Kallus addressed them with three words: “Prepare to board.” Their training had primed them for the rest.
He put on his helmet, took a blaster rifle from the weapons rack, and led the way toward the docking tube.
Hera marveled at the speed at which the Star Destroyer dispatched a wing of TIE fighters and hooked its docking tube to the Imperial transport. Such efficiency demonstrated just how the Empire had subjugated the entire galaxy in a short span of years. Toppling it would require more than the crew of the Ghost. They’d need a military force that could move even quicker than the Imperials.
This would be a long fight. And it might not be a fight they would be in much longer if Ezra didn’t help them out.
She grabbed the boy’s arm. “Listen. Our crew boarded that transport to selflessly rescue Imperial prisoners. They have no idea they walked into a trap. No idea what’s coming.” When he still didn’t respond, she raised her voice. “You need to go warn them, Ezra—now!”
“It’s too late for them. We should run while we still—”
“You don’t mean that.” She turned him around in his seat, made him look at her. To his credit, he did not flinch, did not look away.
“I do,” Ezra said. “I swear I do.”
She let go of his arm. This boy was more stubborn than Kanan. Yet he was also scared. He was, after all, just a kid. She shouldn’t ask such things of him.
“Which is why I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Ezra stood up, tightened the straps of his backpack, and exited the cockpit.
Hera could believe it. Ezra might be stubborn like Kanan, but he had the same heart, too. He was a rebel, deep down. One of them.
Kallus and his platoon stepped out of the Lawbringer’s boarding tube into the transport’s docking bay. The captain of the transport, whose name Kallus had not bothered to learn, came forward. “Welcome aboard, Agent Kallus.”
Kallus kept walking, as did his platoon, crossing the bay. The transport captain hastened to follow. “The rebels are headed for the brig, where quite the surprise awaits. I’ve positioned a squadron of stormtroopers there to capture them.”
Kallus didn’t even grant the man a look. The captain wanted a commendation he’d never get. Under the Empire, you did your job and kept your command. If you didn’t, you faced the consequences of failure.
Kallus already knew the verdict that would strike this captain. It was why he had come aboard with his own men. It was why he hadn’t learned the man’s name.
He marched into the main corridor of the transport, leaving its captain in stunned silence.
Kanan took the lead as he and Zeb hurried down the transport’s sleek gray corridors. So far they hadn’t met any resistance except for a mouse droid Zeb squashed under his foot. Kanan veered around a corner and surveyed the transport’s brig. A heavily reinforced blast door was set into the wall, but like the rest of the ship, the area was empty. “No guards on the door.”
Zeb came forward and took up the position opposite Kanan at the blast door. “No worries. I’m sure there’s one or two bucket-heads worth punching on the other side.”
Kanan planted a detonator on the door. He hoped Zeb was wrong. For once it would be nice to slip in and out without engaging in combat.
“You sure the Wookiees are behind that door?” Zeb asked.
Kanan entered the activation sequence for the charge. “Where else would they be? There’s only one brig on this transport.”
“Guess you’re right. They’d make holes through anything else.” Zeb chuckled. “Nothing better than rescuing cooped-up Wookiees or what, eh?”
“It’s a trap! It’s a trap!” screamed a young voice. Kanan turned to see Ezra running down the corridor toward them.
“Karabast,” Zeb snarled. “The kid’s blowing another op!”
Ezra skidded to a stop. “It’s not an op—it’s a trap! Hera sent me here to warn you!”
The blast door started to open its multiple layers. White-armored bodies could be seen behind it.
“Run!” Ezra yelled.
Kanan and Zeb did just that. Ezra lifted his arm and aimed his slingshot. In its pocket force field formed an energy ball, which Ezra fired at the detonator.
The door exploded, blowing stormtroopers off their feet. Smoke billowed down the corridor. The three ran. Kanan tried his comm. There was no signal.
“We need to warn Sabine and Chopper, but they’ve jammed the comm,” Ezra said.
“They’ll follow the plan. It’ll be fine,” Kanan said. He wished he believed it. But that was what leaders did: kept the situation calm.
The boy was having none of it. “Yeah, ’cause the plan’s gone just great so far.”
As they turned the corner, a platoon of stormtroopers blocked their way, led by a man all in gray. Kanan recognized the uniform and rank insignia.
The man was an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau.
Zeb cursed under his breath. Kanan did the same. Karabast, indeed.
The transport’s systems room was empty, like the corridors Sabine and Chopper had taken to get there. Sabine wasn’t complaining, but it seemed odd they hadn’t encountered even one Imperial. Kanan had instructed her to use the comm only if there was an emergency. Since she hadn’t heard from Hera or Kanan, everything must be okay on their end.
She went to one control station and motioned for Chopper to take the other. The droid complied, whining as he did so.
“Chopper, stop grumbling and work on that gravity generator.” The droid always griped when communicating with Imperial machines. He found their logic cold and crude. Then again, Chopper whined about every machine he accessed, including the Ghost.
The computer security was lax and she hacked in with ease. The Imperial engineers clearly hadn’t entertained the possibility that anyone would penetrate the transport’s outer defenses and board the ship.
Her comlink made the faintest click. That was Kanan’s signal. Not good. She started working faster with the gravity controls. “Bypass any stealth commands, Chopper. There’s been an emergency.”
Emergency or not, the droid grumbled all the same.
The agent and stormtroopers brought their weapons to bear. This only made Kanan run faster toward them, drawing his own blaster. “Don’t stop,” he shouted to Zeb and the boy.
They had only seconds before the enemies’ guns were triggered. Seconds before they were dead. Unless—
Kanan didn’t complete his stride. His front foot found not the floor, but a cushion of air. “Push off now!” he said, and leapt forward.
Sabine had heard his comlink click. She had turned off the artificial gravity right when needed. He flew down the corridor while the troopers floated off their feet, losing both their bearings and their aim.
Kanan fired his blaster, trying to clear a path. Only the agent managed to fire back, but he missed as Kanan barreled through the jumble of troopers, not loosening his finger from his trigger. Soaring behind him, Zeb hurled troopers right and left. Ezra held on to Zeb’s foot, hitching a ride. Kanan was sure the Lasat appreciated that.
They sailed through the platoon, then down the corridor toward the docking bay. Kanan glanced back, seeing the ISB agent had turned around to fly after them. Ezra, meanwhile, had abandoned Zeb’s foot to swim by himself.
“You okay, kid?” Kanan asked.
“You kidding?” Ezra said. He bounced off the floor and walls, tumbling over himself and gaining speed. Even in dire situations, there was nothing like a kid in micro-gravity.
Sabine had been able to override the artificial gravity for a maximum of two minutes. It had taken her a quarter of that time to place the detonators on the control stations. But the trip back to the docking bay wouldn’t take as long as it had on foot. Conveniently, she had Chopper, who was equipped for zero g.
She grabbed one of his legs. The droid ignited his booster rocket and they jetted out of the systems room. They met no resistance in the corridors and made it into the docking bay w
ith seconds to spare.
“Five, four,” she said, checking her helmet chrono, “get ready—two, one—now!”
Sabine braced herself as the artificial gravity kicked back in. She landed lightly on the docking bay floor before the airlock, while Chopper remained hovering on his booster. But the two stormtroopers whom Zeb had given a head-knocking went from floating in the air to dropping to the floor with a thud. Sabine suspected that would keep them unconscious until she and the others were parsecs away from there.
If the others had made it out of the brig, that was.
The sight of a purple Mandalorian helmet in the docking bay gave Ezra reason to cheer. They were all going to get out of this trap alive. And maybe, just maybe, Sabine would notice that he was the one who had saved them. Her congratulations would be a nice reward.
He sensed a fluctuation in the gravity and realized his low-gravity experience was about to end. He brought his feet underneath him and straightened.
“Now!” Kanan said.
Ezra landed with both feet on the corridor floor and didn’t miss a step as he ran with Kanan and Zeb into the docking bay. Sabine was there, as was Chopper, on his rocket. Sabine craned her neck to look behind them. “Where are the Wookiees?”
“No Wookiees,” Kanan said. “Sabine, you need to man the Ghost’s nose gun. Chop, go tell Hera to take off.”
“Right,” Sabine said. She hurried through the airlock into the Ghost without a word to Ezra. Chopper and Kanan went after her.
Disappointment slowed Ezra. Had Sabine even noticed he was there?
He must’ve been blocking Zeb, because the bruiser pushed him aside on his way to the airlock.
Ezra geared up to give the Lasat a shove in return. But he never made it into the airlock. Someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him backward.
“Let go!” Ezra cried. His abductor was none other than the Imperial officer in gray.
Zeb turned around in the airlock, drawing his bo-rifle. “Kid, get out of the way!”
“I’m trying!” Ezra said. He struggled, but the Imperial officer wrapped one arm around his chest, using Ezra as a shield. With the blaster in his other hand, the officer fired at Zeb, as did the host of stormtroopers rushing into the docking bay.
The blasts pushed Zeb back into the airlock. Ezra knew there was nothing he could do. Even this brawny bruiser he’d seen fling stormtroopers around like toy soldiers couldn’t beat such odds.
“Sorry, kid.” Zeb looked at Ezra with regret. “You did good.”
The airlock slammed shut. The officer holding Ezra laughed. Ezra stopped resisting.
He shouldn’t have stuck out his neck for those strangers. He had made the wrong choice, and now he was going to pay dearly for it.
Hera had already warmed the engines when Chopper wheeled into the cockpit and beeped the go-ahead. She initiated the launch procedure immediately. “Airlock’s shut. Detaching from the transport. We’re out of here.”
She held firm on the flight yoke, steadying the Ghost as it detached from the Imperial transport. “Chop, make yourself useful and jam their tractor beam.”
Chopper retorted in annoyance but still plugged himself into the jammer. Being pulled back to the transport would eliminate their momentum and make them a ripe target for the Star Destroyer’s turbolasers. They’d be space junk if they didn’t make a quick getaway.
The transport broadcast a message from its captain. “Attention, rebel ship. Surrender or be destroyed. This is your first and last warning.”
“Blow it out your exhaust vent. Literally,” Hera replied. She channeled all available energies—including those that powered the turrets—into the engines. Shooting back wouldn’t gain them much. Their lasers would be like pinpricks to a Star Destroyer.
What Sabine had planted would deliver a much bigger punch.
“Sabine, it’s time,” Hera said into the intercom. She poured on thrust, trying to get as much distance from the transport as possible before Sabine keyed her remote.
A moment later, the underside of the transport exploded.
Such damage normally would have been contained, except for Sabine’s expert placement of the charges. The explosion in turn ignited a chain reaction across the transport. The portside hull blew open. The fuel line erupted. One engine brightened, then fizzled, while the boarding tube became a whoosh of flame that spread to the docked Star Destroyer. It provided Hera with the cover she needed to dive the Ghost under the Star Destroyer’s nose and speed past.
“I can’t see it from here,” Sabine commed from the nose turret. “How’d it look?”
Hera had witnessed the explosion only on scopes. Kanan had had the best view, since he occupied the dorsal turret. “Gorgeous, Sabine. As always,” he said over the intercom.
Hera smiled. They had the best crew in the galaxy. With their young new member, they might even be stronger.
She pulled the lever to send them into hyperspace.
Weighed down by his backpack, Ezra huddled in the cold, empty cell of the Star Destroyer, brooding over his foolishness. How had he ever let Hera persuade him? He knew what it took to stay alive in this harsh galaxy. Remain uninvolved. Rely on yourself and yourself only. Don’t risk your life for others, because they won’t do the same for you. They were simple rules to live by. Ones that had not failed him in the past.
He had failed them. And in doing so, he had betrayed himself.
The cell door slid open. Two stormtroopers flanked the Imperial officer in gray. He had straw-colored hair and thick muttonchops that his helmet had previously covered. “I am Agent Kallus of the Imperial Security Bureau. And you are?”
Ezra smirked in defiance. “Jabba the Hutt.” He might be in there because of his own stupidity, but he sure wasn’t going to give the Empire any satisfaction.
Kallus’s face remained impassive, as if he had never laughed at a joke in his life. Ezra had a sneaking suspicion that might indeed be true. Comedy was not the answer if there was any chance for him to get out of there. So he told the truth.
“Look,” Ezra said. “I just met those guys today. I don’t know anything.”
The truth made no difference to Kallus. “You’re not here for what you know, ‘Jabba.’ You’re here to be used as bait upon our return to Lothal.”
“Bait? You seriously think—” Ezra paused, laughed. “Wow, you’re about as bright as a binary droid. They’re not going to come for me. People don’t do that.”
Kallus said nothing else; he just looked down at Ezra. The man’s stare was like a tractor beam: Ezra couldn’t pull away.
Kallus brushed lint off Ezra’s shoulder. “Search him. Then secure him here,” he told the stormtroopers. He spun on a heel and walked out.
The troopers came forward. One yanked Ezra’s backpack off his shoulders while the other grabbed Ezra’s right arm and stripped off his slingshot. Ezra struggled in their grip. “Hey, get off me! Let me go, you goons!”
The contents of Ezra’s backpack spilled out onto the floor. The first trooper scooped up the wrench, flashlight, and astromech droid arm and stashed them inside the pack. The second trooper pushed Ezra back onto the seating square. Then they strode out of the cell with his items, shutting the door behind them. Ezra was left alone once again.
He scowled. Not only did he feel foolish; he felt insulted. After all he had done, the Empire only considered him bait, just as the strangers saw him as a useful nuisance. “You need to go warn them, Ezra,” he said, mimicking Hera’s voice.
What had he been thinking?
He winced. Something jabbed his tailbone. He reached under him to find the polygonal object he had taken from Kanan’s drawer. It must have fallen out of his backpack yet was too small for the troopers to notice.
“And, of course, the only thing I managed to hold on to is this worthless piece of...” His words stopped as his thoughts took another direction. The transparent object might be worthless, but it was also fascinating to behold. It weighed almost no
thing, and each of its many sides was perfectly smooth, without cracks or creases.
Ezra sensed something was inside.
He pressed, pushed, and pried at the sides. That got him nowhere. He would need a blaster or a drill to pierce through that outer shell, and even with those tools, he’d probably destroy whatever was in there.
He tossed the stupid thing across the room. It bounced off a wall and rolled into a corner. Maybe one of the stormtroopers would trip on it. Then it would be of some use.
Ezra closed his eyes and lowered his head. He wasn’t even angry anymore; he was exhausted. He cleared his mind, just focused on his breath. That always helped him relax. Perhaps sleep could take him out of this nightmare. He could wake up and find himself lying in the patch of grass around his tower, where green daisies grew.
The green daisies of Lothal were dazzling flowers. The presence of other forms of life made them bloom. The follicles on their stems were so sensitive that they could detect the breath or heat of a nearby organism. They would blossom for anyone who spent time to observe them.
He imagined peering at a daisy in the grass, watching it open its petals, slowly, like a child flexing its fingers for the first time. The spread of petals revealed a radiant center that shone emerald-like in the morning sun. The sight of this tiny wonder always revitalized him, no matter how hard his day had been.
“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi...” said a stoic voice.
As marvelous as the daisies were, they didn’t have the ability to speak. Ezra lifted his head and opened his eyes.
The polygonal object lay open on the ground, as if its sides had been petals of a flower. From its center projected a miniature ghost of a bearded man in robes. His was the stoic voice.
“I regret to report that both our Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place.”
Star Wars Rebels Page 7