BD-1 scan everything. You know how he is."

Merrin huffed out a long breath through her nose, glancing at the Winged Goddess in aggravation. They were not keeping this one. It would make banging—ah, hanging with Cal in the Mantis' living space much more awkward.

(Not that she did that of course, Greez would kill her.)

Cere scrolled another page. "It's not like he's gotten stuck in a dead end that makes him backtrack through half the facility again," she offered for reassurance.

...After a moment she stopped scrolling, realizing what she'd just said.

Merrin stared at her flatly.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Boiler Room

THE INCIDENT

That was in fact exactly what had happened.

"Stupid utilitarian Imperial architecture," Cal grumbled, turning from the flat smooth wall he had not—despite all his Force Parkour—been able to ascend.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 4 - Platform C

THE INCIDENT

Cere and Merrin gave each other grim, chagrined looks for a long moment.

Cere dropped her datapad haphazardly to the side and both women began to scramble for the door.

"Hey, hey!" Greez objected, waddling out of the cockpit in time to watch Cere grab her lightsaber and ignite it. "What about me?" he whined. "You just gonna leave me here by myself?"

"You're the getaway pilot, Greez," Cere said, patting the bald spot of his head indulgently. "This is kind of your entire job." She ran for the ramp and was soon gone.

"You will be fine," Merrin dismissed, also disappearing in a flash of green.

The next moment she flashed back in, grabbing a very mean-looking sharp ritual knife from the kitchen counter.

"Need this," she explained, before flashing away again.

"Were you just keeping that by my spice rack?!" Greez cried, indignant.

The quiet of the ship was the only response he got.

Grumbling, Greez began to straighten the racks.

"No respect, this is what I get for being the coward hiding in the ship. Maybe I want in on the action sometimes."

Behind him, a Jump Trooper with a malfunctioning jetpack went screaming past the cockpit window, his fuel on fire with conspicuously green flames.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"

Greez had whipped his head around to see and caught the man splattering on a far wall.

He immediately turned his back again.

"Ah nope," he said. "Never mind, staying safe in the ship is juuuuust fine."

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Hall BF4

THE INCIDENT

"So what's the plan?" Han asked loudly over the cacophony of blasterfire, pressed against the corner and ducking out to take potshots at the Stormtroopers.

The Jedi wearing the facemask—Kanan, Han had learned—stepped out from cover and blocked several shots, then ducked behind the corner next to Han again.

"The exit we were planning to take is never going to fit a group this big," he said, huffing with effort. "We're going to have to cut through the lab levels and come back out through the main gate."

"That's a terrible plan!" Han complained, taking another few shots. "But I don't have anything better so—" He gave a huge shrug, giving up and accepting his fate as hopeless ride-a-long with a bunch of Force Weirdos. "—lead the way, wiseguy!"

Kanan nodded and motioned them forward. Han was surprised how readily Chewbacca responded to the unofficial order, not that Chewbacca was paying any attention to him, too busy barking out an impassioned conversation with the Lasat.

"'course I know Tarfful!" Zeb was saying, bo-rifle firing non-stop into the oncoming wave of troopers as they pushed forward. "Killed seventeen Imps in one battle, I heard!"

"Rrraaaaaaaaahhh!" Chewbacca boasted proudly, batting away the barrel of one trooper while he bitch-slapped another across the helmet, spinning him into the wall.

"Nineteen eh?" Zeb considered, slow grin beginning to overtake his face. "Bet I could beat your record today. Already shanked at least twenty bucketheads," he bragged.

Chewbacca roared with enthusiasm, accepting the challenge and barking out the victory conditions and the rewards.

"Yer on!" Zeb replied, rushing forward and smashing his fist into the next Stormtrooper.

"Chewie, we were saving that!" Han complained, watching helplessly as his Wookie friend took to the bet with gusto, grabbing a trooper by the faceplate and slamming him into the wall, then proceeding to jump with both feet onto his stunned body.

He flinched at the crunch the man's chest armor made, vowing never to piss his friend off again like... ever.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Commissary

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

Brysi Tanner sat on a cafeteria table atop her pile of bet winnings like a dragon splayed on its hoard.

"I am a master of the odds," she bragged, grandiose as if the two other people in the lunch line right now would be impressed. "Gifted with foresight, blessed with the knowledge of the gods." Leaning on her elbow, she grabbed up a fat handful of credits and let them trickle down between her fingers, enjoying the envious look of the troopers sitting at her table, attempting in vain to simply eat their lunch in peace. "I am mistress of the betting pool, unrivaled by any other in this sector! Through my cunning and keen intellect, I have amassed wealth beyond imagination! I am a titan of gambling!" she declared. "So very rich!"

Vader stalked through the doors, grumbling to himself. Gideon had sent him up here to "cool his head" whatever the kriff that meant, so he wasn't exactly happy to see a low-level OPS director lazing about and gloating about the money she was making off the fallout of their very serious briefing.

He stormed up behind her, scattering the other lunch-attendees in fear, and reached for the presumptuous blonde's throat.

Oblivious, Brysi Tanner continued her speech. "I will ascend to higher heights than any in my station has before!" she crowed. "I will be an unstoppable capitalistic force! I will—Hhhlack!"

She cut off as Vader's gloved hand grabbed her neck, pulling her effortlessly off her pile up to face level.

"You will cease this at once, Ensign," he threatened menacingly.

"Yes sir!" she croaked, regretting all of her life's decisions in an instant.

Chapter Text

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.6 hours after "The Incident"

Gideon leaned forward, elbows on the desk, rubbing his temples as the door hissed closed behind their most recent interviewee.

He gave a heavy, tired sigh.

"All right, who's next?" he asked.

The stenographer grabbed clumsily for the datapad, holding it up and squinting at it. "Looks like... Captain Eeves?"

"Evess, Ma'am," corrected the aide just inside the doorway. "And that's not going to be possible, he's not on the ship."

Gideon pulled back upright, a very strained smile on his face. "Beg pardon," he said. He was being so very careful to keep his voice cordial but it squeaked on odd syllables as he spoke, belying the fact that he wanted to scream in frustration. "But what, exactly, do you mean 'he's not on the ship'?"

"He's resigned, Sir, turned in his code cylinder and rank badge and took the first shuttle off the planet an hour ago," the aide told him.

Gideon heaved out a long breath, body stiff, picturing a sandy tropical planet he could retire to so he wouldn't have to deal with any of this anymore.

When he managed to regain enough composure he plastered on his pleasant smile again. "Well then let's just move on," he decided.

He took the datapad from the stenographer and read off the next name.

"Lieutenant Jorral, head of the Armory?"

"Resigned, Sir."

Gideon's eye twitched. "TK-5447, chief petty officer from the second company?" he tried.

"We're combing for him now, last anyone saw him he was hiding in the 'fresher. Reportedly he was heard screaming 'You'll never take me alive!' He has also turned in a resignation."

Gideon didn't bother to touch that one. "Captain Wessic, Operations?"

"He should still be in line—" The aide's datapad blipped. "Oh, no, wait..." A moment passed while he studied the update. "Nope, he's resigned, paperwork just went through."

Gideon simmered, fighting the twitching urge in his hands to throw something. (Imperial datapads were cheap and easily replaceable, but Requisitions still took the funds for damaged pads out of their salaries.)

"Is there anyone still on this ship who has not resigned and skipped out who we can debrief?!" he demanded.

The aide checked down the list.

"SD-45005, from Janitorial?" he offered.

...

...

"...Fine," Gideon said with a sigh. He let the datapad drop back down wearily. "Send him in."

"Hic!"

Gideon glanced aside at the stenographer, who put her hand over her mouth with embarrassment.

"Pardon me," she said.

The ISB agent narrowed his eyes, subtly sliding the still-open flask on the table a bit closer to himself and away from her.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - Imperial Garrison - OPS CENTER

THE INCIDENT

Commander Dreyn Yalbrook was listening to the comm chatter from his troopers on the ground with a kind of fascinated horror. Like he was watching a speeder wreck in slow motion, only instead of being safely behind a holonet screen he was holding the handles and watching the crash in first person, enjoying a high def view of the dashboard crumpling into his chest and his head flinging forward into the steering yoke.

Because this was definitely going to fall on his head if he didn't try to do something.

"E—Empty the garrison," he stammered, face shimmering with sweat.

When no one immediately moved, Commander Yalbrook hopped up on a chair and flailed his arms wildly to get everyone's attention.

"Hel-LO?!" he yelled. "Rebel incursion literally in-progress! Confirmed Jedi on site! Something we should probably handle because if we don't we are all absolutely 100% all getting fired!"

That stirred everyone into action and there was a rush of frantic movement as underlings hastened to pass along the order and carry it out.

"Recall all patrols, this is our number one top priority! Throw everything we've got at them!" barked the commander, getting down.

He leaned forward and kicked a junior lieutenant who was whimpering under the console from his hiding spot.

The man sniveled as he got out from under the console and went simpering off.

"And get me a walker!" the commander shouted as an afterthought, sagging down into his seat and wiping his face with his hat.

He'd had such a promising career.

Commander Yalbrook started mentally composing his last will and testament as the full might of the Imperial garrison was deployed against IRO Alpha-Four.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Hall BF9

THE INCIDENT

Han had admittedly only really taken a quick glance at the schematics of the facility before embarking, enough to plot a course through the building and plan a route out, but he was pretty sure they were near the laboratories now.

At least they had better be close to them because it seemed like they were making very slow progress.

The hallway was clogged with troopers and smoke; it was hard to see. Nevertheless Ezra very confidently called back from his position just forward of them:

"Kanan, there are a LOT of Stormtroopers!"

To which the older Jedi just grimaced and yelled back, "Yeah I know! They're trying to box us in from both sides now!"

Han elbow-checked a trooper and then had to flatten himself against the wall as shots came ringing down the hallway. "Thought you were blind! How the hell can you tell?" he yelled over the cacophony.

"I can still hear fine!" Kanan replied, ducking as a blaster bolt came whizzing from overhead.

"Fair point!" Han acknowledged, swiveling around to take potshots at the troopers behind them, just now emerging from the smoke, as Kanan had predicted and cautioned.

Kanan stood from his crouch in order to block shots more effectively. "I also use Force Sight to compensate!" he added.

"Of course you do!" Han just accepted, crouching down to present less of a target.

The older Jedi gave a sound of frustration. "Agh, we're pinned down! Any ideas?" he called to Han.

"Just one!" Han said, pulling out his comlink.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 3 - Platform B

THE INCIDENT

"Leia!"

The princess jerked her head up too quickly, smacking it on the insides of the compartment.

Krunk!

"Ow!" Leia pulled herself from the hole, rubbing her head. "Kriffing..." With irritation she shifted back and fumbled for her own comlink. "What, Han?" she demanded.

"We could really use some backup right now!"

Leia sat up on her knees, looking out the Falcon's viewport and now noticing the thin cloud of white smoke coming from the direction of the facility. And she could have been wrong but it looked like...

She squinted at the silhouette of the North Tower, picking out the transparisteel of a window.

...were those multicolored strobe lights?

"Should I assume all that ruckus is your doing?" she asked dryly, also noticing now the blasterfire echoing over the line.

"Just get up here!"

"All right, I'm coming!" Leia snapped, getting up, grabbing a heavy carbine blaster from the cockpit locker, and moving to head out of the ship.

A fretting Threepio looked anxiously at her as she passed him in the hall.

"Pardon me, Princess, but..." he asked, "... what should I do?"

"Get the engines warmed up, Threepio, I have a feeling we're going to need to make a quick exit," Leia told him, hitting the button for the hatch.

"Oh. Has Captain Solo gotten himself in over his head again?" the protocol droid inquired.

"I heard that, you golden bucket of bolts!" came an indignant shout from the comlink.

Leia paused in the open door, calmly covering the comlink's mic with her palm. "Let's just assume yes," she said, smiling.

Threepio nodded stiffly. "Of course, Princess," he acknowledged, moving to go carry out her orders.

Leia darted down the ramp in a rush, looking for the quickest way out of the hanger bay.

Her toe hit something hard on the ground along the way, and she tripped and fumbled a moment.

Bewildered, Leia looked down to discover a discarded helmet.

A Mandalorian helmet.

A magenta and orange colored one.

Leia stared at it, then squinted up towards the top of the Falcon, where she could see a slight figure crouched, female with dyed hair, dressed in brightly painted armor and attacking the surface of the durasteel with a determined spray of paint.

"Sabine?!" she called, incredulous.

Sabine startled, almost throwing her sprayer. She fumbled to catch it for several long seconds.

"Princess!" she squeaked, eyes wide and nervous-looking, like a child caught with their hands in the sweets jar. She pointed down at the ship beneath her knees and feet. "This, uh... this isn't your ship is it?" she asked anxiously, embarrassed.

Leia rolled her eyes dramatically. "Stars, no," she said, suppressing a shudder. "I'm just an unhappy passenger."

"Oh good," Sabine said with relief, standing up. She popped her jetpack engine for a moment, coming back down to ground level and landing next to Leia. "I tried to add some accents where I thought the silhouette could be sharper but there are so many odd angles and curves I can't tell if it's making a difference," she explained, leaning back, trying to peer up at her work through her framed hands.

Leia appraised the patches and streaks of color, bright cobalt blue across one side, orange slivers accenting, splashes of purple and green scattered atop.

"It's not half bad," she complimented.

"Leia!" her comlink shrieked again. "While we're young and preferably not shot through with blaster holes!"

"Hold your fathiers, I'll be right there!" Leia snapped into the device. She switched it off, reaching down to scoop up Sabine's helmet. "I hate to cut your artistic process short," she said, hooking an arm through the crook of the other girl's elbow, "but we probably need to go help our friends."

She started pulling Sabine towards the hanger door.

Sabine didn't budge.

"Wait wait—!" she cried, digging in her feet, reaching out her sprayer again through she couldn't possibly hope to reach now. "Just a little bit more color!" she begged, straining.

Leia grunted, pulled harder—damn beskar was heavy—had to start grappling her and physically dragging her away. Sabine's boots scraped the sand as she resisted.

"Just a little bit more and I can fix it! I need to fiiiiiiiiiiiiiix iiiiiiiiiiiiit!" Sabine wailed in dismay, face crinkling.

"That ship is a lost cause, Sabine, trust me," Leia told her sympathetically, shaking her head as she yanked the other girl away.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Hall BF9

THE INCIDENT

"Leia! Leia!" Han pulled the comlink away from his mouth and held it up by his ear for a moment, then drew it away in disgust. "Ah, she turned the comm off!" he complained. "Women are useless!"

"Don't let Hera hear you say that," quipped Kanan, amused.

"Or Sabine!" Ezra piped up from his position at the front.

Ignoring that, Han straightened. "Right, well, that idea failed." He clutched his blaster to his chest, psyching himself up. "Time for me to wing it!"

Without further fanfare he flung himself out of cover and ran shrieking towards the closest band of Stormtroopers in their way, past a bewildered Ezra and Luke who stared at him as his charge immediately went sour, ending with him getting dogpiled by several troopers flinging themselves onto him.

Chewbacca made an aggravated groan, as if he was embarrassed to witness it.

"Uh... was that supposed to happen?" Ezra asked Luke, who shrugged.

Before either of them could come to Han's rescue, a rush of wind came down the hallway, and there was a burst of Force power, tingling in the very air. Nearly every trooper in their path was suddenly lifted up, squawking and flailing in the air as they were levitated off the ground.

Unfortunately Han was among them. He craned his head down the hall, baffled, spotting the same red-haired Jedi from before—that had used him as a stepstool, because the universe just couldn't let him catch a break today, apparently—one hand outstretched, clearly the source of the weird energy that was floating him off the ground.

The rumbling sound petered out. The Jedi's hand drifted slightly higher.

Han realized what was going to happen a second before it did.

"No, don'tdon'tdon't—!" he cried to no avail.

SLAM!

Everyone in the air was thrown down, smashed against the floor with force.

Kanan winced, hissing through his teeth sharply in sympathy as the hallway was filled with groaning sounds of pain.

He pointed vaguely in the direction he could hear Han's muffled cursing. "That one was ours, Cal," he explained, apologetic.

Cal's eyes widened. "Kriff!" he said, rushing forward and kneeling down. "Sorry about that. Couldn't see you under all the—"

Han batted off the hands that were trying to help him up. "Don' tugch me!" he slurred, raising his face, his nose streaming blood. He had had quite enough Force weirdness today, thank you. Han sat up, miserably, touching a hand to his upper lip. "Greag," he grumbled. "Now I hag a nogebleed."

BD-1 chirped excitedly, scittering from Cal's shoulder to Han's, compartment popping open and ejecting a green stim canister into his little claw, which he promptly and without asking jabbed into Han's neck.

"Heygh!" he cried, but then a rush of cool soothing flowed through his veins and the pain vanished under a pleasant flood of endorphins and adrenaline.

Slightly dazed, Han sniffed, and found his nasal passages clear.

"Oh wow..." he said. "They gave you the good stuff huh?"

BD-1 beeped bashfully.

Kanan blocked a few last shots from the troopers behind them as he came up to Cal to compare notes.

"You find the way out yet?" he asked.

"Left turn at the junction I just came through," Cal replied, holding his arm out for BD-1 to hop back on. "But there was another whole three squadrons of troopers on my tail."

Ezra piped in, grinning. "That shouldn't be a problem for—" He turned briefly to Luke. "Wait, how much training have you had again?"

"Hardly any," Luke admitted sheepishly.

Ezra turned back around. "—three Jedi and an amateur."

"Rraaaaaaaa!" Chewbacca interjected.

"Right, plus a Wookie and a Lasat," Ezra quickly corrected.

Han wiped the remaining blood from his face. "You know for being an extinct culture there sure are a lot of you Jedi running around today," he grumbled.

"No kidding..." Cal said, marveling at Zeb. "You have a Lasat?! I thought you were all dead!"

Zeb grinned. "The Empire missed a couple." Straightening, Zeb hefted his bo-rifle. "Jedi take point?" he asked Kanan.

Kanan nodded and the group reformed themselves.

Han nervously got to his feet, hearing the echoes of a lot of Stormtrooper boots coming towards them. No one seemed particularly concerned, not even Luke, who was busy paying attention to instructions from Ezra, something about "This one's easy, just calm your mind, focus, and push."

He learned what push meant a moment later, as all four Jedi went unnaturally still for a moment before raising their hands in unison.

The oncoming white horde of troopers was blown back, as if by a blast, yelping as they were sent crashing into walls and companions.

Kanan, Cal, and Ezra raised their sabers again and charged into the fray. Zeb and Chewbacca and the astromechs were next, roaring and beeping and screeching and laying into any troopers still moving.

They were already yards down the hall within a few seconds.

Bouncing on his heels, Luke turned to Han with excited eyes.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?!" he exclaimed.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards with begrudging respect. "All right, I'll admit it," he said. "That was pretty neat."

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.6 hours after "The Incident"

"I'm sorry, let me get this straight—" Gideon said, resisting the urge to sigh into his hands as he waved an aggravated palm. "—you were where when the insurgents entered the lab?"

"Under th' table, like I said," replied SD-45005, his Outer Rim drawl very prominent and offending all of Gideon's Core World sensibilities.

"Why were you under the table?" asked Gideon, not hiding his exasperation.

"Uh, 'cause I signed up to clean floors, not fight a Jedi and her freaky green-flame-poppin' friend," the man stated, matter-of-factly.

Gideon held back the scream that wanted to burst through his closed-mouthed clenched teeth. He took in a heavy inhale, sweeping up the flask for a long drag—it seemed unusually lighter than before—and then detached the nozzle with a wet smack, setting the flask down solidly on the desk.

That tropical retirement world was looking really snazzy right now, in his mind's eye...

"But you were there when the Jedi fugitive and her companion met the other two, correct?" he asked for clarification.

"That Mando girl and the little Alderaanian? Yep, I was." SD-45005 decided, without prompting, that his answer needed further elaboration. "They was wary of each other at first o'course, but quickly figgered out they were on the same side. The freaky Nightsister lady made some comment about 'looking for our Jedi and his droid' and the other two basically said they was doing the same. Plus 'a Wookie and some other asshole'," he quoted. "That Mando girl got all excited 'bout the chemical compounds in lab y'see, started clapping bottles together and running about like a Praxian fireswallow in search of a lady friend."

"Heh-heh," giggled the stenographer. "Fraxian pireswallow..." She flexed her hands a bit before she resumed typing, a bit slower than before, Gideon noted.

"And you didn't—" Gideon began helplessly, open his hands out to the empty air, "—you didn't stop them?"

SD-45005 puffed up, counting off on meaty fingers.

"One, I am Janitorial, I ain't even issued a sidearm," he said. "Two, I have zero combat training. Three, again, it is not in my job description to fight friggin' Jedi, much less a Jedi plus a Mando plus a witch plus a little girl looking meaner than a nexu in heat." The man's eyes were hard amber coals as he faced off against the ISB agent. "Fourth, I only took this job 'cause it got me away from the nagging howler I'm married to back at home. Fifth—"

Gideon cut him off with sharp gesture. "All right, you've made your point," he snapped. "Consider yourself demoted, SD-45005, effective immediately."

The other man scoffed. "Demoted to what, Junior Janitorial?" he challenged.

Gideon pointed stiffly towards the door.

"Get out of my sight," he said, almost begging.

SD-45005 gave a snorting huff through his nose—that had Gideon wishing for a blaster to show the man some manners—and turned on his heel, stalking heavily out.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Lab 27 (Rations Substitute Experiment 8)

THE INCIDENT

He had shown much less bravado when he'd finally emerged from under cover to make a break for the door.

Three blasters, a lightsaber, and a mean-looking knife were brandished in his direction and SD-45005 flung up his hands and squealed.

"Don't kill me!" he begged. "I just clean floors I swear! I wasn' even s'posed to be here today but the Missus was havin' in-laws over and I just couldn't be in the house!"

Sabine rolled her eyes. "Ugh, he's pathetic," she declared, already putting away her WESTARs. "Just let him go."

Merrin slipped her knife into her belt. "I will remove him from the facility."

With a quick step she flashed up next to the man, who nearly jumped out of his coveralls.

"Perhaps you should consider marriage counseling," she advised before taking hold of him and teleporting out.

His panicked shriek cut off as they both vanished with a spark of green.

Sabine turned back to the assortment of bottles and flasks she'd gathered on the table, slow grin crossing her features.

"Now where were we?" she purred at the collection.

She began mixing chemicals, pouring compounds from vial to vial and talking to herself the whole time.

"Little bit of rhydonium... some thorium nitrate... ugh, they expected troopers to eat this stuff?" she sniffed, incredulous and disgusted as she dribbled her mysterious mixture onto the square slabs of green textureless goop that was the lab's current project.

Cere watched with a mixture of fascination and horror. "Should we... stop her?" she asked Leia.

Leia's eyes were fixated on Sabine's hands as the Mando worked. She wasn't particularly versed in chemistry but she did find the process fascinating and she knew enough to have an inkling of what Sabine had in mind.

"Not yet," she replied, as Sabine poured enough water on the concoction to start it bubbling. "I wanna see how this plays out."

Both women watched as Sabine scooped the whole tray of green gelatin up from the table and dumped it into a corner, pouring out a couple more flasks for good measure. She slapped one of her grenades onto the wall just above it, then carefully lit a wooden stirring stick with a spark off her gauntlet.

She took several steps immediately back as it caught and turned to the others.

"We should go," she said.

Leia and Cere didn't need to be told twice.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Lab 12

THE INCIDENT

"Got 28!" Zeb bragged, shouting across the lab at Chewbacca.

"Rrrraaaaaaaaghhh!" Chewbacca yelled back.

"What?!" Zeb said, incredulous. "How do you have 32?!"

"Rraaag hrrrraaa aaaahhhgg rrhhhaaaaa!"

"Lousy tree-dweller!" grumbled Zeb. "You better not be cheating!"

The Wookie barked in offense at the suggestion, waving a loose trooper's helmet that he had just used to bash another trooper's head. He gestured with it as he counted off on furry fingers.

"All right, you've made yer point!"

"Guys, can we have a little less bickering and a little more help with these tables?" Ezra complained, trying to lift one of the metal legs of the lab table on one side while Artoo and Chopper tried to upend the other.

Zeb pushed forward, shoving the hefty table on its side with one hand easily. "Need cover?" he asked.

"Nope," Ezra said cheekily.

He Force Pushed the table into the glass partition separating them from the next lab, shattering it magnificently. Troopers yelped and scattered as shards flew everywhere.

"Show off!" Zeb yelled at him, already leaping into the next fray.

Ezra grinned but then felt a portent of doom rumbling through the Force. "Oh boy," he said, dropping immediately to hands and knees and covering his head. "Kanan!" he called.

"I feel it!" Kanan confirmed.

"Everybody down!" Cal directed.

Luke, Zeb, and Chewbacca immediately obeyed without questioning, and Artoo and Chopper took cover as best they could behind one of the upturned tables but Han stood there blinking a moment very confused until Cal grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down.

"Hrk!" he said, choking a little bit.

BOOOOOOOOM!

A huge blast rattled the building, vibrating through the floor with enough force to shake their teeth. Alarmed squeals came from both the droids, and several troopers went flying. The remaining glass partitions and windows shattered, blowing glass in all directions.

When the ground went still enough that he could finally pull up his head, Ezra uncovered his neck and looked up to see the corridor filling with purple and blue smoke.

"Ah yep," he said grimly. "That was Sabine."

There was another, very wet burst and then something started bubbling up, spilling out from one of the labs further down, a green, malshaped, acid-shiny blob of... something.

It was rank and foul-smelling, and the bubbles splattered when they popped, throwing green slime against the walls and floors and ceiling.

"What in the...?" Han said, gaping. "What is that?!"

"You wanna stick around to find out?" asked Zeb, pulling his feet back as a particularly large bubble burst near his toes. "Ugh," he groaned, making a face. "Smells like last week's trash compactor!"

"Rrrmmmmmpph!" Chewbacca agreed, paw over his sensitive nose.

"I see the exit!" Cal said excitedly. He turned to Ezra with a grin. "Looks like your friend blew a hole big enough to reach clear to the main courtyard."

"Yeah. She does that," Ezra told him, matching grins, bragging just a little.

There was another goopy pop and more slime came piling out of the lab.

"That stuff sounds like it's not gonna stop growing," Kanan said, listening apprehensively to the sheer mass of it as it frothed and dribbled. "Hurry! Before it blocks the hallway!" he urged.

Cal was already on the other side of the goop, not having waited, BD-1 still with him, and Kanan led the way right after. Chewbacca was next, both paws clapped over his nose and mouth this time and bowcaster bouncing at his back.

Artoo wheeled quickly through the rapidly-narrowing clear gap of floor space, nozzle out and spraying fire retardant as he went, which briefly froze up and halted the oozing green mass long enough for him to slip through.

Chopper, on the other hand, was brought up short as a bubble burst spilled out in front of his treads, almost splattering him.

The C1 unit skidded to a half.

"WOMP," he beeped, a very-organic sounding Nope, and hit his booster rockets.

He jetted up above the quickly-disappearing floor and flew down the hall until it was clear enough to drop down.

Zeb bent a bit, offering his neck to Luke. "Grab on, kid!" he said.

Luke wrapped arms around the Lasat's furry purple shoulders. Zeb lifted up, hoisting the young man, and then let his long legs do the work as he played very careful hopscotch through the scant clear patches still left.

Those patches soon disappeared under a layer of slime.

Han looked down the hallway with chagrin.

"I'm... never going to be able to jump that," he confessed. He peered curiously at the growing foul mass, blaster barrel carefully pointed up and away from it. "Think it's safe to touch?"

"Knowing Sabine, probably not." Ezra deactivated his saber and hooked it to his belt, flexing both wrists in preparation. "I'm really sorry about this," he apologized.

Distracted by the blobby slime, Han wasn't paying attention. "Sorry about wha—"

A heavy push from behind took him clear off his feet, sailing clear over the gelatin.

"—Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"

He flew clear over the obstruction and landed heavily on his front on the other side, in the clear at Zeb's feet, face smacking the floor.

He lay there for a moment and wondered what the universe had against him.

Han pulled himself up indignantly, jaw sore. He staggered to his feet and brushed himself off, glaring back down the hall as Ezra backed up a few paces and then ran forward, switching to trotting along the side of the wall in what was clearly a bit of Force-assisted parkour and then joining them with a light thump as he landed easily on his feet.

Noticing Han's searing gaze, Ezra shrugged innocently and said, "What?"

Luke's eyes were shining like he'd just seen a new Life Day present but Han was thoroughly unenchanted.

"Jedi..." he grumbled, turning away and grouching off.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Grand Yard

THE INCIDENT

Merrin flashed in, arms crossed disapprovingly over her chest, as soon as they reached the courtyard, appearing in their path so suddenly Kanan startled and almost fell over.

"Hhnnggff—!" he wheezed, flinching violently, flailing back as he nearly barrelled right into her.

The Nightsister chose to glare straight at Cal. "You are late," she grouched.

Sheepish, Cal indicated his companions behind him. "Sorry Merrin, got a little tied up in things."

Her eyes flicked to each of them in turn. "Who are these people?" she asked.

"They're other Jedi!" Cal told her, excitedly. "Well, some of them are," he corrected.

"Hmm," was all Merrin said, in consideration.

Then she teleported away, again, so quickly Kanan yelped and hopped back.

"I think she's mad," Cal confessed, chagrined.

"I'm... sorry?" Kanan replied, still reeling, trying to figure out what the hell was even going on with the firecracker popping, the flickering heat like flames, the female voice with the strange accent, and the weird feeling in the Force that was uncomfortably like that one time on Dathomir.

"It's okay," Cal said. "I think she'll just punish me later."

Kanan choked on his spit.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Lab 27 Auxiliary Access Hallway

THE INCIDENT

LS-4473 hurried up to lab levels in response to the new alarms that were now blaring through the facility, triggered by whatever massive explosion the Rebels had set off.

He rounded the corner and then had to just... stop and stare incredulously for a moment as what looked like a massive wall of green pudding was blocking his way forward.

A quick whiff through his helmet's filters confirmed it was the rations experiment—he still couldn't believe Command thought it was a good idea to combine gelatin and nutrient paste for rations, they could have at least picked a more edible-looking color—and LS-4473 cursed as he reached up to open his helmet comm.

This was going to be a humiliating one to try to explain.

He fumbled a little with his sidearm as he realized the wall of neon green goop was quickly taking up all the extra room in the hallway. With a bit of panic, he witnessed it bulge out like rising dough, popping and pimpling as it expanded.

"What's happening to my project?!" one of the lab techs on the team asked frantically over the open line, not even waiting for the man's callsign.

"The project's out of control!" LS-4473 reported, backing up nervously. "It's overtaking the hallway! It's—"

The slime overtook him much faster than he was anticipating, flooding around his shins and quickly pinning him to the wall.

"—blubblubblubblurble!" he finished pitifully, as he was promptly surrounded by pungent—if nominally nutritious and filling—ration gelatin.

And thus, LS-4473 became probably the most embarrassing casualty of the whole embarrassing event.

Chapter Text

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing

8.5 hours after "The Incident"

"Thank you for that account, Commander Bridger, it was very helpful." Mon Mothma nodded primly towards the door. "You are dismissed."

Ezra returned the nod with a slight bow, then turned to go.

"Bye Hera!" he called jauntily to the Twi'lek pilot, waving over his shoulder back at her as he passed.

"Bye Ezra," Leia piped up, a distinct teasing edge in her voice.

Ezra's face reddened dramatically and he quickly hastened his pace to the exit.

Hera had been about to remind Ezra to return the lightsaber parts he'd nicked from the Mantis—without asking, she really thought she had rid him of his pick-pocketing habit finally—but now sidled a look towards Leia instead.

"What was that about?" she asked, suspicious.

Leia gave a shrug and folded her arms as she leaned back in her seat with a grin.

"Just giving him a hard time," she said cryptically.

She didn't elaborate.

Hera decided to drop that mystery for the moment—there was so much they needed to untangle still—and just turned back to Mon Mothma and cleared her throat.

"So after Sabine's explosion went off, whoever was in charge at the garrison decided to use the Empire's favorite tactic."

"Spam TIE fighters at problem until it goes away?" Mon Mothma guessed.

Hera nodded. "Spam TIE fighters at problem until it goes away."

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 3 - Platform A

THE INCIDENT

Hera watched with some amusement as a modest outfit of TIE fighters screeched overhead, heading from the garrison and flying low over the rooftops of Jargoon.

"Four marks in..." She checked her chrono. "...just under an hour." She shook her head, lekku bouncing. "Gotta be some kind of Rebel record."

She was a little impressed, actually.

The ship's comm system rustled to life, and Kanan's voice—overlayed on a backdrop of humming lightsabers and constant blasterfire—came on, weary but wonderful-sounding.

"Hera, we're in the courtyard now, mission completed. We're ready for a pickup."

She smiled in satisfaction, some of her anxiety dissipating. "I'll be right there, love." She glanced out the viewport as she reached for the button to begin the start-up sequence. "I might need to clear a few bogeys out of the sky for you on my way."

"That'd be appreciated," he told her. "We don't exactly have a lot of cover out here."

"Make due with what you can and don't die until I get there," Hera instructed sweetly. "Spectre 2 out."

She closed the channel and began rapidly flicking switches, bringing the idle engines roaring back to life. The movements were so ingrained they were automatic, and that's why Hera was halfway through the whole sequence before she noticed the panels moving across the bay opening; the control tower was shuttering the hanger, ostensibly in order to keep her from leaving.

"Oh, what?!" Hera cried in outrage, warming the engines faster pettily.

And now she was also priming weapons.

Her hands flew over the console as the engine's pitch rose to a steady whine, repulsorlifts making the Ghost hover higher and higher.

"Contain my ship, the absolute nerve," she grumbled.

The loudspeakers in the hanger rang out with a squeal, echoing in her ship's comms as well, and a frazzled sounding Core World accent called out frantically:

"VCX freighter, you are not authorized to take off right now. I repeat—You are not authorized to—"

"Blow it out all your holes," Hera snapped, both thumbs depressing on the triggers and sending two fine missiles into the partition between Bay 3 and Bay 4.

KA-BOOOOM!

Sabine would have been impressed with the explosion that followed.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon Spaceport - Hanger 37 - Bay 4 - Platform C

THE INCIDENT

The Mantis shook with the force of an explosion that was way too loud and close for comfort.

"Karking hells, what the—?!" Greez cursed, jumping out of his skin and nearly dropping the glass casserole dish full of Lateran lecchi lasagna that he'd just pulled out of the oven.

...He cooked when he was nervous okay?

Carefully setting his dish down on the counter, Greez straightened up for a look out the viewport. He could see the black pluming edges of smoke coming from somewhere behind the Mantis, and several ships were now streaking through the blue sky, Corellian cargo freighters and a half-dozen other civilian ships it looked like, beelining for orbit while the Empire was too distracted with... whatever was going on at the research facility.

Which also was pluming smoke, he now noticed.

"Where's everybody going?" he cried, feeling like that was something very important he was missing out on.

Fortunately he didn't have to wonder long; a chirp came on his comlink.

Greez fumbled for it, scrambling with his bulky pink oven mitts an awkward moment and nearly dropping the device before he managed to yank at least one mitt off his four hands and get a solid grip on it.

"Hello?!" he called into it, anxiously.

"Greez, we need you to come land in the courtyard for a scoop." Cere's voice was calm but there was a distinct sound of blasterfire in range of her mic.

"What, now?" Greez glanced askance at his stove, a boiling pot full of legumes still bubbling on it. (His great-grandmother's recipe, Cal loved it but it was easy to let get soggy.) He gestured helplessly. "But I was in the middle of—"

At the roar of TIE fighters swooping overhead Greez started hastily pulling the rest of his mitts off, tucking the comlink between his ear and shoulder.

"Ay yi yi, never mind. Hang on Cere, I'm coming!" he promised.

He haphazardly tossed the oven mitts in the corner and rushed for the cockpit, quickly booting up the engines.

"Every time, I swear. No wonder Gran said the recipe was cursed," he muttered to himself as he prepped for departure.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Lab 12 Hallway

THE INCIDENT

Two troopers cowered in the eaves of the doorway, listening to the utter chaos that was happening just outside.

"I don't wanna die, man!" one of them said to the other. "I just got promoted!"

His companion gripped his arm in solidarity.

"Listen, in case we don't make it, there's something you should know."

A breath of anticipation. The first trooper waited for his friend to say something profound and inspiring.

"I'm the one who's been nicking your lunches from Commissary cold storage," the other man confessed, instead.

A beat. The first trooper blinked underneath his helmet.

Then—

"You whore! My wife makes me those sandwiches! I haven't been able to enjoy them in months!" he complained.

"Sorry pal," apologized the second trooper. "She's a really good cook and I hate standard rations."

Huffing in disgust, the first trooper hefted his blaster. "Next you're gonna tell me it was you behind the 'fresher prank with the squeegee," he grumbled.

The other trooper looked uncomfortable. "Well..."

"REALLY?!" his friend cried, outraged. "All right that's it, I don't care anymore, let's just go out there and die like the higher-ups expect us to."

"We survive this, it's water under the bridge?" prompted the second trooper.

"Whatever," huffed the first.

"On three then."

Both of them crouched in preparation.

"One..."

The first man grumbled under his breath, watching sourly as a loose cargo crate went flying, seemingly under its own power.

"Two—"

A reflected blaster bolt bounced off one of the five lightsabers—five Jedi, frick, this was not their day—and pinged off the wall behind them, taking his friend out before he could finish.

The first trooper blinked a moment.

"Well that's unfortunate," he said flatly. He stood up and very calmly made a tactical retreat further into the hallway, kicking the dead body on his way out. "Bastard," he grouched.

He made his way past all the other frantic panicking troopers to the commissary to enjoy his sandwich.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Grand Yard

THE INCIDENT

They were in a bit of a good news/bad news situation.

Bad news: They were in an open courtyard and had had TIE fighters called down on them.

Good news: Hera was currently keeping them occupied, and Cal had picked at least one off by hitching a ride with a jetpacking Sabine and slicing off its wing. (Luke was still wigging out about that one.) The wreckage had fallen into the courtyard and was now providing a bit of impromptu cover for them.

The pilot was, wisely, staying put in his nice safe cockpit. He'd wedged himself under his seat to avoid the stray shots that came through the window.

More good news: The Stormtroopers were now extremely reluctant to charge them, sitting back behind their own cover and hoping to just wear them down from attrition.

Bad news, though: That meant they had brought out the heavily artillery platforms and rolled out the big guns.

"Over there!" Cal called in warning. "Another one!"

Slightly flustered—the courtyard had a weird echo that was throwing off his ability to place objects by sound—Kanan wearily reminded the other Jedi, "Uh, I can't see, Cal."

Cal audibly flinched. "Right," he said, apologetic.

Hands found his shoulders and turned him in the correct direction.

"That way."

A well-timed block from Kanan's saber sent the gunner scrambling as his heavy shot was sent back towards him.

CRUNCH!

The rending stone let Kanan know where the shot wound up.

From his crouched position nearby, Han uncovered his head, brushing singed hairs off his neck. "Little close that time, blind man!" he yelled above the din grumpily.

"Sorry!" Kanan called back in apology.

-SW-

"Hey Chewie!" Zeb yelled across the plaza, one arm around a flailing trooper that he was choking out. "How many you on now?"

"Hrrraaa-raaaagh!" Chewbacca replied back.

Zeb grinned, then swung around with a twist, dropping the trooper. Artoo beeped and skittered out of the way, not wanting to be underfoot.

"Well say hello to number 45!" Zeb said proudly.

Chewbacca immediately protested, bellowing and pointing the barrel of his bowcaster towards the limp body on the ground.

"He is so!" Zeb insisted childishly. "Look at 'im!"

"Rrraaaaaagggghhh!" Chewbacca shot back.

Zeb groaned and rolled his eyes, giving his bo-rifle a litlte spin. "Ugh, fine!"

He stabbed the sharp end pointedly into the body, ending the weak twitching.

Zeb pulled his rifle from the trooper with a huff.

"Happy now?" he shouted.

Chewbacca stuck out his tongue and then announced his forty-sixth kill.

"Karabast, he's good," Zeb muttered to himself, looking for a new knot of Stormtroopers to terrorize.

-SW-

"You knew Jedi and you didn't tell me?!"

Leia groaned, ducking back behind the empty cargo crate they were using for cover.

"Oh, Luke, come on, not the eyes!" she begged, glimpsing the full force of Luke's indignant wibbling pout fixated on her. She reloaded her clip and primed the charge. "I hadn't seen Kanan or Ezra or any of the Spectres in years, honestly I just kind of assumed they were dead," she defended.

Luke turned away, crossing his arms and sulking.

"Still could have mentioned something," he muttered grouchily.

"Yeah Leia, how come you never talked about us?" Ezra piped in, a teasing emphasis in his words, piling on the judgement.

Leia just threw up her hands, stood up, and walked away from all of that drama.

-SW-

Unlike the others, Merrin was not limited as to where she could strike, so many a hapless trooper found himself confronted by a green flash and a cold gray face, an encounter that usually ended with something getting sliced.

She popped in and out, teleporting around the battlefield with nonchalance, everywhere she went causing terror and confusion.

The only time she paused was when the orange C1 unit—an abrasive, beat-up, foul-mouthed piece of machinery if she'd ever seen one—angrily told her off for "stealing his kill", proceeding to jab his shock prod into the shin of the man Merrin had just gutted, causing the white-armored limbs to twitch comically.

Merrin felt something warm in the cold cockles of her Nightsister heart.

"You have an amusing sadistic streak, droid," she complimented, bending down to give the C1 a little pat on the dome. "I like you," she said.

If droids could blush, the C1 would have been full faced red, with the embarrassed way he covered his optic lenses with his metal manipulators.

Chopper fell just a little bit in love with Merrin right then.

-SW-

"Okay, so, we've established that you and Cal knew each other from the Temple," Cere said, reviewing what Cal had breathlessly told her as soon as she was within range.

Kanan nodded. "Right, and you're Master Junda," he said. "You sound great for your age, by the way," he complimented

Flattered and bemused, Cere gave a smile. "Thank you." She blocked a stray shot that made it over the TIE to harass them. "But what I can't figure out is where that padawan comes from," she said, turning the conversation and her attention back to the thing that had been bugging her since she'd met back up with Cal and his new friends.

"Yeah, me neither," Cal piped up in agreement.

"He's too young to be a Temple kid and I would have definitely remembered him," Cere went on, stepping out briefly from behind cover to Force Push the stand of a heavy blaster cannon over.

Cal nodded. "Definitely." He turned to Kanan. "Who's he belong to?" he asked.

"Still... can't see, here," Kanan replied, consternated.

"Shoot, uh..." Cal struggled to put words together, looking towards where Ezra and Luke were. (Ezra was very helpfully busy instructing Luke on lightsaber block positions.) He snapped the fingers of his free hand a couple times, trying to kickstart his brain. "Not the feral dark-haired one, the blonde one." Realizing that was yet more visual description Cal cringed and added, "Feels like an exploding reactor core in the Force?"

Kanan's shoulders dipped back, tension vanishing. "Oh, that's Luke. He's General Skywalker's kid," he told them.

Cere gawped, incredulous.

"He had a kid?!" she blurted.

Kanan shrugged. "Well he was pretty close to that Naboo senator," he said.

...Cal had a sudden, violent flashback to the time he'd brushed up against Master Skywalker's robes in the halls of the Jedi Temple and gotten a psychometric vision of entirely too much information about said man's relationship with the pretty senator than was good for a developing ten year old who hadn't even hit puberty.

He gave a great shudder.

"Don't remind me," he said, grimacing all over.

He shook off the trauma of that memory and focused back on Luke.

"Who's his master? Is he yours?" he asked Kanan.

Kanan shook his head.

"Nope, just Ezra. I... don't think Luke has a master, actually," he confessed.

"So... General Skywalker's extremely latent potential kid is just walking around out in the open with no Jedi teacher?" Cal asked for clarification, looking Luke up and down like he was studying something fascinating in a textbook.

Kanan shrugged. "Apparently."

"Dibs," Cal said immediately.

Kanan blinked.

"What?"

"Dibs, I call dibs." He turned around. "Cere, can I have a padawan?"

Cere, who was busy being the only one actually blocking shots, grit her teeth a bit, lightsaber flashing. "We'll discuss it later, Cal," she groaned.

"You can't just call dibs on any random Force Sensitive you come across in the wild!" Kanan said indignantly. He gestured in agitation, lightsaber humming with each movement. "That's not how that works!"

"Uh, that is exactly how that works," Cere argued, with a pointed nod towards Cal, an unspoken How do you think I got him?

Cal threw a pointed finger out towards Ezra, cheerfully oblivious to the adults' conversation.

"Be-sides...!" he cried, the rest of the There's no way that one's a Temple kid accusation hanging in the air and Kanan didn't need to see him to know he was talking about Ezra.

"I had nothing to do with that," Kanan immediately defended, holding up his hands. He, also, pointed towards his padawan. "That one found me, I did not call dibs on that one," he emphasized.

Ezra tuned in just then, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"Nope!" he chirped. He gave a big grin as he swept his lightsaber, halting a Stormtrooper's charge. "But now you're stuck with meeeeeeeee!"

Kanan's shoulders slumped wearily and he sighed, all his tired parental exhaustion coming out in a single breath.

"Ugh... Padawans..."

-SW-

"Need a hand, flyboy?"

Han jumped a little, then relaxed when he realized it wasn't that weird pale woman popping in again, just Leia.

...Wait a minute.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Leia raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips, not even bothering to duck down behind the piece of TIE strut with Han and Sabine and letting blaster bolts just whiz past her.

"Uh, helping?" she said.

"No, I mean, what are you doing here?" Han tried to clarify.

Still confused as to what he was getting at, the princess finally hefted her blaster and knelt down behind the strut beside him, taking aim and firing. "You asked for backup!"

"I meant for you to bring the Falcon!" Han said. His hands gesticulated with agitation. "You know, turn its guns on the building or something!"

There was a very long and worrying pause and a look of utter confusion on Leia face.

"...Oh," she finally said.

Alarm bells rang in his head. Han craned his neck. "What's 'Oh'? What does that mean?!" he squawked.

Leia shrugged. "You sounded so urgent, I just thought I should come right away," she explained.

Something that felt a little bit like panic was now coursing through Han's body. Spying the form of his beloved ship now circling above them, trying to maneuver around anti-fighter turret shots and the stinging bolts of the remaining TIE fighters, he felt portents of doom sound in his heart.

"If you're here then who's flying the Falcon?!" he demanded.

-SW-

Blasterfire rocked the ship, jostling the golden droid occupant in the pilot's chair.

"OH MY!" Threepio yelled, terrified out of his electronic circuits as he gripped the yoke tighter. "OH—!"

-SW-

"YOU LET THREEPIO FLY MY SHIP?!" Han shrieked, vibrating with indignant anger and bewildered rage.

"Oh, that eyesore's yours?" Sabine piped up from her position at his shoulder. Her eyes looked him over, flicking up and down. "You know what? That tracks," she said. She turned forward again, pumping her WESTARs towards the enemy. "You're welcome, by the way," she added.

Han jerked his head towards her. "'For what?!" he asked shrilly.

Somehow, the Falcon made it down through the turret fire and set her struts on the courtyard cobblestones, engines whining to a low ready purr. Han gawped at the freighter, his blaster quite forgotten as he opened his hands inarticulately at the bright splotches of neon color now plastered across the top and sides of his ship.

"What—" he sputtered, helplessly. "What—"

He forgot how to speak Basic, dissolving into incoherent protests, staring at the paint in horror.

While they watched, another ship flashed in, sneaking into gaps between blasterfire like a hot knife through smooth butter. The sleek, pristine "Stinger" XL slipped into place behind them, slotting into a spot next to the Falcon like she was merely a fellow parked landspeeder.

"Oh—!" Sabine gasped.

Her knees scritched the stone as she turned and rose to her feet, heedless of the troopers behind them. Her blasters slipped into their holsters and she clutched her hands over her heart in reverence.

"Now that," she said, opening her hands wide to the whole of the luxury craft. "That is a work of art," she declared.

Han's brain suffered a terminal error and failed him utterly.

He gave a thin keen through his throat.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - Imperial Garrison - OPS CENTER

THE INCIDENT

"Seriously?" he asked, stress and strain in every syllable. "We don't have any TIEs left?"

The junior officer looked apologetic as he explained. "We didn't have many to begin with and that VCX has picked them all off."

Commander Dreyn dropped his face into his hands, moaning.

"How is this my life?" he whimpered. "Advanced military fighters beaten by a cargo hauler."

Oh there was no way he wasn't at least getting fired for this.

...More likely executed.

Reluctantly pulling his head up, Dreyn cast about the room for something to make the pain go away.

Spotting an OPS tech's personal neck pillow, he stalked the three steps up to the man's station before yanking it from behind his head.

"Hey!" the tech objected, leaning forward in his seat as his support was ganked.

Commander Dreyn pressed the pillow to his face and screamed into it for several long seconds.

Coming up for air, he heaved in breath, stress alarms still firing off all over him.

He wearily passed the pillow back to the tech before stalking back to his station.

"Where's my walker?!" he yelled.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Grand Yard

THE INCIDENT

KTH-THUMP.

"Uh-oh," Zeb said, the first one to pick up the lumbering footsteps with his sensitive hearing.

KTH-THUMP.

"Ohhhh that's not good," Ezra agreed, standing up from cover and craning to see over the courtyard parapets.

KTH-THUMP.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is..." groaned Kanan.

Cal was already staring towards it. "Wish I could, Kanan," he said. "But nope, that is definitely an AT-AT."

"The hell do they have that for?!" Cere cried, indignant.

"Emergencies?" Sabine suggested.

KTH-THUMP.

"Well I guess we qualify," Leia allowed, marveling with some amusement.

Kanan lifted his comlink.

"Hera, could really use that pickup right now!" he said.

Her voice filtered in as the Ghost made a pass overhead. "Just a minute! Need someone to take out those turrets!"

"I am on it," promised Merrin, pulling her ritual dagger close to her chest.

KTH-THUMP.

"Ever faced one of those before?" Luke asked Cal, calling above the din as the Stormtroopers rallied with the walker's appearing, starting to charge them once more.

Cal casually deflected a few blaster bolts back with his saber. "Couple times," he admitted.

The Rebels prepared trepidaciously for the walker's approach, and could soon see the gray outline of its form peeking over the rooftops of Jargoon.

Zeb studied the AT-AT intently, thoughtfully, as it lumbered down the city street towards the IRO facility. An idea was forming in his head.

Holstering his bo-rifle in its spot on his back, he surged forward.

"I got it!" he said.

If anyone questioned or objected to to his impulse decision, he didn't hear it.

Zeb leapt for the outer courtyard wall, sharp nails in his hands and feet finding purchase on the duracrete and digging in, allowing him to scramble up, up, up.

He crested the parapet in seconds, and was running towards the outer gates, closing the distance quickly between him and the AT-AT in the street. It was almost to the corner of the facility, almost within firing range.

Zeb hopped up onto the parapet wall and flung himself off, both hands outstretched wide.

He caught hold of the side of the AT-AT, and clung to the metal desperately, beginning to realize how stupid an idea this was.

He pressed on, though. He let his nails lose purchase and scrape down the sides, sliding him down towards the underbelly of the walker. He swung like a primate from handhold to handhold under the vulnerable mechanism, finding the repair access hatch and letting go with one hand, pulling his bo-rifle out and activating it with a crackle.

He swiped the sparking end across the edge of the access hatch, short-circuiting it and making it fly open.

Like a Kowakian monkey-lizard, he quickly crawled inside.

-SW-

The AT-AT shuddered and the next step was halting. The walker stumbled awkwardly, moving as if filled with heavy molasses.

The head tilted up and then... swooned, the walker falling forward like it had been cut from puppet strings, front legs buckling.

It tilted into the courtyard wall and crashed through it, breaking stone and duracrete and sending particulates and dust everywhere.

Zeb appeared from the head's top hatch, riding the momentum of the walker down until it settled with a thunderous thump! into the side of yard.

The Lasat lightly leapt off the head, landing perfectly on his prehensile feet, grin wide.

"HA!" he crowed in triumph, pointing with both fingers. "Beat that!" he challenged his Wookie companion.

Chewbacca howled in fury, lifting his arms and ripping those of the Stormtrooper he'd been restraining clean off, separating them at the shoulders.

That trooper shrieked in agony and pain, crumpling as the irate Wookie yelled and berated Zeb in outrage, brown eyes flashing daggers and hair bristling.

"Er..." Zeb stammered, rubbing his head and watching the Wookie gesture furiously with the severed limbs, jabbing them like they were his own hands as the trooper on the ground moaned pathetically. "We'll just count that as one," he decided hastily.

Marginally mollified, Chewbacca dropped the trooper's arms and went back to work.

Zeb grimaced in sympathy as he stepped up to the fallen armless trooper, sobbing and blubbering into the pavement, face down and utterly pitiable.

"Sorry mate," he whispered, quickly using the end of his rifle to send a crashing blow to the trooper's head.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.6 hours after "The Incident"

Gideon stared flatly at the whimpering armless trooper.

The man was whining some traumatized, incoherent gibberish, unable to even form real coherent words.

He glanced left towards Vader.

Vader just stood there very stiffly, clearly annoyed but trying not to comment.

He glanced right towards the stenographer.

She was squinting hard at her keypad and typing slowly, but what she was transcribing was no more legible than the blubbering he was already hearing.

Gideon turned back towards the trooper and sighed.

"You're dismissed," he said, waving a hand towards the door and ending the man's torment.

The trooper cried hysterically even as he turned around and exited the room.

Chapter Text

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Grand Yard

THE INCIDENT

Luke was beginning to feel outclassed.

He watched Ezra push off with one foot for a Force-assisted leap over the oncoming wave of Stormtroopers.

He watched Cere block blaster shots effortlessly, her blade moving leisurely to intercept bolts.

Heck, even the blind one was amazing, pushing with both hands and sending three troopers flying without touching them.

If this was what being a Jedi meant, he had a lot of work and training ahead, he thought. He'd honestly better get started.

Luke watched Cal from the corner of his eye, as the red-haired Jedi parkoured up a wall to outflank the Stormtroopers and give them a surprise attack from overhead. He'd seen Ezra do a similar wall run, maybe it was a pretty common tactic?

It didn't look that hard...

Luke started creeping towards the right wall, behind the line of the Rebel defenders, inching his way until he was a good sprinting distance from the outer facility parapets. Checking forward once to make sure he had some breathing room between oncoming troopers, Luke faced the wall and took a deep breath.

Right, what was it Ben said to do again? Reach out with my feelings?

Cautiously, he let himself relax and tried to open his mind like the old Jedi had said to do. It was easier this time, the sounds of the battle faded away and dimmed a bit and there was a calm tranquility inside him.

He felt his feet moving, almost of their own accord, caught by some kind of energy inside him.

Luke opened his eyes and whooped in triumph, seeing that he was mimicking the move Cal had pulled earlier, his feet dancing across the side of the duracrete wall like it was floor he was sprinting across.

He was doing it! He was doing it! He—

—slammed face first into the north wall as his focus was preoccupied with his feet instead of his trajectory.

Luke dropped like a rock onto the courtyard floor.

-SW-

"Bwoo!" BD-1 beeped anxiously, watching the little blonde organic injure itself and collapse to the ground.

He tapped a quick foot to Cal's neck—a quiet promise to be right back—and scuttled down his Jedi's shoulder, hopping off to the paved stones and scittering across the courtyard to the fallen padawan.

Stepping fussily around the organic's shoulder, he nudged the prone body with his head.

No response.

BD-1 nudged again, more insistently, his little motors straining and whirring in agitation.

When still no movement came from Luke, BD-1 huffed with an aggravated beep and popped out a stim canister.

Catching it in his manipulator, he jabbed the end unceremoniously into Luke's upper arm.

Luke's face shot off the pavement as his body stiffened, eyes wide.

"Woah!" he cried, feeling a pleasant tingling rush shoot through him.

BD-1 stepped back a bit, beeping a million and once frantic questions about the organic's condition.

Dazed, clearly loopy from the concussion and the stim, Luke pushed himself up a bit, looking down at his hands and marveling.

"Oh wow..." he said. He looked up at BD, grin lopsided and lazy. "They really did give you the good stuff didn't they?"

He reached out and patted BD-1 affectionately on the head and BD-1 purred bashfully, pleased at having been useful.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - Imperial Garrison - OPS CENTER

THE INCIDENT

"Dreyn!"

The Commander whipped his head around at the informal address, in time to catch a very panicked Commander Bells Wan bursting in.

The facilities director grabbed for his arms, grasping full handfuls of his sleeves in white knuckles.

"There are three Rebel ships in the courtyard!" he cried.

"I know!" Dreyn cried, desperately miserable.

"You have to stop them!" Bells said shrilly.

"I'm tryiiiiiiiing!" Dreyn whined, pushing the other man away. "Don't you think I'm trying?! I've sent TIEs and troopers and legions, you saw the weird purple one tank a whole walker, I've got nothing left! I'm spent!" he complained.

Eyes seized with manic energy, Bells said:

"Bomb them."

"What?" blurted Dreyn, certain he'd misheard.

"We have two TIE Bombers in reserve," Bells reasoned.

Sputtering, Dreyn began to object, "Do you know how much damage that will cause to the—"

Bells seized his sleeves again, practically shaking him as he shouted, "YOU BOMB THE EVER-KARKING SITHSPIT OUT OF THEM, DREYN, OR SO HELP ME—"

"All right!" Dreyn said, batting Bells off once again. "Yeesh!"

Raising his comlink he gave the order.

"Launch the bombers."

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.6 hours after "The Incident"

The stenographer giggled in his right ear as Gideon fought to keep his face from twitching.

"Do you mean to tell me..." he said, voice pointed and clipped. "...that a non-zero amount of the damage to the Grand Yard was caused... by our own bombers?!" he asked incredulously, voice going shrill on the last word.

The TIE Bomber pilot he was interrogating gave a nonchalant shrug, helmet tucked under his arm.

"Hey, I didn't question my orders. I just figured they'd exhausted all other resources and were pulling out all the stops to try and prevent the Rebels' escape."

"Big boom!" laughed the stenographer, almost falling over her typing keypad as her hands flailed at it. "Biiiiiig boom! Explosions!"

Giving a brief glance at her and then ignoring her clear hysterics, Gideon sputtered helplessly. "And you just—You didn't—Do you know how much duracrete costs these days?! How could you—?!"

"The bombs had a decent strafing all things considered. I hit the janky Corellian freighter at least once," the pilot defended, starting to bristle indignantly. "Barely even scuffed the court walls. Walker already busted through the other side, don't see what the big deal is."

Gideon turned to the breathing hulk of death next to him. "Lord Vader, are you going to stand for this indignity?!" he cried.

Vader took in a long inhale—hrrrrrch—and then, incredibly, gave a complimentary nod to the pilot.

"Your efforts were admirable, TP-4214," he praised. "I have a particular... dislike for that vessel."

The TIE pilot turned his face aside, bashfully. "Was Bells' idea, Sir, I just carried it out," he dismissed.

Gritting teeth, Gideon took command of the conversation again, eyes flicking to the Imperial aide. "Where is Bells, can we call him back?" he asked.

Not even looking up from the datapad, the aide replied, "Ah nope. He resigned. Skipped town soon as you were done with him. Probably halfway to the Inner Core by now."

Gideon groaned loudly, his flask in his hands and tilted all the way back in a moment, over his open mouth.

Strangely, nothing came out.

Gideon open his eyes and shook the flask a couple times.

Empty, completely drained.

He sidled a look towards the giggling stenographer, who was still babbling about "Big big booms!", her ponytail coming slightly undone.

He had a suspicion about where the rest of his alcohol had gone.

With a sigh he just let the empty flash clatter onto the desk and rubbed a face over his eye. "Thank you for the report, TP-4214," he said weakly. "Please remain on the ship if we need to corroborate any further details."

The pilot nodded and clipped heels, bowing stiffly before he departed.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Grand Yard

THE INCIDENT

Hera's white-knuckled grip on her steering yoke eased slightly as she felt her struts set down. It had been a harrying few minutes of flying, but the fiery green blur popping in and out had finally disabled enough turrets for her to get the ship down.

She almost relaxed but then her sensors caught something and shrilled with alarm.

"Oh what now?" she groaned.

-SW-

Greez pressed his nose to his own beeping sensors, and then slid back, his eyes going wide.

"Oh boy," he said.

He hit the comms, opening up to all channels.

"Guys, we got bombers incoming!" he announced. "Two marks at point five! I'd raise shields if I were you!"

-SW-

"What shields?" Leia cried in exasperation, firing her blaster and trying to back up towards the ships.

-SW-

"Bombers!" Threepio wailed in dismay, covering his photoreceptors with his hands as if that would do anything. "Oh dear!"

He did not raise shields.

-SW-

Kanan heard the bombers long before he felt the vibrations in the air, felt the sharp warning tingle in the Force.

Lowering his saber, he listened to the rising roar of the TIE engines for just a moment before decided it was definitely time to go.

"Everyone get on the ships!" he called out to the gathered Rebels, turning and beelining for where Ezra had been helping Luke off the ground.

Distracted, he fumbled out for the first shoulder that seemed the right height, grabbing and pinching hard as he dragged the young man across the courtyard.

"Come on, Ezra, hurry!" he urged his padawan, not stopping once as he hauled ass.

"Um—" Luke said awkwardly as Kanan pulled him up the Ghost's ramp before he could protest, BD-1 still clinging to his shoulder.

-SW-

The bombers came roaring over the courtyard walls, one and two, right after another, the explosives dropping solidly from them like bantha droppings to the Tatooine sand.

Troopers and Rebels alike screeched and dove for cover, as blasts rocked the courtyard. The Ghost and the Mantis jostled and shook but weathered the attack okay.

The Falcon took a direct hit, canting sharply to the side as it plumed flames, and that was what finally seemed to stir Han from his horrified stupor.

He blinked and shook his head, then pulled up his comlink.

"Threepio, raise the shields!" he ordered.

There was nothing but a very unhelpful droid scream on the other end.

"Raise the—Oh for—"

Han tucked his comlink away as he pelted for his beloved ship, to somehow spare her even more indignity than she'd already suffered.

His run seemed to trigger a mad chaotic dash from the others, scrambling and tripping over themselves and each other to make it for one of the three vessels.

-SW-

Hera slapped at a tiny electrical fire emanating from an upper dashboard, immensely thankful for her gloves in that moment. Leaning back down off her tiptoes she studied the panel, out of the corner of her eye catching the sight of Sabine moving in the completely opposite direction from them and heading for the other Corellian freighter in the courtyard.

That generated a very puzzled look from the Twi'lek, and she peered out the viewport and pressed the comlink button on the console.

"Uh Sabine, that's not our ramp," she pointed out, bemused.

The tiny Mandalorian figure paused on said ramp, gesturing with both blaster-filled hands.

"Hera, look at it," she argued through the line, shrugging helplessly towards the rusty freighter. "I gotta."

Hera flicked her finger off the comms button and put her hands up in surrender, backing away.

"Hhh, fine," she sighed, grumbling, sitting back down and beginning to warm the engines again. "I guess we'll sort it out when we get to Yavin."

The Ghost thrummed back to life under her hands and she didn't even register it as Kanan pulled Luke up the ladder behind her.

-SW-

"Ezra!" Leia called, as she and Cere rushed forward. He'd been knocked down by one of the blasts, smacked his head on the pavement, and both women took an arm and pulled him up, as he groaned.

"'m okay," he insisted, even as they had to drag him limply towards the closet ship, which happened to be the Mantis.

Leia glanced aside to Cere.

"Hi, I'm Leia," she introduced breathlessly. "Didn't catch your name back in the lab."

"Cere," the other woman grunted.

"You know where we're going?" Leia asked.

"Not a clue."

Leia turned her head on a swivel. "Artoo!"

The blue astromech paused just short of the Falcon's ramp.

"Need your navicomputer data for Yavin!" Leia called.

Not questioning the order, Artoo put his third foot up and rocket boosted over to them.

-SW-

Zeb turned and fired wildly into the oncoming charge of Stormtroopers, felling at least two or three to add to his total, then craned his head up at a tickle in his flicking keen ears.

"They're coming around for another pass!" he shouted.

Chewbacca took note of the oncoming bombers, calling out a temporary pause on their contest.

"Way ahead of you!" Zeb said, turning to book it for the Ghost, with the Wookie on his heels.

-SW-

Cal stared up at the incoming bombers, concentrating, making calculations inside his head.

It was a long shot, the plan that he was forming, but he took risks like that all the time and it was theoretically doable.

The first bombs began to drop and the orange C1 unit shrieked as it was knocked through the air. Cal reached out a hand and caught it midflight, stopping it in place for a breath like an insect caught in tree sap.

He tossed it up one of the open ramps—didn't stop to check which—and gripped his lightsaber tighter in his left hand, inhaling a deep breath and blowing it out through pinched narrow lips.

Okay. Time to be either really stupid or really lucky.

He took a running start.

Hopped up.

Pushed off the wing of the TIE wreckage still in the courtyard, drawing a shriek from the pilot (who had finally felt safe enough to emerge from the cockpit but immediately ducked back down into it).

Let the Force catch him.

Sailed straight up towards the cockpit of the incoming TIE bomber like some kind of freaky mynock from hell and caught himself on its windshield.

-SW-

"Hhghnfdhfkhssskk!" the hapless pilot startled, hands coming clean off the pilot yoke as a face plastered itself on the glass.

Moments later a blue lightsaber blade stabbed through the console and the engines, stopping juuuuuust short of the pilot's stomach.

He meeped and pressed himself all the way back in his seat, until the blue blade pulled back out.

The Jedi had the audacity, as his engine sputtered and died, to grin and shrug helplessly, and offer a farewell salute as he leapt off the cockpit.

The TIE bomber pilot groaned as the courtyard came into plummeting view.

"Ah hell," he complained, right before his bomber smashed into the pavement.

-SW-

The explosion plumed in a magnificent vertical column over the courtyard wall, a fiery backdrop as all three Rebel ships rose up, triumphant.

Cal was in freefall, but angled his path just enough to catch a handhold on the parapets, throw himself back up into the air. His body arced, his feet angled, toes pointed down, and with elegant precision he landed.

...On top of the Falcon.

With some dismay, he watched the sleek fins of the Mantis spinning around as Greez configured it for high atmosphere. The Millenium Falcon was no slouch with her speed—she was climbing plenty fast—but Cal could already tell he would never be able to parkour up to his own normal ship.

And—he realized with a slight bit of panic—he didn't have BD with him.

Giving a flustered sigh, he balanced carefully on top of the ascending craft as he looked for the top hatch. Whoever's ship this was would just have to give him a ride.

He hoped Merrin wouldn't be too upset.

-SW-

Merrin finished mopping up the garrison turrets and poofed into the common room of the Mantis.

She took a brief glance around, as Leia and Ezra startled and Cere didn't even look up from picking up the spilled pans in the kitchen.

"Cal is not here," she declared.

She immediately popped back out, vanishing with a flash of green sparks.

-SW-

Han grumbled to himself as he flipped switches, pointedly shutting off the blaring damage alarm that was warning him about the venting atmosphere. (It was in an auxiliary hallway, he would deal with it later.) He'd sent Threepio out to go strap in, the hysterical droid blubbering all the way, and put all his focus into just getting them airborne and gone.

"Chewie, kick in the accelerator, I've gotta get the navicomputer up and calculating if we wanna have a chance of getting into hyperspace before Imperial reinforcements arrive," he ordered absently, concentrating on his task.

The hand that reached across his dashboard in response was pale and slender and red-sleeved and definitely did not belong to a Wookie.

Han froze a moment, gaping dully at the Dathomirian woman, who powered up the accelerator with no issue, as if she already knew the ship by heart.

"Your vessel is quite unusual," she commented idly. "But she responds very well. We will reach low gravity in thirty seconds."

Still staring, Han blurted, "Who the hell are you?"

"Right now?" Merrin said, glancing up briefly to meet his eyes. "Your co-pilot."

Han's face crumpled as he realized he was going to have to deal with yet more banthashit and he waved out towards the other two silver blips in the viewport.

"Where the hell's Chewie?!" he demanded.

-SW-

A great Wookie bellow came as Chewbacca gleefully opened up a full spray on the nose gun turret, shredding the TIE fighter intercept from the Imperial Gozanti cruiser struggling valiantly to reach them from its patrol on the far side of the planet.

"Rrrraa-aaaaghhh! Rrrraa-grraaa!" he announced.

"TIEs don't count, ya furry cheater!" Zeb protested over the comm line from his station in the top turret.

-SW-

Merrin looked back at Han blankly.

"I believe he went on the Ghost with his purple friend," she told him.

Han closed his eyes and rubbed his face wearily. "Okay, well, can you go get Leia to—"

"Oh, she was on the Mantis with her Jedi padawan friend and Cere," Merrin cut him off.

Han hit the back of his seat sharply as he slumped against it, throwing up his hands. "You any good at flying?" he asked, already giving up and decided he didn't care anymore.

Merrin smiled mischievously. "We shall see," she joked.

Han dropped his face back in his hand again and waved them forward. "Just... just go. Let's just go."

This was going to be a pain in the ass to explain when they got back to Yavin.

-SW-

Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Ghost Cockpit

2 minutes after "The Incident"

The acceleration of the ship jumping away to lightspeed pressed against both Hera and Kanan's chests.

They both let out a breath they hadn't known they were holding.

Relaxing, Hera took her hands off the yoke to start running a few diagnostics. The shields had held up okay in the bombardment, but she knew she still needed to repair a bit of damage. A sly smile stole across her face as she worked.

"Made some new friends I see," she commented casually to Kanan.

The Jedi was sinking slowly into the cushions of his seat, looking exhausted. "I'm still processing through all of that, get back to me in five minutes," he said.

Hera's smile widened, and she opened up a channel to Yavin. "Spectre 2 to Rebel Command, come in."

There was a distinctly loud clatter on the other end.

"Hello?!" came a panicked-sounding voice.

Pursing lips and eyebrows, Hera spoke again. "Yes? This is the Ghost? We've finished up on Klipspree and are en route back to base?"

"Oh thank stars," came a muttered exhale of relief. "You were out of contact! We were trying to raise you for hours! Did you receive our transmission? What happened? Was everyone uninjured? Did you accomplish the mission?"

"Uh..." Hera glanced back as Chewbacca climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, crowing with triumph. The Wookie's bellows were as loud as Zeb's laughter as the two met in the hallway and argued over the totals.

"Fine, we'll count that shrapnel kill but that means I get credit for the one as fell off the wall!" the Lasat was saying.

Hera looked back forward. "More or less," she hedged.

"Report to High Command as soon as you're in, Ghost, Mon Mothma wants a personal debriefing."

Hera mumbled a small curse under her breath. "I don't think there's going to be anything 'brief' about it," she said to herself. Louder she said only, "Copy that Command, ETA of arrival in about three hours."

She disconnected the transmission, a vague crawling feeling like she was in trouble prickling up her arms and back.

-SW-

Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Ghost Freighter Living Area

8 minutes after "The Incident"

Kanan felt along the hallway and doorframes as he stepped into the living area, feeling tired but satisfied. From the enthused grunts of effort as he passed the dejarik table on his left, it sounded like Zeb and Chewbacca were engaged in a friendly arm-wrestling competition. He didn't hear Chopper anywhere but knowing Hera, she'd probably already ordered him down into the engine room just to check things over.

"Hera says the dampeners are going to need some fine-tuning, even with shields at full we got rocked pretty hard," he said as he came further into the room.

He faced towards the glowing Force signature in the corner.

"All right Ezra, let's get down to the engine room and—"

He paused.

Blinked.

Double-took with his Force Sense and felt a distinct flicker of panic as he realized the brilliant presence was not his padawan.

"—Wait, where's Ezra?!" he asked frantically.

Luke stood there awkwardly, BD-1 cradled in his hands, and gave a shy little wave.

"...Hi," he said sheepishly.

-SW-

Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Mantis Main Living Area

10 minutes after "The Incident"

"You're gonna send me to an early grave, kid," Greez grumbled as he shuffled out of the cockpit.

He stopped in his tracks, taking in the strangers standing in his loading dock.

"Aaaaaand you are not the kid," Greez corrected himself.

"Nope, sorry!" Ezra apologized brightly, giving a smile. "I am a Jedi though." He held up his emerald blade before turning the saber off and clipping it to his belt. "Ezra Bridger, pleased to meet you." He waved a hand to indicate the person at his side. "And this is Princess Leia."

Flummoxed, Greez's eyes widened as he took in the small-framed human woman, recognizing her immediately from her wanted posters and from holos of Senate speeches.

"Princess!" he repeated. Stirring rapidly into motion he shuffled quickly into the kitchen, joining Cere. "Holy smokes if I'd'a known I'd be entertaining royalty I woulda cleaned up a bit better!" He started putting dishes in the sink, frantically wiping at grease stains. "You hungry? I make a mean lecchi lasagna. Might be a bit squished now, but—" He grabbed for the dustbin and broom and pulled them out of Cere's hands, nudging her to move. "I got this Cere, don't worry about it."

Cere ceded the cleaning utensils to him without protest, and moved immediately out of his way. "Yavin, you said?" she checked with Leia.

"Yavin IV," Leia confirmed.

Gesturing with a little hand motion, Cere beckoned Artoo to follow her. "C'mon little guy, why don't we get those coordinates plugged in?"

Artoo chirruped brightly and rolled right after her, both of them disappearing up into the cockpit.

That left Ezra and Leia watching, amused, as Greez bustled around the small kitchen like an overactive buzzbee circling a flower.

"Ah nope, that's completely kaput," he declared of the lasagna. He craned his head over his shoulder. "You like salad? I got some Rodian greens that need to be used up," he offered.

Leia shared a look with Ezra and then shrugged. "I could go for salad," she said.

Greez bustled to the other side of the kitchen. "Can put a kettle on too, haven't got much in the way of tea but—"

The Latero gave a sudden, very loud sneeze.

...

He stopped.

Stiffened from head to toe, freezing in place, and it seemed like the air inside the kitchen dipped several ominous degrees, Ezra and Leia both feeling a vague portent of doom.

Greez slowly turned his head. A very calm, but scarily unreadable expression was on his wide face.

He took in a slow breath.

"Who. Touched. The feymaker?" he asked, each word emphasized chillingly.

Both teens shuffled on their feet a bit nervously.

"Um..." Leia said, anxiously checking down her arm. All she could see was slime splatter from the lab explosion.

Greez was fully faced towards them now, tension in every limb of his portly body.

"Bright red. Circular petals. Sheds like a wild bantha."

Ezra was shrinking into his shoulders, scratching behind his neck. "Heh," he said, voice small. "Is uh... is that what those vines were by the south wall?" he asked, revealing himself as the culprit who'd brought the offending pollen on board.

Greez snapped a finger to point at him.

"REFRESHER! NOW!" he bellowed. When Ezra didn't immediately start moving in that direction the Latero stalked forward and began bodily pushing him, all four hands grabbing some part of Ezra and starting to strip pieces of clothing off. "Now now now now, get in there! You want snot in the collard greens?! You get—" A sneeze interrupted him. "—Achoo!—your pollen-covered hide—Achoo!—in that shower or so help me—!"

"Okay okay, I'm going!" Ezra cried, frantically trying to pull his boots off as Greez shoved him into the narrow crew hallway.

"Achoo!—Aw barnacles you're covered in it! What did you do, roll around in the stuff?!" Greez moaned miserably, his nose and eyes already turning puffy and red. Ezra's shirt was already halfway off and Greez pulled it the rest of the way, ungently. "Achoo!—Get—Achoo!—in the damn—Achoo!—'fresher!"

His two lower hands grabbed the hem of Ezra's pants at the hips and yanked down, practically ripping them off.

Ezra squeaked and turned bright red.

Leia had been trailing after them in concern but now quickly slapped her palm over her eyes, not quite fast enough to avoid getting an eyeful.

"Oh!" she grunted, grimacing in secondhand embarrassment.

Heedless, Greez shoved the now-naked Ezra through the doorway.

"GET!"

The door slid closed behind them both, mercifully helping preserve Ezra's modesty.

Leia stayed there with her hand in place for several moments, biting her lip to keep from giving into laughter as the muffled yells and protests continued behind the durasteel.

It sounded like Greez was trying to personally scrub every single bit of pollen off Ezra's skin.

Welp, I can't save him, she decided.

The princess cleared her throat, dropping her hand and pointedly walking back to the living area. Cere was back now, looking towards the refresher door in confusion and concern. Leia got her attention.

"Is there somewhere I can try to scrub some of this gunk out of my jacket?" she asked.

Cere stirred.

"There's a washbin in my room," she said. "Soap is in the drawers, first one from the top."

"Thanks," said Leia, as Cere came forward to guide her, both women ignoring the water on full blast and the heated argument coming from inside the refresher.

-SW-

Leia emerged from Cere's room, holding her damp jacket in her arms in defeat. Ten minutes of scrubbing had yet to yield any fading of the bright green slime stains. She was beginning to wonder what Sabine put in her paints that kept color so well.

She sighed. Wasn't like this was one of her favorite jackets or anything. Maybe she could get Sabine to at least put a nice design on it or something.

Walking into the living area she looked up and muffled a chuckle at Ezra.

He was sitting huddled and wrapped in a blanket on the couch, scrunched up like a miserable wet Loth-kitten. His hair was still damp and dripping, face furiously flushed, and he was looking very intently at the floor in order to avoid eye contact.

Leia tiptoed over and sat silently on the couch next to him, giving him a look of pity. "Hey," she called.

"Hey," he mumbled back, without any enthusiasm.

There was no further response.

They fell into an awkward silence.

Leia let her gaze drift around the room, chewing on her lip. She fiddled with a loose thread on the underside of her jacket.

The air hummed with a steady, pleasant murmur.

"Greez says he won't give my clothes back until they've been through the wash at least twice," Ezra muttered.

"Oh," Leia said, inadequately. "I'm sorry."

Silence.

...

Faintly, they could hear Greez's grumbling from the refresher, as he scrubbed down the walls and floors with a squeaky sponge.

...

Ezra cleared his throat with an awkward cough.

"So..." he began, lifting his head a bit, twinging with embarrassment. "I would really appreciate it if you would... not mention this to my crew. Or... anyone... ever," he added.

Leia couldn't hold back a closed-mouthed grin.

"I dunno Ezra, that's a bit of a tall order don't you think?" she teased.

He looked at her pleadingly.

"I will literally do anything," he begged.

Her grin widened now but she decided to grant him mercy. "All right, Ezra. I won't say anything." She held up a finger. "But you owe me."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am," he said quickly.

Leia sent a look towards the cockpit. "That goes for you too, Artoo," she warned.

The astromech swiveled with an offended look.

"Bwee-doop bee doo beep," he whistled innocently.

"Don't give me that," Leia told the droid sternly. "I know you're recording us right now."

Artoo's recording light blipped off and the droid feigned ignorance, and not even Leia's best glare could make him fess up.

"I'll wipe his files later," she promised Ezra.

"Please do," he whimpered.

Greez emerged from the fresher at that point, hazmat mask over his face and elbow-length cleaning gloves covering all four arms.

He crossed stiffly into the kitchen, muttering about, "Just figures I'm out of antihistamine, that's just my luck..." as he slapped the cutting board down and began to chop up greens.

-SW-

Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Millenium Falcon Auxiliary Hallway

23 minutes after "The Incident"

Han wiped his forehead, leaning back in the floor pit, hydrospanner dropping to his side.

"All right, try it now!" he called up to the two droids.

Chopper whomped an acknowledgement and let his manipulator click in the port a few times.

The warning klaxon sounded as the life support filters were purged, flooding the pit with dusty foul gas and smoke.

Han waved it away from his face, coughing a couple times and squinting at the machinery. "Great!" he said. "Much better!"

Threepio fretted nearby, watching the smoke drift up from the pit. "C1-10P I must reiterate, it is simply improper to purge the filters with organics inside the maintenance access. Prolonged exposure to air cycler waste has been known to cause serious lung problems, especially for humans."

Chopper blew a surly raspberry.

"It's fine, Threepio," Han sighed, placing hands on the floor to lift himself out of the pit. He pulled one leg out and then then other, carefully getting to his feet. "My lungs are shot anyway." He looked down at the pit a couple moments, hands on his hips, then gestured with the hydrospanner. "All right, close this panel up, let's move on to the one on the other side," he ordered.

Both droids moved to comply, Chopper whapping Threepio's silver shin in irritation.

"Really! All I'm doing is looking out for the well-being of my organics, you could stand to learn some manners and—dare I say—protocol when it comes to relating to them," he complained.

"WUB WUUUBUB WUB WUUB WUBB WUBBWUUBBA!" Chopper shot back.

"Bullying is not how we show affection!" Threepio argued hotly. "Honestly!"

Han ignored them, going further down the hall to where Cal had a wall panel off and the system's bowels across the floor.

"How's it coming with that fuel injector?" he asked.

Cal leaned out of the opening and frowned at the mess inside. "I used to take ships apart for a living and I've never seen wiring more haphazard and dysfunctional."

"Is that a comment or a critique?" asked Han witheringly.

Cal cracked his neck and shoulders. "I can fix it, but I can't promise the sockets will stay in the same place, I'm going to have to take some of this apart and rewire it. You okay with that?" he checked.

"Whatever you need to do, pal, I just want her functional," Han told him, passing off the hydrospanner into the Jedi's palm.

Leaving Cal to his task, Han continued along the hall towards the living area. All things considered his little repair crew were making stunning progress. Threepio and Chopper bickered but cooperated long enough to complete tasks, Cal was remarkably knowledgeable about the inner workings of ships, and even the little Mandalorian had pitched in a couple times before making herself scarce somewhere, which was fine by him, he didn't really want her poking around his ship anyway.

The only person who wasn't really helping out was Merrin, who just kind of sat and stared at Han suspiciously as he stopped and entered the crew quarters room.

Han went straight in to grab his tools, trying not to think about how she looked like a giant red bird of prey perched on the edge of the bed like that and how he shouldn't make any false moves.

"I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much," he'd commented to Cal earlier, the last time he had to visit his room and find her watching him like a Naboo dactyl hawk.

"Nah, she's just like that," the Jedi had dismissed.

"That isn't comforting," he'd grumbled.

He backed straight out once he had what he was looking for, keeping Merrin within eyeline.

He had almost made it back out the door when she surprised him by speaking up.

"Would it not be more productive to keep all your tools together, instead of scattering them around the ship?" she asked.

Han was so tensed he jolted out of his skin at her voice, nearly dropping the tools he'd come for. After fumbling a few moments, bouncing tools off his hands until he caught them, he heaved a great sigh.

He pointed one of them at Merrin in warning before backing out without responding.

The door slid closed again to separate them.

"I don't question your magic ritual methods..." he grumbled, carrying the tools towards the living area. He had to sidestep another open floor panel, and hugged close to the wall to avoid falling in.

Cal's head popped up from the pit unexpectedly.

"You've got carbon build-up like an inch thick in here, it's amazing!" he said.

Han full-body startled and this time did drop his tools. They went every which way with metal clatters, some of them dropping into the pit.

RATTLE!

Frustrated, he jabbed a finger at Cal. "Don't you start doing that too!" Wearily, he began picking the tools back up. "How'd you even get in there?" he asked.

"There's enough crawlspace through the ship innards to move around, it's a tight fit but nothing I haven't done before," Cal explained. He held up the end of a plug. "Had to see where this one attached, it was wrapped around a conduit."

"Fantastic," Han drolled. He stacked the tools he could reach and left them by the open pit, deciding he would much rather have a drink than continue fiddling with the ship right now. "If you get yourself stuck in there, don't look to me to save you."

He walked away and finished the circuit to the living area, ignoring the louder-growing bickering of Threepio and Chopper behind him as they came to attend to the second maintainence pit.

"Sure, just squeeze through the insides of the ship," he grouched to himself. "Not like she's been through enough today." His boots tapped on the glasslike floor as he made his way through the doorway.

He beelined for the cabinets. He almost made it.

Then he glanced over towards the other side and about popped a blood vessel when he saw that Sabine was painting his walls.

He stumbled over himself to jerk around.

"What are you doing?!" he screeched, shouting, stabbing the air with his hands in outrage.

Sabine barely glanced up from her spraying, adding another line of bright magenta to her design.

"Making improvements," she said. "Obviously," she added in an irritated mutter.

Han's throat strangled around a shrill noise.

"You should thank me, this eyesore was seriously devoid of color. Can't believe you live like this, it's embarrassing," Sabine was saying, concentrating intently on her work. (Which seemed to be an abstract rendition of herself in front of a bright explosion.)

Involuntarily, Han grasped for his blaster, fumbling it out of its holster and pointing it at her, shakily.

Han did not consider himself a violent man. Sure he was a scoundrel and a lovable rogue, and he didn't shy away from a good fight, but he abhorred needless slaughter and he considered himself a principled man.

But for one moment, one tiny fraction of a second... he seriously considered murdering the girl.

Sabine glanced back from her work and scoffed at the blaster in Han's hand, pointed at her. "What, are you gonna shoot me?" she challenged.

Han's hand trembled furiously as he contemplated exactly that. This was justifiable homicide wasn't it? Rebel Command would surely pardon him.

...Right?

"Get out," he strained, voice tight.

Sabine's eyes flicked down towards the barrel of the blaster and back up to his face, skeptical. But she didn't move.

Han depressed the trigger, the shot loud in the closed space as it bounced off the wall just a fraction of a hair too close to Sabine's head.

"OUT!" he shouted.

"Okay!" Sabine cried, frightened, hands going immediately up in surrender and paint sprayer pointed towards the ceiling as she fled out the doorway and down the other hallway, running for her life.

Han crumpled as if cut from strings, sagging into the dejarik booth. The blaster slipped loosely from his hand as he slumped in place.

Stars above, he was being punished for something in a past life, wasn't he?

He mashed a hand over his face.

Just two minutes, he promised himself. Just two minutes and then he was drowning himself with one of their bottles of hooch.

-SW-

Klipspree - Jargoon - IRO Alpha-Four Facility - Level 1 - Lab 15 Auxiliary Access Hallway

27 minutes after "The Incident"

The chaos might have been winding down for the Rebel vessels out in hyperspace, but down on Klipspree in the IRO facility it was still reigning full force.

Multiple fires were going. Medics and mechanics were frantically running back and forth, trying to salvage property and personnel. The ration gelatin was still expanding, still overtaking hallway after hallway on the lab levels.

TK-6776 was frantically firing his blaster into the oncoming wall of slime. His shots seemed useless; he and the pretty technician he'd always had a bit of a thing for were cornered in one of the halls, and it was looking increasingly like they were going to die here despite his heroic last stand.

Feeling a bit panicked, maybe a little delirious from the noxious fumes of whatever was burning, the trooper threw down his blaster with a despairing, "I don't wanna die a virgin!"

"Me neither!" shrilled the technician, huddling in a corner.

He swiveled his head towards her, slyly.

"Heeeeey, that gives me an idea," he said, grinning.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.6 hours after "The Incident"

Gideon felt a vein in his forehead pulsing.

The stenographer was bent over the desk, giggling uncontrollably in drunken amusement, and even Vader's respirator was wheezing as if the Dark Lord was holding back a chuckle, but the ISB agent found it all entirely unamusing.

"Well," he withered with dry, unpleased sarcasm, "I hope you at least enjoyed yourselves before deciding to dishonor the Imperial Army."

"Actually," TK-6776 said lightly, "sex was a bit of a letdown." He shrugged with casual indifference. "I was disappointed," he confessed.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Outside Conference Room B

8.6 hours after "The Incident"

The door burst open with a loud hiss and TK-6776 somersaulted ass over teakettle, scrambling up and running for the hills as Gideon shouted apoplectically behind him, Vader and the stenographer clutching valiantly to his arms to hold him back.

"Let me at him!" Gideon yelled, foaming at the mouth and seething. "Let me at him, LET ME AT HIM!"

Chapter Text

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing

8.7 hours after "The Incident"

The mist over the jungle was starting to turn white-gray, tinged with orange and rose as the sun peeked over the horizon at last, signaling the end to a very long night for Mon Mothma.

Fortunately her interviews were drawing to a close; she'd dismissed Hera, Cere, and Leia and was just awaiting a final word or two with some of her officers. She'd already offered a promotion to the poor comms tech that had valiantly tried to warn the Falcon and the Ghost of their conflicting missions.

Now she stood next to her desk, prim and serious as the door opened to admit General Davits Draven and Major Bren Derlin.

Draven didn't even have the decency to look particularly bothered, sauntering in dour-faced and with his jacket opened casually—not even buttoned, she noted with displeasure—as if he hadn't been the entire cause of the event.

Derlin, on the other hand, was wound tight, face pinched with agitation, clutching a datapad tight against his chest.

He and Draven were in a heated argument even before they came in.

"I have told you, time and time again, you have to coordinate with other people!" Derlin was complaining. "You can't just casually mention a mission you sent a team on in the middle of the ready room and make the techs panic when they realize the discrepancy! One of these days you're going to get someone killed!"

Draven rolled his eyes. "No one got killed, they even made it back with extras," he grunted. "Look, I don't see what the big fuss is about."

"The fuss?!" Derlin cried, rounding on the intelligence officer. "I've got Commander Skywalker laid up with a concussion, Captain Solo is trying to take medical leave for a stress breakdown, and that damn golden protocol droid won't shut up for a minute about how horrible an ordeal everything was!" He pointed with sharp gestures. "Not to mention the Wookie and Lasat are missing!"

"They're not missing," Mon Mothma reported tiredly. "Syndulla confirmed they went to the North Perimeter to have a few celebratory drinks."

Draven chuckled. "Good for them."

Mon Mothma gave him an unamused glare. Addressing both of them she said, "I'm not going to mince words, gentlemen, I'm flabbergasted." Her palms opened helplessly. "How did this happen?" she asked, strained.

Draven shrugged. "I had an operative call in about the list, said his name was on it and he feared for his life, needed to be pulled out immediately. I told him I'd take care of it."

The senator groaned.

"We have methods for extracting agents, Draven. You know this! If you'd let Rebel Command know, we could have easily arranged something!"

"Didn't want him extracted, he's more valuable there," Draven dismissed. "Figured if I made the list disappear he could find a way to throw off the Imps' scent for a little while longer. So I looked at the ships we had that were free and in the area and sent a coded message to the one that was closest, which happened to be the Falcon."

"So you gambled the life of an operative on Captain Solo's team making a clean in and out, which they were never going to do because we had a whole other team striking the same location and weren't able to get them informed and coordinated because you let people know about it at the literal last minute!" Bren Derlin ranted, thoroughly agitated now.

He turned and began whapping Draven's arm and shoulder with his datapad.

"This is why! We have! Procedures!" he said.

"Ow! Ow!" Draven protested, flinching back from the hits. He turned to Mon Mothma. "Senator!" he cried, indignant.

"No, I'm with him," Mon Mothma said, loudly offended. "You flagrantly failed to follow the chain of command and put everyone involved in the operation in considerable danger!"

"I'd say they caused a lot more danger to the Imps, personally," Draven muttered.

"Don't get smart!" Mon Mothma chided. Taking a deep breath she attempted to calm herself. "All we're saying is, it would have been so much more preferable if we were able to plan this out, rather than throwing three separate Rebel crews together—"

"The Mantis was not my fault!" Draven objected.

"Regardless—and hoping for the best," she finished.

Stone-faced, Draven stirred.

"With all due respect, Senator," he said, "if you read through the Imperial chatter logs coming from that sector you would see that the Imps are reporting significant casualties." He tried to reach for Derlin's datapad but the other man clutched it tighter protectively, and Draven just waved that off and stepped forward. "Catastrophic damage to the facility, disrupted experiments, destroyed equipment, sabotaged security systems. The outpost is now down a walker, a whole TIE squad, a bomber, a good chunk of personnel, and all of its outer perimeter turrets. About 90% of the garrison and outpost's staff have turned in resignations or quit, including most of the chain of command. The Rebel teams completed both their objectives and even liberated a priceless historic Jedi artifact," he listed, gesturing softly. "By all metrics other than the paperwork involved would this not, respectfully, be considered an overwhelming success?" he argued.

Mon Mothma stared at him.

He stared back.

...

...

"...Get out of my office," Mon Mothma eventually strained, pointing towards the door with stiff arm.

Draven nodded once, in stubborn but grim respect, and turned for the door.

-SW-

She shut off the recording device after concluding taking Derlin's statement and gave another long weary sigh as the man saw himself out.

As he was passing out through the door, her aide passed in, bringing her a stack of datapads and flimsi.

"Here you are, Senator," Erskin piped, entirely too cheerfully for the headache still pounding in her head. "I've compiled all the reports and chat logs you requested. They've been arranged in rough timeline order."

He set them down on the edge of her desk.

Mon Mothma looked at them for a moment and then stirred.

"Thank you Erskin, leave them right there for me, I am going to bed," she instructed.

Erskin blinked and then glanced out the window in confusion.

"But... it's six in the morning..." he pointed out.

"I said, I am going to bed," Mon Mothma emphasized tersely.

Erskin nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am, of course."

He stood the side respectfully as she swept out of the room, determined to bury her stress under a few hours of blissful unconsciousness atop her imported mattress set.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Auxillary Hallway 7

8.7 hours after "The Incident"

"And I'll be back on rotation in another few cycles, once they repair the base of the tower," Celeste relayed to the friend she was in holoconference with, the simmering bust flickering above the datapad's emitter as she walked.

Her friend blew out a low whistle. "I still can't believe you survived a meeting with Vader!"

Celeste waved that off. "Oh he's not so bad, actually," she dismissed. "I mean, yeah. Terrifying. Thought I was a goner for sure." She regripped the datapad with both hands. "But it turns out he's actually also a fan of—"

She smacked into someone's chest dead on because she wasn't paying attention.

"MEEP!" she squeaked, flailing back horrified as she realized she'd ran right into the topic of conversation himself.

There wasn't even a pause in the very familiar breathing. Vader quickly snatched the datapad from her hands and pressed the button to cut off the communication.

"You will speak of that to no one," he growled.

Fists up by her mouth, pressing into her lips, Celeste shrilled a terrified, "Yes sir!"

Vader paused unexpectedly a moment, looking down at her datapad.

With a few clicks and presses to the screen he did something with it and handed it back to her.

"Take care not to be caught reading on the job again, Miss Pells," his rumbling baritone warned her, as he began to stalk past, cape swishing around his heels dramatically. "Your good taste will not save you next time."

Confused (and still a little terrified), Celeste watched mutely as the Dark Lord of the Sith swept out of her sight.

She took a peek down at her datapad screen.

Floored, her knees gave out and she tilted backwards and hit the floor herself, sitting down heavily, legs limp, eyes gaping.

She had, in her hands, a compressed file containing Arleen Tarokin's entire body of work.

She let the pad clatter from her hands.

"No one is gonna believe me..." she moaned.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Mess Hall

8.7 hours after "The Incident"

Sabine peered over Ezra's shoulder as he scratched out a couple designs onto a blank page of her sketchbook. Ezra hastily filled in some lines with a few furious strokes and then set the charcoal down and held up the book for her appraisal.

"Something like this, I'm thinking," he told her.

She looked over his etchings, rough concept studies for a new lightsaber hilt, and gave a nod of approval. "Not bad," she told him. "Could use a little more color," she joked.

"Isn't that what I have you for?" he teased with a grin.

He set down the pad and fiddled with the miscellaneous knobs and emitters he'd spread out on the table.

"So I'm definitely thinking the Blastersaber 2.0, and if I can figure out how this circuit switcher works, I think I want to try giving it a split saber mode."

Sabine made a face. "We are not calling it the Blastersaber 2.0," she shot down.

"Excuse me, 'we'? Since when do you get a say in what we're calling my lightsaber?" Ezra objected.

Sabine held up her paint sprayer, depressing the trigger with a puff of orange aerosol paint for emphasis. "Do you want me to paint that stylized Loth-wolf design on the hilt or not?" she asked.

"Ezra!"

Hera's call came from behind them and both young Rebels flinched.

"Oh kriff," Ezra said, quickly trying to clean things up.

The Twi'lek stalked up to them with purpose, expression tired. "I told you I want those lightsaber parts returned to the Mantis," she said.

Ezra swept the parts off the table and into his lap with a noisy clatter, making them disappear from sight right before she reached them.

"What lightsaber parts?" he blurted.

Hera put her hands on her hips with flat brows and eyes. "Uh-huh," she intoned skeptically. She turned to Sabine. "And Sabine—" she began.

"Oooh, sorry Hera, gotta go!" Sabine said hastily, immediately hopping up onto the table and vaulting over to the other side in retreat. "Lots to paint, you know how it is, see you later!"

She took off.

"Oh no you—SABINE!" Hera yelled, drawing multiple other people's attention as she laid into hot pursuit after the Mandalorian. "You've done enough painting for today and you need to undo some of it!"

"You can't shackle my artistic expression!" Sabine cried.

Ezra started to get up, gathering his nicked parts in one arm, but then heard another commotion from the other end of the mess hall.

Several more curious heads turned and then a few Rebels yelped and pulled themselves out of the way as Artoo careened into the room, zooming on fast wheels across the floor and screeching binary profanities at Chopper, who wasn't far behind, chasing him.

"WUUUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUBBA WUBWABBA!" ("Give that to me you little shit-nugget!") Ezra translated the C1's angry blorting.

"BWEEE BEEP BIP BIIIIIIPBOOP!" ("Make me you pissant!") Artoo shot back.

A very harried Leia emerged from the same entrance as the droids.

"Artoo! Get back here!" she scolded. The apologetic grimace she flashed at Ezra told him everything he needed to know about what was going on.

"Aw man," he groaned, quickly standing up.

He rushed into the fray, nearly smacking straight into Kallus, who looked blearily up from his cup of caf with just enough presence of mind to recognize the Jedi.

"Bridger, you're back," he greeted. "Have you seen Zeb any—"

"Hi Kallus! Hold these!" Ezra interrupted, dumping his armful of lightsaber parts into Kallus's free hand.

He was gone a moment later, pelting after Artoo, leaving Kallus blinking in place.

The former ISB agent took in the sight before him.

Sabine was flying above the heads of the Rebels with her jetpack, not able to gain much height because Hera had a firm hold of her ankle and was dragging her with the help of a full chain of pilots.

"Get DOWN here, Young Miss!" Hera shouted.

"I refuse to share an airfield with that affront to human vision!" Sabine cried, kicking furiously, drawing her blasters for a last stand.

And on the other side of the mess hall Ezra had pinned Artoo with a flying tackle and was fending off Chopper as he wrestled the astromech.

"Leia, I got him! Hurry!"

Leia dove into the midst of them and they became a blur of droid and human limbs.

Kallus held the lightsaber parts awkwardly and peered down into his cup of caf.

...He was having a stress-induced hallucination and should probably report to Medical, he decided.

"I don't want to know," he said, turning around and walking back out of the mess hall.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Med Bay 4

8.7 hours after "The Incident"

Of course, Kallus would have continued to be confused if he entered Medical right at that moment, because an odd sort of conference was taking place in the hallway just outside one of the rooms. (Where everyone had been banished after causing too much disruption and "distraction", per the med-droid.)

"Should you even be up yet?" Cere said, fussing over Luke, brushing the hair away from the rather impressive welt on his head where he'd run into the wall.

He batted off her hands. "I'm fine, Cere, MEDI-V says I just need to report any vision or hearing changes and make sure to take an anti-inflammatory for the pain." He peered keenly at the hilt on her belt. "So does your saber do anything special or...?" he asked excitedly.

Cere glanced towards Kanan and he could hear her silent question, feel her continued concern through the Force.

The man shook his head. "MEDI-V would just kick us back out," he said. "Besides, he should have a say in this discussion."

"Honestly not sure what there is to discuss," quipped Cal. "Obviously he's gonna be my padawan."

"That hasn't been firmly decided," Cere countered, hissing slightly through her teeth.

Cal angled towards her, gesturing eagerly. "Cere, c'mon, Kanan already has a padawan, you're getting up in years and probably looking forward to a nice retirement—no offense—"

Cere's jaw twitched. "None taken," she nevertheless replied.

"And I called dibs!" Cal finished arguing.

Under his breath Kanan grumbled, "Still isn't how it works..."

Cere attempted a genial smile as she put a hand on Cal's shoulder. "Ah, but Jedi learning was always informally a communal affair no matter who your official master was," she said. "And I'm sure there are gaps in your education that Kanan and I can readily fill. Even Ezra might have something to teach him."

Cal pressed his lips together, considering her point. "Okay, but I still get to be his primary master, right?" he pressed.

"Sure," Kanan sighed. "The Ghost is crowded enough as it is, would be really hard to find room for him."

"I could bunk with Ezra?" Luke suggested.

Kanan shook his head. "No good. He rooms with the Lasat."

"Voluntarily?!" Luke gaped.

Kanan grinned. "I mean, not at first. Besides," he said, changing the focus, "don't you have your own crew?"

Luke looked down and scuffed the floor with a boot. "Well, yeah..." he admitted. "Mon Mothma probably wouldn't approve a permanent transfer anyway."

"We can work something out," Cal said, breathless and eyes gleaming. He glanced to Cere. "What do you think, two weeks on, six weeks off?" he asked.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Seems doable." Looking to Kanan she queried, "You wanna take one of those weeks, for supplemental training?"

"I'd have to run it by Hera but—"

He broke off, a murmur in the Force pulling his attention, and lifted his head past them.

They turned and looked that way in time to see Ezra carrying Leia on his back, piggyback style. One of her white boots was off and her ankle was canted in a twisted fashion, but otherwise she looked entirely comfortable and unbothered, arms hung around Ezra's neck very casually.

Ezra's eyes, on the other hand, were wandering by his shins, and he only glanced up once with a subtle warning glare to the multiple curious eyebrows that raised at them.

"Don't ask," he said.

They collectively dismissed their mental questions.

Luke stepped forward, worried. "Leia, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she dismissed. "Artoo and Chopper got sent to droid time-out though." She looked around the odd circle. "What's going on here?"

"Kanan and Cal and Cere are gonna train me to be a Jedi!" Luke gushed excitedly.

Bemused, she tilted her chin. "Really?"

Kanan waved a hand to slow that train of thought down. "Well, we're still figuring out the exact details and we're still going to need permission from Rebel Command so—"

A green puff of sparks interrupted him as Merrin appeared, frowning and cross-armed, in the space between him and Cal.

"Khfffnnghh!" Kanan blurted, startling and flailing back, as usual.

"I am growing impatient, my love," Merrin told Cal sternly. Her eyes were narrowed, not quite glaring, but at the point where the rest of them felt nervous. "You know I do not like to be kept waiting," she warned.

He took her elbows softly, tenderly, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. "I'll be back to the Mantis soon, Merrin, promise," he said. "We're almost done."

"Mmm," she mumbled, gray cheeks staining a bit pink now, and went in for one more kiss before she poofed away again.

Flickers and embers of green drifted slowly down to the floor.

The group watched them dissipate silently.

...

"Soooooo, not like I have any room to talk on the whole 'attracted to dangerous and scary powerful girls' thing but..." Ezra piped up. His face wrinkled and puckered at Cal. "Seriously? A Nightsister?"

Kanan's head whipped around. "You're dating a Nightsister?!" he said incredulously.

Suddenly a lot of things from the Incident made more sense.

"Uh, yeah?" Cal said, confused by Kanan's horror. "I mean you're dating a Twi'lek..."

"Hera is not going to randomly murder me in my sleep because I'm not paying her enough attention!" Kanan protested.

"She's only tried to kill me twice and that was only when we first met," Cal defended.

Cere pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing as if in pain. "You're not exactly helping your case, Cal..." she said.

"What's a Nightsister?" asked Luke.

"We'll explain later," said all the Jedi in unison.

"Merrin seems all right to me, Kanan, I don't know what you're so worried about," Leia put in, adjusting herself on Ezra's back.

"We don't have the best experience with Nightsisters," Ezra explained. "Long story, tell you in a bit."

"Right, so adding 'Inter-Force-Disclipine Relations' to the list of lessons for Luke," Kanan groaned, rubbing his temples. He angled towards Luke. "You psychometric at all?" he asked.

"I... don't know what that means," Luke admitted.

Kanan shuddered in relief. "Oh good. Cal is, you're gonna want to watch out for that," he warned. "He has a habit of touching things he's not supposed to and passing out. Slipped right into a pool in the Room Of A Thousand Fountains once, nearly drowned. Had to haul his ass out," he relayed, giving a dramatic head roll.

Cal was about to start in with a protest but stopped, squinting. "Wait, how do you know that story?" he asked.

...

Kanan grew remarkably nervous and quiet all of a sudden.

"Uh, well... that's... I mean..." he stammered.

"The only other two Initiates who knew about that were.." Now very interested, Cal pressed him further. "Who was your master?" he asked.

The man wouldn't face towards anyone. "That's really not all that important..." Kanan said evasively.

"Oh, that was Depa. He talks about her all the time," Ezra answered for him.

"Ezra!" Kanan hissed.

"What?" Ezra protested.

"Depa Billaba?" Cal lit up suddenly, sparking with excitement. "You're Caleb Dume!" he realized.

Kanan was now openly fidgeting in panic. "IIIIIIII have no idea what you're talking about," he denied. He could feel Cal getting up in his space, sense the others all watching with rising amusement.

"I remember you!" Cal exclaimed like an eager puppy. "We used to sneak down to the kitchens together and steal uj cakes! You were terrified of spring peepers!" he continued, heedless, flailing. "You called Depa 'mom' once!"

The skin below Kanan's eyemask flushed deep, his face turning a purple-red.

Ezra and Leia snickered under their breaths. Luke gave a little fascinated sound in his throat.

"This I need to hear," Cere said, grinning and enjoying things entirely too much.

Cal launched straight into the tale.

"Okay so it was right before they were set to deploy, I don't even remember why we in the same briefing but he said something cheeky and she mussed his hair all up and—"

"LET'S TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE NOW!" Kanan interrupted with a mortified yell.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Rebel Airfield

8.7 hours after "The Incident"

Han scrubbed furiously at the hull, knees and elbows and shoulders aching. The cleaner he was using was just smearing the blue streak of paint into a messier splotch, and he was frustrated.

He paused a moment and leaned back on his knees. Heaving, he swiped a sleeve across his brow, already sweaty even though the morning chill wasn't even dissipated yet.

"Threepio, any luck getting ahold of Chewie yet?" he yelled down at the golden protocol droid.

"Not yet, Sir," Threepio reported.

"Well keep at it!" Han snapped.

The droid rushed off again and Han looked down at his task in despair and sighed.

"Stars know I can't keep this heap flying without him," he muttered, bending over again. The sponge squeaked loudly as he pressed it hard against the hull.

He worked tirelessly for several more minutes, on the verge of giving up.

And that was when he heard the sound of steps coming up the service ladder.

He glanced up and was both surprised and suspicious when he saw Sabine. She was scowling and hefting a large bucket of something that sloshed with every step as she made her way to him across the top of the Falcon.

From the whiff he caught of it as she came near, it was something much stronger than what he was using.

Sabine grouchily dropped the bucket on the roof.

"Takes all the fun out of everything..." she complained under her breath, sliding down to her knees next to him.

Han hid a grin as he made room for her.

"Start scrubbing, sister," he said, passing her the sponge as he stood up.

She grumbled as she began attacking her own artwork, the color running much easier now.

Han made his way to the ladder to go fetch another sponge from inside.

Maybe the day was looking up.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Hanger 3 - Stinger Mantis Main Living Area

8.7 hours after "The Incident"

Luke marveled at the interior living area of the Mantis, awed and whistling at the sleek edges and pristine counter tops .

"Never knew a ship could be this shiny inside as well," he quipped in admiration, as Cal disappeared briefly to get something from his workbench.

Greez puffed out his chest. The hairs next his neck fluffed out proudly.

"I keep her meticulously clean. Cal can attest," he said.

Cal returned from his brief excursion, a few parts in his hands and a confused expression on his face.

"Greez, where's my Mygeeto Campaign emitter and my Corundum hilt piece?" he asked.

Greez scratched one of his four hands behind his head uncomfortably. "Er... I gave 'em to the kid."

Cal's eyes flicked towards Luke.

"Not that one," Greez corrected. "The other one."

"Ezra?" Luke guessed, correctly.

Both left hands were now scratching behind him, and Greez was very sheepish-looking. "Yeah, I felt bad for him because of... a thing," he said, trailing off cryptically. "So I kind of looked the other way when I caught him taking stuff off your workbench. Sorry," he said.

Cal looked stung, face quivering like a sad puppy's. "Greez, you're giving away my lightsaber parts?" he whined.

"You never use them!" Greez defended. "You spend hours taking that saber apart and putting it back together in different configurations only to put the same three or four pieces back together and call it a day!" he pointed out.

It was Cal's turn to look sheepish. "That's fair," he admitted. Turning to his new padawan, he spread the parts out in his palms. "So like I was saying, the emitter's the part that the blade comes out of and—"

A pop of green sparks signaled the arrival of one very frustrated Merrin.

"I have been very patient, Cal Kestis," she told him, reaching up and grabbing a firm handful of his collar. "And I have waited long enough. We are doing this, now," she said firmly.

Cal's expression and brain blanked out for a good moment, before he flushed and stammered awkwardly, "O—Okay Merrin, but uh—" His eyes flicked frantically towards Luke. "Can—can we maybe do this somewhere not within earshot of my brand new padawa—"

She yanked on his collar, making him drop the lightsaber parts.

"—hhrk!" he finished with a choke.

He was dragged off unceremoniously towards the engine room, and barely managed to close the door before the yelping and moaning began.

Greez and Luke listened awkwardly to the loud metal thumps for a moment.

"SAY ARE YOU HUNGRY, I'M HUNGRY!" Greez said loudly, moving immediately to the kitchen to fire up the stoves once more.

"Think I'd be better off on the Falcon right now," Luke mumbled, ears staining red in embarrassment.

-SW-

Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Rebel Airfield

8.8 hours after "The Incident"

Sabine's bucket was much lighter as Han escorted her back to the Ghost, in time to see Hera driving a complaining Chopper up the ramp.

"And don't let me catch you doing it again!" she scolded after him. She nodded once to acknowledge Sabine, who scowled and stomped up the ramp without fanfare.

Han joined her momentarily at the foot of the ramp.

"She give you any trouble?" Hera asked.

"Nah," Han dismissed. Now that his ship was back to normal he was in a much better mood. "She's a good kid she just..." He grimaced. "Needs to keep her paints off my ship."

"It won't happen again," Hera promised.

"Right." Distracted, Han asked, "Chewie or Zeb check in yet?"

"I called them a little while ago, Zeb said they were coming back," Hera told him.

As if on cue, there was a warbling, wailing... noise... that started drifting over the little hillock on the breeze, coming towards them.

"Think that's them now," Han grunted.

"Oh no..." Hera groaned.

As the noise got closer it resolved into... well it wasn't quite singing, as singing had some semblance of melody and tune and rhythm. Which neither Zeb nor Chewbacca had.

It was rather impressive actually, the off-key bellowing howls of the Wookie as he tried to harmonize with Zeb's staggered, slurring baritone.

The two of them came into view, holding each other up by arms around shoulders, stumbling and swaying this way and that as they drunkenly made their way up the airfield.

"And th' girls, they say—Hic!—they don't want noooonnne!" Zeb crooned.

"AWWwwaooooraaaa raaaagh!" came Chewbacca's inebriated addition.

"But watch as they follow you hooooooooooome!" the Lasat finished, Chewbacca's yowls warbling and trilling on the same pitch as him as the Wookie leaned in close.

They cleared Rebels from their path immediately as pilots and technicians fled the cacophony.

"My ears hate me for this," moaned someone in the crowd.

Zeb and Chewbacca broke off into raucous laughter, attached at the hip as they shuffled their way forward.

"Y'know what Chewie?" slurred Zeb. "You're all right."

"Aaagggg raaaar," agreed Chewbacca.

They made it up to Han and Hera, wobbling unsteadily.

Han crossed his arms sternly like a disappointed parent. "Well it's about damn time!" he said, annoyed.

Chewbacca whined, looking rather puppy-like and pathetic as he protested, separating from Zeb at last and making people very nervous as all seven and a half feet of him swayed in place.

"Hhrrrrraaa grraaah aaaaah," his watery howls rang out.

"Yeah yeah, I love you too buddy." Han gestured off towards their own ship. "C'mon pal, we still got a couple things to finish fixing up with the Falcon, you can tell me all about it in the maintenance pit."

Hera watched them begin to depart with mild concern and alarm.

"Should he be repairing things in his condition?" she asked anxiously.

Han maneuvered around behind the Wookie, hands on his back to support him as he carefully guided him forward. "He'll be fine. Not like he can make a mess bigger than what's already there," he dismissed. "That's it buddy, one foot at a time, you're doing great," he encouraged.

It was seven steps before Chewbacca tripped on something and sent it clattering loudly as it toppled over.

CRASH!

"Sorry!" Han yelled immediately across the field to all listening ears.

Hera shook her head, lekku swaying, and turned her attention to her own drunken crewmate. Zeb was watching a cloud in the sky go by, pointing to it and giggling.

"Should I even ask if there's any hooch left?" she said flatly, hands on her hips.

"All gone!" Zeb confirmed, grinning. "Don' worry we didn't leave the bottles out in the—Hic!—jungle. Recycled them!" he chirped. "Very respectibibble." He squinted and frowned. "Resfectable." He waved his large hands and wobbled in place. "Whatever, you know what I mean!"

Hera resisted the urge to sigh through her nose. She crossed her arms, fixing him with a severe look.

"Go straight to bed, sleep it off," she ordered. "Then when you're sober and cleaned up," she emphasized, "I'll need some help loading the cargo for our next mission."

Zeb saluted messily, grinning even dopier, eyes swimming.

"Yooooooouuuuu got it, Hera! Hic!" he hiccuped. "I'll get right on that in a—Hic!—second."

He leaned forward a little too far and toppled straight over, face first into the dirt.

THUMP!

...

...A loud snore rose up from his prone body a moment later.

"Ugh," Hera groaned, turning around and walking wearily up the ramp.

Yeah, she would let Kanan and Ezra be the ones to carry him inside. Later.

Zeb continued snoring on the ground behind her as she made her way into the ship.

-SW-

Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B

8.8 hours after "The Incident"

Gideon reached over the stenographer's sleeping form carefully. He detached the report from her typing pad and held it up to scan over it.

He heaved a great sigh as the transcription got progressively more incoherent towards the end, filled with 'hilarious' commentary from the stenographer and more and more typos.

He'd have to have her redo those portions later. There was no way he was sending it up the chain like this.

He grimaced and full-body shuddered at the thought of the Emperor reading the report.

He wondered how the man was taking things...

-SW-

Coruscant - Imperial Palace - Emperor's Inner Chambers

8.8 hours after "The Incident"

Emperor Palpatine lay facedown on his bed, ramrod stiff as a board on the covers and making muffled incoherent angry screams into his pillow.