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Saga - PT Need to Know -- SW: Rebels -- Kanan and crew, mission -- 2 parts, COMPLETE

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by ardavenport, Jun 3, 2018.

  1. ardavenport

    ardavenport Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Dec 16, 2004
    Note: it's a little different for me to post both parts at once, but since I can't change the titles and they're done, Part 1 is in the 1st post, Part 2 is in the 2nd.


    by ardavenport

    - - - Part 1

    "In here."

    Kanan Jarrus pushed his way through the foot traffic to the garishly flashing nightclub entrance. He was a big Humanoid male with a holstered blaster and armored right arm and shoulder. The other pedestrians and loiterers sneered and hissed but got out of his way. Hera, Ezra, Sabine and their two nervous charges followed close in his wake.

    Pounding music assaulted them in the club's wide entryway. Kanan dropped a credit chit into one of the four hands of the matre d. It was too much, even for a bribe, but his generosity meant that they would not be slowed down.

    He really had no idea where he was going, other than to some place with no stormtroopers in it. Yet . . . . . but now he had a feeling . . . .

    The dance floor below the stage was crowded with bodies, the tables in the darkness that ringed the action were full with late night partiers. Passing by a well-lit and well-stocked bar, Kanan ignored the shiny multi-armed tender droid, shaking aromatic concoctions in metal cylinders; it's two yellow eye sensors only briefly tracked their group before turning toward more demanding customers.

    Reaching the dance floor, Kanan seized Hera around the waist and spun her into the jostling bodies. Her lekku flying out behind her, she smoothly grabbed hold of him and evaded his heavy, booted feet.

    The dancing was fairly free-form, accommodating the multi-species body-types gyrating under flashing, whirling colored lights. The air was a swill of the dancers' body odors, the accompanying artificial scents that failed to either enhance or cover them up with a layer of intoxicant aromas. Kanan got a glimpse of Ezra's silly grin as he spread his arms, welcoming Sabine to embrace him and Sabine’s helmet tilting derisively before she pushed the shorter of their two charges at him. Sabine grasped Madame Doktor Fennestry's hands and followed Kanan and Hera, leaving Ezra and Mister Doktor Fennestry to fumble their way after them.

    Kanan was tall enough to see over most of the heads, headgear and horns around them. No white stormtrooper armor. Yet.

    Hera put her hand on his wrist where his hand had slid low over her curvy hips. “Well, this is one way for us to disappear into the crowd, Luv, but it’s not getting us any closer to getting back to the Ghost.”

    “I’m working on it.”

    He glimpsed a frown in the shifting colors that turned her green skin tone from orange to blue to gray, but she did not follow up. She knew when he was just making things up. He knew when she knew when he was just making things up . . . . but it was not just him.

    It was the Force. Even stronger now than on the street. There was a way out to safety. Very close, nearby.

    He kept scanning, slowly changing their orientation so he could view the whole room. The bar, the tables, stairs up to a balcony. A server droid. A tall black outline of a moving head. Entryway and a burly bouncer with a barrel-bodied droid partner. Chittering. Grunting. Thump, thump, thump music driving the motion on the dance floor around them. Hera’s flight suit and supple body moving underneath his hands . . . .

    Kanan closed his eyes, banishing the distractions around him. And the one right in front of him, in his arms . . . .

    . . . . . the feeling was still there. It was the Force. Something nearby . . . . he breathed, a long slow inhale, drawing it in. The room receded a little bit and when he opened his eyes again, everything looked just a little bit faded, the colors drained and less real. Except for one place.

    On the stage.

    “Got something, Luv?” Hera had noticed the change in his posture as he maneuvered them toward the band.

    “A feeling.” He spoke low, leaning close to her ear-cone so she could hear him over the music.

    No frown this time. Hera had learned to trust his feelings. Ezra and Sabine had guided the Fennestrys in their direction. Sabine’s Madalorian helmet fixed its featureless stare at them while Mister Doktor Fennestry's large, fearful eyes peered around Ezra’s shoulder.

    Fortunately, the dance music wound up to a finish and even before the last notes, Kanan released Hera and dodged through a glittery fringe curtain and past an inattentive stage hand. He swiftly ascended the stairs and slid onto the bench next to the keyboard player at one end of the stage.

    Blue-green eyes, highlighted by black and dark orange facial paint, peered at him fearfully. The lead musician at center stage frowned in their direction and loudly struck the chords of the next song. The keyboardist’s long, knobby orange fingers joined in, but her eyes stayed on Kanan.

    The de-amplification on the stage kept the sound level down so the musicians could hear their own instruments and voices plus those of their bandmates. The keyboardist effortlessly kept up with the music, as if her hands had their own purpose independent of the obvious nervousness of the musician. She was hairless and slender with knobby limbs. glittering gold fabric draped over one shoulder and matching bands adorned her three stubby lekku on the back of her head.

    “We need help.” Kanan kept his eyes forward toward the rest of the band, now strumming and wailing through the first chorus of the song. He nodded his head with the beat, as if he was just part of the audience, enjoying a privileged view of the performance. “We need to get back to our ship, get away from the Empire.”

    She finished the energetic chorus and her fingers spread out, pounding out only a few accompanying chords for the verse.

    “I don’t know you.” She finally said softly.

    “I know you,” Kanan immediately responded, his tone low and intense. “At least, I know you can help us.” The affinity he felt in the Force toward her was something old, remembered from his past, back at the Jedi Temple, before the Order was purged by the Emperor. It was light and familiar, like kinship and reminded him of how much he had lost.

    Her eyes flicked down and up and she licked her dark orange-painted lips.

    “You said you had a ship?”


    “Your own ship?”


    She nodded and then pounded a sudden burst, joining her bandmates in a musical interlude in the song. Kanan briefly leaned back, to avoid getting in the way of her hands and the high notes on his side of the keyboard. She spoke again when she resumed the minimal chords on the next verse.

    “The owner of the club has a secret way back to the spaceport. In case this place is raided for contraband for his more valued customers. He pays bribes, but sometime they don’t work if the Imperials are trying to impress their superiors.”

    “Can you take us?”

    “I can. But the owner will know. And he would come after me for using it. I will have to leave with you.” She lowered her head, her fingers dancing on the keys in time with the two percussionists, one at the back of the stage surrounded by an array of drums and instruments, the second one pranced about waving clangers and thumpers behind the lead singer with the other back-up musicians.

    “We can’t stop anywhere.”

    Her lips quirked in a mirthless smile. “I don’t need to.” Her hands suddenly pulled away from her keyboard, the music from it stopping. “We should go now.”

    Surprised that they did not wait for the end of the song, Kanan slid off the bench, letting her out. He glimpsed a few angry glares from the rest of the band who had to cover for the sudden loss. Hera and the others met them, the Fennestry’s nervously looking toward the crowded dance floor beyond the curtains.

    There were no explanations or introductions, they just formed a line behind the keyboardist, winding their way into the dark, past cases and equipment, two attendant droids who ignored them and a burly stage hand asleep and snoring in a chair that looked nearly ready to collapse from her weight. Passing through light and shadow under a line of glaring ceiling lights in a back corridor, they followed her down a dingy stairwell, two levels down. It smelled like salty, stale foodstuff and intoxicants. At the end of a short corridor, under a flickering light, she touched a control pad next to a gray metalloid door.

    “We will all have to get in. We can only use this once.”

    They squeezed into the tiny lift. Mister Doktor Fennestry let out a squeak, squished between his wife and Ezra. His wide, pale yellow hands flew up to cover his mouth, her eyes darting to either side as if Imperial spy-bots were listening. They exited the lift a couple levels down. The keyboardist looked both ways down the narrow corridor, dimly lit by few illuminators, the air stale with disuse and poor ventilation but still fresher than backstage.

    “We should hurry.”

    She set the pace at a near run, Kanan, Ezra, Hera and Sabine easily kept up with her, while their nervous charges’ short legs had to work hard. But neither Fennestry complained or asked for a break. They had vowed to the Ghost crew that they would follow any direction, do whatever was necessary to escape being forced to join the Imperial war industries.

    Kanan was glad when their guide did stop. Breathing hard, their short arms clutched to the stout bodies, the Fennestrys looked like they were ready to collapse and he was preparing himself to carry either one or possibly both if he had to.

    They climbed a ladder up into a tube set in the ceiling and then into a corridor that was not meant for taller humanoids. Kanan had to bend low over the metal grated ceiling that was less than a hand-width over Hera’s head.

    “There is more than one exit, but I do not know which would be closest to your ship,” the keyboardist whispered.

    “We’re in Docking bay Thirty-Seven,” Hera told her, but the musician shook her head.

    “I do not know the spaceport well.” She pointed. “There is an exit that way.” They followed her lead again. Up ladders and stairs; she warned them against taking any lifts. Ezra caught up with Kanan on the way while Hera went with their guide to see where they were.

    “Hey, Kanan, how do you know her? Did you know she was here? How come you didn’t tell us?”

    He shook his head and answered the first question. “I don’t know her. We just met.”

    “What?” Sabine’s helmet snapped in his direction.

    “What?” Ezra repeated. “You just met? But how did you know?”

    “I just had a feeling, Ezra,” he stated, a little impatient with his new apprentice’s lack of insight.

    Ezra unhappily glared back before his blue eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, you mean you had a Jedi feeling?” His head snapped in the direction of where their savior had gone. “Is she a Jedi?”

    “No,” he immediately answered. He was sure of that. “But . . . . she’s a friend.”

    “Hunh? How do you know?”

    Kanan’s curt answer was interrupted by the return of the keyboardist and Hera. “We have to go back down. Din - - this is Din, by the way - -“ Hera made the introduction “ - - thinks it’s another exit further down that’s a lot closer to the Ghost.” They went. Down the ladders and stairs.

    “Are you a Jedi?” Ezra demanded before they were halfway down.”

    “Ezra!” Kanan warned while still keeping his voice low.

    Din stopped, “You should not ask something like that. Not out loud.” Her blue-green eyes were wide and fearful, the face-paint around them making them look even larger. “It’s not safe,” she finished in a loud whisper before heading downstairs again.

    Ezra looked very unhappy with the admonishment, but he clamped his mouth shut. They silently went down to the lower level, following Din to the exit that they hoped would take them back to the ship.

    It did.

    Hiding in the shadows of an alcove and a leafy, dark blue bush, they could see a side of their docking bay around a corner. And only a few cleaning droids hummed by the walls. But even though the area looked deserted, Kanan cautiously went to the ship first and then signaled the others to follow after he confirmed that there was no Imperial ambush waiting for them.

    “Aahhh.” Din paused to look up and around at the Ghost’s brightly lit hold while the Fennestrys eagerly hurried past and veered in a wide circle around Zeb, their very large, fierce-looking Lasat crew mate. The Fennestrys squeaked when he sneered at them as they followed Hera up the ladder to the upper decks.

    “Chopper! Start her up!” Hera shouted to the ship’s astromech on her way to the cockpit. Immediately the deck plates vibrated with power. Kanan touched Din’s shoulder and she jumped, then hunched her bony shoulders guiltily.

    “Zeb, Sabine, take our guests to the common room. We’re leaving,” he instructed.

    Sabine took off her Mandalorian helmet, revealing her short purple and pink hair, smiled at the nervous Din and went with her to the ladder.

    “Hmm,” Zeb commented. “Thought there was only supposed to be two of ‘em. Hey!” He looked upward to the gallery where the Fennestrys clutched the railing. “Follow them.” He pointed before following Kanan and Ezra up.

    “Forward gun, Ezra,” Kanan instructed. Hera didn’t need them in the cockpit and he was not convinced that they would be clear until they made it to hyperspace. He climbed the ladder up to the top gunner position. Adjusting the seat forward (Zeb had been in it last), he grasped the controls in his gloved hands as the Ghost lifted off.

    “All right, we’re cleared to go.” Hera’s voice spoke over the com. “So, I’m just going take it nice and easy. We’re just another freighter going about our business.”

    Kanan relaxed his shoulders, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Hera was right, of course. No reason to attract attention no matter how badly he wanted to be away from this Imperial world. Patience, patience, patience . . . .

    “Just sit tight, kid.”

    “Hunh?” Ezra’s voice answered over the com “How did you know . . . ?”

    Kanan smiled to himself. He didn’t know what Ezra was doing, but his apprentice’s nervousness was like a beacon in the Force. But was it about their mission? Or was it about Din?

    Hera briefly established a parking orbit before heading away from the planet. Right past two Imperial light cruisers on patrol, the Ghost’s false signature of no interest to them. The jump to the safety of hyperspace was anticlimactic. Kanan climbed back down the ladder.

    Hera met them in the common room where the Fennestrys were happily thanking Din for her help. And then Sabine for smuggling them away from the Empire. Hera hung back in the doorway and eyed Kanan. He moved toward her and they stepped back into the corridor.

    “So, you want to tell me something about our friend here?” she asked in a low voice.

    “I’m just about to ask about that myself.” He laid his hand on her narrow shoulder; she touched it and sighed, accepting whatever mystery had saved them. He stepped back into the common room.

    - - - END Part 1
  2. ardavenport

    ardavenport Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Dec 16, 2004

    by ardavenport

    - - - Part 2

    “Din.” He addressed their benefactor by name for the first time. She looked up from her well-wishers. “Can I talk to you in private?”

    She nodded solemnly and got up from the couch.

    “Kanan - -“

    “Later, Ezra.”

    He escorted her out and then to the back of the ship. He hit the switch to open the hatch to the Phantom, the Ghost’s shuttle, and ushered Din inside. The lights came on automatically, the glowing non-reality of hyperspace receded in the parked shuttle’s forward view ports. Din took one of the rear seats and Kanan sat opposite her.

    The Ghost was a marvel, agile and fast, and truly worthy of Hera’s piloting. But it had one odd flaw. Sound vibrations traveled very well through its bulkheads. A person had to work to keep a secret on the Ghost. But the Phantom, being a ship on its own, did not share that problem and was the one place that was truly private.

    “I want to thank you for helping us.”

    Din shrugged and held out her hand. “I could not have done otherwise. You know why.”

    He nodded. “The Force is with you. But you’re not a Jedi.”

    “I would have been.” She smiled at a fond memory. “I do not know my origins. The Jedi took me when I was an infant. My earliest memories are of the Temple, the Masters there and the other children.”

    “But you left.”

    She nodded.


    She held up her hands and her long supple fingers. “My music. My affinity for that was as strong as with the Force. And a Jedi cannot have two loyalties.” She lowered her eyes, bowing her head. “I had to choose when I was very young.” She looked back up a him. “But there was really no choice. My music was what I could not live without; I knew that even when I was a youngling.”

    Kanan looked at her in wonder at her calm certainty. She was as serene as any Jedi Master, as his own Master had been. Her declaration was so strange and wondrous to him. When he was an initiate at the Temple, he could not imagine wanting to be anything but a Jedi. She reached out and he let her take his hand. Her palms were rough and warm and her long fingers curled around his palm.

    “I am so sorry for your loss. I could never have imagined that the Jedi could be so cruelly used. And fall to the darkness.”

    For a moment, Kanan could not speak, her sympathy was so pure and sincere.

    “How did you survive?” she whispered.

    He cleared his throat before speaking. “My Master saved me. She held the clones off when they attacked and told me to run.” He looked down at her hands, enfolding his. “And I ran.

    “I . . . did whatever I could to survive for a long time. Until I met Hera. And came on board the Ghost.”

    It was not something he spoke of, except to Hera, when they were alone in their most intimate moments. But Din had been raised in the Temple . . . and somehow carried the serenity of the Jedi with her years after she had left and even after the Order was gone.

    “I left the Temple by choice. I did not wish to return to a family that I did not know, so the Republic supported my education. And even though I had to go into hiding as soon as the Jedi were declared enemies of the Empire, my path has always been clear and far easier than yours.”

    He nodded. “Thank you.” His voice was rough and he closed his eyes, not really sure what he was thanking her for. Sharing her memories, perhaps? He could feel the Force, the Light shining strongly in her. And in him. It was a rare moment of peace. Could she see his sordid past, before he joined Hera and found his way again? Possibly, but it did not matter. The Force was with them both. He could feel the whole ship, the people aboard. Hera, who he could always feel. Zeb, Sabine, the Fennestrys, finally feeling safe from the Empire.

    And Ezra, hanging around the Phantom’s hatch, trying everything he could think of to figure out what was going on - - except sitting down and reaching out to the Force, the one thing that might have worked . . . .

    Kanan sighed. And reminded himself that the streetwise kid had not been his apprentice for very long.

    Din had withdrawn her hands and now sat with them in her lap. With her accented, painted face, she was dressed for a nightclub performance in her draping golden dress and bands on her short lekku. It looked out of place and Kanan did not know if they had anything else on the Ghost that would fit her. She had left everything she had behind to help them.

    “We’re taking the Fennestrys, the couple with us, to a rendezvous point to meet others who oppose the Empire, to take them to a safe planet. Safe from the Empire. They can take you, too.”

    “Why were they fleeing? Do you know them? Are you friends?”

    “No. They’re engineers and they were going to be drafted into the Empire’s war effort. We . . . . have connections with people who oppose the Empire.” Even Kanan did not know who Hera’s contact, Fulcrum, was, but he trusted Hera. “They can help you.”

    “I . . . . would prefer to go my own way. I cannot help you. I am not a fighter.”

    “You don’t have to be. That’s not necessary.” He smiled. “We don’t draft people.”

    She smiled back. “Thank you. But if I may say . . . . you have returned to the path of the Jedi.” It was not a question. In answer, he reached back to the body of his lightsaber and then the emitter, both separated, attached to his belt and easily mistaken for extra power cells or tools. Snapping the two together, he held it up, a complete lightsaber.

    Blinking, she looked, but kept her hands in her lap. She bowed her head to it. Kanan grasped it to take it apart again, but stopped. And then hooked it to his belt whole.

    “I must tell you, that I have met others, like you, who escaped.”

    He gasped. “You have. Who? When?”

    She shook her head. “I never ask for names and I never give them. Or places. Or times. I do not need to know and it is safer if I do not.”

    His shoulders dropped. He could not hide his disappointment, that fleeting hope that he might find other Jedi. Taking a few calming breaths, he nodded. “I understand.” He did. In his mind. His heart . . . would need a little more time to accept it.

    “I can say that of those who I have met, they have left the Jedi. The Force is with them, but they will not return to the Jedi path.”

    “That includes you.”

    She nodded. “My path seems to be to give comfort to those to pass my way. The Force flows through us and that river brings us together.” She shrugged and adjusted the golden drape on her shoulder. “It could be no other way in a galaxy so large for us to meet.”

    Of that, Kanan was sure. He stood. “Thank you for telling me this. I won’t tell any of the others. Not even Hera. They don’t need to know.”

    She stood and smiled. “Not even the young one lingering outside? Your apprentice, I assume?”

    He sighed. “Especially not him. He needs to learn a lot more about . . . . everything first.”

    She laughed gently and touched his arm before his hand reached the exit control. “When we reach safety, could, perhaps, your friends purchase me an instrument? I can play anything.” She flexed her nible fingers. “On any street on a free world, I can make my own way.”

    “I’m sorry you had to leave everything behind.”

    She tilted her head. “I have been in hiding since the Empire rose. I do not keep much. I learned that well from the Jedi.

    And this is hardly the first time a musician has bailed out on their band with no notice. The second strings player wanted his cousin to have my position anyway, though she has minor talent.”

    He smiled down at her and opened the hatch.

    Caught off guard, Ezra jumped. He gave them one of his not-so-innocent grins. “Uh, hi, just thought you might need some help. With . . . uh . . . something.”

    “No.” He gestured for Din to follow him, going around Ezra in the corridor. The only place he could think of where Ezra could be barred from pestering Din was the cockpit. Hera was there when they arrived. She glanced up at them. Chopper, plugged into the navi-computer, swiveled his eye-sensor toward them. Kanan sat down in the co-pilot’s seat and Din sat on the edge of the seat behind it.

    “Din’s going to need a new instrument, something she can play on the street, to make up for what she left behind and get a new start. And probably a new outfit,” he added with a glance at her shining gold drapes. “Can Fulcrum do that?”

    Hera’s brows rose and she glanced at Din. “Well, that’s unusual, but it shouldn’t be too hard. Especially after all your help,” her tone softened toward Din, but she still kept a critical eye on Kanan. He said nothing.

    “We’ll be there soon, you can wait - - -“

    Kanan cut her off. “She can wait here.” By the navi-comp, Chopper let out a quiet ‘whaaah.’

    Hera’s critical eye narrowed at him. Then she tilted her head and turned back to the controls. “All right. We’ll be there soon.”

    The rest of the trip passed in silence. Hera had accepted his directions and Kanan privately thanked her for her trust. He looked at the co-pilot’s displays before him, but there was little for him to do with Hera piloting. Din settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. And for a short time Kanan felt the peace of the Force in the cockpit. It was both wonderful and sad; it reminded him of the best of the Jedi Temple, before it fell to the Sith.

    They arrived soon enough, Hera smoothly taking them out of hyperspace. An old cruiser was waiting for them. Hera got up.

    “Come on. It’s time to go.”

    There was a pause.

    “Only you, Din,” Hera told her. “It’s better this way.” Kanan stayed in his seat, eyes forward on the other ship, maneuvering into position for the transfer. He thought for a moment that Din might dart forward to say good bye. But she did not. Din and Hera left the cockpit together. Chopper ‘whaaah’ed’ a discordant note about trusting people they did not know.

    “I trust Hera, Chop. Got a problem with that?” The droid blatted a quick denial, affirming his total trust in Hera. Kanan monitored the controls, kept the ship steady while the ships docked.

    Soon enough, Hera triggered the disengage and Kanan eased the ships apart so they could go their own ways in opposite directions. Hera had set the hyperspace coordinates back to Lothal as she usually did for these meetings and as soon as they were clear Kanan took the Ghost back into hyperspace.

    Hera returned. Along with everyone else on the ship. Sabine, as usual, was unhappy about being left in the dark about who they were dealing with. Only Hera had gone with the Fennestrys and Din to speak to Fulcrum while everyone else waited in the common room while the exchange took place. Zeb shared the same sentiments as Sabine, but he was not too picky about any job that screwed the Empire. He just hoped that the next one had more for him to do than just babysitting the ship.

    Ezra went right to Kanan and pointing an accusing finger at him.

    “Hey that lady who helped us back there was a Jedi. How come you didn’t tell me that?” he demanded.

    “She’s not a Jedi, Ezra. I think I would know if she was,” he countered loudly, interrupting what everyone else was saying.”

    “Well-well, she was some kind of Jedi then. Like - - like, the quiet kind,” he insisted.

    “How many different kinds of Jedi do you think there are? How would you know?”

    Ezra straightened proudly. “I looked, okay. And she’s got the Force hanging all over her.”

    Kanan stared back. “Wait, you meditated?”

    “Yeah, I can do it! You didn’t think I could, did you?”

    “Not based on how you’ve been doing so far.” Kanan had seriously thought about applying an adhesive to Ezra’s bottom and slapping him down onto a deckplate, just to get him to sit still and quiet his mind for longer than ten minutes. But even though he was annoyed by his apprentice’s latest outburst . . . he felt a glow of pride.

    Ezra was starting to get it. He had thought, all on his own, to look in the Force to find out about Din.

    “So, is she a Jedi?” Sabine broke in, her Mandalorian helmet tucked under her arm.

    “No,” Kanan answered. “But . . . the Force is with her,” he amended. There was no point in denying that, especially with Ezra already shouting about it.

    “Hmph,” Zeb rumbled. “Well, that’s good enough for me. We can use all the help we can get.” He left. Sabine followed with an exasperated glare. Ezra stubbornly stayed.

    “You’re not going to tell me anymore, are you.”


    “Why?” His voice ascended to an unpleasant whine. “If I’m supposed to be learning about Jedi stuff, why not bring in another Jedi. You already wanted to do that.”

    “She’s not a Jedi and she can’t stay. And I doubt she’d want to after you accosted her back there about being a Jedi before we’d gotten back to the ship.”

    Ezra scowled back and stomped off with a ‘It’s not fair’ grumble as he left. Kanan could only hope that once he cooled off he might apply what he’d learned in the future.

    The cockpit became quiet again.

    “Chop,” Hera called out from the pilot’s seat. “Go check on the manual controls for the docking port. I think they might be sticking.”

    Chopper replied that that the readings said they weren’t.

    “Yes, and that’s what I want you to go down and check on.”

    Chopper objected again.

    “Chopper! Go down and check them!”

    The droid disconnected and left, grumbling all the way.

    They were alone.

    Kanan spoke first. “Is Din going to be all right?”

    “Oh yes,” Hera answered, staring forward into hyperspace before turning to him. “She and Fulcrum know each other.”

    Shocked, he leaned toward her. “They do?”

    “Well,” she amended, “I don’t know if they really know each other. But they recognized each other at least. Din’s going to be fine,” she assured him with a smile.

    Still stunned, he nodded. “Okay. That’s good.”

    A moment later, he excused himself. She didn’t glance back at him as he left. He went to the fresher, did his business and washed his face with cold water.

    They recognized each other.

    He went to his cabin, removed his shoulder armor and blaster and sat down on the padded platform he used for his own meditations. Crossing his legs, he straightened and cleared his mind.

    There was the Force, calm and steady in the ship in hyperspace. Even Ezra, who had actually settled down and was . . . . meditating. Or as well as Ezra could at the moment. He was still upset, but he was trying and he lasted almost twice as long as he had in their last morning session before fidgeting made him give up. The satisfaction for Kanan lingered a bit before he quieted his mind again.

    He saw nothing, only stillness, a gentle light flow of the Force, whisper-quiet, a trace of the peace left behind in Din’s wake.

    He thought of Fulcrum. And Din’s words. ‘“I must tell you, that I have met others, like you, who escaped.’ He saw Din’s face, her eyes wide, her face plain and un-painted, a rough tunic, not unlike a Jedi’s, covering her body. Shadowy figures flowed past her, briefly touching her out-stretched hands. If Fulcrum and Din had met, it was likely through the guidance of the Force, which likely meant that Fulcrum . . .

    The flow suddenly roared and his vision was filled with Hera’s face turning toward him, her green eyes wide and shocked.

    Kanan’s eyes flew open and he almost fell backward off the platform. He did partially fall, but he caught himself with wildly flailing arms.

    He hung his head guiltily, one leg still up on the platform in an ungainly pose. Din’s other words came to him. ‘I never ask for names and I never give them. Or places. Or times. I do not need to know and it is safer if I do not.’

    Would he betray his trust in Hera and seek out Fulcrum’s identity with the Force? He shook his head. If the information was there for him in the Force, it would come. Otherwise he did not need to know.

    He got his legs under him; he’d bruised his hip in the fall, but not badly. He resumed his meditation. The serenity and peace he’d felt from Din returned and stayed with him until they landed on Lothal.

    >><< o >><< o >><< END >><< o >><< o >><<

    Note: Din is a character featured in an earlier SW story of mine, "New Day".

    Disclaimer: This story first posted on tf.n on - - - . All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to Disney/Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.
  3. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Game Host star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Aug 31, 2004
    Superb meeting/encounter and every one of the Ghost was in character with one another and themselves ;) Ezra was impetuous and curious; Hera and Kanan were :) [face_sigh] wonderful. :D
    Fulcrum was and is a mystery waiting to be unraveled [face_laugh] [face_love]