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Kanan was worried. Ezra seemed––for lack of better word––nervous. It was obvious in all the subtle ways. How his hand lingered around his blaster, how he kept close to walls, how his mental shields were held so high that Kanan couldn’t even feel his force signature. The entire crew had picked up on it, which was remarkable, considering how good the kid was at feigning a relaxed, cocky confidence.
“It’ll be quick. Just a transaction. We go in, get paid, hand the merchandise over to Vizago, and leave. Hera and Chopper, stick to the ship. Ezra and Zeb, you’re with me. Ezra, shields high. We don’t know who’s hanging out on Lothal these days.”
Ezra snorted. Kanan raised a brow. “Something to add?” The kid lifted his gaze to meet Kanan’s. The Jedi took every second of eye contact to search his Padawan for information. There was something bugging the kid, Kanan knew it.
Kriff.
Unreadable.
“Do we know what we’re trading, exactly?” Ezra asked slyly.
“Does it matter?” Sabine drawled, clearly bored. Probably eager to get to other, more interesting, more explosive ops.
“Uh, yeah. It does.” The kid rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Especially because this isn’t our usual trade location. Whoever Vizago’s trading with, they’re new. They won’t trust him as much as his usual clientele does, which means that Vizago has to be twice as careful where he’s getting his merch from. What’s the shipment?”
Kanan crossed his arms. “Blasters, some speeder parts. Nothing major.”
Ezra rolled his eyes. “You don't believe that. I just need to know what's in the kriffing shipment. It's not that complicated!”
“Language,” Hera said warningly, and Ezra spluttered.
“Are you kidding me? Kanan just lied and you're telling to watch my language when everybody else on this burner is allowed to talk like that?”
Kanan bristled, his gaze a little more thunderous than usual. “Watch the attitude, kid.”
“Kanan shouldn’t have lied,” Hera said cooly. “But only because he didn’t discuss it with me first. If Kanan or I lie to you, you can assume that it’s for your own safety. Why are the contents of the shipment so important?”
Ezra gave Hera a begrudging look. “There’s different protocol for trading different contents. Safety measures.”
Zeb hummed, as if realizing something. “Are there spices in the shipment?”
“Thank you!” Ezra muttered. “Someone here has a brain.”
“What if there were?” Kanan said testily. “What’s the protocol for shipping spices?”
“We’d have to sample the merchandise.” Ezra deadpanned.
Hera turned in her pilot’s seat. “Excuse me?”
“They need to be sure that we’re not working a bust with the Empire. Troopers have a zero tolerance policy and they get paid for ratting out anyone who breaks protocol, even if the person they're ratting out did it for a bust assignment. Their own backup would turn them in.”
A heavy beat rested in the air.
“I don’t know shab about spices,” Sabine admitted. “Anybody else?”
Another silence.
“You need to let me look at the merch,” Ezra insisted. “I’ll be able to let you know if it’s safe, if there’s a place we can take it where we don’t have to sample, hell, if there’s spice hidden within other products.” Ezra was lying. Kinda. The Spectres' interference with Imperial Forces on Lothal had brought tighter restrictions and more troopers to ensure that "peace" was kept. Capital City was probably one of the only cities left on Lothal that traded spices (their fault), and anyone left trading spice definitely would not forgo any security procedures (also their fault). If there were spices, trying to take the ship anywhere but Vizago wouldn't change a thing.
“C'mon, Kanan. No one else here has my experience with this. We need to know what we're walking into.”
A growl grew at the back of Kanan’s throat. He didn’t like this. In fact, he hated this. But the kid was right. He gestured
“Alright, let’s see what we got here.” Ezra slid the top of the first crate off. Sabine and Zeb did the same for the second and third. “Meds in this one…” Ezra pulled out the shelves of glass canisters and examined the contents and labels closely. Mostly over-the-bar stuff, illegal simply because they were being shipped underground, but nothing whose ingestion would get someone arrested. After a few minutes of sorting through the bottles, he replaced them all. “Nothing recreational. This one’s clean.”
The second one was clean, too. Repair tools and engine parts. Some models and enhancements that were illegal to be utilized by the public, but no second-hand smuggling of recreational spices.
The third crate was full of blasters. Ezra hummed as he shuffled through them. “Some Sterling E11s, BlasTech A2s... Kriff, where did Hondo get four DLT 19s?”
“Focus, Ezra,” Kana reminded, irritation coloring his tone.
“We gotta strip these down. There’s definitely something in here. You can smell it. Literally.”
Kanan winced inwardly. He himself couldn’t smell anything (judging by their blank expressions, none of the others could, either), but Ezra knew his stuff. If he could smell it, it was there. “We have to strip all of them?”
Ezra hummed. “Yeah, I think so. But not all the way. Spices are usually smuggled in the barrel or the handle. Take out the chamber and you only have to split open the handle because you can just look down the barrel. If you want to lecture me about blaster safety, then we need to clear our itinerary the next three hours.”
“Karabast,” Zeb murmured. “Even if we maul safety precautions, this’ll take at least an hour.”
Kanan rolled his eyes and grabbed a blaster. “It will if you keep whining about it. Get started.”
“Well.”
Ezra looked at the dozens of small bottles. scattered over the floor of the loading dock. Some armudu, Booster Blue, a little firespice. What really worried Ezra was the Ji. The other spices were powdered minerals or dried herbs. Ji was a slick, oily liquid that smelled like selenic acid and tasted like rotten jogans. Back when he sampled, even a milliliter of it was enough to keep Ezra high for hours. He had probably built a slightly higher of a tolerance and grown a little since he was a kid. Regardless, Ezra knew that when he sampled it for the transaction (because Vizago would make them sample), he’d be benched for at least a day. Probably two. Plus however long Kanan and Hera grounded him for.
Ezra worried for a moment that someone else might recognize spice as something more dangerous. Sabine had probably learned all about spices when she was in the Academy, and pretty much all of them had their fair share of underworld experience. But thankfully, the Ji was packaged in generic bottles that had probably housed tons of other drugs before this one. Moss, death sticks, and tons less incriminating items that weren't as dangerous as Ji.
“This all looks good,” Ezra announced. “Only low grade spices. They’re culinary or the equivalent of over-the-bar. We're good.”
Sabine tilted her head back from where she was lazily sprawled across the arms of the copilot's seat. “Why are the stashed in the guns if they're so innocent?" Sabine asked, gazing at Ezra upside-down as she narrowed her eyes. Ezra quickly took control of himself and forced a relaxed demeanor. Sabine was suspecting something was up and he couldn't let that happen.
Ezra shrugged, picking at his nails. "Expensive as hell. Probably rare and only available through illegal third party sellers who jack the price up. Definitely valuable merch, but we won’t need to sample anything.”
Kanan snorted. “You say that like we would have sampled it if needed.”
Vizago’s arms were crossed, data pad hanging lazily in his fingers. Waiting.
“Is one of your crew going to sample, or do I have to take the crates and shoot you all?”
Realization flashed across Kanan’s face. “Ezra, don’t you dare–”
Too late. Ezra had already plucked up a bottle of Ji and popped off the stopper with his thumb, the way only someone with practice could. He brought the bottle to his mouth and drew his hand away, letting his lips hold the glass. Ezra cocked his head back and let the Ji trickle down his throat, careful not to let it hit his tongue.
“Ezra Bridger!”
Ezra spit the bottle at Vizago’s feet. “Credits. Now.” After spitting out the quick demand, he subtly took a deep breath, feeling a little starved of air after chugging the whole bottle.
Vizago chuckled, trying to cover his shock, and transferred the credits. “Nicely done. I forget your experience, with all of your newfound wisdom and moral codes. How things change! Oh, speaking of which.” Vizago grabbed Ezra by the arm and pulled him close. “Enchi caught wind you were stopping by. I’d hightail it back to your burner if I were you.”
Ezra paused. “What did that info just cost me?”
“For once, nothing. I am by no measure a good person, but you and I both know that Enchi is...something different.” Vizago shoved Ezra back. “Now get out. I have no time for babysitting.”
“Enchi?” That was Sabine’s voice, probably…
“She’s no one important. We need to leave. Sabine, stay close.” Would it be better to take the alleys or the main roads? They were far more visible on the mains, but they would be easier to pick off and corner in the alleys. Would Enchi’s thugs even bother to attack them or would they just leer?
A figure moved across his vision and Ezra stopped in his tracks. Kriff.
“Caraya’s soul! If it ain’t little Bridger.”
Ezra swallowed. He knew that voice, and there was only one person who had really ever taken to calling him “Little Bridger.” Baako.
“Long time, no see. Where you been?”
“Around.” Ezra’s voice came out far more confident than what he was feeling.
Baako gave a short chuckle. “No, you haven’t. Word is you went off-planet. With these laser-brains, I presume.”
“What’s it to you?”
Baako splayed his hands over his chest in a gesture of innocence. “Oh, me? I couldn’t give a kriff. I just care about whatever Enchi’s caring about. And this past year, she’s been caring that her best whore hopped planet without putting in his notice.”
Ezra went stiff. The others–
“Enchi’s been searching all over for someone who can compensate for you absence, but let’s face it. No one on this entire goddamned rock can live up to your skill.”
“I’m not in that line of work anymore,” Ezra said fiercely, despite the nausea rolling in his stomach. Aw, kriff, he couldn’t even tell if it was from the memories or from the Ji. “Take whatever offer Enchi has and shove it up her ass.”
Baako laughed, the sound full and loud. “Glad to see you’re still a little spitfire. I guess some things never change, huh?”
“We’re done here.” Ezra moved to shove past Baako, hoping that the movement would rouse his crewmates who were, as far as he could tell, in a daze. But Baako threw a hand up in front of Ezra’s chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt.
“Wait right there, Spacer. You know exactly how fun it is to tell Enchi “no.” I’ll need a little compensation if that’s what you want me to do. Maybe we go a round, for old time’s sake, and I don’t drag you back to the pleasure house.” He moved to grip Ezra’s hair before pushing the kid to the ground. Ezra winced as his knees hit the dirt and tried to focus on the pain. “R’iia’s end, I forgot how pretty you are. This should feel familiar–”
With the splitting sound of flesh on flesh, Baako was flat on his back. Ezra twisted around to find Zeb towering above, casting a shadow over him. The Lasat grabbed Ezra around his upper arms and brought him back to his feet.
“You okay, kit?” Zeb asked gruffly.
Ezra stammered for a second before words tumbled quietly from his mouth. “Can we leave?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure thing. Why don’t you stick between Kanan and I, yeah?”
“Okay.” Ezra knew his voice sounded small. He hated it. But he couldn’t do anything about it. Kanan moved to his left side. “W-Wait, Sabine can’t–It’s not safe here–”
“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Kanan soothed. “She’s armed and alert and we’re still keeping a close eye on her. You got nothing to worry about.”
Kanan wrapped a protective arm around Ezra’s shoulders and urged him forwards. Ezra recognized the sound of Sabine’s blaster. Baako’s prone body convulsed once before lying still again. Probably for good, if the girl’s satisfied hum was anything to go by.
Despite the chattering markets and windy plains, the walk to the ship was nearly silent. Ezra only spoke for a minute to tell them how to deal with his upcoming high (“Fluids, food, rest. Other than that, just keep me entertained so I don’t do anything stupid. I should be completely through it in the next twenty four hours”). And didn’t it hurt that Ezra had to give that instruction? That he had to be the one to teach the crew how to deal with something new? Up until now, it had almost always been the other way around.
Kanan could hardly breathe, even with the ship in sight. The worst part was how they had all frozen. They had been so shocked that they did nothing but watch––until, of course, that mangy schutta had pushed the kid to his knees, spitting the most vile things Kanan could imagine.
Normally, Kanan would discourage the kids from killing in cold blood, but he would be lying if he said that watching Sabine shoot the guy point blank didn’t bring an ounce of satisfaction.
They entered the loading dock. Kanan spoke for the first time in thirty minutes.
“Sabine, take Ezra up to his bunk.”
“You got it, Kanan.”
Kanan gestured to Zeb. With me. Zeb wordlessly followed Kanan away from the kids and up to the cockpit. Neither man was keen to share information that Ezra would surely prefer remain unshared, but Hera was the closest thing to a mother that the kid had. This was the kind of thing a parent needed to know.
The lock to the cockpit hissed open.
“Right on time,” Hera greeted from the ground. She was on her back, head underneath the secondary console. Probably rewiring the temperature valves so that the kids couldn’t use them to prank each other anymore. Hera slid forwards and jumped to her feet. “You got the credits?”
“Yeah,” Kanan confirmed absently.
“Uh oh.” Hera frowned and looked more closely at Kanan. “What happened?”
Kanan’s mouth was dry, his tongue limp.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Zeb suggested tentatively. He eased Kanan into the seat next to Hera’s. Kanan wondered how he had maintained calm the entire walk back. He felt like he was about to burst into tears. He probably was about to burst into tears.
“Kanan? Do you want to tell me what’s going on or would you like Zeb to do it?”
Kanan swallowed thickly and ducked his head, leaning his elbows on his knees. He took Hera’s hands into his own and brought them up to his forehead. Now he didn’t have to look at anyone. Maybe he could do it.
“It’s Ezra. We encountered someone from his street days.” His voice was rough and his words trembled minutely. “This guy––human, late twenties, maybe––he cut us off and started talking to Ezra. We figured he was from the kid’s past so we let him do the talking and then he–” Kanan’s voice cracked.
“Well, there was this woman named Enchi who Vizago said we needed to watch out for because she heard that Ezra would be on-planet, and this guy was her lackey or something and he said that-that Enchi was missing Ezra because he was–” Her favorite whore. The words were mangled badly. Hera wouldn’t have understood him. Kanan cleared his throat. He didn't even want to repeat those words.
"Ezra worked in a bordello. Enchi was his mack. Wanted him back, apparently."
Hera’s fingers tightened around Kanan’s. Kanan allowed his forehead to drop onto her knees, and Hera brought a hand up to card through his hair. Kanan was grateful when Zeb picked up for him.
“Ezra told the guy to kriff off, he suggested that Ezra pay him a favor, then the rando attacked Ezra and I tackled him. Sabine shot him after, but, karabast, Hera. It was like we were all frozen until he put his dirty kriffing hands on Ezra–”
“Zeb, easy. Take a breath.”
“I don’t want to. I haven’t felt this gorrammed angry since Lasan.” Zeb huffed. “I’m mostly appalled that the kid’s been running missions with us. There’s no way we can let him in on missions now.”
“Are we sure that’s the best call?” Hera’s eyebrows formed a gentle crease. Kanan envied her ability to appear as collected as she did. “He seemed to be dealing with it well enough to function before. Some normalcy might be good for him before we probe the kid.”
“We can’t just let this go.”
“Zeb is right,” Kanan said, lifting his head up and resting it on his knuckles. “The kid isn’t fit to work. He probably wasn’t fit even before this. He hid this from us. And h-he sampled spice today. He knew he was going to have to do it and he lied to us about it. Who knows what else he’s keeping under wraps? We can’t let this go.”
“And we won’t.” Hera said sternly. “But I doubt that taking his job away from him and interrogating him is any way to help him to feel comfortable and recover.”
“You want to send him on missions when he’s emotionally compromised?”
“If it will help him maintain a little consistency in his life, yes! Nothing major or really dangerous, but the kid is important in the fight against the Empire. He knows it. We know it. The Empire knows it. You can’t just take that away from him and expect it to help him, Kanan!”
Kanan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I know, I know. I just…” Kanan’s breath shuddered in his chest. “What if something goes wrong? We don’t know anything about his triggers, or how this will affect his connection to the Force...There are so many unknowns.”
Zeb sat up in his seat. “Why don’t we just focus on his Jedi training, then?” he suggested. “A coincidental dryspell of missions compatible with our crew certainly would not look out of place. Especially if you continue his training. He won’t know anything is wrong, he’ll feel normal, and you can check out his Jedi headspace and all that.”
“It’s a good idea,” Kanan admitted. “It solves a lot of the problems.”
Hera gave him a look. “What else are you thinking of?”
Kanan held Hera’s gaze. “I want him looked over, medically. Not by us, by someone who-who knows what they’re doing and what they’re looking for. We don’t know anything about his old injuries or diseases...It’s stuff we need to know.”
Hera rubbed her eyes. “I hate to say it, but I agree with you. I’ll radio in to Sato. He can hook us up with the best.”
A heavy silence reigned.
“I really don’t think there’s much else we can do, mates.”
“Agreed,” Hera said, and her voice made it evident to Kanan that she was deflecting the hurt. “Dinner?”
“Dinner,” Kanan and Zeb agreed, nearly in sync.
“Do you wanna climb up to your bunk or do you wanna use Zeb’s? I’m sure he won’t mind for a little while.”
Ezra mustered up a smile for Sabine. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll just, uh, use mine. I’m good to climb. More efficient.” Ezra winced at the slip-up.
“...Okay, weirdo. You hang out here. I’m gonna grab the patch kit. You want anything for your knees?”
For his knees? What about his...oh. They were a little skinned, drops of blood soaking into the torn pants of his flight suit.
“It’s not big deal,” Ezra responded. Sabine nodded and left.
With all deliberate speed, Ezra unhatched the vent next to his bunk and shuffled in. He had the ventilation of the Ghost practically memorized. If he dropped down this vent and headed towards the left, it would pop him out right at the cockpit. Not that Ezra was planning to actual exit the ventilation shaft. But it would get him to the cockpit, and Ezra would bet all his credits that that was where the others were talking.
He crawled up to the pannel, making sure to maintain his mental shields. It would really ruin his plan to eavesdrop if Kanan sensed him.
“...easy. Take a breath.” That was Hera. Her back was turned to Ezra’s hiding spot. Kanan was collapsed over her legs. Zeb, who was absolutely fuming, was sprawled over a chair.
“I don’t want to. I haven’t felt this gorramed angry since Lasan.” Zeb huffed. Oh, kriff... “I’m mostly appalled that the kid’s been running missions with us. There’s no way we can let him in on missions now.” Wait, no, no! I can do missions. I’m useful! You know I’m useful!
“Are we sure that’s the best call?”
Yes, yes! Hera would back him. “He seemed to be dealing with it well enough to function before.” Yes I did. “Some normalcy might be good for him before we probe the kid.”
“We can’t just let this go.” Oh, kriff, no...
“Zeb is right.” ...Kanan?
“The kid isn’t fit to work. He probably wasn’t fit even before this. He hid this from us. And h-he sampled spice today. He knew he was going to have to do it and he lied to us about it. Who knows what else he’s keeping under wraps? We can’t let this go.”
Kana was angry. Zeb was angry. Ezra had lied to them. He wasn’t truthful. But it wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t like they all had perfectly clean record! And no one ever went poking into their business or called them unfit because of a few white lies! Surely Hera would talk some sense into them. Ezra was just as capable as they thought he was before this entire shipwreck.
“And we won’t.”
Hera’s voice echoed in his ears.
That was a confirmed majority vote, right there. He was off the ship. Even Hera didn’t think he was good to have around and she was the kindest person Ezra had ever met. There was no way Sabine would want him to stay, either. She probably knew they were kicking him off. Hell, Ezra had had his suspicions even before.
He was stupid to be feeling shocked.
Ezra shuffled backwards, barely aware of the trip back. He only realized he had reached his room when he was crouched on his bunk.
As if on cue, Sabine walked back in with the patch kit in one hand and a ration bar in the other. She tossed him the ration bar. Ezra caught it out of the air, staring at it for a second before turning back to Sabine.
“Legs over the edge. Let me know if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable.” Ezra did as he was asked and watched in a daze as Sabine started work on the tear over his left knee, absently unwrapping the ration bar and taking small bites out of it. She was careful to be gentle around the lesions in his skin and to be precise with the needle in her hand. In just a few minutes, she moved on to his right knee.
Even if they weren’t departing on the best of terms, Ezra was grateful for Sabine.
The older girl finished. Ezra thanked her when she ducked out. Then, he got packing.
“Hey, Sabine,” Kanan rested against the seal to the girl’s room. She was furiously spraypainting the wall against the upper bunk, hues of deep blue and black stark against the grimy, grey metal. “We’re getting dinner ready. Where’s Ezra?”
“His bunk.”
Kanan shook his head. “I was just there. Where...Oh, kriff –” Kanan slammed the comm button in Sabine’s room. “Hera, Ezra’s not in his bunk.”
Zeb yelled distantly, his voice echoing through the halls. The commons. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re going, kit?”
Kanan and Sabine dropped into a dead sprint for the commons. By the time they got down, Hera was with Zeb. Ezra stood before them. Judging by his orientation, he had probably just come out of deep storage. Ezra held his bag in front of him, over his chest defensively.
“–was just getting my things. It’s not like I haven’t gone into storage before. Bug off.”
“Ezra, wait,” Hera said as cooly as she could, though urgency still tinted her voice yellow. “We need to talk.”
“Save your breath,” Ezra sneered. His tone was nasty and in any other circumstance Kanan would scold him for it. But Ezra’s heart wasn’t in it. He wasn’t angry like he was acting. What was going on?
In an effort to sort out the discrepancy, Kanan reached out through the Force. The kid’s shields were parsec high. Kanan could barely even feel him. At the attempted connection, Ezra’s blue, blue gaze flickered to Kanan, and all of a sudden, Kanan didn’t need to Force to see his padawan’s emotions. The hurt the kid was feeling was clear as day. It ran deep.
“You don’t have to worry about breaking the news to me. I’m letting you off the hook,” Ezra said. He paced forwards. “Good luck with the whole rebellion thing.”
Kanan moved fast to grab Ezra by the shoulders. The kid jumped and turned his head so fast that Kanan could hear his neck crack. Kanan might have felt guilty, but he wasn’t about to let his kid walk out the docking bay.
“Kid, we don’t want you off the ship. We only–”
Ezra snarled, and this time Kanan saw some genuine anger in him. “Don’t drag this out. I don’t need you to tell me that you can’t keep a lying whore on your crew. Spare me the embarrassment and let me dismiss myself.”
Kanan faltered. He flicked his gaze at Ezra from eye to eye, searching. Then, finally–
“You are a gift to this crew. If you left, we’d be a mess, so I’ll be damned if I let you walk off this ship.” Kanan wrapped his arms around his kid. After a second, Ezra’s bag dropped to the floor.
“You’re not kicking me off?” His voice was small, and an incredible contrast to the anger he had displayed seconds before.
“Never.”
Ezra relaxed into his master. His breaths shuddered underneath Kanan’s arms and tears soaked through to his shoulder. In just a few seconds, Kana could also feel Ezra dropping his shields. The room filled with a gratitude so strong it was practically tangible in the air.
“That’s it, kid,” Kanan murmured, resting his chin on the crown of Ezra’s head. “We got you. You’re stuck with us.”
“Kanan?”
“Yeah?”
“I think you need to go to the doctor.”
Kanan and Hera frowned at each other. Kanan pulled away from Ezra and held the kid at arm’s length. “How come?” He grew more concerned when Ezra continued to stare at the ground, his eyes hidden behind his hair.
“Your feet are snakes.”
What the kriff?
“Oh my god.” Sabine burst out laughing. “The spices kicked in.”
Concern flashed through Kanan, but suddenly, the whole spices ordeal seemed absolutely menial.
“This is no laughing matter, Sabine!” Ezra turned towards her, rocking on his feet just enough to convince Kanan to keep a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t know what kind of snakes those are! They could bite someone! It’s a critical safety risk.” And, stars, Ezra was so damn serious about it. Kanan couldn’t help chuckling.
Ezra spun back to Kana, incredulous. “Oh, no! It’s affecting his brain too. Hera, do something!”
A smile tugged at Hera’s lips. “What makes you think his brain is affected?”
Ezra looked at her as if he was insulted. “He’s laughing. He never laughs. Something is wrong .”
And just like that, Hera and Zeb were doubled over.
Kanan yelled past his laughter. “Hey, hey, come on! That’s not funny!”
“It’s funny because it’s true.” Sabine squeaked, bracing herself against the wall.
Ezra looked around as his crewmates fell apart. “I’m on a ship with idiots.”