for_everyone | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

"How is it, Zeb?"

He looks up to Hera as she steps into the galley. His leg is still splintered – a day in a bacta tank would've fixed it up quickly, but it's not always easy to find a neutral med station. Especially for a Lasat.

"I'll get over it," he grumbles. "Thanks for picking up those medpacks."

"Of course." She moves from the threshold, revealing Chopper behind her. The droid trundles over to Zeb, photoreceptor swinging to examine the Dejarik game he's been playing, while Hera opens a cupboard to collect cups.

"We having a meeting?" Zeb asks, spotting that she's carrying three cups. Hera turns back to him, her lips pressing into a wry smile.

"Actually, we have a job."

Zeb doesn't notice as Chopper plugs into the Dejarik board, and starts moving the hologram creatures to attack. "Really? Now?"

"We can't really wait on this one." Hera walks across the galley, carrying the cups to the caf machine. "Kanan will be along soon."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hera, consummate professional that she is, covers her mouth with her hand and turns away.

Zeb grins, but valiantly steps into her place. "I think she's saying that's a good idea."

Edited 2018-02-05 23:15 (UTC)

"Oh, yeah," Kanan says dryly.

"I know you both think it's brilliant."

But whatever. Hutts have no taste, it's known.

They run their respective errands, Kanan and Chopper getting enough of a look at Grakkus' palace to give them a decent map to start with, and Hera and Zeb picking up those needed supplies – including a gaudy green sash and spikey-backed gloves for Kanan. The look Hera chooses is simpler, a red jacket over a black top, loose black pants and high boots. The only bit of ornamentation is her head covering, as its deep red much more vibrant than her typical gray cap, and sewn to it are long red bands that twist around her lekku.

She also made sure to have pockets large enough to store a few charges and a holoscanner. Those tucked away, she holsters her blaster, and then heads up to the cockpit, where Zeb is already at the controls. They're still in the blur of hyperspace, but they'll be out soon, and Hera can read the nervousness in Zeb's movements even before she takes the seat next to him.

"You doing okay?"

"I might not be you," he grumbles, "but I've flown my share of ships."

Hera holds up her hands. "That's what I said."

Zeb mutters something else, then looks up from the controls, over to her. "Well, you look less ridiculous than Kanan."

She smiles, which gets Zeb to grin back at her, before asking, "Are you sure about this?"

The smile slips away, but Hera answers quickly. "I'm sure we're not going to find another option."

Kanan, meanwhile, is getting into character. And by that he largely means remembering back before Hera, to who and how he was then.

It seems like the best sort of disguise. The accoutrements he's requested are only to remind him of the difference between then and now.

Of course, the attitude Zeb's going to give him once he sees the full getup is only going to cement that reminder.

"We ready to go?" Kanan says, nonchalance in every line of his body (except for the tension between his brows).

"Once we're actually back in realspace, I mean."

Edited 2018-02-06 18:46 (UTC)

"We should be, as long as Chopper's ready."

Now, Hera shows no signs of laughing when she looks back at him. But she does smile.

"The auction should happen about two hours after we get there. Zeb will drop us off and we'll call in when we're ready for pickup. The party will probably have already started even before the auction's over, so."

She turns her eyes back to Zeb. "It's going to be a long night."

"Even if things go well," Kanan agrees.

Zeb sighs the sigh of a Lasat that is very put upon. "Right, right. I'll stay awake, I swear. And I won't go aggravating my leg unless you really need rescuing."

It's not that he doesn't trust them, it's that luck is fickle. And this job is going to call for a lot of luck.

Edited 2018-02-06 23:46 (UTC)

"We'll make sure there's caf and medpacks here for you," Hera says. "Sorry we can't even leave Chopper to keep you company."

Zeb huffs out something between a growl and a laugh. Hera rises from her chair, walking back toward Kanan. "Speaking of, I better go make sure he is ready."

"Better you than me," Kanan says, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

Then, while Hera's gone --

"You think I should make my voice a little deeper? It'd sound tough, right?"

Look, it's not distraction if he's talking about the mission, and it is definitely not a way to avoid feeling the flutter of nerves in the pit of his belly.

"I'm starting to think you should just let Hera do the talking," Zeb says, not looking up from the ship's controls.

"And who're you planning on talking to, anyway? Just get in and get out."

"I'm just getting into character," Kanan says, a little defensively.

Because . . . well. Get in and get out would be nice, but --

It doesn't feel like that's likely, based purely on history.

"Anyway. I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Maybe don't think too hard."

Hera returns not long after this, Chopper following behind her. She's carrying two containers of caf, and Chopper had a box of med supplies. Chopper takes care to shoo Kanan out of his way as he passes, while Hera steps up behind Zeb.

"We should be about to drop out of hyperspace."

She's barely finished saying it when the the ship shifts, pitching just slightly forward as the blueish blur fades out. There's the black of empty space, and ahead of them, a moon shimmers, consumed in a web of sparkling golden lights. From a distance, it looks beautiful, like a dark jewel.

But Hera knows that won't last.

Kanan makes a half-disgusted noise, quickly muffled.

Hutts. Why did it so often have to be Hutts?

"Doing my best, Hera."

His voice is only a little dry.

"You have the coordinates of the spaceport where we'll touch down," Hera says, securing the containers of caf she's holding in Zeb's reach. "Just go in and out. I don't want anyone seeing this ship any more than they have to."

"All right." Zeb wraps his hands around the ship's controls. "You three better get down there."

Hera nods, and moves past Kanan as she heads toward the back of the cockpit.

"Be careful," Kanan says, resting his hand on Zeb's shoulder for a second.

"We're relying on you to pull our fat out of the fire."

He squeezes, moves the box of medical supplies so it'll be in easier reach, and follows Hera.

Hera glances back to make sure Kanan and Chopper are following her, and then leads the way down through the ship, toward the loading ramp. Zeb's approach to the planet is not as smooth as Hera's would be, and more than once they're forced to lean into a wall as the Ghost stutters down through Nar Shaddaa's atmosphere. But the ship calms as they've reached the cargo bay.

There's one more shudder as they wait by the hatch, and then Zeb's voice sounds on Hera's comm. "We're here."

"Right." Hera hits the button the lower the ramp. "Thanks, Specter-4. We'll see you soon."

May the Force be with us both, Kanan does not say.

"Right," he says instead, nodding as the ramp hits the ground.

"We stick to the plan, and everything's going to be fine."

They step down the ramp, Chopper rolling behind them. Once they've all cleared the ship, Hera taps her comm. It's a matter of seconds before Zeb has retracted the ramp, and the Ghost is lifting up again, out of the spaceport and back toward the evening sky.

It's a crowded port. They can hear another ship touching down even as they're leaving the docks, and they need to weave their way among the pilots and crews passing through. Others are gathered around the walls, playing sabacc, bartering, watching handheld holos. Hera can spot a few pirate tattoos, and symbols belonging to a range of criminal syndicates. A few passersby glance in their direction, but they quickly reach the entrance, and step out onto the street.

Hera stops to look back at Chopper, and then turns to Kanan.

"Come on." She's switched to her Ryloth accent. "We have a party to get to."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only