Chapter Text
The chaos had started the morning of three very critical missions.
Well, actually, it had started the night before as the crew planned those critical missions. Ezra had raised a fuss about being assigned to supply run with Zeb (again) rather than the data steal-and-recon job Kanan and Sabine had. Zeb had explained he wasn’t any happier about the supply run arrangement than Ezra; Sabine told them both to shut up and do their jobs; and that’s when Hera had to break up the impending fight.
“Look,” she said in her tone that allowed for no further complaining, “We’re low on supplies, the ship needs maintenance, and both of Fulcrum’s missions are time-sensitive. These team arrangements will help us get everything done in a timely manner. Clear?”
Despondent mutters answered this, and Kanan had added, “You’ll get another chance, kid.”
“All right,” Hera had said. “Everyone to bed early; we’ve got a full day tomorrow.”
And everyone except herself had gone to bed early. There really was a lot of ship maintenance to do, and it couldn’t hurt to get a head start. Or make half a cup of caf for a energy boost.
She regretted that last choice when she woke at 0400 after a restless night and couldn’t get back to sleep. And after an hour of tossing and turning, she gave up and decided to get a second head start on the day’s work.
Somebody else apparently had the same idea; she heard water running as she approached the galley. Sabine stood at the sink, holding a cup under the faucet with shaking hands. In fact, she was visibly shivering, and when she turned to see who else had entered, Hera saw the girl’s hair was sweaty, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright with fever.
“I just need water,” Sabine said hoarsely.
Hera marched to drawer where they kept various odds and ends and fished out the thermometer. “You’re sick.”
“It’s not bad!” Sabine insisted. “I’ve worked through worse!”
“I’m sure. Lift your arm.”
Sabine huffed and obeyed, standing rigid with displeasure while the thermometer took her temperature.
“103.4,” Hera announced. “You’re going back to bed, and staying there for the day.”
Sabine argued the point for about a minute, but Hera remained firm. She found the fever reducers and painkillers in another cabinet, added a few drops of liquid herbal supplement to Sabine’s water, and sent her back to bed. Afterwards, she made herself a cup of caf and sat at the galley table, thinking over the plans—and the required change of plans. After some thought, she sighed and made another cup of caf; it was 0530 now, and the sooner Kanan knew about this development, the better.
He was sound asleep when she entered his cabin; she set down the cup on the table and gently shook his shoulder. “Kanan?”
After a moment, he stirred and half turned. “Mmph?”
“Sabine’s sick. She won’t be joining you on the mission.”
Kanan groaned and pushed himself up upright. “How bad is she?”
“Could be worse, but she didn’t argue much when I told her to stay in bed.” Hera sat on the edge of the bunk and handed him the cup of caf. “Can you handle the data retrieval and recon yourself?”
Kanan was silent for a few minutes. “Not alone, not both missions,” he said at last. “I’d better take Zeb. You said these jobs were time-sensitive, right?”
“Yeah. Recon can wait, if it has to, but the data has to be gathered and sent off-world tonight.”
“Think we’d better drop the recon, then,” Kanan said. “If the data is that important, our energy and backup plans need to go there. Also, I’ve got a weird feeling about this one.”
“Great,” Hera muttered.
“Didn’t say ‘bad’,” Kanan added with a touch of amusement. “Just ‘weird.’”
“Well, I’ll get Zeb and tell him the change of plans.”
Zeb was not happy at being wakened this early, nor was he happy about the change in plans, nor that they came on such short notice. (Ezra was also displeased when he heard Zeb was to accompany Kanan instead of himself.) But in spite of grumbling and snarky comments, Zeb was finally ready, and he and Kanan departed in the Phantom at 0730. Hera, meanwhile, had created a plan B for the other jobs.
“Chopper, run a diagnostic scan on every part of the ship: computers, life support, engine, internal comm, the whole works,” Hera said. “Then start fixing what you can, and I’ll join you when I get back.” She turned to Ezra and said, “Looks like you and I are going shopping.”
***
There was a reason Hera didn’t often visit Lothal’s more populated centers. Well, she was the getaway pilot on missions, but besides that—Twi’leks were rare on Lothal. Rare enough to attract attention from the simply curious and the more…leering types. But nobody caused any trouble, and she kept her manner crisp, business-like, and busy. She had no intention of falling behind schedule, and she and Ezra were through each market stall in record time. It wasn’t until she finished buying a new stock of meds that she turned and discovered Ezra was missing.
The boxes he’d been carrying were by her feet; no doubt, he’d seen something he wanted to investigate and thought he could take off without a word. Hera sighed, gathered the abandoned supplies, and set off for the edge of town, hoping the kid would stay out of trouble until she could call his comm.
Not two seconds later, Ezra marched out of an alley just ahead, mopping a bleeding nose with his sleeve and sporting bruises on his face. He looked furious instead of scared or hurt, and he halted abruptly when he saw Hera in front of him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, quickly setting down the boxes and bags. “Did someone jump you?”
“Not exactly,” Ezra muttered.
“Then what ‘exactly’ happened?” Hera asked. She took hold of his shoulders and studied his face: bloody nose, split lips, green and purple bruises on both cheeks, and a massive shiner on his right eye. And a welt on his neck as if someone had grabbed him there. “Tell me the truth.”
Ezra squirmed, and Hera let go of him and set her hands on her hips. “I, uh…well, this sleemo was staring at you, and he finally turned to his friend and called you a…” he grimaced. “Then I told him to back off, and he said, ‘Make me,’ and…um…”
“You started a fight,” Hera said flatly.
“Well, who does he think he is, calling you—”
“I didn’t hear it, Ezra.”
“Not the point, okay! He doesn’t get to insult you like that.” The last two words turned oddly nasal as Ezra pinched his nose to stop the sudden blood flow.
Hera sighed. “All right, let’s get you home. Pick up what you can carry.”
Ezra obeyed, announcing with satisfaction (and that pinched tone), “Pretty sure he won’t do it again, though. He’ll either forget the whole thing once he wakes up, or he’ll remember enough not make that mistake a second time.”
Hera didn’t answer, and Ezra fell silent.
“Sabine! We’re home!” Hera called over her shoulder as they boarded the Ghost and she steered Ezra to the galley. There was no response from the cabins; Sabine was probably asleep, and Hera made a mental note to check on her after cleaning Ezra up. She found an ice pack, and he held it to his eye as she doused a rag and scrubbed at the cuts and dried blood on his face. He submitted to the treatment with a dejected expression.
“I’m not mad at you, Ezra,” Hera said gently. “It’s just that we have enough on our hands fighting the Empire without you picking fights with rude citizens. I know you meant well,” she said, and Ezra brightened a little, “and it was kind of you. Sounds like you gave out as good as you got,” she added with a smile.
He smirked. “Yeah, I did.”
“All right, are you hurt anywhere else?”
Ezra held out a swollen wrist, and Hera turned back to the medicine cabinet to find gauze to wrap it. Then they unpacked and put away the supplies, and Hera went to check on Sabine.
Only Sabine wasn’t in her cabin. The blankets were rumpled, as though she’d been there shortly before, but the room was deserted. Hera checked the fresher, the galley, the common room, and finally, Sabine’s cabin again, just in case they’d missed each other. “Sabine?”
“She’s in here!” Ezra called. From the cockpit. Though Hera distinctly remembered telling the girl to stay in bed. She hurried to the cockpit and found Sabine lying halfway inside a maintenance duct, hard at work with various other tools and machine parts scattered at her feet.
“Sabine Wren!”
“I’m not overdoing it, okay?” Sabine scooted out of the duct and sat up, looking affronted, exhausted, and flustered all at the same time. Her face was still flushed and was now smudged with grease. “I rested—like you said—and then decided to help Chopper. Thought you’d appreciate it.”
“I appreciate the thought, yes, but I told you to stay in bed for the day.”
“And I told you, I’m not that sick—”
“But you could get worse, and you will, if you don’t rest properly,” Hera said firmly. “Also, I don’t want an epidemic aboard my ship, so back to bed, young lady. I’ll check your temperature again in a few minutes.”
Sabine groaned in disgust and chucked her wrench aside. As she stood up, she noticed Ezra’s bruised face and halted. “Did you run into a wall?”
“Nope, into an idiot who insulted Hera.”
“Tell me you beat him.”
(Hera sighed.)
“Gave him as good as I got,” Ezra declared.
“Nice.” Sabine nodded at him and sauntered back to her cabin.
Chopper buzzed a rude threat about whoever decided to talk like that about his captain within thirty yards of his taser—
“That’s enough, Chopper,” Hera said. “Did you run the diagnostics?”
Chopper bleeped.
“All of them?”
An indignant buzz.
“All right, just checking. Ezra, check the wiring on the—”
Chopper bleeped and buzzed an addendum to his report.
“The cooling system is offline?” Hera dashed to the computer panel and pulled up the diagnostic; then she pulled up the system control panel and hit the orange ‘reset’ button. And waited for it to do its job and then turn blue.
Some mechanism deep within the ship clicked once; the button flickered and remained orange.
Hera groaned and straightened. “Chopper, did you plug in and try to fix it remotely?”
A single whomp.
“Then do it!”
***
The next half hour found Hera lying on her back in the cooling systems repair duct and checking, unplugging, and reconnecting wires. The ship grew warmer by the minute. Sabine finally appeared at the door, disheveled in sleep shirt and shorts, demanding, “Is it hot in here to anyone else?”
“Working on it, Sabine.”
“And you’re sure you don’t need my help?”
“I’m sure,” Hera said firmly. “Go back to bed.”
She pulled out of the duct only when she was about to suffocate from the heat. She called Ezra’s comm and ordered him to do what ship maintenance he could handle; then she climbed into the engine room (hotter than Ryloth’s deserts in summer) and spent the next half-hour checking the cooling unit’s filters and connection to its engine. Then she examined the cooling unit itself. And discovered the problem. Which turned out to be a part that needed replacing.
One that would be incredibly difficult to find on Lothal.
Hera climbed out of the engine room, and sank down against the wall, rubbing sweat off her forehead with her sleeve. They could check the black market before going off-world—or maybe Ezra knew of a few places to hunt for a replacement. She activated her comm.
“Ezra!”
No answer.
“Ezra, come down here!”
Still no answer.
Hera sighed, pulled herself to her feet, and went in search of the kid.
She found him in the cockpit, fighting with Chopper. Literally fighting: Ezra shouted threats and insults at the droid, hurling tools without pause, and sometimes risking that taser to land a good swat. Chopper wheeled after Ezra like a maniac, buzzing at the top of his mechanical voice, brandishing his taser, and blurting threats and insults in binary.
“Stop it, both of you!” Hera yelled. Chopper rammed into Ezra, knocking him to the ground, and then shot backwards as Ezra flung a screwdriver in his direction. The tool missed Chopper, but it hit a control panel with a loud crack. “I said stop it!” Hera grabbed Ezra’s elbow and pulled him to his feet.
“Chopper attacked me, Hera! He deserves a restraining bolt!”
Chopper buzzed loudly with the news that that loth-rat had insulted him, called him a binary droid, and had therefore started the fight himself.
“I don’t care who started the fight,” Hera said. “You both know better than to behave like this, and I need my ship repaired.”
“I’m trying!” Ezra shot a glare at the droid. “I’m trying, but this short-circuited—”
“Save it, Ezr--!”
Chopper screamed before Hera could finish, shot forward, and zapped Ezra. Ezra yelped and aimed a kick at the droid that struck home: Chopper toppled over and hit the floor with a clang and a stunned beep.
Ezra shouted in triumph, but Hera shoved him toward the door and knelt to help Chopper up. “Knock it off, both of you! If you can’t get along, you each work in separate rooms. Got it?”
“Fine with me!” Ezra snapped. Chopper, upright once more, whirled his dome in fury and blatted his uncensored opinions.
“Chopper, I will power you off if you don’t stop this behavior, right now. Both of you, stay apart for the rest of the day!” She drew a breath and spoke in a calmer tone. “Ezra, stay here and check that panel where the screwdriver landed. If I’m not mistaken, something broke.”
Ezra marched toward the control panel, and Chopper laughed and waved a taunting arm.
“Uh-uh, you’re not off the hook, Chopper. Go check the automatic doors and cabin lights and kitchen appliances, make sure everything works—”
Chopper whomped a rude protest.
“Yes, it’s mundane, but it needs to be done. Now get to it!”
Chopper rolled away, grumbling.
Hera sighed and sank into the pilot’s seat. It was getting hotter by the minute, and her flight suit was already soaked with sweat.
“Uh, Hera?” Ezra said. “I can’t tell if the whole computer is broken or just the screen.”
Hera stood and went to look at the control panel. The screen bore a spiderweb of cracks, and the monitor flickered white. She sighed again and mentally added this to the list of problems to fix. “Maybe you’ll think twice before throwing screwdrivers aboard my ship.”
“I’m sorry, Hera,” Ezra mumbled.
She glanced at the kid; his face was flushed, his hair stuck out in all directions, and sweat ran down his face in streams. She softened a little and said quietly, “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again. Now put on some cooler clothes and go clean the fresher—thoroughly. And stay out of Chopper’s way!” she called over her shoulder as Ezra stumped away. She sank into the pilot’s chair and rubbed more sweat off her face. Then she activated her comm. “Chopper, when you’re finished with that work, come back here and de-bug the navi-computer. Also run a diagnostic on this panel.”
A series of surly beeps replied that he couldn’t do any of that because Ezra was in the cockpit, and did she remember that she’d said--?
“I sent Ezra to work in other parts of the ship, Chopper. Finish your jobs, and then get back here.”
It was really hot on board.
***
Two hours later, and she had completed only a quarter of the required maintenance. The heat was thick and heavy, made it hard to think and work. Chopper took his slow, sweet time fixing and scanning anything, and finally rolled out of the room, announcing that he was too hot to do any more work today. Hera pointed out that he was a droid and couldn’t suffer from this heat. Chopper ignored this logic and the door slid shut behind him.
On the other hand, the cockpit was blissfully silent. That is, until the comm on the dashboard beeped and Kanan’s voice came through. “Spectre-1 to Ghost. Do you read?”
Hera activated her end of the comm. “I read you, Spectre-1. How’s the mission going?”
“Finished!” Kanan said, and Hera straightened in surprise. “Didn’t go off entirely as planned—we were spotted as soon as we approached the complex, and Zeb had to take out Stormtroopers at every turn.” In the background, Hera heard Zeb’s deep, satisfied chuckle. “But we got out with the data tapes, and we’re on our way back.”
“Well, that’s good, Spectre-1.”
“We may have to head out into hyperspace to throw the Empire off our trail—we got away a little too easily.”
“No can do, Spectre-1. The cooling system is offline and needs a part replaced. We can’t risk going into space, not in the Ghost, and we’ll have to lay low somewhere on Lothal. Luckily, I got enough supplies to last us for a while.”
“The—cooling system is offline?” Kanan sounded incredulous, and in the background, Zeb muttered, “Well, that’s just great.”
“Not sure how it happened, but yes, it’s broken. On that note, I’ll need help with maintenance when you get back.”
“Copy that. How’s Spectre-5?”
“She’s…” Hera groaned. “I don’t know, actually. I forgot to check her temperature. And I need to figure out how to get the data to Fulcrum now that we’re stuck on-world.”
“Copy that. We’ll be home soon. Spectre-1 out.”
Hera switched off the comm and sat for a minute in silence. Then she pushed herself to her feet and went to check on Sabine.
Sabine was fast asleep with one arm thrown above her head, her brightly colored hair disheveled, and her face still flushed. Which could be either from the heat or from her fever. But since she was asleep—finally—Hera decided to leave her alone for now and check again in another hour. She headed to the galley get a cool drink and to sit for a minute. And then recreate some semblance of order in her plans and schedule.
This was unsuccessful; she really had no idea how to get all the necessary maintenance done, and if the Empire was on their trail… She sighed and headed back to the cockpit; no sense delaying work, and she had an idea for how to pass on the data tapes.
She’d worked only five minutes, it seemed, when she heard the roar of the Phantom and heard the hiss and thud as it docked. The Ghost, quiet as a tomb only moments before, rang with pelting feet, whooshing doors, and Ezra’s shout of, “Kanan’s home!” Chopper also blared some greeting (not a welcoming one), and Hera mentally sighed, preparing to break up another fight.
“Whoa, whoa, one at a time!” Kanan called from the common room, a command that made no impression on the rest of the crew. The cacophony grew louder, and Hera realized Kanan was making his way to the cockpit, despite being mobbed by the kids (with Zeb’s deep laugh in the background). Finally, as he neared the door, Kanan’s voice grew most prominent: “All right, Ezra, go help Chopper with whatever repairs—”
“Um, well,” Ezra said, “Actually, I’m supposed to stay away from Chopper for the rest of the day.”
“Oh-ho, and do you want to explain why?”
“Not really, no.”
Hera punched the button to open the cockpit doors (the noise grew suddenly louder), and Kanan quickly entered, calling over his shoulder, “Go back to bed, Sabine!”
“Oh, not you too!” Sabine grumbled, but Hera shut the door before they could hear any further complaints.
Kanan sighed and sat in the co-pilot’s chair. A second later, he said, “Phew, you weren’t kidding about the broken cooling.”
"Get used to it,” Hera said grimly. “Until we find that replacement part. And Fulcrum’s mission has to come first.”
Kanan reached into his pocket, pulled out two small discs and expertly tossed each one to Hera. “Anything else go wrong on your end?”
“No,” Hera said calmly, stowing the discs in a strongbox disguised as a case of ration bars. “A lot of things went wrong.”
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
Hera sat back and wiped sweat off her forehead. “Well, Ezra picked a fight with someone who apparently insulted me while we were on our supply run. Pretty sure he gets that instinct from you”—with a wry smile—“and then he picked a fight with Chopper, which is why they’ll stay apart for the rest of the day. And it’s why that panel is broken”—gesturing with her chin, and Kanan swiveled his chair towards it to take a look. “I spent an hour fighting with the cooling system, which means I’m now behind on the rest of maintenance.”
“Chopper didn’t help?” Kanan asked, without looking up from the panel.
“Oh, he did—until he decided the heat was too much for him.” Kanan scoffed and shook his head, and Hera continued, “Or it may have been his idea of revenge, since I punished both him and Ezra for the fight. But I did get the shopping done, and stocked up on meds in case Sabine’s cold spreads. She’s still convinced she can work, though; found her in a repair duct when Ezra and I got home.”
“Pretty sure she gets that from you,” Kanan remarked in a smug tone.
“Yes, well, anyway, since we can’t go into space, I’ll have to take the Phantom and meet Fulcrum on a nearby world. And contact Fulcrum first—” she groaned; she should have already done that, since the change was on such short notice. She switched on the comm. “Chopper, prep the Phantom; you and I are heading out shortly.” Displeased beeps and buzzes answered this, and Hera quickly switched off the comm. She stood up and sighed, “Once Chopper and I leave, take the Ghost to the circle mountains; we’ll meet you there when our mission is done.” She turned to leave, but halted and stared at the door, brows furrowed.
“What is it?” Kanan asked.
“I’m forgetting something. I have the discs…” she muttered, clutching the box; “and I told Chopper to prep the Phantom…Ezra and Chopper know to stay apart, Sabine knows to stay in bed…” She half-turned toward Kanan and cocked an eyebrow in mock-seriousness. “Did Zeb misbehave?”
Kanan laughed. “No. Though I can’t promise anything now, not with this heat.” He tipped his head towards the door and said, “Get going. Something tells me you’ve got the easy job.”