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Chapter Text

If there was one place that Hera Syndulla was not comfortable, it was sitting in the passenger seat of any vehicle, especially when that vehicle was flying at an almost insane speed in the crazy Coruscant traffic. It wasn’t the speed that they were flying at that bothered her, nor was it the navigating the chaotic comings and goings of other speeders and various starships making for atmo. The problem was that she wasn’t the one navigating it.

When Hera told her best friend, Shara Bey, that she had been called up to the Jedi Temple for a job, she had simply planned to take her own speeder. Shara, the thoughtful friend that she was, dissuaded her by making the point that it would be unwise to leave her fancy sport speeder within the reach of multiple irresponsible padawans—and Jedi Master Skywalker—for a couple of weeks. Strange that her friend who was so concerned with the security of her speeder now blasted through traffic with it like one of those Padawans that she was supposedly worried would destroy her beloved beauty.

Even after Hera tried to explain to Shara that her speeder wouldn’t be in danger because of a few Padawans, the well-mannered and calm bunch of teenagers and young adults, she knew that her friend had made an excellent point when Master Skywalker would damn near destroy her speeder if given the chance. When Hera suggested that she would simply take a taxi, Shara dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, declaring it to be nonsense. If this is how her best friend was handling her speeder in the early morning traffic, so many in the ecumenopolis still yet to rise from bed, Hera refused to think about how Shara would handle her speeder when returning to the apartment they shared on the Republic Navy base.

They flew mostly in silence, a combination of the caf not yet hitting their veins and Hera being concerned for her baby, but Chopper provided colorful commentary from the backseat by muttering death threats to all who came too close to them. The things that he said when somebody cut them off were so vulgar that not even a pirate would dare repeat what her cherished droid rattled off so freely in binary. According to Chopper, anybody who lived on Coruscant was merely allowed to do so because he permitted it and he would gladly revoke that consent whenever he saw fit.

Shara finally spoke up, earning more indignant mutterings from Chopper and his unceasing rantings of rage. “So, what’s your assignment?”

“Master Windu didn’t say,” Hera answered before stifling a yan. “Probably some boring diplomatic mission if I had to guess. It usually is.”

“Are you sure that it’s Master Windu that you’ll be flying around? What if it’s some young and handsome Jedi?” her friend teased, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Hera rolled her eyes. “Young and handsome Jedi typically fly their own ships,” she replied, “and besides, the request came from Master Windu himself. Boring and diplomatic.”

“Hopefully you at least thought to update your datapad with a new holonovel, then?” Shara relented.

“A new holonovel? Try several,” Hera scoffed. “Maybe I’ll succeed in finally cutting down my reading list.”

“Never!” her best friend laughed. “You’ll add at least four new holonovels to the list before you make it back.”

“Well, if somebody would stop sending me suggestions, I wouldn’t have to keep adding to it!” Hera shot back.

Shara grinned, “Consider it payback for all of the holonovels you’ve gotten me hooked on.”

It was true that Hera had started their habit of sharing recommendations with each other. When they flew missions where there was nothing to do other than shuttle around wealthy Senators—or Jedi Masters—the ships never needed repair. With weeks often spent in hyperspace and passengers that were less than talkative, all they could do was read or watch holos.

Sometimes it was nice to fly a ship that was cared for by an experienced mechanic, those who made it a point of pride to deliver the Republic pilots ships that were so advanced that to call them state of the art would be an insult. While Hera enjoyed those ships, there were other times that she wished for a busted ship that she could have something to do other than read. 

The Temple appeared on the horizon, a glimpse of the Ziggurat coming into sight between Coruscant’s impossibly tall buildings. Shara took the lane that led to the Temple, guiding them out of the insane gridlock of the Senate district’s traffic and into the calmer vector that saw very few vehicles coming and going. When the building came into full view, Hera took a moment to appreciate the architecture of it, the structure so different from that of the buildings that surrounded it. Even the heavy atmospheric pollution that was offensive to her sensitive Twi’lek nose couldn’t stop the sun from filtering through and bathing the Temple’s towers in a golden glow.

This was one of the few places that she liked on Coruscant.

When she first arrived on the planet in her early teens, when her father was elected senator of Ryloth, she hated the place. It was nothing like Ryloth with its red rock canyons and wide open spaces, not to mention that the Twi’lek population of the planet was clearly exploited, something that enraged her. Despite her mother assuring her that she would come to appreciate the planet despite its misgivings, it took Hera until she was a young adult to finally see Coruscant in a new light. 

If anything, the planet afforded her the possibility of living in a world of peace and abundance where the clans back on Ryloth continued to wage war against each other and the Hutts still threatened her people. Such was not the case on Coruscant where she learned to fly and became a member of the Republic Navy. She was not naive enough to believe that her life would have been so easy if she’d never left Ryloth. 

Although Hera loved flying and had become one of the Navy’s most decorated pilots for a pilot of her age, she still loathed traveling in the chaotic congestion of Coruscant. Her place, she knew, was amongst the stars. She never turned down a deployment for that very reason, no matter how boring or diplomatic the mission might be.

Shara navigated the speeder around the impressive building, guiding them down into the violet shadows of daybreak, until they arrived at a busy platform where droids had already begun unloading cargo alongside the poor Padawans on deck duty for the day. It would be a long walk up to the hangar, the access restricted from visitors, but Hera never minded the opportunity to take in the Temple’s beauty. After helping Chopper down from the speeder, she looked up to her friend.

“Comm this evening?” she asked.

“Nope,” Shara said, flashing a coy smile, “I’m seeing Kes tonight. Enjoy your romance book.”

Hera made a face at Shara before replying, “You better not be taking my speeder!”

Whatever her friend yelled over her shoulder as she pulled off of the platform much too quickly with Hera’s restored speeder was drowned out by the sound of Chopper already starting trouble with the Temple droids and a frustrated Padawan trying to pull them apart. With a sigh, she went after Chopper and pushed him in the direction of the Temple’s entrance, quietly chiding him for his behavior and reminding him that the Temple was a sacred place.

The Temple was built on something called a Force Nexus, she’d once heard, whatever that was. Although she didn’t understand such things, she did know that entering the Temple never failed to bring her a sense of awe and peace, the high arching ceilings and golden glow of the corridors never failing to wrap her in a kind warmth that no blanket could provide. What must it be like to grow up in this place? 

In spite of the fact that she could have wandered the place for hours, admiring the beauty of it all, Hera picked up the pace until she came to the entrance of the Temple hangar. 

Unlike the awe that the Temple brought her, the hangar excited her and filled her with an overwhelming sense of yearning to fly every ship that spread out before her. The landing pad and docking bays looked like a museum. There were thousands of ships from every corner of the galaxy, some that were so pristine that they appeared to have just come off of the factory line, and some so ancient that she wondered if they could still fly. Everybody on Coruscant, along with anybody who knew of the Jedi, knew of the rumor that they eschewed attachments. All it would take was one glimpse into the hangar to know that the rule couldn’t be steadfast—it was clear that the Jedi were very attached to their starships, even the ones that some might call antiques.

Glancing at her datapad, she found the number of the docking bay and continued on. It was so deep into the Temple’s hangar that it was next to the turbolift that she passed at the main entrance for Visitors. Perhaps she let herself get a little too distracted by the Temple’s beauty. She knew Master Windu wouldn’t mind and assumed that the chosen location for their meeting had more to do with the Korun man’s advancing age rather than urgency. There weren’t many who would enjoy a morning walk between maintenance droids, cables crossing the ground, and mechanics already hard at work as the sun was still rising.

While it was a stroll that Hera didn’t mind, she knew that a Grand Master of the Jedi Order likely didn’t appreciate the sound of hydrospanners and soft curses of frustrated mechanics as they worked on the Order’s multitude of ships.

Unfortunately, Chopper both seemed to loathe and enjoy the walk. He hated the cables and warbled colorful insults at the mechanics in binary that she hoped they didn’t understand. Even though her droid was a Veteran, having flown Y-Wings in war, he seemed to have lost any respect for rules and structure once she rescued him from a burning ship. Instead, he found reason to enjoy these trips through the hangar so he could bully the other droids while telling the mechanics that they didn’t deserve to have droids. 

When Hera reached the bay, there was a path of traumatized mouse droids, astromechs, and mechanics in her wake. Fortunately, Master Windu never seemed bothered by it—if anything, it seemed to amuse him. He was waiting for her at the bay, his eyes glittering with a smile that never seemed to reach his lips. Idly, Hera wondered if the younglings and Padawans, or the Jedi Knights for that matter, knew that Master Windu to be any more than a silent and stoic man. 

In a behavior that most would have considered unbecoming of a Republic Navy Captain, no greeting left Hera’s lips before she took in the ship just beyond the Jedi Master standing in front of her. It was a beautiful, and by her assessment brand new, Corellian VCX-100. The ship was not Master Windu’s usual ship and definitely an odd choice for a mission meant to be boring and diplomatic.

Hera looked back at him with a lifted brow in question, which actually drew a soft chuckle from the man. He reached out to greet her with a hug, having known her since she was a little girl, back during the Clone War when he helped her people. 

“Master Skywalker acquired it somewhere in the Outer Rim,” he offered as an explanation. “Perhaps you can overlook the number of illegal upgrades he probably installed before bringing it back to the Temple, Captain Syndulla? I’d hate for the Navy to demand an inspection of the hangars…actually, if you determine exactly how many upgrades he made, I’d rather not know either. Plausible deniability.”

Hera laughed softly, eyes still taking in the beautiful ship. “How nice of Master Skywalker to see to the ship’s maintenance for me,” she said with a half smile. “I’ll be sure to send him a note of thanks.”

Chopper passed between them, already ascending the ramp of the VCX-100 and muttering something about letting the meatbags engage in mindless chatter while he took possession of his new ship.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Master Windu said, raising his hands. “He’s constantly acquiring new ships. I doubt he even remembers this one given how often he’s bringing new starships into the bay. I suppose that it’s a better way to pass the time than him spreading chaos around the galaxy but we’re starting to get tight on space. It will be nice to free up this bay for a little bit.”

Though the man was engaging her in conversation that didn’t relate to the matters at hand, Hera noticed that he looked tired. The weariness that he wore in the deeply etched lines of his face hadn’t ever faded after the war although it ended nearly twenty years earlier. She knew what she’d seen on Ryloth and that was enough for her; she could only imagine the visions that haunted him or the near misses that could have ended in disaster.

Given that fact, she folded her arms behind her back, taking on her military stance. “Seeing that Chopper has most certainly met with the computer aboard and I’m quite familiar with this ship’s functions, we can depart as soon as you are ready Master Windu.”

One corner of his mouth ticked up and he gave a shake of his head. “I’m afraid that I won’t be accompanying you this time, Captain Syndulla. You’ll be traveling to Lasan with Consular Dume and his Padawan.”

Oh.

No.

Anybody but him.

Caleb Dume was, and always had been, a stiff and moody Human boy. She’d known him for many years, having met him the day that her family first arrived on Coruscant when he was still Jedi Master Depa Billaba’s Padawan. The boy had been with Depa—as she insisted that they called her—and Master Windu, all of them there to greet the Syndulla on the landing pad when they arrived. 

Greet wasn’t exactly the proper term for his attitude on that day.

Depa immediately gravitated toward her mother, the two women engaging in easy conversation, as Hera clung to her mother’s side. Master Windu had already started speaking in hushed tones with her father, the two of them friends since the battle to free Ryloth from Separatist control. Her brother Jacen seemed awed by the clearly complacent teenager and attempted to engage in conversation with him but after being ignored, decided to follow Chopper around to explore their new home instead. 

Even during their first weeks living on Coruscant, Depa would bring the boy along as she introduced Hera and her family to the bustling upper levels of the unending city. Caleb always stayed to himself, speaking only when directly addressed, but otherwise appearing disinterested in the entire thing. He constantly wore a look of anguish and moved as though his limbs were encased in duracrete.

There was something about him, the way he was so stiff and lifeless, standing there as though he was too good to be there that she found irksome. No matter how curious she might have been on the landing pad that first day until he ignored her little brother, her curiosity gave way to outward disdain every time they crossed paths, and she was always sure to glare at him every opportunity she got—even if he didn’t seem to notice or care.

More often than not, Depa would only make a few attempts to engage him in conversation or allow him to lead the family around the district, but they were always unsuccessful. Eventually Caleb stopped accompanying the group on their outings, Depa explaining that he was quite busy with his studies as a Padawan. She clearly loved the miserable boy, often discussing him with her mother as though he was her son. 

Years passed by quickly and Hera slowly adjusted to life on Coruscant while still mostly longing for home, until the day she entered the Navy Academy. At least there, she didn’t have to hear stories of Caleb Dume shared by Depa with her mother over tea. She hadn’t seen the frustrating teenage boy in ages and she still loathed him to this very day.

When she told Shara this mission would be boring, she didn’t realize how much of an understatement that was. The idea of having to interact with Depa’s former Padawan, who she always insisted had such a big personality, filled her with repulsion. Maybe she could reach out to her Commanding Officer and tell them that she had fallen ill so somebody else could take the mission.

Hera knew that she’d never get away with such a thing. Finally forcing a polite smile perfectly becoming of a Navy Captain, she gave a nod but said nothing.

“Why don’t we take a tour of Master Skywalker’s toy?” Master Windu suggested.

Of course he would notice her irritation. Jedi!

That irritation quickly faded when they boarded the starship. It was as beautiful on the inside as it was from the exterior. There was ample room in the cargo bay that already held neatly arranged crates. From the bay, she heard Chopper angrily warbling at the navicomputers and next to her Master Windu chuckled. 

“Perhaps we should check out the cockpit before Chopper decides to reset the motherboards,” he suggested.

After ascending a ladder, they walked through a doorway that led into a large and comfortable common room. To one side was a curved acceleration couch and in front of it a dejarik table, one that she suspected would double as a holoprojector. On the opposite side of the room was a refresher that was small but appeared to have a real shower rather than a sonic, and next to that was a galley. 

As she glanced at the crates of foodstuff that apparently still needed to be put away, her eyes widened slightly. She’d never seen so much fresh food aboard a starship. Were those rycrit steaks?

“Caleb doesn’t like rations,” Master Windu explained.

Of course he didn’t.

Hera chided herself, withholding a sigh as she did. She had to remind herself that a mission was a mission and that she wouldn’t be interacting with Caleb more than was necessary. Actually, he probably wouldn’t interact with her at all. Knowing him, he’d merely grown from a tortured teenager into a melancholic man. This would be fine.

She gave another polite smile and nodded. 

Why did Master Windu seem so amused by this, chuckling more at her reactions than she’d ever seen him openly laugh at anything before. 

Finally, he led her through a corridor that opened up into the cockpit. Unfortunately, he stopped just shy of the hatch that would lead to the one part of the ship she cared about the most. He pointed out the two crew cabins on each side before opening one of the doors on the starboard side of the ship. “This,” he said, waving his hand inside the Captain’s quarters, “is your cabin.”

“And Consular Dume agreed to that?” she asked before she could stop herself.

This time Master Windu openly laughed.

“That boy can sleep on rocks without complaining,” he said with a shake of his head. “He insisted that you take the more comfortable bunk.”

How considerate.

At long last, they entered the cockpit where Chopper was unsurprisingly destroying the navicomputers' self confidence. 

“Chop, leave her alone,” Hera sighed. “I’m sure that she can do her job quite well without your bullying.” The scolding that she gave her droid might have been more effective if she hadn’t made straight for the pilot’s seat to settle into it and wrap her hands around the yoke. 

Oh, she was gorgeous.

There was no doubt that Master Skywalker added an upgrade or two—or a dozen, but really, who was counting?

“I think it will serve you well,” Master Windu spoke, his voice taking on a warm tone as though he could tell she was already in love with the ship. 

This ship might actually make it bearable to deal with Caleb Dume for a while. 

“What’s her name?”

“I believe that he called her The Ghost, ” he replied. “You’ll have to ask Skywalker about that one.”

Being a member of the Republic’s Navy, a couple of upgrades that were meant to be allotted to military ships only came to mind, all of them befitting of the ship’s name. She ran her hand over the console, trying to find any sign of those upgrades when Master Windu disrupted her exploration.

“I believe they’ve arrived.”

Hera figured it must have been a Jedi thing since the viewport was facing away from the turbolift and out into the cockpit. The surveillance screens that allowed her to glimpse into every corner of the ship showed no signs of anybody having boarded. Reluctantly leaving the pilot’s seat and her droid in possession of the ship, she followed the Jedi Grand Master completely devoid of enthusiasm once again. 

Before she made it down the ramp, she could hear Depa greeting Master Windu. Hers was the first face that Hera saw as she descended upon the deck of the hangar bay, Depa greeting her with a warm smile. 

“You look so much like your mother,” Depa marveled softly before giving her a hug and then taking a step back. “I saw her just yesterday. I think a visit home may be in order soon, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself now that Jacen is so busy with assisting your father in his legislative duties.”

A small smile crossed Hera’s lips and she nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Finally, Hera’s eyes turned to the tall Human man who was facing away from her and toward the turbolift as though he was expecting somebody. The artificial lights of the hangar caused his long hair, only partially tied back, to glimmer with copper embers. His shoulders were broad and no amount of layers in the traditional Jedi tunic could hide the man’s physique.

“Caleb,” Depa called to him gently. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

When he turned to face him, Hera noticed that he was wearing a tunic that seemed fancy in comparison to most of the Jedi she’d seen. He was decorated in green and brown tones with symbols embroidered in golden threads along the collar that she hadn’t ever seen before. He was a Consular, she supposed. Maybe this is how they all dressed.

But did they all look like this?

The brooding and, quite frankly, awkward looking boy had grown into his once comical appearance. His long and angular features had filled out over the years, giving way to a neatly trimmed goatee on his chin, a nose that while prominent, somehow made him look distinguished, and full lips that turned into a gentle smile at Depa’s summoning. For a man who was labeled as an academic, his skin was the most beautiful shade of copper, as though he’d spent years under the two suns of Tatooine. 

Caleb looked at her, possibly for the first time in all of the years that they’d been aware of each other’s existence, and she found herself staring into the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. They were the color of a shallow sea and every bit as calm. Had they always been that color?

“Captain Syndulla, it’s nice to see you again,” a deep and warm voice greeted as she drowned in the depths of Caleb Dume’s eyes.

Chapter Text

Hera wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there, spellbound by the handsome man that she remembered as a moody—and honestly quite awkward—boy. She was left speechless, unable to recall what she’d been thinking. Had she even replied to his greeting?

“Unfortunately, it appears that we’re running behind schedule,” Depa spoke in her always soothing tone. “I do hope you’ll forgive us but it seems that we lost Ezra.”

The Jedi Master seemed amused by the admission.

Before Hera could ask who Ezra was, Caleb drew her attention once again, this time with a slight huff and a smile that caused her heart to flutter slightly. This couldn’t possibly be the boy that she remembered from her childhood, could it? The dour teenager that she recalled never smiled, not one time in all of those hours spent together as children.

And yet, here he was, one corner of his mouth tugged up in a half grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ezra, he’s my Padawan,” he finally offered as an explanation. “I wish that I could claim that we lost him but that’s far less embarrassing than the truth of the matter.”

All Hera could do was raise an eyebrow in question, still struggling for words.

“Since breakfast was not a part of our schedule for the morning, he independently decided that he would make some adjustments to our agenda,” Caleb lamented. “In spite of the fact that I told him I’d make breakfast once we were aboard the ship and in the air. But, you know how teenage boys are.”

Hera felt her brow furrow slightly, the irony of Caleb Dume talking about how obnoxious and ill-mannered teenage boys can be. Finally, she managed to muster a response, one that probably sounded a bit too bitter for a Captain of the Republic Navy. “I do know how teenage boys are.”

Something in Caleb’s expression seemed to shift then. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and then cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Captain Syndulla. Ezra isn’t always this defiant.”

Next to her, Depa laughed softly. 

Obviously offended, Caleb’s thick brows drew together as he looked to his Master. “I was nothing like Ezra, Master.”

A wry grin played on her lips. “Of course you weren’t, Caleb.” 

No, you weren’t. You were an insufferable, moody, impolite, sullen, mopey brat, Hera did not say out loud. She shifted her gaze, struggling to avoid the trap of his aquamarine eyes, and finally settled on looking just beyond his shoulder. That would be safer.

“I know you must be anxious to go,” Caleb continued. “My assistant went to get him.”

An assistant?!

Hera felt her eyes narrow and reluctantly met his gaze. She wasn’t thrilled about having another passenger. “So there will be three of you, then?” she questioned, somehow irritated by the idea of his assistant accompanying them. “You, the Padawan, and an assistant?”

He gave a slight chuckle. “I’m afraid that he doesn’t prefer interstellar travel as much as I do. He’ll remain at the Temple and assist with managing my other affairs.”

Hera felt an immediate sense of relief at the revelation that Caleb’s assistant wasn’t a woman. Why would she even care? This was just a mission and there’s no way that this man in front of her wasn’t just as insufferable as ever—just because he’d grown more handsome didn’t mean that he’d grown a brain, or a personality for that matter. 

All she had to do was be professional, wait for this Padawan to show up, make it to atmosphere, and she could start on her reading list. “Then just the two of you then,” she said with a curt nod. Professional. “Have you already toured the ship?”

“Oh, yes,” he answered with a slight nod and that half smile still on his stupid handsome face. “We loaded the cargo yesterday. Ezra might have made an attempt at claiming your bunk but I informed him that the Captain’s bunk would be yours.”

Why was her face warm all of the sudden.

“It’s a nice ship,” she replied lamely, willing the heat from her face. 

Were his cheeks darker too? “I suppose that we’re lucky that Master Skywalker acquired it. She should be perfect for this mission.”

Bright Goddess, were they actually making small talk? Where the hell was that Padawan of his?

Mace returned from speaking to one of the protocol droids, picking up on the conversation as though he’d been eavesdropping the entire time. “I gave her a brief tour of the ship while we were waiting for you. I’m quite certain that her droid will be able to give her a full rundown by the time your Padawan decides to show up for departure.”

Depa smiled, a proud Grandmaster, even if her grand Padawan sounded like a disaster. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Master Windu. Give the boy a break.”

The Jedi Master looked like he wanted to do no such thing but relented anyway. “Unfortunately, Depa and I have Council matters to attend to and our schedule isn’t quite so forgiving. I assume that you two can handle things from here?” 

Hera honestly wasn’t sure if she could handle any of this. It would have been nice if somebody had given her some sort of notice as to who she was transporting, perhaps a year or two, that way she could adjust to the idea of spending Goddess only knew how long with Caleb Dume on her ship.

Professional, Hera, she reminded herself.

“Of course,” she nodded. 

When Depa hugged her, it felt like that soothing and warm peace that she always exuded seemed to seep into Hera’s bones. “May the Force be with you,” the Chalactan woman uttered the phrase with fondness before releasing Hera from her embrace.

With that same maternal fondness that Hera remembered Depa always having for her Padawn, she embraced him and then took a step back to adjust his already neat tunic. They were speaking quietly, too quiet for Hera to hear over the various engines being ignited and the mechanics working on busted ships, all except for one statement. 

She thought.

“You’ll be fine.”

What was that supposed to mean? she wondered.

Even when Caleb answered, there was no trace of that pensive jerk that Hera remembered from their youth. He was still smiling. “We should only be a few weeks,” he nodded. “Garazeb assured me that everything is already arranged. We will be fine.”

And then they were left alone.

Despite the fact that it wasn’t really silent in the hangar, the quiet that fell between the two of them rapidly became uncomfortable, leaving Hera to shift slightly. She kept reminding herself this was just another mission and that she was a Captain. Nothing else mattered. 

“I’m going to go initiate the start-ups if you think your Padawan will be joining us shortly,” she said curtly. “This particular ship doesn’t have a particularly long process.”

“Ezra should be along shortly,” Caleb replied with another one of those maddening smiles. 

This could not be the same man that she knew as a teenager. Maybe there was another Caleb Dume in the Temple? 

“Thank you, Captain,” he added, his tone almost gentle. 

Rather than replying, Hera retreated to the ship and quickly scaled the ladder to seek refuge in the cockpit from this imposter claiming to be Caleb Dume. Just like she’d suspected, Chopper had succeeded in bending the navicomputer to his will, taking over the ship just as he threatened. 

“Whoop WHOOP?” 

“What?” she snapped back defensively. “I am perfectly fine. Everything is just great.”

Chopper made a flatulent noise in response. 

“Will you please just run the start-ups?” Hera groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Whop whop!”

“No, Master Windu is not coming. We are transporting Master Dume and his Padawan,” she sighed.

“WHOOOP. WHOP.”

“C1-10P, don’t you dare let him hear you speaking like that,” Hera scalded him, pointing a finger in his direction as she started him down with a green glare.

Just like always, Chopper did not care.

“Whop woopwo—”

A huff of laughter drew her up short, nearly causing her to fall out of the pilot’s seat. “That’s quite the colorful binary.”

Fuck! Why was he in the cockpit? Wasn’t he supposed to stay outside and wait for his Padwan? The cockpit was supposed to feel like a refuge and now it felt like a prison cell.

“Stance, my assistant, just let me know that Ezra is on his way,” he offered up in explanation. “Apparently he’s coming with snacks.” 

“I see,” Hera said slowly.

Although she’d been fervently hoping that he was merely providing an update, Caleb proceeded to stand over her shoulder and examine the console before dropping into the co-pilot’s seat without asking. He began to fidget with some of the controls, seeming to marvel at some of Master Skywalker’s upgrades. He was touching her ship.

“There’s a signal masking device! Seriously?” Caleb questioned incredulously. “It’s not like we’re breaking blockades here.”

Fine. He knew a thing or two about ships. That didn’t mean that it was okay for him to just waltz into the cockpit and start messing with her ship. Especially without permission.

Not that it was actually her ship but that wasn’t the point. Except, it was. She was supposed to be professional. Caleb probably had more of a right to claim the Ghost than she did.

Thankfully, the thundering steps of what Hera could only assume to be Caleb’s Padawan drew her attention away from the frustrating man messing with her ship and toward the hatch. A short boy with blue-black hair and an armful of food—probably enough to feed a small army—clambered into the cockpit, immediately irritating Chopper. 

“I know, I know,” he heaved breathlessly. “I’m late. I’m sorry.”

The kid didn’t sound sorry at all.

Hera glanced at Caleb and saw that he wore the same dubious expression that she did before looking back at the boy. 

“There were puff pastries!” he explained, his mouth full of one. Shuffling through his armful of food, he produced a packet that admittedly filled the cockpit with an aroma that made her mouth water. 

Maybe she should have had more than caf for breakfast.

One of the packages was practically shoved into her face by the cantankerous kid as he declared, “Hi. I’m Ezra.”

Hera couldn’t help but smile faintly as she took the still-warm pastry from Ezra. “Thank you,” she replied, somewhat bewildered that Caleb Dume had ended up with Padawan that seemed to have such a big personality compared to his boring and dull Master.

“Ezra,” Caleb started with a sigh. “You need to show more respect to Captain Syndulla.”

“What?” Ezra scowled, bits of his pastry flying as he extended one to his Master. “I brought her breakfast!”

A smile crept onto Hera’s face even though he was already making a mess of her cockpit. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so boring after all, especially with such a sweet and likable boy. “Thank you, Ezra. And please, call me Hera. We’ll be spending quite a bit of time together on our trip to the Outer Rim. There’s no need for formalities.

“While your kindness is appreciated, Captain, Ezra is in desperate need of practice when it comes to formalities. Perhaps this is not an official diplomatic mission but it’s important that my Padawan learns how to address figures of authority. That means you, the Elders of Lasan, and the Lasat Honor Guard.” Caleb then turned to level his gaze on Ezra. “You will refer to her as Captain Syndulla.”

And there was the little asshole she remembered. 

Ezra flopped down into a seat, little bits of his food flying everywhere. She winced when Chopper unplugged from the navicomputers, waiting for her occasionally menacing droid to teach the sweet boy a lesson in respecting starships. 

“Whop Whaaaaa.”

“Don’t worry, Chopper. Ezra will be cleaning up the floor after he finishes his second—or third—breakfast,” Dume said to her droid, who apparently understood her droid with ease.

“Fourth!” Ezra answered with a mouthful of food and a ridiculous sense of pride, as though stuffing himself was an achievement. He really was an entertaining kid.

A message flashed across her console, permission for departure with her lane and vector that would carry them to the long queue where they’d wait for Goddess knew how long to leave Coruscant’s atmo. No matter how much she longed for the stars, Hera knew as she fired up the engines and followed her departure instructions that this was going to be a long and arduous journey—for more than one reason.

Chapter Text

As always, the queue to exit Coruscant’s atmosphere was absurdly long. If they’d departed when Caleb wanted to, the wait wouldn’t have been quite so painful. As it was, Ezra decided to delay the Ghost’s disembarkation for pastries. Offering a tight smile, Caleb decided to make himself scarce and left the Captain to her silent exploration of the console, the awkward energy between them almost too much to bear. He was fervently hoping that a fresh mug of caf might improve that tension, if only slightly. 

For the past week, Caleb had been organizing the originally utilitarian galley of the Ghost, upgrading one of the few areas on the ship that Master Skywalker had neglected. As insistent as the Jedi Master was upon his infamous illegal upgrades, one would have thought that he’d at least have the decency to place a good caf machine and an actual shower on the ship. Fortunately, where Master Skywalker failed, Caleb had not. After seeing to it that a shower ran on reclaimed water was installed aboard the Corellian Freighter, he personally set about making the galley on the Ghost the most functional and comfortable as possible. 

Smiling to himself, he flipped a switch on the top-of-the-line caf machine to start the Spiran brew he hand selected for this journey. He pulled down a tray and began to arrange it with sweeteners and cream, just to be sure that it was available should the Captain decide she wanted some although he had a feeling that she wouldn’t. The fleeting thought of the Captain, of Hera, erased the smile from his face as he placed two new mugs on the tray. 

It was painfully obvious that she still disliked him, even for somebody not gifted in the Force. Caleb knew that he had nobody to blame but himself and knew that she had every right in the galaxy to loathe him. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person that anybody wanted to be around after the war, often perceived as being arrogant or lofty, even when Master Billaba reminded him to be mindful of his presence.

So many of those years had blurred together, the trauma of it all leaving him with months he couldn’t remember. The war changed all of the Padawans, though. When victory was declared and the Jedi returned to Coruscant, Caleb discovered he wasn’t the only one who felt like they hadn’t won anything, his best friend a ghost of the teenage boy that Caleb remembered. Before they left the safety of the Jedi Temple the pair had been nearly inseparable but after they returned to the familiarity of home, the two found they no longer had anything in common. 

The healers knew that they were dealing with a bunch of broken children, as did the Masters. Some of the Padawans readily responded to the post-war rehabilitation and the comforts of being home again. Others, like Caleb, needed more time. No matter how curious he was before the war, he’d never been able to bring himself to ask if the others like him had seen more horrors or let the lives ended at their hands haunt them in the night. For months after they returned to Coruscant, he couldn’t bring himself to return to physical training, the sound of his lightsaber blazing to life causing him to break into a cold sweat and freeze up. 

That was why his Master allowed him to spend all of his time in the archives. It was why Lady Jocasta allowed him to borrow as many books as he liked, even if he hadn’t returned the others. She also knew that of all of the Padawans in the Temple that Caleb would care for the books and see to it that they were returned in the same condition they left the archives in. Most students weren’t so careful with the precious texts which is why they were often handed datapads in their place. 

It was funny, how his life turned out in comparison to the way he imagined it as a fourteen year old boy getting ready to leave for the war. He was excited to fight, eager to do his part in ending the Separatist forces, and dreamed of nothing more than being a Jedi Knight who would travel the galaxy and battle tyranny. Caleb still fought for justice in the galaxy, just in a different way, he supposed.

With a heavy sigh, he tried to take his mind off of his past. The aroma of the caf began to fill the small galley, the blend one he hoped that the Captain would like, and then he silently chided himself. He shouldn’t be concerned with how she perceived him and yet, he couldn’t let go of it. If it hadn’t been for her brother, Jacen, who joined him and Stance for drinks with some of the other legislative assistants, Caleb would probably be blissfully unaware of what the Captain thought of him. 

Maybe asking Jacen to join him after the Senate session where he requisitioned the approval of the cultural ministry for his mission wasn’t his brightest idea.

Jacen was only a couple of drinks in when he not-so-casually mentioned exactly what Captain Hera Syndulla thought of Caleb. 

You are going to be miserable. She’s hated you for years! 

It only got worse from there. 

Until Caleb saw the expression on her face when he arrived in the hangar, he thought that Jacen’s assertions might have been slightly over-exaggerated. Had he ever done anything to truly make her hate him? Certainly, he couldn’t have. 

Right?

There was so much he couldn’t remember.

Nothing came rushing back to him when he offered his gentle greeting, no memory that made it plain why she wore a look of disdain on her face that she fought to keep under control when she first saw him. Judging by the way she seemed to quickly remember herself, adopting a more neutral expression and chilly but professional demeanor, Master Windu probably didn’t tell her that she would be escorting him on this journey until the last minute. If she knew that she’d been transporting Caleb, she probably would have tried to do something like calling in sick. 

Were Captains allowed to do that? 

If her initial reaction hadn’t been bad enough, the way that she nearly glowered at him when he dropped into the copilot's seat as she ran through the ship’s startups nearly felt like a slap in the face. It was something he’d done without thinking, used to flying his own missions, but clearly she’d considered it an act of trespass. Caleb imagined that many things changed in the military after the assistance of the Jedi were no longer required but they were still, and always would be, considered commanders. Although he wouldn’t dream of doing so, he could easily remind her that he was flying combat missions when she was still sleeping with stuffed tookas. 

With a heavy sigh, he leaned into his palms that were pressed into the counter. This wouldn’t be as bad as he was making it out to be. The journey was longer than most but they’d settle into their roles and learn how to work around each other and it would be fine. She would learn to understand the true roles of Master and Padawan, perhaps even understand why Caleb instructed Ezra to refer to her as Captain Syndulla when she told the boy to call her Hera. 

Even if Caleb often thought to himself that he didn’t really know what he was doing with Ezra, he was committed to being the best Master that he could be. The two shared a connection that wasn’t entirely unlike the connection that Caleb shared with his Master, a relationship so strong in the Force that it called to him even while his Master Billaba was sedate and floating in a tank of bacta.

Caleb could practically hear his Master Billaba then, speaking to him in her always soothing tone and telling him to just breathe, the same thing they told all of the broken Padawans who barely found their way back.

All he had to do was breathe.

With only slightly trembling hands, Caleb filled the two mugs and placed them carefully on the tray before lifting it from the counter. He closed his eyes for just a moment, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly before he refocused his gaze. There was no amount of breathing, he realized, that was going to ease his tension. 

Time to head back into the pit, he thought to himself. 

There was no way this could end well. 

Chapter Text

Ezra had indeed a very funny and a bit feral personality for a Jedi Padawan.
He was a strange match for his serious master.
Instead of cleaning the floor as his master had instructed, he crossed his legs on his seat and proceeded to update her with all the gossip and the fun things that had happened at the Temple lately.
For a 15 year old, he surely had a big mouth and very little consideration about the hierarchy.
Oh, he was fond of his master but he seemed more like he was talking about a member of his family than about someone who had authority over him.
He was about to tell her some funny anecdotes about him, when they heard his steps outside the cockpit door, so they had to stop chatting and gain back some composure.

The cockpit filled with a delicious smell of caf, and Hera was quite surprised when Master Dume put a small tray on the flat surface of the console.
“How do you like your Caf?” he asked with that warm, deep voice.
Well, most of the men she knew would just take a guess or decide for her.
It was nice he bothered to bring her the sweetener and the cream.

“You're very kind to have arranged all of this, but black it's fine for me.“

He just winced, “I didn't want to assume. It will be black from now on,” he said and gave her a mug. Then he took the other mug for him and added some sweetener, too much in her own opinion.

Hera took pleasure in having the mug warming her hands and inhaling the aroma that emanated from it.
After letting it cool a bit, she took a sip.
It was delicious.
Hands down the best caf she ever had.

“It's so good,” she commented.

“It is, right? I don't indulge in many pleasures, but the caf has to be good,” he replied with a grin.

Well, Hera didn’t know which pleasures a Jedi could indulge (Ezra was giving her some intel), but she could follow him on the path of perdition in exchange for a daily cup of this caf.
Or …two.
He probably wasn't that bad. Surely he had good taste.
A thing most of the men she knew were lacking.

Hera risked a glance at his profile over the rim of her cup.
He seemed a bit uneasy after their brief argument about Ezra, earlier.
He seemed nice and considerate, nothing like his old self.
She was probably being a bit childish, continuing to compare the absurdly attractive man sitting next to her to the memory of a boy she had met, no more than half a dozen times. Less, probably.
Almost 20 years have passed and both of them were different persons.
He was surely more kind and was probably willing to talk if asked.

So she should give it a try, “What is this mission about?” she asked.

He took a sip of his caf, pondering, then replied, “Have you ever been on Lasan?”

“No, the occasion never arose.“

“Well, it's A very interesting planet, rich with natural caves, some of them turned into elaborate architectural masterpieces. Some regions unfortunately are prone to violent earthquakes.
Those regions are left mostly uninhabited, except for the inspection teams that monitor the changes in the territory due to the earthquakes.
Actually, sometimes, these earthquakes have brought various mineral veins closer to the surface, making it easier to exploit,” he said and took another sip of caf.

“Yet, two cycles ago, the earthquake brought to light something different, a cave in which existed some kind of a very ancient structure. A temple, perhaps, the construction of which preceded the arrival of the Lasat on the planet by thousands of years.
I already made an initial inspection, on the request of the Royal Historical Committee, but I have never seen something like those wall inscriptions. So I came back to the Temple to fetch documents of various ancient civilizations we have registered, to Lasan, hoping to find someone to correspond with the new findings.”

Hera almost drowned on the last sip of the caf.
“Do you mean in the crates downstairs there are invaluable volumes from the Jedi’s Archive?” she asked shocked.

“Plus some archaeological specimens that seem relevant in this situation and some crates of technical instruments,” the Jedi added.

“I'm flying some millions of credits cargo?” Hera was totally stunned.

“Well, no one knows but this kind of transportation happens more often than you think.
You surely didn't think that we’ll use this fancy, multiply upgraded ship and the best pilot in the galaxy to just fly me and Ezra around. Right?”

He sounded perfectly composed and reasonable.
Hera, on the other hand, was just speechless.
The responsibility of transporting part of the Jedi’s Archives was in her hands and no one had considered informing her the moment she took the assignment!”

“Don’t worry Captain Hera,” Ezra chirped behind her, “We have done this a lot of times!”

A lot. Of. Times

“Captain? I think it is our turn to go,” the Jedi commented.

No fancy blend of caf or the pleasure of flying the Ghost would compensate for the stress this voyage was promising.

************

A week in hyperspace later, she had ALMOST forgiven them for not having informed her in time about the cargo.
As it happened, Dume was a very talented cook, and it was hard to stay mad with someone who prepared three delicious meals every day for you, plus had always ready a cup of caf. Black.

Most of the time, he kept out of the way, except for the meal time.
He spent his time in the cargo hold, working on those invaluable texts and his reports.
Every time she happened to inspect the cargo, everything was in perfect order.
He was almost like a specter and left no trace of his passage.

Other than that, Ezra's training consumed most of his time, the kid seemed completely different when he trained or meditated with his master.
She stopped a couple of times, admiring the execution of various saber forms.
Their movement was beautiful, so controlled and meticulous, but, as she didn’t want to intrude, she usually left after a couple of minutes.
They were able to go on for hours, almost without breaking a sweat.
Dume’s hair was always perfectly arranged in his half-up bun.

Hera had wondered how it would be to ruin that perfect bun…

Master and apprentice took upon themselves the duty to keep the Ghost clean, and were doing an excellent job.
On those occasions of the cleaning chores, they would drop all formalities, joking and screaming at each other about the disappearance of a detergent or something equally trivial.
Usually, the item in question was found in the last place Ezra had put it, opposite to his master, who had a precise system to place everything.
No one could say that something got lost under the watch of Consular Caleb Dume. Such a reliable person, indeed.

At least, after a few shared meals, the formality of all the “Captain” and “Master” (“no, not a master, I'm just a Consular”), was dropped and things started to feel less awkward.

Hera liked Ezra. He was a lot of fun and a strange mixture of a 15-year-old naivety and the pride typical of someone who is used to being in a certain level of society.
He always had some juicy anecdotes regarding members of the Senate and their staff.
He knew Jacen who, apparently had finally succeeded in acquiring Caleb’s attention, and said he had met her father a couple of times too, but briefly.

“He's nice but surely looks a bit intimidating,“ was the verdict of the boy.
Hera didn’t believe a lot of people would go so far as to characterize her father as nice.
He wasn’t a horrible person, but the hardness that started growing on him during the war, somehow got thicker during his years in the Senate.

All the things he hoped to obtain for Ryloth were harder to acquire than he had expected.
Their home planet had gained some important reforms, their people lived better and were extremely safer than before, with the Navy and the Jedi very committed to ending slavery.
More and more often, the stolen girls were found and returned to their families.
He wanted more, though, he wanted all.
He never learned the art of compromise, of accepting some little improvements and then using them to build something bigger.
That politics took time and baby steps were important too.
Sure, there was corruption, too, but no system was perfect and they had come very close to losing this not-perfect democracy due to Palpatine schemes.
But he adored her mother and was fond of his children.

Surely, he didn’t welcome Hera's decision to a military life, but her mother supported her and Jacen told her that he would be more than happy to enter his father's staff and learn the art of diplomacy in her place.
Probably her younger brother just enjoyed the possibility of being around important people, so he looked forward to meeting more and more of them and making connections.
One of them was Caleb, not a shy patron of fancy bars. Ezra’s words.

Hera had some problem imagining him relaxed and having a drink with non-Jedi friends.
Maybe flirting.
Surely he would have no problem gaining the favor of some pretty and vacuous girl…
Who knows how many had fallen victim to his deep voice and his beautiful eyes?

Hera groaned, bending on herself in frustration and pressing to her face the datapad she was trying unsuccessfully to read.

He’s a Jedi, whose personality you're not even sure you like, and this is a mission!

She took a couple of deep breaths, positioning herself comfortably, and tying to focus on her holo novel again.

It wasn’t bad. Not the most original plot but, sometimes it was nice to know what to wait for.
A happy ending, with some spicy situations on the way, maybe.

The female protagonist was smart and funny, not the usual good girl waiting for a man to save her.
The man somehow showed up anyway and now they were taking measures to decide the next move.
They were working in a big corporation, both climbing the ladder of their career.
Attracted but also aware of the possible consequences.
When he meets her on the turbolift, they start a casual conversation.

With the voice of Caleb Dume.

The image of herself in a turbolift alone with him made her decide it was better to stop reading for that night and try to have some sleep.
A visit to the refresher was required first, though.

Hera grabbed a fluffy warm vest, put on her slippers, and left her bunk, quite sure everyone was sleeping by now.
It was colder in the corridor and the silence filled with all the hums and bips typical of a ship traveling in hyperspace.

It was because of the blue lights dancing outside the viewport, that she didn't notice immediately the blue flash of light projecting on the wall of the stairs leading to the frontal cargo bay.
She didn't hear any particular sounds or smell the ozone of electrical damage but the refresher could wait for a couple of minutes, so as to do a fast check, Hera thought, and started descending the stairs.

He was …dancing. His moves were different from the forms he used to repeat with Ezra.
His movement was fluid like water as he seemed to fight some imaginary opponent.
His eyes closed, his hair arranged in a messy bun from which some strand had escaped.
His feet were bare, a pair of loose and soft sleep pants embracing his long and agile legs.
And then her eyes climbed up to his lean and well-sculpted torso.
Tanned and sprayed with freckles, dark hair covering his chest and arms.
His muscles danced under his copper skin, interrupted in some place by old scars.

She didn't remember leaning on the rail to look at him better.
She forgot the passing of time and the need of sleep, hypnotized by Caleb’s graceful dance.

Chapter Text

Of course, Caleb had noticed, night after night, Hera watching him from the platform.
Usually, she left when noticing his rhythm slowing down, but, most of the time, he just kept going until she was gone, to avoid awkward explanations.
She probably was just curious about the saber forms.
Many people found them entertaining to watch.
After the second night, though, he started wearing an undertunic in addition to the sleep pants, just in case.
He decided he just imagined the annoyed groan when she arrived that night.

Why did he pretend he didn't know she was watching, though?
Well, he didn’t want to explain why, so often, found it hard to sleep unless exhausted.
It was hard to explain to Depa, it was hard to explain to the healers, and he didn’t know if he was even able to explain it to himself.

It wasn’t the nightmares.
The years of healing and meditation allowed him to bear them.
It had been ages since the last time that his nightmares had caused him a real panic attack. Nowadays, when they came, he was able to reconnect with reality soon enough and he knew they were usually related to stress and tiredness.
And even then, Depa was always at his bedside, murmuring reassuring words.
Now he barely remembered them the day after.

The dreams, on the other hand, were worse.

They began after the first time he entered the Jedi Temple of Lothal, shortly after he found Ezra.
The problem with the dreams was that they remained vivid in his mind, forcing him to make connections, ask questions, and bring his mind in such a state that getting back to sleep was impossible.
They usually came to him every once in a while, but he could remember any one of them in detail.
This time, they started after they were in hyperspace for a week.
They were different, every time, but they were all connected.
He was irrationally sure that they were not just the creation of his stressed brain.
Too many vivid details, too much coherence, and, every time, the certainty he was somewhere else than in his bed.
He managed to acknowledge four different worlds in his dreams, and he was always able to say in which one he was on, while dreaming.
He had even tried to identify them, searching in the archives, under the concerned eye of Lady Jocasta, who was not accustomed to seeing him first thing in the morning.
She never inquired how he had gone inside.

He was unsuccessful, none of the worlds he checked, based on what he remembered from the dreams, fitted completely with his memories.
Maybe the terrain was similar but not the people who lived there, or some other conspicuous detail.

Maybe these planets were somewhere in the wild space, he was rationalizing to himself, in his need to remain steadfast that they existed.

He could feel that deep inside him, there were a bunch of details about these places that were remaining just a bit out of reach from his conscious mind.
Yet the most bizarre thing was that he was always observing what was going on from some inhabitant’s eyes, who seemed to go on with their lives.
The previous night he was a little girl, running to the neat paved roads of an ancient city.
It was the zone near the sanctuary, a market a bit down the road, facing the sea, more than a hundred meters below.
He could see the border of the sleeves of her adorned dress, light blue and pink, like the flowers of the trees that were omnipresent in every corner of this part of the city.

He has been in that city before but in a far less nicer district. The ancient district on the other side of the promontory, was a slum of old and unstable little houses.
Then there were the old gardens and the Ruins near them.

The thing all these imaginary worlds had in common was the Ruins but, every time he tried to reach them, he woke up.
In some cases, he succeeded in falling asleep again and proceeding a little further but he was never able to get a good look at them.
Except once, in which case he had finally managed to gain access. It was clear that heavy restoration was done to the place during the millennium.
The thing he was really searching for was buried in the Ruins under levels and levels of mosaics and frescoes.
He remembered the hallways and the chambers in such detail that he could draw them back from memory if he wanted.

The forms allowed him to concentrate and put together the pieces of the puzzle, even though Hera's presence, lately, made it a little harder.
Exhausted he started to slow moves and his thoughts with them.

I was on a ship once, but the Guardian didn’t allow us to leave.
Someone, on board, had committed a sacrilege.
The Guardian had sunk the ship. We all drowned.
He remembered in a flash.

Still with his eyes closed he stopped, his back to the ladder.
Hera was still there.

“Do you need something, Hera?” he asked, failing to hide the agitation in his voice.

“Why do you do this every night?” she asked after pondering for some moments.

Caleb sighed, turning to face her.
“It wasn’t my intention to wake you. I just can't sleep”

She looked at him in silence, for a few seconds: “You're always exhausted when you retire for the night. Even I can tell”

“It’s nothing mysterious or complicated. Even if I'm tired, at some point I wake up and can't go back to sleep.” It was more or less the truth. “I'm sorry to wake you up, I'll try to be more careful. Go back to sleep, it's cold here.”

She winced “I don't know why, but I have the feeling you're not telling me the truth,“ she accused him.

Then she turned and climbed the ladder.
After a bit, Caleb heard the door of her cabin close.

From then on, it would probably be better to try to manage all the questions the dreams raised in his cabin, meditating.

Chapter Text

Lasan, seen from orbit, was beautiful.
Well, all planets had their own beauty seen from space.
The planet consisted of a vast main Continent surrounded by an ocean. The waters advancing from the coast to a long distance in the sea, were shallow and sparkled under the sun in a beautiful teal color - the color of his eyes - before turning in darker blue in the distance where they were much deeper.
The southern areas of the Continent,from this point of view, appeared as mostly composed of vast areas of sand and rock, in all the hues from orange to purple, dotted in places by pristine lakes surrounded by vegetation.
An extensive mountain range crossed the Continent separating the northern areas.
The landscape in the north was covered by plateaus and jungle like forests.

The AstroPort was located on a high plateau near the southern side of the mountain range; no other structure seemed visible.

“Almost everything is underground, even the artificial canals,” Caleb explained calmly, like the last dozen days had not been an embarrassing mess of interacting only when necessary, leaving any and all conversation on Ezra's shoulders.
Luckily the kid had plenty of tales to tell, most of them probably exaggerated, some definitely untrue, but all really entertaining to the point that even Caleb, sometimes, couldn’t stifle a chuckle.

Some days ago, Caleb passed her a report about the planet.
At least she had something to read that didn't evocate images of a very attractive, shirtless and sweaty Jedi.

He was assisting in the landing procedure and she could not deny that he was a really good pilot. He contacted ground control, showing familiarity both with the procedure and the operator.

“Did they promote you, Consular Dume? That's quite a bigger ship than your usual one,'' the operator said, entering their data.

“Nah, we just needed bigger cargo capacity this time,” Caleb answered “And the Escape is still an excellent ship, just for your information,“ he added.

So, he had a personal ship. An excellent one, he said.
Hera imagined Master Skywalker handing one of his confiscated ships to every Jedi that passed the trials.
Congratulations Caleb! I'm so proud of you! Here's your ship. I called her The Escape because it suits your way of managing things.
Hera grinned imagining the scene.

Ezra was, understandably, the first one to run outside as soon as the ramp started her descending.
His master followed him, all composure and with a serene expression, at which point she felt the need to grab the bun behind his head, just to see what would happen.
He was the personification of consideration when bringing her a perfect cup of caf, or when he prepared some recipe from her home planet, to perfection, and then he would disappear for hours.

By the time she finally finished all the procedures to shut down the Ghost’s system for a long stay, droids were already busy unloading the absurdly precious cargo, and uploading to a cargo lift which she hoped would lead it to a vault.

Ezra and Caleb were greeting a tall alien, his appearance something between a wookie and an overgrown tooka, coated in pale purple fur, striped in a lavender tone.
He had a short beard and wore an ornate light armor, and carried an imposing weapon on his back. His feet were bare.

Getting closer, he said, with a potent voice, “Well, they gave you a good one this time, uh?” accenting the assertion with a ponderous pat on Caleb's back.
To his credit, the Consular didn't flinch.

“The Escape is a good ship too, but we needed more cargo capacity,“ the Jedi quickly replied.
From the amused grin on his face, Hera suspected the big Lasat wasn’t talking about the Ghost, and that Caleb understood perfectly his insinuation but chose to play dumb.

“Captain Hera Syndulla,” he started when she was next to him, “May I introduce you to Garazeb Orellios, Captain of the Royal Honor Guard?”
For a second, Hera feared the giant tooka was about to do something embarrassing like kiss her hand, instead he greeted her with what should be the lasat version of a military salute, and she returned it in relief.

Chopper arrived soon later, babbling a series of obscenities the two Jedi pretended to ignore and the Lasat genuinely seemed unable to decipher.

“Are we all here?” the Lasat asked while moving to a second turbolift that, opposite to the first, led to the underground city.

“Priestess Chava is waiting for you, to update you about the progress on the dig,” he added as they were accommodated in the massive turbolift, “but unfortunately, you have also to attend this evening in a banquet organized in your honor. “

Caleb almost growled, “Again? I told them clearly last time that there is no need to do that every time I visit.”

Orellios laughed, “You're such an exotic presence, don't deprive them of their entertainment! Captain, obviously you have to attend too.” He grinned in a not exactly reassuring way.

“I wasn't made aware I would be present at a formal event, I didn't bring my formal uniform with me,” Hera tried to excuse herself.

“Oh, don't worry! We're not too formal people. You'll be alright,” Orellios said laughing.

She dropped a glance to her companions, Ezra was the only one who didn't seem bothered. The food had to be good.

The turbolift stopped and the door opened to an corridor excavated in the reddish rock. The corridor was a work of art. The floor was polished and the walls were carved with motifs inspired by nature, plants, animals and birds, all painted in lively colors. On either side of the corridor spread the doors of various offices, shops and a hotel, as one could expect in all decent spaceports in the Galaxy.

They took a speeder from a garage next to the turbolift, as the distance they had to cover, evidently, was too long to do so on foot.
The main corridor mostly followed the path of the natural cave and, in some places, the natural structure of the cave was left untouched, displaying impressive calcareous structures and cascades of pure turquoise water, diffusing its harmonious song in the huge corridor.

“There are fish in there, and shrimps,” the Lasat Captain informed them.

“Do you eat them?” Ezra asked, not surprisingly.

“Naa, to adapting to life here they gained the right to be left alone,” the Lasat answered, “and actually they are really tiny!”

Eventually, after passing many ornate gates, they reached one with a carving that represented that what looked like an exodus from a far planet..

Captain Orellios followed a passage that led to a lower level parking, nearby, and left the speeder there, then he guided them to the main level, in what looked like something between a temple and a library.
A tiny Lasat old woman was waiting for them. She wore an impressive hairstyle that almost doubled her diminutive height.
She looked actually like an old tooka leaning on a cane.
She had a placid and welcoming aura.

“Now tell me, Caleb my dear boy, what did you bring me?” the woman asked with good humor.

“All I was able to find, Mother Chava,” the Jedi said, and the two started discussing ancient tokens and translations from dead languages, while walking to the depths of the sanctuary/library, forgetting, apparently, the rest of them.

Neither Orellios nor Ezra looked surprised or offended, and the Lasat, turning to the door to go back outside, told Hera, “Do you mind a little tour of the capital, Captain Syndulla? I'm also sure the kit could eat…”

“Starving,” the Padawan confirmed.

“Well, then we eat first, then we'll show to the Captain all the interesting places,” he concluded, guiding them back to the speeder.

Chapter Text

Αfter a rather adequate banquet, where both the Jedi and herself were made the center of all attention, they were accommodated in a very comfortable hotel, near a location called simply “the Archive”,
“We're not visited often by aliens, we are perfectly self-sufficient” explained an old dignitary, having the minimum doubt about the tact of his observation.

Ezra, in the days that followed, was mostly her only company (non-counting Chop), since Captain Orellios had other duties to attend.
Caleb was often gone by the time they woke up, and he was coming back only to sleep.
“This is a quite complicated one” Ezra explained to her, without really answering any of her untold questions.
The teenager gladly undertook the task to show her the city, taking her to all his favorite restaurants, diners, or stalls selling deep-fried or dripping honey.

The city was immense and intricate, developed on several levels with huge “squares” where most levels looked like big chambers, some so vast that, from one end to the other, only the artificial lights were visible from the opposite sides.
There, if an interesting land formation, a waterfall or a sprout were present, the Lasats left that part of the land untouched.
The overall landscape was beautiful and Hera didn’t regret her days as a tourist.
It was later, back in her comfortable room, that her irritation would hit her again.

Of course, part of her knew she had no reason, or right, to feel annoyed with the Jedi Consular, who was precisely doing the work for which she flew him on Lasan.
But that was her rational and professional part, the one that advised her to enjoy the free time and the exploration of the beautiful capital of Lasan.

Then there was that other part, a little voice in her head that kept telling her that Caleb was not considerate of her and, of course, of his Padawan who, surely, was not supposed to spend time in an alien city all by himself.
If asked, Ezra probably would have said that it was not a problem at all, but he was 15 years old and a bit immature.

When her patience was about to end, … by the third day after they arrived, Caleb announced that the expedition to the site would be ready to leave the city, the following morning.
They would take a train, loaded with all the necessary materials, and traverse the mountain to an outpost to the other side, and from there, there was available transportation for the site, deep in the jungle.

By morning, Caleb, Ezra and Hera were all equipped with raincoats, weapons in case of attack from the huge predators present in the region, and a generous supply of bug repellent, in addition to the usual med kit and rations.
They also had received protective helmets and accessories with powerful lights.
A number of Lasats were also taking part to the expedition, the old lady and her assistants, three younger lasat all with the appearance of scholars, as well as Orellios and a couple of the Honor Guard members.

The train was nothing more than a platform floating on magnetic rails, with a droid guiding it.
Chopper tried to interact with it in his way, but the droid had the bare minimum of a personality and didn’t respond to Chopper’s provocations, his only assignment was to guide the train up and down the tunnel.

The platform was extremely stable, so Hera chose to sit near one of the crates just to read one of her holonovel, for she had been informed that the trip would last about 4 hours.
Ezra tried to follow the discussions of the adults for a little while, but he soon got bored and chose to go sit near her instead. The tunnel they were travelling in was rather cold and the boy fell asleep soon after.

The trip was boring and uneventful but they finally reached the other side.
Hera had expected to exit in the warm sun of the early afternoon, instead, the train stopped inside a station, part of the outpost.
Droids immediately came to unload the cargo, depositing it in a vast and luminous room.
A big window occupied most of the wall facing the forest.
It was part of the home base for the operation in the region.
There was a dormitory, a canteen, a couple of refreshers, and a hangar for transport and speeders.

“It's raining,” commented Orellios with a sort of growl.

“Downpour doesn’t last for long, in this period of the year” said Old Chava.
Still, they had to wait until it stopped, so tables were moved to the canteen to display all the documents necessary to organize the inspection of the ruins.
Ezra helped himself to some food from the crates and then reached Hera who was watching through the window.

Even under the heavy rain, the view was impressive.
A luxuriant forest expanded in front of her, some trees emerging from the canopy for dozens of meters, opening a large umbrella of branches and big leaves.
A pale bioluminescence was visible in some areas of the massive trunk.

“They are mushrooms,” Ezra explained, passing her a sweet ration bar.

“There are also insects and some reptiles that glow in the dark. They are cute. Better don't disturb them, however. Some are pretty venomous. But they don't bother you if you leave them alone.”

The ration bar was way too sweet and Hera suspected they were included just for the Padawan.

“Now you can't see them, because of the rain and the low light, but there are spurs of rock, like fingers, sticking out of trees. Some large birds of prey make their nests there. Caleb won't let me go there alone.”

Maybe it was Hera's imagination, but she was quite sure the teenager wanted to ask her to go with him when the others would be busy deciphering the ancient wall's inscriptions.
She wasn't actually sure why she and the Padawan were included in the expedition.

“Ezra is trying to convince you to take him searching for the nests, isn't he?”

Hera was startled, hearing Caleb's voice so close to her back.

“You can go if the weather allows it. Maybe Garazeb would like to join you. I doubt we'll need the Royal Guards protection while working, and for you, it will probably be very boring.”

He hasn't talked with her that much, since that night in the cargo bay.
He seemed at ease, confident, in his element.
His beautiful eyes were shimmering with anticipation and for a moment she was drowning again.

“Can we go searching for the frogs too?” asked Ezra, assuming he could pull the rope of his Master, who was so excited about his work that probably was willing to let it go a bit more.

Caleb huffed dramatically, “It seems like my padawan has a certain ability in creating connections with the animals. Please, Captain, try to stop it before he tries to befriend some big predators”

He went back to Captain…

“Of course Consular” she answered, putting a heavy accent on the title. “How much firepower will I have at my disposal?”

“You have to ask Zeb, I'm quite scared about the supply he and his men took with them.”
Ezra. Zeb. Captain. Very well, she would stay at her place”

“Look!” Caleb says “It's stopping. Let's see how much we can load on those transports”

*************

The transports can load quite an amount of machinery and other cargo, being used usually for mining operations, and the droids loaded all their crates with space to spare and comfortable seats for the passengers.
Informed of Ezra and Hera’s intention to go for exploration, he enthusiastically called him in and produced, from a remote angle of the hangar a more agile vehicle used for the inspection post quakes.
The Lasat vehicle was interesting. Although, as that dignitary said at the banquet, Lasat really didn't need contact with the rest of the galaxy, their technology was quite advanced and she could not wait to try that recognition vehicle.

The plan was to head everyone to the ruins and Hera could not deny being curious about it, then to split and let the archeologists do their boring job while they would go exploring the peaks, and maybe even go to search for bioluminescence frogs. Hera was determined to draw a line against searching for the venomous snakes, no matter how pretty they could look.

Ιnitially, they headed the transport first to a plateau barely visible in the distance, because of the fog that followed the downpour.
When the vehicles came closer, it was evident the gash the last earthquake had left.
An important crunch of the massive rock wall they were hearing about, had slid down, engulfing a substantial portion of the forest.
It looked like a bleeding wound after the rain, as the water washed away reddish mud from among the fallen trees, some of which had probably been growing for centuries before the earthquake.
It was a bare sight until one was close enough to see them, the Ruins.

That ancient people that had lived in that structure, in some ways, weren't bothered by the wilderness of the land.
The portion visible looked massive, more impressive than the lasat underground architecture.
This one looked like it was built for far bigger beings.

The portion of the plateau that survived the slide was sufficiently big to allow them to park all their vehicles comfortably.

They all descended and Caleb, with Mother Chava at his side, took them on a tour to the already secured part of the impressive structures.
He was describing, with pure passion, the little they had discovered so far, adding some of the more probable theories, while noting that, at the moment everything was pure speculation, no matter how much they looked promising and exciting.
Hera wondered if he ever talked about something else with the same enthusiasm.
Maybe he had a secret passion for bioluminescence frogs too.
That traitor part of her, she really would better ignore, wondered how it would be to ignite the same interest in the Jedi for herself.
The professional and growing-up part silenced it with a very practical “it would never happen. Focus on the mission”

At that very moment, the mission consisted of following, with a very enthusiastic teenager, some annoying very big birds of prey to their nest, where they were probably busy tending to their eggs or hatchlings.

Caleb saluted them with the recommendation to not come back with some new pet.
Ezra seemed to have developed a very selective sense of hearing, so Hera imagined the burden of avoiding the acquisition of some sort of huge apex predator as a new companion for the Padawan, weighted all on herself.
A single look at Commander Orellios was enough to classify him in the team of the accomplices, instead of that one of the responsible adults.

The little surveillance vehicle was, as she expected, very responsive and agile and she enjoyed zigzagging around the taller trees.
Passing among them, it was possible for one to notice the variety and amount of life they nurtured.
There was the patch of mushrooms Ezra had pointed to earlier, now muted in a pearly and translucent white.
But there were flowers, in lively colors, hanging from the branches or growing in their junctions.
It looked like the most insane and beautiful garden she had ever seen.

There were families of little primates, some with golden fur, others in a cream white, or in the color of the smoke. All of them watched them with large, colorful, and intelligent eyes.

There were also colonies of birds with long necks and colorful plumage, carefully avoiding the zones frequented by the primates.

The air was filled with insects, some with beautiful colored wings, reflecting the light of the sun.
They were approaching the closet rock finger, and Hera augmented the altitude, following Ezra's instructions.

There were, indeed, some nests, most of them empty, but a couple were occupied by huge, white gruffly birds.
One of them was standing, showing his legs totally covered in fluffy feathers, making them look as if they were wearing trousers.

WHOP WHOOOP WHOP.

“They don't look stupid, Chop” answered a quite indignant Ezra “They are majestic!”

“Well” intervenes Hera “doesn't seem hatchling season, there are only adults exemplar specimens here”

“Chop, can you register some holo?”

WHOP!
“Oh, please buddy! I know where they keep the oil!”

“WHOWOP?”

“top quality!”

The orange menace capitulated in front of his offers and started recording when Hera made passages around the peak, trying to not bother the birds.
Ezra was starting to ask about the frog hunt when Garazeb Com chirped.

“What's up buddy?” said the lasat before being answered by Caleb's voice. The volume was so loud that everyone could hear, as if the Jedi were on the vehicles with them.

“You said the perimeter was surveyed!” the Jedi almost screamed.

“Of course it is, there are two rings of sensors, no one could trespass without notice, and there was never any alarm, not even for animals”

“Well, someone wiped his ass with your sensors! You better return to the ravine immediately!”
There was anger, but also the tone of someone in command.
Some crisis happened and Consular Caleb Dume was more than ready to see the end of it.
When they arrived on the site they were escorted inside the structure by the two honor guards, in a visible state of discomfort.
The reason was more than evident when they entered one of the more internal rooms. One with a wall carved in such an exquisite way Hera cannot find a comparison.
It was a tall quadrangular room, the ceiling too high to be reached by the artificial lights.
The armory of the carving was interrupted where a large chunk of rock was violently removed, destroying an important section of the inscriptions.

“ Butchers!” Caleb was exclaiming, launching his arms in the air in a sign of rage and frustration.

“Karabast”, said Zeb, “I can assure you we didn't receive any message of trespassing or of malfunctioning on the sensor net”

“They had stolen one of the most important sections of the inscriptions, damaging a great part of the wall around”
Caleb was literally fuming, his face red, his eyes a shade darker.

“We have some images of it that we took in the second week of exploration, we can use them for the translation,” said Zeb, his suggestion didn’t seem to lighten anyone's mood.

“That’s not the point! They violated a piece of history and art, and quite possibly, a sacred one. I know exactly who can know something” Caleb growled.

“We have to return to Coruscant!”

Chapter Text

It was decided that a permanent military outpost would be established for the protection of the site,  but Caleb doubted that the grave diggers would come back. What they wanted was already stolen.  It was just too late and if it weren’t for all the years of training and meditation he would be raging.

Garazeb and his men stayed at the site with the scholars and old Chava, to protect the expedition until the outpost would be established. 

Hera, no, Captain Syndulla,  had already reached the recognition vehicle she and Ezra had used earlier to go and explore the jungle. His Padawan, on the other hand, was walking at his side. “It’s a long journey back to Coruscant,” said the boy.

“And we don't know how much of a head start they have on us. I'll send a message to Cal as soon as we're back in the capital, hoping he's at the temple,” Caleb answered his apprentice. 

“Unlikely. He doesn’t stay often on Coruscant when he meets that girl,” that was one of Ezra's favorite gossip. 

“If he's not, he can at least contact his informers. We have to spread the word about this. We need all potential buyers to know that we are after them.”

“And that you're not in your diplomatic mode,” Ezra added. 

Caleb shot a fierce look at Ezra, but got back no response. The kid may be very fond of him, but had definitely zero respect. 

A few days under Mace’s stern care would do the boy some good.

His old grandmaster was the only person in the Temple able to make Ezra behave, at least for a bit.

“It’s starting to rain again,” Captain Syndulla informed them when they boarded the agile vehicle. 

“We can fly under the canopy with a vehicle this small,” Caleb proposed. 

“We can help you navigate if the visibility it's too low,” Ezra offered.

She huffed at the offering, “I can fly under any condition.”

She, indeed, was a talented pilot, navigating between the huge trunks, avoiding every obstacle as if she were led by the Force. 

Ezra was pinned to the window,  trying to take a glimpse of some of the animals he had hoped to go searching that day. 

Caleb was at the back, working on his datapad, trying to put his thoughts in order. 

Except for the destruction done on the wall, the thieves hadn't left traces.

Garazeb’s men were trying to understand how they had trespassed the perimeter.

He was looking at the sensor specifications and at the records they took since the site was discovered. 

Nothing looked out of order, but this was not his field of expertise. 

He knew who to send those files as soon as he would arrive in the city,  where he would have a higher range of communication. 

But this was a problem for a later time.

He started at a list: merchants, collectors, known smugglers of antiquities.

It was a long list, but he had a starting point.

The favorite antique dealer of the wealthy.

An old friend . 

*****************

Hera could assess the urgency of the situation by the way that Ezra didn't complain about leaving before dinner.

He just resolved on munching a ration bar while preparing his baggage.

Well, that and the fact that they were leaving all the ancient documents and relics they brought to Lasan behind.

“They will be treated with religious care,” Caleb assured her, between one holo call and another. 

He had, apparently, a vaste net of connections and he was going to contact every last one of them.

The black market would be a terribly hot place in a very brief time.

Who knew archeologists could take things in such a personal way?

Caleb's mood was so dark Chop deemed wiser to navigate far from his space.

That was a thing!

Opposite to their departure from Coruscant,  they received clearance to take off and enter hyperspace in a matter of minutes.

The Ghost was actually the only ship leaving although  there were a couple more ships in the Capital's space port.

The coordinates were set and, soon after they left the atmosphere, the space stretched in the familiar blue and white lines of hyperspace. 

Almost three weeks passed in an atmosphere thick with tension.

Oh, on the surface everything looked fine.

Three delicious meals a day were always available, because cooking apparently helped Caleb relax and he would never neglect the diet of his teenage padawan.

They also continued the training in the cargo bay, where the master guided the apprentice in the different lightsaber forms.

The rest of the time, the Jedi passed his hours meditating in his cabin.

All and all, Caleb’s interactions with her were polite, but impersonal.

“I’ve never seen him so angry,” Ezra admitted.

To Hera, Caleb didn’t look angry, and she was an expert in anger as the daughter of Cham Syndulla, but surely he was tense.

He also started to perform his forms in the middle of the night again, and even she, without any knowledge of the discipline, noticed his energy was different, not the harmonious dance she had admired during their flight to Lasan, but something that resembled more to the rage of a storm.

Still beautiful but somehow terrifying. 

Was this rage lurking under the composed and calm facade of Caleb Dume?

She almost felt bad for whoever would face him at the end of this flight.

When they exited hyperspace, almost two months after their departure from Coruscant, Caleb gave the impression that, if it were possible, he would just jump from the Ghost, to arrive at his destination faster.

It was always tiresome to follow all the procedures to approach the Capital of the Republic, and many hours passed before they were able to land in the safe, vast space of the Temple’s hangar.

“Ezra, take care of everything from hereon. Have a nice day, Captain,” the only words Caleb said before storming out of the Ghost, followed by all the profanity Chop had avoided to say when the Jedi was not at a safe distance. 

Ezra approached her, his baggage and the one, more scarce, of his Master, hanging on a shoulder. 

“Don’t get it wrong,  Hera. This situation is really bad for him. I can't explain but he hoped to confirm something on that site. He's not usually like that and he didn’t mean to be rude,” the boy tried to explain.

When they walked down the ramp, there was no one waiting for them and Caleb was already out of sight. 

“I'll ask someone to drive you home,” the teenager offered.

“There is no need, I'll take a taxi.”

“No way!” Ezra said, and asked a technician nearby,  to call a speeder to take her away from all of this.

Chapter Text

Caleb was an excellent pilot, he has always been so.
The Force helped him navigate Coruscant traffic with ease.
He parked outside of an antiquity shop, in front of which a couple of very luxurious speeders were waiting with their chauffeurs in their neat uniforms.
The owners of the speeders turned and watched him with disdain when he entered the shop, slamming the door, to immediately change their expression, as soon as they noticed the Jedi robes and assuming, probably, that he was a Veteran.
To disrespect the saviors of the Republic was not considered elegant.

A richly dressed man with white hair and a welcoming smile approached him, leaving the care of the previous customer to his assistant.
“Consular Dume! What can I do for you, today?” Luthen Rael said.
What he didn’t say was clearly readable in his eyes that the smile didn't reach.
Luthen guided him to the back of the shop, filled with expensive curiosities from a number of worlds.
“What are you trying to do? Cause a scene? Here?” He spat when he was sure to be out of the clients' ears.
“You received my message. You know.”

“I don't know anything about your mural, Dume.”

“Careful Rael. I saw at least half a dozen pieces that shouldn't be in your shop, and I wasn't paying any real attention.”

“What are you menacing me with? You know very well I have important friends.”

“So do I.”

“Of course, the Jedi Grand Master's favorite, aren't you? Still, I have not the information you are searching for.”

“What I want is your list.”

“You can't afford it,” Luthen said with a sneering glance.

“Probably, but it's in your interest too that I find the patron who sent the thieves. They didn't know what they were stealing.”

“Last time I checked you didn't know either. Don't make that face, I have my informers.”

Caleb lowered his voice more, “I know on what side you were, during the war. You don’t support these people, either.” He gives him a wolfing smile, “I have my informers too.”

The old man loses part of his composure and sits on an ornate armchair.

“You cannot think that they are reorganizing. Palpatine was supposed to be the last of them.”

“Still the war continued for two more years after his death, and we never had the proof that there weren’t more of them.”

Luthen stayed silent for several moments, trying to hide the conflict he was in, although his effort was useless against the perception of a Jedi.

“I will not give you my list, but I can offer you something far better, Caleb Dume.”

**************

For Hera, the positive side of being back home was, not only that Shara had brought back her “baby” in an excellent condition, but also her spreeder had half a tank of fuel.

The negative side was that Shara wanted details.
She probably shouldn't share some parts of the travel but, at the moment Hera really needed to vent.

Shara offered her a strong drink, as soon as Hera collapsed on the couch, while Chopper was giving a recap in his way.
The glass was pushed in her hand and the inquiry began.
“Now, now. I want to know absolutely everything about the young, handsome and shirtless jedi!” Sitting at her side , leaving her no escape route.

“He's an asshole!” she answered, probably too quickly.

“Yeah, some of them are, but this is not all, right?”

Hera growled, taking a big sip of her very strong drink! Some friend! She was trying to lower her defenses.

“No. He usually is very polite and considerate, and definitely not interested.”

“Oh my! Did you ask him?”
Another growl, a bigger sip and her glass seemed to be filled again.
“I think at a certain point he noticed I was watching him. You know, Jedi stuff.”

“Or the sound of drooling..“

“You're supposed to be my friend! Anyway, one night, instead of leaving before he finished, I waited for him.”

“And?”

“To be precise, he wasn’t shirtless on this occasion… “

“Such a pity!”

“Yeah, well, we started talking, you know, I'm sorry I woke you. Not at all, I wasn't sleeping. “

“And then I tried to psychoanalyze him, and told him he wasn’t telling the truth and…”

“And clearly he didn't end in your bed,” Shara stated, serving another round.

“I wasn't planning to seduce a Jedi!” Hera indignation would sound more convincing if she didn’t slightly stutter.

Just in that moment Chopper crossed the room offering his totally logical opinion, and in some way succeeded in making both the women turn red.

“Fiiine, maybe I had some fantasy. “

WOOOOOOP!

“OK, plenty of them, but after that episode he made it clear he wasn't interested. Always considerate, always kind but there was always his Padawan between us and all the words he directed to me were just practical and related to the mission!”

“So, you have feelings for him,”

WHOOOP

“Including lust, but he was being professional and not intended to compromise the mission,” Shara nodded to Chopper.

“He never showed any interest.“

“You said he was aware you were watching him doing all his sexy jedi things…”

“That means nothing!”

“... and he stopped when he realized you wanted to take the thing on a more personal level. Another drink, dear?”

Hera passed Shara the glass to have it refilled. She felt just a bit tipsy.

“Now, follow my reasoning: he's a Jedi, a Jedi that now can totally have a relationship, but you were on a mission that he didn't want to compromise by taking you to bed. So, you should try to meet him in a civilian situation.”

Hera just answered with an unconvinced hum.

“We need to discover what circles he frequents when he's not in Jedi mode.”

“You have no idea. He's always in perfect Jedi mode.”
A long sip from her drink, “and I want to rip away those perfectly neat clothes from him, so much!”
Ok, she was probably a bit more than tipsy.

“My brother is his friend.”

“That's amazing, you can ask him!”

“Nope. He would know why I asked.”

“Where's the problem?!”

Yup, such a good friend!

Chapter Text

In the following weeks, Hera received no calls to fly any of  the Jedi. 

She saw Ezra, only once, when she visited her parents’ home.

He was there with Depa and he was delighted to see her.

She tried to ask for any update concerning the Lasan incident, but both the Padawan and the Grand Master didn't have any news to share with her.

“It’s mostly something the Consulars are managing, and I'm afraid I can't share what Caleb reports to the Council, my dear. But I will tell him you're interested in the issue, in case he needs you to fly the Ghost again,“ Depa tried to reply as politely as she could.

“We've been confined in the Temple since we returned,” Ezra shared while serving himself another slice of the meiloorun cake her mother offered to the guests.

“I see him only for training and when he comes back to sleep in the evening,“ the boy added.

Hera took for herself a cup of tea and a slice of cake before finding the courage to ask, “How is Caleb?”

Ezra's eyes sparkled at her calling his Master Caleb , instead of Consular Dume , as it would be appropriate, and she thought she saw a soft smile on Depa’s lips, but it was immediately gone.

“He’s very busy, and tired. We're trying to convince him to take a break but he's so stubborn when it comes to his work. He's a very passionate man,” said Depa, and Hera, this time, was sure her mother's friend smiled mischievously while pronouncing the last sentence.

“It’s good that he found his vocation, Depa. It broke my heart to see him suffer so much when he was a boy,” her mother commented, taking the ornate pot to refill Depa and Ezra’s cups. “But you're right. He should not work himself to the bone. It's not good for him. Maybe you should ask one of his friends to have a word with him.”

Does Caleb have friends? Hera couldn’t help but wonder. Other than Captain Orellios and that assistant, and Jacen obviously. 

“His friends are mostly Consulars, like him, and so they tend to become as stressed as he does. War changed the way all of them react to things. He is not an exemption to that, you know ,” Depa replied.

“You can try asking Master Tano,” Ezra suggested, after devouring one more piece of cake with a sip of tea.

“He always listens to her.”

Who the hell is she?

“Ahsoka was a war Padawan like Caleb,” Depa started explaining to the rest of her company, as if she had heard her question, “and she's like an older sister to him. Caleb always looked up to her, as she was Anakin Skywalker’s apprentice.”

Was Depa looking directly at her?

Hera loved Depa like one of the family, but she would never forgive her if she were using her Jedi mind tricks on her.

Could Jedi even read minds?

“Thank you Ezra, I think Ahsoka could indeed be the solution to this problem,” Depa added with a playful finality.

*************

Caleb was in his office,  trying to connect the dots of all the information he was receiving from his sources. 

As he had expected, Luthen's intel seemed to be the most accurate one, but they were far from finding the mysterious buyer or those who stole the inscription for him.

Cal, who had an academic approach quite different from his, was kicking ass around the Core, to get some Names.

They believed that the buyer was living in the Core. That was, of course, just an assumption, based on the fact that, to organize such a theft, one should have considerable funds and resources in his disposal.

Sure, there was the crime syndicate, but he couldn’t think of a valid reason for them to be interested in the archaeological findings.

They could have been involved in the theft, sure, but the way the inscription was removed from the wall pointed to someone who was not so professional. 

On the other hand, the perimeter sensors didn't register any trespassing, and Caleb could attest to that, after discussing the evidence with his expert. Yes, there were ways to confuse the sensors or reprogram them without making the alarm go off, but he wondered how many people with this kind of expertise were around.

He was checking one of Luthen’s intel again when Stance opened the door. 

“Sorry, you know I can't stop her,” he tried to warn him as he was quickly followed by the imposing figure of Ahsoka.

“Depa said you're too stressed up,” she declared.

Caleb exhaled trying to hide the annoyed expression.

“I wasn't up until a second ago, Soka,” he replied.

“Too bad! You are coming with me right now. Meet you later, Stance,” Ahsoka said, literally pulling Caleb from his seat.

“What do you think you're doing, for the seven Sith hells?” Caleb grumbled.

“I’m making you take a break, dumbass!” she said, while she was literally dragging him to the apartment he shared with Ezra.

“In!” she commanded.

That was starting to sound alarming. He opened the door, just to be pushed inside by Ahsoka.

“Hi Ezra!” she greeted the Padawan who was watching a holo movie on the couch. 

It was his duty as his master to ask him if he had completed all his daily assignments, but Ahsoka dragged him to his room.

What. The. Hell?

“You have civilian clothes,  I know you have!” the Togruta declared going through his closet. 

“Enough Ahsoka! What is this about?” Caleb practically shouted.

“It’s about you coming with me and the boys and having a drink,” she answered him while pulling his clothes from the closet, examining them critically and then putting them back randomly. 

Caleb pinched his nose with two fingers, repeating mentally the code Depa had taught him.

“Here! This is almost nice!” Ahsoka exclaimed, tossing a white shirt and a pair of neat black trousers on his bed.  “But we need something that says, I don’t know… scoundrel.”

“You said drink , Ahsoka!”

“Indeed, but if we can find you a girl it wouldn't hurt. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Ezra is listening in the next room!” he said, scandalized.

“Caleb, dear, your padawan is 15. He knows that sometimes his master has sex. Oh look! Did you have one of these?“ She says, showing her finding. A military trench coat Grey had given him when he became a Consular “For when you'll be digging in some rainy place”.

He had actually worn it a couple of times, enough to  make it look used, but not old.

“You also have troopers’ boots!” Ahsoka exclaimed happily.

“Grey,” he said, as if this were explanation enough.

“Of course. Now get change, I’ll wait 10 minutes for you to prepare, then I’ll come back to dress you myself!”

She seemed serious.

*************

When Hera came back home from visiting her mother, she  wasn't exactly in the best mood.

She just wanted to wear her most comfortable pajamas and spend the evening watching some cheesy holo drama ( not one with Jedi!), and eating ice cream, …maybe.

Yet, her best friend had other ideas and had already arranged everything for an evening drink with her boyfriend and some friends from the Academy.

She chose, obviously, one of those trendy clubs with fancy overpriced cocktails, music and dancing, all embellished with colorful lights and chromed surfaces.

Well, maybe a drink or two would indeed fix her mood, so she went into her room searching for some stylish dress instead of her pajamas. 

She had plenty of choices from all the times she accompanied her mother shopping. 

Some were actually too fancy or too formal, but there were also a couple of options that fit the occasion.

She chose a burgundy, well-fitted dress, not too short, so that she wouldn’t look like a twi'lek stereotype, but also not too modest.

It had long sleeves forming a puff at the shoulders and a strategic cut over the cleavage. 

She matched the dress with a lekku's wrap from the same fabric, and earcone-rings. She finally put on her knee-length boots and she was ready. 

The whole picture said party, but in a moderated way.

She didn’t want to pass her whole night constantly trying to discourage men from taking too many liberties. 

Hopefully, being part of a big group would also help.

Shara was very cute in her golden dress, a more revealing one than hers, but her show was just for one man.

They used a taxi, preferring not to risk driving a speeder if they had a drink too much. 

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the club “Comet”, where they were led to a side alcove. Kes, Shara’s fiance and his friends from the Academy were already waiting for them there, and they clearly were  having fun. The area they had reserved was great, they could watch the people dancing as well as enjoy the band on the stage without being disturbed. 

It was actually a very nice place to have some good time with friends. 

The first round was offered from one of their Academy friends who was just promoted and assigned to a class venator.

On such occasions, everyone is encouraged to indulge  a bit more in his orders, so Hera opted for a rather potent fruit based cocktail.

It was delicious and really strong, but she wasn't a low weight in terms of alcohol. 

After the third drink, she was actually happy to have accepted to come. She was just a little tiddly but she reached the dancing floor with Shara, Kes and a couple of other members of their group, without making a fool of herself.

It was when the music stopped to allow the band to tune their instruments that she found her eyes wandering to the bar, where many patrons were sitting. 

And he was there, in civilian clothes, a long military trench coat covering a neat white shirt, the last buttons of which were being unbuttoned by the agile fingers of a tall female Togruta. 

He was having a drink, an Alderaanian brandy, by the looks of it, and almost dropped part of it, when the woman tried to adjust his shirt to show a portion of the chest that Hera had seen so many times. 

The two were laughing and apparently having a good time.

Suddenly, she felt unsteady on her feet, and all her good mood, up until that moment, disappeared.

She made an excuse to her friends on the dancing floor and returned to the alcove. There, she gathered her things, and provoking the curiosity and protests of her friends who were still sitting, she bid her good-nights  and left.

In her vexation, she didn't pay much attention to the two Clones, one white bearded and the other middle aged, seated with Caleb and the woman, nor did she remain long enough to see that half an hour later, the Togruta was leaving with the older Clone.

Chapter Text

Caleb and Luthen were sitting in the elegant armchairs of the latter's antiques shop, with a glass of brandy each, watching the holo report from one of Luthen’s more trustworthy contacts.

“The money did come from the Core, from Coruscant specifically, but followed a long and elaborate trail that makes it almost impossible to track down the source,” said a dark skinned woman with long frizzy hair.

“The core worlds have always seemed to be the point from where one should start searching,” Luthen pointed out. 

“Indeed, and we have detected a couple of peculiar transactions so we can now make a few educated guesses as to the funds’ origins,” the woman confirmed.

“Working on hunches isn’t ideal in this type of affairs,” Caleb said, rolling the almost ruby red drink in the ornate glass, “but I guess we have to play with the cards we have been dealt.”

“We're almost sure the Crimson Sun is involved,...” the woman said.

“That would explain the technology used to bypass the perimeter alarms, but the execution as a whole was rather poor, to put it mildly,” the Jedi observed, after taking a long sip.

“...yet, the syndicate wasn’t the principal of this scheme, it just lent its agents,” the contact continued. 

“Have you proof of that?” Luthen questioned.

“No, not proof, but the informants claiming that are quite reliable. Based on their intelligence, our fears seem to be valid. They say that a powerful associate of the crime syndicate is involved… a force-yielder, maybe even a darksider survived in hiding for all these years.”

“Kriff! Another sith-hell spawn!?!” Caleb cursed.

That was not exactly a reaction one would expect from a Jedi, but no one pointed it out.

“If that is true, you are the one who will have to convince the Council about the existence of this person…and then the Senate. I surely don't envy you,” Luthen commented blandly. 

“We need to be sure . Your sources have any idea as to the whereabouts of this presumed Darksider?” Caleb asked the woman in the holo.

“They say that he's always on the move, and his only consistent trait is his close ties with the Crimson Sun,” the woman replied hesitantly.

“Well, this is a lead, and, in my opinion, quite a strong one,” Luthen said. 

“ Oh, yes, because it will be such a piece of cake to go and ask Crimson Sun bosses for information. No doubt about it!” Caleb replied sarcastically as he emptied his glass and presented it to his host for a refill.

“It’s a task I think I can help with,” Luthen said, “I have my ways.”

Caled didn't doubt it, considering Luthen’s fraternization and the illegal methods of acquisition that some of the pieces exposed in his shop surely had.

“Give me a couple of weeks, and I’ll try to find something more about the stolen inscriptions. The theft is hardly a secret in our field, and I could show interest in buying other pieces from the Lasan site,” the antiquer proposed.

“And we could catch the thieves when they'll try to do the job for you,” Caleb added, reaching the same page with Luthen.

“It’s a possibility. With them in your disposal, a search warrant could be issued,” Luthen concluded.

“And put the Jedi and the Republic in a state of alert,” Caleb nodded. “But we need to know more about this buyer, Darksider or not. You will continue your investigation, correct?” he asked, turning to the woman.

“It won’t be an easy one, but we can turn over some rocks and find out what is hiding under,” she confirmed.

“Fine, you did a very good job, thank you,” the Jedi thanked the woman, before dismissing her.

“We all have our assignments.  I, for one, hope to be on a flight to Lasan by tomorrow and I'll take an expert engineer with me, we don't want to run any risks this time,” Caleb said, as he rose to his feet. 

Luthen did the same, emptying his glass.

“I'll be on my way too, there’s just enough time to arrange things in the shop for my absence. I'll let you know if my bluff works as soon as possible.”

“Be careful, Luthen,” Caleb advised him.

“It’s not my first time dealing with these people, as you know. I can handle this crowd,” Luthen replied lightly.

“I guess you do. May the Force be with you.”

**************

Hera was in a bad mood.

She was on instructor duty that day and the new pilots weren't exactly cooperative. 

A couple of them were, actually, just awful and gnawed all her patience. 

She had a long, hot shower, put on her comfortable pajamas and, leaving Chopper to charge for the night,  she was planning to grab some comfort food and read one of her novels. The story was a bit unrealistic,  talking about a princess falling in love with a scrumpy scoundrel, but the writing wasn't so bad, if you didn’t pay too much attention to the dialogues. 

She was slicing some meilooruns in a bowl when her com beeped in the other room.

She cleaned her hands with a towel and, bringing the bowl with her, ran to the living room to answer the call.

It was a holo call, and she was in pajamas, so she put on a soft scarf hastily around her tired lekku.

Who the kriff calls people at this hour and do it via holo?

She was very tempted to ignore it and enjoy her book, but for someone to call at this hour, it had to be something important. 

Putting the meiloorun's bowl on the table, and still adjusting her head scarf as best as she could, she accepted the call.

Caleb Dume appeared in front of her, looking kind of scruffy, with strands of hair escaping his usually neat bun, and in civilian clothes.

Well, scruffy looks rather good on him, was her first thought, Damn, keep it together Hera! the very second.

“I'm extremely sorry to bother you at this hour, Captain, but we need to fly back to Lasan tomorrow. I’ve already submitted the request for a mission but it is unlikely it will be approved before noon. It's that OK with you?”

The bastard…

“Your girlfriend will be disappointed about you leaving so suddenly,” she observed dryly. 

“Excuse me?” He looked truly confused, or he was really good at playing dumb.

“That beautiful Togruta girl who was with you the other night at the Comet. You make quite a nice couple.”

Ok, maybe she was crossing a line here.

“You were there too? No, Ahsoka is just a friend!” he replied hastily.

Oh, just a friend, yeah, right! I saw her messing with your shirt mister.

“She dragged me there because she insisted I needed a break from the research I was doing about the thieves,” he added before Hera could say anything.

Sure, tell that to one of your silly friends.

“She was there with her husband, actually, and they left quite early. Stance, my assistant, and I just stayed for a couple of drinks and then returned to the Temple to catch up on some sleep. I'm sorry I didn't notice you, my head isn’t working as it should since we left Lasan. I'm sorry.”

It wasn’t his girlfriend!!! the teenager in her squealed!

“Can I count on you for this mission, Hera?” he asked again. His voice had an unusual tone, rough and warm. He had probably had a couple of drinks that evening too.

And he had returned to the Temple alone, and was now calling her by name.

Hera felt her legs turning to jelly. She was lucky that he wasn't really there because his appearance and his voice were doing things to her. 

Yet, she successfully recovered her focus and her voice, “Of course, I will be at the Temple at noon.”

Well done Hera! Professional!

She may be mistaken but he seemed to look at her in a different way. With interest? No, it had to be the late hour, they were both tired and… excited for the new mission. Absolutely. Only for the mission.  

“Thank you, Hera,” he hesitated, “Goodnight.”

And the call was over.

Hera remained petrified near the table.

What just happened?

He never looked at her that way.

Obviously,  she could have misunderstood the situation.

He was just tired and, maybe, a bit tipsy. 

There was nothing else to read in his behavior. 

But she had suddenly lost all interest in the novel she was planning to read.

She bit just a slice of meiloorun, trying not to think of his full, inviting lips when he wished her goodnight. 

She put the bowl in the cooler and went to bed, trying to ignore the warmth she felt expanding in her abdomen.

Chapter Text

Hera and Chopper had to take a taxi this time.

Their ride was marked by the violent verbal exchange  between the orange menace that was her astromech  and the driver droid. The dispute lasted until their arrival to the Temple; despite all Hera's attempts to calm her droid down, he didn’t abate, not caring for the fact that he was the one that started the argument. 

Considering the situation, Hera called herself lucky that the taxi dropped them in front of the visitors entrance, instead of some random point, long way from the entrance. 

But that meant she had to cross the big atrium and find a lift that visitors could use to reach the hangar, while Chop continued complaining about the driver droid,  in his peculiar and colorful binary. 

“Chop, you should really stop with this language,  we're entering a sacred place,” she scolded him, pulling her  shoulder bag up.

A flatulent noise was his only response. 

“Well, I won't help you, when the Temple guards come to arrest you for blasphemy and deliver you to Master Skywalker's laboratory.”

WOOOP!

“That's what they do with disrespectful droids. Ezra told me.”

WOOPWO 

“You're free to believe what you like and take your chances to verify it on your own. Now we should move. We're the ones who are late today.”

So they made their entrance in the spacious and airy atrium, filled with light entering from dozens of tall windows.

The place wasn’t very busy as it was lunchtime so Hera had no problem finding the turbolift area, but, as she had expected, the hangar wasn’t accessible without an authorisation for the visitors.

She was about to ask the assistance of a rather intimidating Temple Guard, when a turbolift, a couple of rows to her left, opened and a middle aged Clone got out. He glanced at the atrium and his gaze stopped on her and Chop.

“Captain Syndulla?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hera confirmed. 

“I’m Stance, Caleb sent me to find you,” the clone replied with a smile.

How?

“Please, this way. Allow me to take your bag,” he said and took possession of it before she had an opportunity to refuse. 

He definitely meant business. Probably a Veteran from the Clone War.

He invited them in his turbolift and pushed the code with which the turbolift would take them to the appropriate level.

“Did something happen with your transportation?” he asked in a conversational mood, “The visitors’ entrance you came through is many levels away from the hangar.”

“It dropped us at the wrong level because my droid made it mad,” Hera confessed. 

“Oh, right! Both Caleb and Ezra told me about his peculiar personality,” the Clone admitted.

Chopper started extracting his electrocution pod, but Hera immediately put her hand on his dome, in a gesture for him to stay calm.

“Are you Knight Dume’s assistant?” Hera asked, adding the dots from her previous conversation with Caleb. 

“Yes, I’ve been working with him for years. Did he tell you that I served under Master Billaba in the war? Caleb and I arrived at the front for the first time on the same day. We were so young, and all the other clones took every opportunity to make fun of us and remind us how “green” we were.  We've been friends ever since. So, after I've been dismissed, Caleb asked me to be his assistant.” 

He chuckled, “We Clones are not exactly programmed for archeology, but Caleb’s passion rubbed off on me too.” 

As the turbolift ascended from level to level, the Clone kept shooting glances at her and had a grin on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Hera asked, a bit annoyed.

“What do you think about Caleb?”

What the hell? 

“He's OK, I guess?” she replied cautiously.

“He's an acquired taste,” the Clone chuckled. “People think he's grumpy and things like that, but he's actually one of the most kind and considerate people I know.”

“Are you trying to sell him to me?” Hera tried to make light of the situation.

“Am I so obvious?” the Clone continued in a  lighthearted tone.

“He doesn't seem to be on the market, to me. Also I'm not interested, don't be offended,” Hera tried to stop this conversation.

But the Clone didn’t seem to get the memo…

“I saw you at the Comet the other night. One of my special abilities is to detect any threat to Caleb's safety. …And you were staring at him as if you meant to kill him.”

The Clone in the Club!

That's who he was.

“Then I saw you storm out and I kind of put two and two together. Caleb and Ahsoka are not together, you know,  they are more like a siblings thing,” the man pointed out.

She was praying for the earth to open and swallow her whole, but she managed to reply coldly, “I'm happy for them. Still, not my business.” She hoped that her manner would intimidate the war Veteran. 

“Then why did seeing them together made you so upset that you left?” Stance kept going.

Good point…

Answer, she just needed a sensible answer.

But he didn't leave her the time to find it.

The Clone looked her in the eyes.

“Caleb is not only an exceptional Jedi, at this point  many expect him to take a seat in the Council, he is one of the best men we have. He usually doesn't let his thoughts and feelings show, but I'm always at his side and I know he's just scared of ruining everything he has accomplished this far. He doesn't think he deserves them and that, sooner or later, people will find out.”

Well, how was she supposed to reply to something like that?

Her repertoire of clever answers was rather limited and not applicable to this situation.

Fortunately, by then, the turbolift had reached the  hangar’s level and the embarrassing praise of Caleb Dume’s case reached its end.

The Ghost was at the same location as the previous time, not far from the lift .

Ezra and a very colorful girl, maybe a couple of years older than him, were sitting on the Ghost’s ramp, sharing a pack of snacks. 

Hera and Caleb’s assistant reached the two teenagers and Ezra almost choked trying to greet them.

“Hera hi! So glad to see you again. This is Sabine, our engineer expert, she is also an artist!”

The girl saluted formally. Hera actually remembered seeing her among the young pilots and hearing a couple of instructors commenting that she was a very promising cadet. 

Hera wouldn’t have paid much attention, but she had also recognised the girl from a political party Hera had attended with the Syndulla family. The girl was the  daughter of senator Wren of Mandalore.

The independent planet, after the war and in order to avoid another civil one this time, had joined the Republic, realizing that being alone, even with such a formidable combat capacity, wasn't convenient.

Yet, as Hera had heard later, the girl had dropped out in the middle of a semester.

Seeing her bubblegum pink hair and the heavy decorated Mandalorian armor she was wearing,  it wasn’t hard for Hera to understand why.

“Where's your master, Ezra?” Hera asked, a bit tensed after the discussion she just had.

“Inside making lunch and caf,” Ezra replied, totally clueless.

Perhaps she should appreciate his Master a tiny little bit.  

“Will you travel with us, this time, Mr. Stance?” Hera asked the Clone.

“No, thank you, Captain, I leave Coruscant only for our main project on Lothal. When one is married, one has to make compromises,” he replied, passing her bag to her.

In the meantime, Chopper had passed them all and was already heading to push in the abyss of despair the poor NavComputer.

They saluted Stance and boarded the Ghost.

From upstairs she heard a string of insults on binary,  followed by a “Good afternoon to you too, Chopper.”

His voice was closer than she had expected. She had hoped to avoid him a little longer, going directly to her cabin to arrange her bag and then closing herself in the cockpit, but she wasn't so lucky. 

He was just up the ladder. “Hello Captain, lunch is ready,” he informed her with a smile. “I thought it would be better to eat now before they give us permission to depart and we have to start the lift off sequence.”

He was right, of course, the whole procedure could take hours. 

As soon as they entered the common room, she smelled the delicious aroma of freshly cooked food.

He had made rycrit stew!

She was at risk of starting to really appreciate him as a person.

The table was already arranged for the four of them, and Caleb filled their plates as soon as they had sat.

There was also a cake in the middle of the table.

Noticing her looking at it, Caleb explained, “I made it this morning, coming from the market. I noticed a couple of meiloorun were too ripe to last.”

Ok, she actually wanted to kiss him, and this would be very, very bad.

“It looks delicious,” she whispered in a suddenly failing voice.

She could resist the fact that he was unfairly sexy, but making her favorite dishes?

She regained her composure, hoping her momentary weakness had passed undetected and took a spoon of the, obviously, delicious stew.

Weeks of three delicious meals per day made by Caleb were awaiting her, and maybe some nights when she could enjoy a show of masculine grace…

Maybe there wasn't all this need to be professional…

Maybe she should try to get to know him better, going beyond the bias… maybe…

“Did I make it too spicy?” Caleb asked her, with concern in his voice.

“You are turning kind of deep green, like, a lot,” Ezra added, of course.

“It seems perfect,” Sabine commented, turning the knife in the wound.

“No, not too spicy, just a bit hot. I'll just wait a little for it to cool off before I finish it.”

Caleb, obviously, had already filled her glass with water. 

How could he be this considerate in some moments  and so closed to himself and distant in others?

Hera lifted her eyes from the food and found herself facing Ezra’s knowing smile.

Could HE read minds?

No, of course not. He was just being the usual noisy, gossip passionate Ezra.

It was quite unpleasant being his current target, though. 

They exchanged small talk while eating. Sabine theorized about the possible reasons that the ruins’ alarms failed to signal the trespassing and uncover the culprits when it happened. Ezra was just excited about the new opportunity to explore the forest and find new species of animals.

Caleb spoke only in order to ask if someone wanted a second portion or who wanted cake.

After lunch, he stayed behind to tidy the common room and met them in the cockpit a bit later, with a fragrant cup of caf for her.

Ηe sat on the copilot seat and helped with the launch procedure, while submitting their request to leave the planet and enter hyperspace. 

He was so accurate in his every move that she  suspected he could actually fly the Ghost himself.

She also realized that this time they didn't need the extra cargo capacity of the Ghost. 

His ship, the Escape, should have been just fine.

So why did he ask for her help again?

Chapter Text

In fact, nothing happened during the first dozen days.

For the two or three first nights, she had expected to hear him exercise in the cargo hold, hoping for a chance to have a real conversation with him. However, he either managed to sleep or chose to meditate, as he had done before.

Sabine had taken the only available cabin left, the one next to her, and started painting. 

The first time Hera detected the unfamiliar chemical scent, she immediately feared the worst—that some of Master Skywalker’s illegal upgrades (she was sure she hadn’t discovered all of them yet) had begun leaking in hyperspace.

Hera ran out from her cabin in her pajamas, before realizing that the pungent fumes were emanating from Sabine’s cabin.

When the girl opened the door, she had an airspray in her hand.

Hera was speechless… Why did no one tell her things?

“Captain, we’re transporting things every pirate would literally kill to have them!”

“Captain, our engineer likes to relax by using toxic paints in her cabin without activating the air filter!”

“It's everything alright?” Caleb asked with a voice raspy from sleep. 

Hera's attention was momentarily captured by his loose hair, flowing in either side of his handsome face and the glimpse of his chest revealed by the loose shirt he wore to sleep.

“Hera? Is there something wrong?” he continued.

“No, no! I didn't expect this,” she vaguely indicated in Sabine’s cabin direction.

“Sabine, activate the air-filter when you're painting. Not everyone likes the smell of paints,” he warned the teenager. 

“OK, I forgot. ‘night!” Sabine replied and she closed the door, the sound of the air-filter started just after.

“Are you OK, Hera?” Caleb asked her again.

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?” Hera replied in haste.

“You are all…” he added, gesturing vaguely with a hand in front of his face.

OK, now she was blushing.

“Yes, I was just terrified that one of Master Skywalker’s upgrades had exploded while we were in hyperspace.”

Good one, isn't?

“Figures,” he muttered speculatively, looking rather intensely…

“Well, good ‘night then,” he concluded, and he was gone, leaving her, like a fool, in the middle of the corridor, with her heart racing like crazy.

******

Caleb and Ezra were up early the next morning for Jedi training. 

Their routine, while in hyperspace, was training, shower then breakfast.

After a brief meditation session, they started with certain forms to warm up.

Ezra was improving fast, since he was always eager to learn. 

This eagerness to learn was the reason that led the boy, six years earlier, to leave his family and follow Caleb, to be trained as a Jedi. 

The Council had reservations that the kid was too old to be trained, but Masters Skywalker and Kenobi, as well as Depa, supported his request.

He had told Depa that he felt the same pull toward the kid as he had felt for her so many years ago, when she was in coma.

She recalled the pull that had drawn her out of her oblivion, back to life, and immediately supported the idea of taking Ezra as his Padawan. 

Ezra’s age wasn't the sole issue. Clearly, there was the concern about Caleb's mental health, but the Masters supporting him argued that having someone under his care could aid in restoring his equilibrium, the confidence in himself that the war had stripped away.

It had proven effective. The bond between him and his padawan deepened with each passing day.

They could almost sense each other's thoughts, which was particularly irritating when the boy was agitated and distracted, as he was today. Caleb sighed and paused the form V he was practicing with his padawan.

“Very well, spit it out. What's the matter, Ezra?” he asked the boy. 

Ezra appeared almost cheerful as he responded to the question. In fact, it seemed like he had intentionally tried to poke Caleb's awareness until he was compelled to stop the training.

"Haven't you noticed, Hera?" Ezra questioned.

“It’s hard not to, she's our pilot, one of the only four people on this ship and she certainly has quite a personality,” Caleb replied.

“About that! She's not actually so argumentative lately. Surely it hasn’t skipped your attention.”

“Lately?” Caleb started to feel a bit annoyed. 

“Well, since she came back to the Ghost,” Ezra specified.

Actually, yes, he had noticed. And not just that. 

“She will blush and start babbling when you're around!” Ezra continued.

Oh, Stars below!

“She's clearly infatuated with you!” 

“Ezra…” Caleb warned his Padawan. 

“You should try a move!” Ezra concluded smugly.

“Ezra, you should not think about these things. You're 15 years old!” Caleb scolded him.

“I'm very mature for my age!” the boy stated proudly.

“You're clearly not, when you suggest your master taking advantage of a woman who works with us, on the assumption she had blushed a couple of times!” Caleb tried to bring him to his senses.

“Bean agrees with me, she also thinks that Hera is head over heels for you. Bean knows plenty about this matter!” Ezra insisted.

“I find it difficult to believe so, please drop this nonsense. Hera is a Republic’s officer, and the daughter of a senator. We will all treat her with respect. And I assure you that I have no intention of making any move on her. It will jeopardize our mission, jeopardize the relationships with a member of the Senate that we are often dealing with and, also, it is against the Jedi’s code.”

“Now, now! Don’t use the Jedi code as an excuse! There's plenty of Jedi who are married or with someone. Depa is with Grey and they surely don't hide it. Stance’s wife? And what about Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi? Just to remind you of a few that come easily to my mind,” Ezra continued pushing.

“Ezra,” Caleb said, pinching his nose with two fingers. “I understand you mean well, but this isn't how adult relationships work. You can't simply disregard all factors and consequences and act as you please. Perhaps there's a part of her that's curious about me, but I'm certain she doesn't harbor romantic feelings toward me. Please, don’t talk about this matter anymore. And advise Sabine to do the same,” Caled berated him.

His apprentice groaned in protest.

“Ezra!”

“Very well, Master, I will stop.”

“Thank you. Now, would you like if I show you the Vapaad form?” Caleb offered. 

Chapter Text

Sabine had developed the habit of spending much of her free time in the cockpit with Hera. Initially, Hera welcomed the company of such a clever young woman. That was, until Sabine began commenting on how attractive Caleb was — how charming his smile, how enchanting his eyes, how it would be like to be held in his arms…

She was evidently testing her reactions, and after the initial surprise, Hera resolved to play the younger girl's game and break it.

Of course Caleb was very attractive, but she noticed how all Jedi were attractive examples of their respective species. 

Oh, yes, his eyes had a very peculiar color but that was probably another Jedi thing. 

As for his strong arms? It would be very useful in case one happened to trip from the top of the stairs. 

Knowing that they had a Jedi on their side during this mission was very reassuring. 

Hera actually tried to think about him as little as possible.

As for Caleb, she only encountered him during meals, and she had caught him practicing his forms in the middle of the night, just a couple of times.

If he had noticed her presence, he never gave any indication of it.

Ezra seemed really bothered by something, but he immediately changed his expression from pensive to his usual jovial attitude as soon he noticed someone looking at him.

She suspected that the two teenagers were scheming by themselves, but they always changed the subject of their conversation as soon as they noticed her.

Hera was fairly certain that the topic of their conversation revolved around the “potential relationship” between her and Caleb. The two bored teenagers were probably trying to organize something embarrassing like close them in the refresher together, and wait for the results. 

If Hera had to guess, the two youngsters would probably receive an epic scolding from Caleb. Nothing else.

No favorable outcome for her.

By now, Caleb Dume had become the sole protagonist of every novel she tried to read.

She couldn't imagine anyone else's features, or voice.

No matter how much she tried not to think about him, she couldn't deny her attraction. 

Whatever scheme Ezra and Sabine were planning, the Master Jedi must have prevented it, because she never found herself pressed against him, in a closet.

Thus, they arrived on Lasan, again, without any incidents to report.

Captain Orellios was waiting for them as he had done the last time, and immediately reassured Caleb that everything was ready for their transfer to the outpost on the other side of the mountain. The small contingent left to guard the ruins awaited their arrival. 

They stayed in the Lasan capital only for a night, in the same little hotel as before, and in the morning, they took the subterranean train to reach the outpost in the jungle.

Since Caleb was immersed in the updates from the archeologists team, she ended up playing a game of cards with Ezra and Sabine, while Chopper was again trying to torture the indifferent driver droid.

Upon arriving at the outpost, they could easily see that the outpost was well stocked for a prolonged stay. Zeb had assured them they would receive even more supplies on a regular basis.

In the outpost there was also a communication station, one capable for long transmission, and Caleb immediately connected his comlink, to be sure to receive the communications from his contacts without delay. 

Then they decided which room would be occupied by the Jedi and which by Sabine and Hera.

Everything was big, the beds, the refresher, the new blankets and the beds linen they were provided.

The weather was especially stormy, rendering flying impossible. Since they couldn’t inspect the Ruins, they could at least use their time to settle in. Caleb proceeded to prepare lunch using a Lasat recipe. Apparently he made a point of honor to learn the culture and the cuisine of every planet he visited.

The food, as always, was delicious: several dishes of spiced vegetables, flatbread, and roasted meat. The storm persisted through the night, so they could only communicate with the military precinct at the ancient temple via comm.

They confirmed that the rainy season had begun, but a break in the downpour was expected the next day, which should allow them to reach the site.

Hera had chosen to use the more agile reconnaissance vehicle instead of the bulky transport. While it lacked space inside for a bunk, she felt confident that if they were stranded at the excavation site due to bad weather, the overseeing military personnel would arrange accommodations for them.

************

As promised, the weather improved the following day, though it remained gray and foggy. Nonetheless, it was good enough to reach the temple. Caleb was the first to rise, and after checking the comm, he began preparing breakfast and provisions for the day.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to rely on ration bars, he had detested those things since the war.

Although there were a couple of boxes of them in the vehicles, he truly hoped they would be able to return to the outpost every evening, one way or another.

Hera had selected the small, agile vehicle she had piloted during their last visit, but he would have preferred one of the sturdier transports. However, she was the pilot of this mission, and he would respect her decision even if he didn't fully agree with it.

They left from the outpost shortly after breakfast, with the two younger members of the expedition remaining eerily silent. He sensed they were still scheming, but having dealt with strategists of the highest caliber when he was their age, he doubted they could outwit him.

Upon arrival at the site, Caleb had to admit that security had significantly improved, with a platoon of Lasat patrolling the perimeter in addition to the two rings of sensors.

As soon as Sabine stepped onto the vehicle's ramp, she announced her intention to inspect the sensors and try to understand how they were overridden during the theft. Ezra, naturally, offered to join her, suggesting the possibility of finding rare frogs emerging from their underground habitats to mate during the rainy season.

"They appear to be quite close," Hera remarked to Caleb.

"Ezra has a crush on her, but Sabine sees him more like a little brother," he replied.

“Oh, poor Ezra!” 

"Don't worry, he's persistent and completely incapable of taking things personally. He's confident that one day Sabine will realize how wonderful he is," Caleb commented.

"He's going to get his heart broken," Hera muttered.

"Hera, he's fifteen. I'm just surprised he doesn't have a new crush every other week," Caleb replied laughing.

Caleb gathered some instruments that the archaeologist team had left for him, including a powerful torch. The entrance to the Temple was impressive, with walls adorned in gold and turquoise. Two statues flanked the tall door, and there were intriguing inscriptions that had almost been fully translated. However, the inner chambers presented a different scenario. Caleb motioned for Hera to follow him inside, switching on the bright light.

Following a short, completely inscribed corridor, they entered the first chamber, which resembled the atrium of the Jedi temple. Here, a system of projectors illuminated the space each time Caleb passed near one of them. Caleb pressed a control button and suddenly, the chamber was bathed in a warm light, revealing the magnificent artistry of the ancient civilization.

There were statues holding the high ceiling, while the golden walls were intricately painted with depictions resembling ancient aliens participating in everyday life scenes. Elaborate representations of local flora and fauna adorned the walls, stylized yet vibrant in color. 

Hera looked dumbfounded, and Caleb couldn't blame her, as he had the same reaction the first time he entered this room.

It was in this room where part of the wall had been removed, damaging several lines of the inscriptions.

Hera could understand why Caleb had been so distraught when the desecration was first discovered. 

Even now, his jaw clenched at the sight of the large, ugly scar on the otherwise beautiful wall.

Two smaller rooms followed, leading to the last one of the four chambers situated perpendicular to the others, they will not work in them yet.

“So… based on the image we have from before the incident,” his voice was a promise of certain and painful death when he mentioned the word “incident”, “we believe the missing part was referring to certain space coordinates”

“You can decipher it?” Hera inquired rather impressed.

“Not fluently, as my primary specialization lies in another ancient culture, but yes, Jedi Consulars have been studying the ruins left by the Architects for centuries. They are quite captivating, aren't they?”

Hera could only nod, the beauty and perfection of that room were undeniable. 

"How can I assist you? I have no knowledge of ancient civilizations or archaeology."

“There’s no need. You could simply film me while I'm translating the inscriptions, that's the reason I was asked to come on Lasan, in the first place,” Caleb informed her.

Spending her day watching him work? It was something she could definitely tolerate.

"There are two types of glyphs. Those near the floor are easier, as they can be directly converted into aurebesh. The others have a more figurative meaning and will require more time."

“Let's start from the easier ones, then,” Hera said, activating the holorecorder.

Chapter Text

Many hours had passed, but the kids hadn't returned yet. There were, of course, plenty of sensors to check but it was odd that Ezra hadn’t asked for a lunch break.

They traversed the dark, yet richly decorated corridors and halls, returning to the terrace where they had parked the reconnaissance vehicle.

Only there was no reconnaissance vehicle.

Caleb groaned, “Ezra had to have convinced Sabine to go searching for the bioluminescent frogs!”

"Don’t forget the venomous snakes," Hera replied with a smile. "At least they left us plenty to eat. And is that an emergency camping set?"

Caleb tried to reach one of the kids on their comm but it looked like his call was ignored.

"They'll likely be back before evening. How about we grab a bite and carry on with our work?" Hera proposed. 

Caleb seemed a bit worried, as if he suspected what was going on, but didn't want to admit it. 

"Yes, let's proceed as you suggest," he replied.

**************

Several more hours have passed, and they managed to translate a significant portion of the wall before Caleb decided to call it a day. They carefully stored all the devices they had used and placed their cases in a container sealing with a code. As Caleb explained to Hera, the container was specifically designed to shield these expensive instruments of high precision from the effects of an earthquake.

They detected a faint tremor at one point in the afternoon, but the epicenter seemed to be far, causing only a slight flicker in their instruments. 

As they reached the cave entrance, his suspicions were confirmed. The kids hadn’t returned. They had left them behind, probably with the intention of returning in a day or two, and hoping they would be a couple by then.

“I suspected that they were up to something, but this is over the line!” he muttered.

"Come on, don't be dense. The storm's kicked off again. They probably ran into some trouble with their vehicle and are now stranded in the forest, in the middle of this storm, waiting for us to rescue them!" Hera retorted, clearly annoyed.

“Hera, there's a bond between Ezra and me. I would have immediately known if something had happened to him. Trust me, they just wanted to play a prank on us,” he answered,  pinching his nose with two fingers. 

Hera was having none of this. She considered the two teenagers her responsibility as much as his, and she refused to rely solely on Jedi premonitions for their safety. Before he could react, Hera was already out into the storm.

—-------

Hera hadn't anticipated the force of the water when she ran outside. It struck her like a solid mass, a formidable barrier. Blinded by the drenching rain, she struggled to see, as the water immediately filled her eyes. She planned to walk back to the Lasan garrison and request the use of their vehicles to search for the two teenagers. She knew the outpost was situated close to the ruins, in caves slightly higher up on the plateau, and had noticed the path the garrison had carved in the rock while  patrolling the ruins. However, she hadn't anticipated the intensity of the rain.

Hera attempted to take a few steps in what she believed was the direction of the garrison, but her feet were trapped by the unstoppable force of water. In an instant, she was violently pulled against the rocks, her head almost submerged in the water as her body slid uncontrollably down the rocky surface. The roaring sound of the water filled her ears, and she began to panic. The speed of the water was overwhelming for her to grasp onto anything, and she had already lost her sense of orientation. Despite the sturdy fabric of her uniform, the rocks battered her limbs relentlessly.

She needed to stop and take a breath, desperately, but there was nothing around her other than water and rocks. 

I should have listened to him!

Probably the last conscious thought before panic fully took her over.

Suddenly, her descent stopped as a large hand seized her and lifted her head above the water. She struggled to breathe as the water she had swallowed caused her nose and throat to burn. Strong arms enveloped her, as her rescuer maneuvered her through the slick rocks and pulled her to the shelter of a cave. She started coughing and retched up muddy water. He gently rubbed her back, to help her clear out the muddy water from her system.

When she finally began to feel a bit better, he helped her sit on the clay floor of the cave. His skin had taken the color of ash, he was soaked through, and was breathing heavily.

“Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking?” he demanded.

She struggled to find an answer.

"Have you ever been in weather like this before?" he asked.

She weakly admitted that no, she hadn’t.

"I have! During the war. This much rain turns every stream into a torrent, every crevice into a waterfall. You can't see where you're going. All it takes is a moment, and you're lost! I ALMOST LOST YOU!”

Even in her numb state, she realized that he had a reaction related to something from the war. He appeared genuinely upset, and despite the wet strands of hair partially obscuring his eyes, she could see the fear within them. He was frightened and at the same time formidable.

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper out from her raw throat.

"Ezra and Sabine are safe and sound at the outpost, having a good laugh about the prank they pulled on us. You can bet on it!" he added with certainty.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated automatically. 

“And now, we are who knows how far from the ruins, our rations and the camping set,” he continued as if he hadn't heard her.

“I'm so…”

“I know you are, Hera,” his voice now more calm, almost sweet. 

Then he added, "You're freezing," and only then did she realize how cold she felt. It was absurd; the temperature had been very high before the storm, but now she was trembling.

She watched in awe as Caleb moved a boulder nearby, connected two pieces of his peculiar lightsaber, and drove it into the rock. It immediately began to heat up, emitting a pleasant warmth.

"You'd better get out of those clothes. They should dry quickly near the rock," Caleb advised her.

There was no way she was undressing in front of him! 

He reached into a first-aid pouch on his belt and produced a thin thermal blanket, folded into a tiny square, and offered it to her. Then he turned his back and began removing all his clothes, apart his underwear.

Under normal circumstances, Hera might have been blushing, but right now she was too cold to care. She started undressing under the blanket and placed her uniform near the rock to dry.

He stayed turned away until she told him she was done. Then he came over, added his clothes to dry, and sat on the opposite side of the rock from her.

"You don't have a blanket for yourself," she noted.

"I'm not the one in shock. Don't worry, I'm fine," he replied.

Shock? Yes, that's what it was. She felt a bit warmer but still couldn't stop trembling. The realization brought tears to her eyes. 

She had almost died. She had refused to listen to Caleb's advice and had nearly paid with her life. 

A moment of recklessness was enough for her to lose control over everything. She imagined her body being crushed against the rocks by the flood, until nothing was left of her. 

But that didn't happen because Caleb had risked his life to save hers. 

Painful sobs escaped her tortured throat, and tears rolled down her cheeks. For the first time in years, she felt powerless and so, so stupid!

He had warned her, told her the sensible thing to do, but she thought she knew better. And she had almost gotten them both killed.

She didn't notice him getting close until his arms encircled her trembling body in a reassuring hug. He cradled her, whispering comforting words, and offering her a warm feeling of security, which she desperately needed after all that had happened. She leaned against him, and the world faded away.

Chapter Text

Their battalion had been forced to make its way to the town on foot because the enemy had installed an antenna that jammed the navicomputers of their transports, making them useless.

When they reached the small town, they found evidence of a massacre. 

The women were still burying their husbands, fathers, brothers and sons. Only the children too young to fight and the men too old had been spared by the Separatist troops. 

The older women tended to the children while the younger ones dug graves in the nearby fields they had wrested from the mountains for cultivation.

The soldiers helped the exhausted and traumatized women bury their loved ones, then organized them for evacuation. 

They had to follow a long trek through the forested mountains to reach the pick-up point, where the refugees would then be transported to the already liberated capital of the planet. 

The weather was strange. Fast-moving, frayed clouds were crossing the sky, yet on ground level there was no wind and the temperature was high.

Caleb was helping a mother with a couple of children put them onto a cart she would have to pull herself, as there were no big animals available to do the work. Not every family had a cart, but neighbors shared them, bearing the burden together. 

They loaded what little they had: some food, cages full of birds, and a few pets. 

Some of the Clones offered to pull the carts for the women, but they were politely but firmly refused. The younger women were strong, but the trauma they had just suffered left even the strongest feeling drained.

A few older women were discussing with his Master when he approached them to announce that the caravan was ready to leave the town. 

"We better keep an eye for storms in this weather, and be mindful of the road," one of them was saying in the guttural voice typical of her race.

"I'm afraid the other route is under Separatist control; they won't let us pass," his Master replied.

"Then we'll tell the mothers to tie the children to the carts," the elderly woman said before walking back to the caravan with her companions.

"Is there a problem, Master?" Caleb asked.

Depa sighed and turned to look at him. "They are concerned about the weather. They are worried that it might change suddenly while crossing the mountains."

"Is there no safer route?" he inquired.

"No, only the one controlled by the Separatists."

"In that case, it's best we leave before the weather turns. Everyone is prepared," Caleb informed her.

"Very well, my Padawan. Instruct the men to march alongside the carts and be ready to assist in case of accidents."

"Yes, Master," Caleb replied, heading back to the carts to relay the instructions to Grey and Styles. Then he joined Stance, near one of the carts where there were a few younglings they had befriended.

The roads were well maintained to accommodate the carts. Despite that, due to the hastily arranged cargo, from time to time a wheel slipped into a rut, and the women had to accept assistance from the soldiers in order to continue.

They moved fast, despite the heavy carts and the often uphill and twisting route. Caleb had just checked their position and was about to run to the head of the caravan when the water arrived, the only warning of its approach a faint rumble like a distant thunder. The debris-laden torrent cascaded down the gorge, carrying away two wagons and the clones accompanying them.

Suddenly, the precaution of tying the children to the carts became clear. The carts and their occupants were swept downstream, their cries were lost in the roar of the flood.

Some of the clones managed to throw grappling hooks into the trees and pulled themselves to safety, one even carrying a pair of younglings.

Meanwhile, Caleb, a couple of carts from those  swept away by the water, panicked and tried to use the Force to save the women and children. However, he could sense that they were already too far, and for some, their life force was already fading away...

Caleb woke up from his first nightmare in over a year with a start. The warmth of the body clinging to him brought him back to reality. 

This time, he hadn't failed; Hera was sleeping peacefully in his arms. 

She looked so small and fragile, curled up in his lap. One of her lekku had wrapped around the back of his neck, the tip moving like the tail of a loth-cat, tickling his collarbone. He knew exactly what it meant, but he decided to ignore it completely. Hera would already be embarrassed enough when she woke up. He had persuaded her to wear his undertunic, which was already dry, before they wrapped themselves in a thermal blanket and tried to sleep. It was a small compromise to preserve Hera's modesty and hopefully ease her discomfort.

Caleb tried to enter a meditative state, to erase the effects of the nightmare. He could sense all the small creatures seeking refuge from the storm in the numerous caves scattered throughout the plateau. And even more, he could sense Hera, sleeping in his arms…

 —-----

Hera woke up feeling safe and warm. It took her a moment to realize where she was. Then it hit! Her tchin was wrapped around Caleb's neck! 

She quickly withdrew it and turned away from the Jedi.

In doing so, she accidentally took the thin thermal blanket with her, leaving Caleb in just his basics. 

Damn! Could she be more clumsy?!

He seemed to be meditating, and, by the Goddess, he looked gorgeous. She had seen him shirtless before, but never this close. 

Had she really spent the night curled up in those arms? And had her silly tchin actually wrapped around his neck?

Blushing from head to toe, Hera stumbled to gather her uniform and began dressing. That's when she noticed her cap was missing. Her head was wrapped in the white sash Caleb wore around his waist, beneath his belt. He had seen her without her cap!

Well, that was one more thing to add to the list.

Caleb started to come out of his meditative state, and Hera hurried to put on the remaining pieces of her uniform. It seemed like he was taking forever to come back to consciousness, but he was probably just giving her some more time.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said, his voice heavy from the sleep, deeper and rougher than usual.

Hera felt her legs betray her, but she managed not to stumble like a teenager.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"Looks like the storm is diminishing. Do you feel strong enough to climb back to the ruins?" He stood up with his usual grace, gathering his Jedi vest. 

The undertunic! 

She was still wearing it under her uniform.

He didn't seem to notice and continued to dress. Then he finally deactivated his lightsaber, split it into its two segments, and put them back in the slots on his belt.

"I'm sorry," Hera finally found her voice. "I didn't listen to you and I put your life also in danger."

Caleb was facing the other way, adjusting his overtunic as best as he could. He remained silent for a while, breathing slowly as if he were trying to keep calm. He seemed uncomfortable, appearing anything less than perfectly composed.

"The important thing is that you're safe. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you," he said, his voice slightly trembling. Had the events of the previous night affected a war veteran like him that much?

"I believe I can attempt the climb," Hera replied.

Caleb walked to the entrance of the small cave and glanced upward. 

"It shouldn't be too difficult. You'll go first, so I can help you if necessary," he commented.

"I've had some army training too, you know?" Hera said, unsure whether to feel offended or amused by Caleb's assumption that she couldn’t climb by herself.

But as she came closer to him, she understood why he was concerned. She couldn't see the cave of the ruins from where they were right now. The water had carried her quite far down, and a quick glance below revealed how dangerous it could have been if Caleb hadn't caught her. The wall dropped vertically for thirty meters or more.

Her legs turned to jelly, and Caleb grabbed her arm to help her regain her balance.

"Hera," he said, but she couldn’t respond. What could have happened too vivid still in her mind.

"Hera?" he repeated her name. "If you don't feel up to climbing, I can go ahead, reach the Lasat base and then come back with their transport to pick you up. How does that sound?"

"No, don't worry, I can do it," she replied, getting hold of herself and analyzing the wall above. "I see some safe steps, and the vegetation looks strong enough to use as handholds."

"Very well, then. I'll be right behind you."

As she started climbing, she felt certain Caleb would never let her fall. The climb was relatively easy. They followed a series of indentations and steps in the rock, with Caleb suggesting the best direction and which vines or roots made secure handholds.

Everything was soaked and slippery, but some trees growing stubbornly on the rocky wall provided solid spots to catch her breath. She still couldn't see the cave of the Ruins, but Caleb assured her it was just a bit ahead. 

Suddenly, they heard the buzzing sound of the reconnaissance vehicle the kids had taken the day before.

Caleb grabbed his comlink and, after making sure it wasn't damaged by the water, said, "You better check the wall seven meters below the platform and tell me what you see."

“Oh, KRIFF!!!” was the audible response, “Stay where you are, we come to get you!” This was followed by something that Ezra muttered to Sabine.

"Looks like we could have just waited for them," Caleb said. "Do you think our position looks dramatic enough?"

"I bet they're pretty scared right now," Hera replied.

Caleb's face broke into a mischievous grin. "Good! I’m going to give them a piece of my mind."

"This time, I think they deserve it," she sighed.

The small vehicle soon came into view, approaching them from above. Ezra was at the hatch, leaning out to help them. 

Soon, they were safely on the platform in front of the Temple. Hera immediately went to the supply crate the kids had left for them the day before.

She wasn't exactly hungry, even though she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. Her stomach was still in knots, but mainly, she didn’t want to witness Caleb scolding the two teenagers. While she agreed that the two needed to be punished for their prank, she wasn't eager to see Caleb play the stern Master.

Chapter Text

The kids looked really sorry about what happened, but they couldn't just get away with it. 

"What were you thinking? Captain Syndulla almost died because she thought you were trapped in the jungle."

"We just wanted to give you two some time alone," Sabine explained, trying to be brave.

Ezra was too mortified to speak, staring at the floor and accepting his master's reprimand.

"I can assure you, the Captain and I don't need any time alone. She almost died! I barely grabbed her in time. You need to think about your actions and their consequences. Sabine, your parents will be informed. Ezra, you'll spend the rest of our stay at the outpost, studying and meditating on what you did."

Ezra almost protested but thought better of it.

"No more exploring or pranks."

"Yes, Master."

"And you will concentrate on the problem of the sensors. This isn't a joke. Go to the Lasat's garrison and coordinate with them."

"Of course, Caleb," Sabine said, with a bit less attitude.

"Captain Syndulla and I will take Ezra back and see you in the afternoon. I hope you have some progress by then, Sabine."

"I'll have something for you," Sabine replied.

"Good. Ezra, wait for us by the vehicles." The Padawan quickly obeyed.

Caleb walked over to Hera near the crate. "We're heading back to the outpost now. We both need a hot shower and a good cup of caf."

Hera nodded, squeezing a ration bar in her hands.

"Hera, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think I've just run out of adrenaline. I could definitely use a shower and a clean uniform. And flying will lift my spirits," she said, standing up.

"How bad is it with the kids?" she asked as they walked to the vehicle.

"I've got Sabine working with the Lasat and Ezra is grounded. For now."

They got into the cockpit of the small ship, with Ezra sitting silently and brooding in the back seat.

Hera seemed to brighten up as soon as they were airborne.

She flew over the canopy, as high as the ship could go, just loving the feeling. She was definitely born to be in the sky. To think she almost ended up in mud and water...

When they arrived at the outpost, Ezra was immediately set to study with Caleb's holocron, and Hera got the first turn in the shower. Caleb took off his muddy robe and headed to the kitchen to make some caf and breakfast, hoping the flight and shower had relaxed Hera enough to get her to eat a little.

He thought he might suggest she stay back and rest; he could handle both the trip to the excavation and the day's work.

Half an hour later, she came back to the common area in a clean uniform but wearing a scarf instead of her cap.

"I didn't expect to need another one. This is totally out of protocol," she half-complained as she sat down at one of the tables. Caleb placed a fresh cup of caf, a bowl of sliced local fruit, and a plate of flat cake in front of her.

"Looks delicious, thanks."

Caleb left her to enjoy her breakfast and went to grab a shower himself after stopping by the men's dormitory for a clean set of clothes.

The outpost's shower was huge, designed for the Lasat's big build, so it was definitely comfortable for a human. He took his time under the hot spray, enjoying the geothermal water that meant there was no worry about running out.

He let his muscles relax, letting the water wash over him for several minutes before he started lathering up his hair. Little sticks and dead leaves were tangled in his locks, and he had to use his fingers to comb them out, sometimes pulling out clumps of hair and dirt.

Eventually, he reluctantly left the comfort of the shower to make himself presentable. The memory of what happened kept coming back: seeing Hera disappear into the dark, the connection he felt with her through the Force, the leap into the void to reach her, catching her with the Force and pulling her into his arms, the overwhelming desire to never let go.

Then, reaching their refuge and coming back to reality as Hera's temperature dropped, her breaking down in tears in his arms. The night they spent together, wrapped in a thermal blanket, waking up with her warmth and her lekku draped around his neck. He knew he shouldn't think about it, about her light form in his embrace, her face nestled against his neck, her soft breath on his skin, her incredible warmth…

He couldn't allow himself to think about that, even if she felt the same way. Even if she weren't out of his league, he had to focus on Ezra's training and his own research. There were high expectations for him as the grand Padawan of the Great Master of the Order.

He'd always wanted to live up to Mace's standards, to prove himself worthy. Soon it would be time to return to Lothal and his studies of ancient history, far away from Captain Hera Syndulla and the unintentional temptations she brought with her.

Chapter Text

The caf and the usual delicious food helped her get her mind in the right place—or so she hoped. She almost had a panic attack when the hot shower water hit her head, so she ended up washing her lekku while staying on the edge of the spray. Eventually, she relaxed a bit. It would take time, and she definitely wouldn't be swimming in the Navy’s indoor pool anytime soon. Not that it was ever her favorite hobby.

Ezra came over, looking really sorry, to apologize. “I'm very sorry, Hera. We didn't mean any harm. We just…”

“Yeah, give me and Caleb some alone time! Really, Ezra, what made you think we needed that? There’s nothing between us. Caleb isn’t interested, and neither am I.”

Ezra looked confused, unsure whether to say more, but his talkative nature won out. “But Caleb really admires you. He told Stance all about you when he thought I wasn’t listening. He thinks you’re amazing. And I see how you look at him!”

Hera hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Ezra, sometimes you can like something without wanting to have it.”

Ezra still looked confused, so she tried to explain. “Let's say I see a beautiful pair of shoes on Coruscant. I might think they’re gorgeous and elegant, but I also know they won’t suit me and will be uncomfortable. Even if I like them, I don’t want them. Maybe I’d think they’d make a nice gift for a sophisticated friend... no, forget that part.” She sighed, realizing she'd never introduce Caleb to her more sophisticated friends. The thought made her a bit uncomfortable.

Ezra thought it over and then admitted he probably understood. “I’m very sorry, Hera. I didn’t realize admiration isn’t the same as desire.”

Desire? Had the teen thought there was a romantic thing between her and Caleb? If she checked the camping gear they’d left at the ruins, would she find only one sleeping bag? What was wrong with today’s teenagers? At his age, she wouldn’t have even imagined a kiss!

Ezra must’ve noticed her expression change, maybe her cheeks turning red and her eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Look, Hera, I’m really sorry and I won’t assume anything like that again. Enjoy your breakfast. I should get back to my assignment before Caleb returns.” He gestured to the holocron and the pad on one of the tables near the big window.

She imagined a talk with Sabine was in order. She suspected Sabine was the mastermind because she couldn’t believe the 15-year-old Padawan planned for her and his master to have sex. Yes, absolutely, the girl had probably gotten the idea from some holonovels or holodramas that weren’t allowed in the Temple.

She had to tell Caleb. 

No, bad idea. Terrible idea! The worst idea! 

Better to wait until the evening and talk with Sabine calmly and maturely about manipulating people based on mere assumptions.

Well, she was attracted to Caleb. He was definitely handsome and sexy, and mostly kind and respectful, but she wasn’t sure she really liked him. Sure, she wouldn’t mind a passionate night together, but that was it. He was a Jedi, and he followed the code pretty rigidly, as far as she knew. Sure, there were evenings in the clubs, but that was just socializing. Yes, that was how she should think about it. Caleb was like those beautiful but impractical shoes. Good-looking, but nothing more.

“Hera?”

She almost jumped from her seat, hearing his voice right next to her. She hoped her: “Yes?” didn’t sound too much like a squeak.

“I was thinking maybe you’d like to stay here and take it easy today. I can handle today’s work by myself. See you this evening?”

His hair was still a bit damp, and he hadn’t tied his undertunic properly, like he’d dressed in a hurry. She felt the urge to explore what his undertunic hid, to caress the chest she’d snuggled against last night…

“Yes! That’s a good idea, you’re right. I’ll go take a nap then, thank you!”

Coward.

—--------------

Caleb and Sabine returned after sunset, probably wanting to spend every bit of daylight into their work. Ezra had studied thoroughly all day, stopping only to make a more-than-decent lunch. “Caleb is teaching me to cook,” he explained when she complimented him.

Sabine was covered in mud and headed for the shower while Caleb helped Ezra prepare dinner. Ezra had started on his own, realizing his master and Sabine would be late. She heard Caleb compliment Ezra on the preparation.

Everything felt so comfortable and domestic. In moments like these, the two of them looked more like family than Master and Apprentice. She found herself humming a popular song while setting the table for four near the kitchen. Their voices joined hers, singing a silly pop song surprisingly well. So un-Jedi-like!

Sabine joined them already in her pajamas, and they enjoyed a good dinner of spicy Lothalian recipes, discussing the day’s progress. Caleb had translated the easiest glyphs into Aurebesh but needed to send them to a certain Cal for further translation, as this particular civilization was more his expertise.

“Why didn’t they send him, then?” Hera asked.

“His last diplomatic mission didn’t go well,” Ezra replied.

“Ezra! What did I say about gossiping about other Jedi?” Caleb scolded.

“But this one is really funny!” Ezra protested.

A stern look from Caleb silenced the rest of the story. Sabine hid a chuckle. She must know. Another thing for their later conversation.

Sabine mentioned she’d found a way to pass the perimeter around the cave without alerting the sensors. “I’m impressed. Lasat technology is advanced; it’s almost impossible to break their sensor codes.”

“But someone did,” Hera noted.

“Indeed. I said almost. There’s a new military device that can trick it and send it into a loop. But it’s still in the testing phase.”

“The people we’re after might have one,” Hera said.

“On the black market, it’s impossible,” Sabine affirmed.

“They have their ways,” Caleb said confidently.

“So, you know who they are?” Hera asked incredulously.

“It’s a network. I know about a part of it. Some people are handling that now.”

“Then why are we here?” she asked.

Caleb grinned. “To set a trap.”

Chapter Text

The next week flew by with no interruptions. He and Hera focused on the Temple, while Sabine and the Lasat set up some secondary sensors that Sabine swore were impossible to jam. They also worked on a communication jammer that could block all unwanted signals if needed.

Sabine was especially proud of the new additional sensors she set up. She had designed and assembled the new sensors’ ring from scratch, placing them in seemingly random places inside and outside the temple.

On the fourth day, they got a message from Ezra who was supposed to be tending the long-range transmitter.

"Caleb, an encrypted message just came in for you a few minutes ago," Ezra announced.

"Great, what's it say?" Caleb asked eagerly.

There was a moment of silence, then Ezra replied, "Uh! It's encrypted?"

"Ezra," Caleb sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you hack my code every time I change it."

"How do you..." Ezra began, his tone clearly surprised.

"Ezra, the message!" Caleb interrupted, his patience wearing thin.

Ezra huffed. "Fine! Your friend says the deal was successful. He has been promised delivery of the piece of art by the end of the month, so you can expect your guests in a couple of days. They are close to Lasan."

"Thanks, Ezra," Caleb replied, relieved.

"Sorry," Ezra said, a bit sheepishly.

"You're not," Caleb grinned. "Hera will be there in a couple of hours to pick you up. Get ready to camp at the site. You know what we need. And call Zeb."

"Of course," Ezra replied, now excited. "See you soon." And he ended the call.

Hera, ready to leave, gave Caleb a questioning look.

"We're expecting pirates," he explained.

—----------

Hera returned late in the afternoon, flying one of the bulkier transports. Ezra was the first to jump out, happy to finally stretch his legs. Captain Orellios and about a dozen of his men followed, starting to unload all the equipment they'd need for the coming days.

After finishing the landing procedures, Hera instructed Chopper to hide the transport in the middle of the forest, a few clicks from the plateau, and set it to low energy consumption to avoid detection from passing ships. The orange droid wasn't happy about being left out of the action, especially after what happened to Hera during the storm. He had gained, though, some respect for Caleb after hearing how the Jedi had saved her, but he'd been cranky with the two teenagers for days for putting her in harm’s way. Hera had to work hard to convince him not to electrocute them whenever they were within range.

Once the transport was hidden, they moved the equipment to one of the deepest chambers and set up camp. Sabine placed some devices to mask them from any lifeform scans, even though the multitude of creatures on the plateau above should be enough to hide them.

"Better safe than sorry," she said. "We don't know if they have other military-grade devices besides the jamming equipment they used before."

"Those rock cutters are the worst," Caleb growled, thinking about the damage done to the inscriptions left after their last visit.

The room was much colder than the outside but dry and with a constant temperature, so they wouldn't need any heating devices. Their camp beds and warm blankets would keep them more than comfortable.

They arranged a separate space for Hera, Sabine, and a couple of Lasat women from Garazeb's contingent. The women were almost as tall as the men of their species but less bulky, with long manes they braided intricately, and rich, soft fur. They were quite striking.

Their names were Amra and Raleia, and they became fast friends with Hera and Sabine. Raleia, especially, was chatty when off-duty and often entertained them in the evenings with beautiful tales of her people.

They decided to eat foods that didn't need to be cooked, which was a smart move. Surprisingly, they had quite a variety, so they didn't have to rely on rations. They had all sorts of nuts, each one tastier than the previous, along with dried fruits that the Lasats’ grew in their artificial oasis in the desert areas. There was also a type of flatbread, which Amra explained was used by herders and could last for weeks. And finally there were a couple of different kinds of hard cheese and cold meats.

On the first evening, she made the mistake of trying a bit of everything, and she paid for it later when her overly full stomach made it hard to fall asleep.

Chopper had instructions to alert them on a secure channel as soon as the transport's sensors picked up any approaching ship, so they wouldn't have to risk revealing themselves by keeping sentinels outside. Meanwhile, Caleb could keep working undisturbed.

Chopper's alarm finally went off four days later, a bit later than Caleb had expected. A shuttle had landed less than a hundred clicks from the Temple, and a small transport was heading their way. They needed to hurry and get out of sight.

They watched as the first line of sensors blinked on the monitor, indicating that the pirates had chosen the most direct approach, probably because their scanners had assured them the temple was unguarded and they saw no need to waste time.

Caleb and Ezra moved silently, like ghosts, toward the room that had been wrecked last time. The plan was for them to block the thieves' escape route in some Jedi-like way, while the Lasat guards moved in and Sabine jammed all communications nearby, except for their safety channel, so that the pirates couldn't call for help.

After a tense few minutes of silence, there was suddenly commotion from the engraved chamber and the unmistakable sound of lightsabers igniting.

"Jedi!" an elderly man's voice, with a distinctive accent, exclaimed. "You know, I’ve always been a Jedi sympathizer. I know it sounds crazy, but one of my closest friends was a Jedi…I'm pretty sure we were friends."

Chapter Text

Caleb stared at the old Weequay pirate, feeling a bit lost on how to react. His crew was just a ragtag bunch of Ugnaughts. The chamber echoed with their grunt-like language. 

"Was it Master Vos?" Caleb exclaimed in disbelief. 

What the heck, Caleb?

"My dear boy, no! Obi-Wan Kenobi! It was none other than him," the pirate corrected.

"Master Kenobi doesn't strike me as the type," Ezra said, sounding skeptical.

Thankfully, Zeb and his crew finally arrived, and were in the process of arresting the uncooperative Ugnaughts.

"Now, now, my friends, there's no need to go to such lengths!" the Weequay protested, “we meant no harm!”

"We were only here for a harmless visit," the Weequay continued.

Caleb ignited his lightsaber, casting light on the damaged part of the wall.

"Oh! That? It’s just a scratch, no structural damage!" the pirate protested.

"You've vandalized an important historical artifact!" Caleb retorted.

"We left pieces behind! You can still piece it back together!" the pirate argued.

"I have no patience for amateurs like you. Captain Orellios, please," Caleb ordered.

"Amateur? Amateur! I'm Hondo Ohnaka, young man! Ask around, and you'll see I'm no amateur!" the pirate boasted.

"Well, maybe I've heard of you. But in the stories, you seemed more impressive. Same goes for your crew," Caleb remarked.

"Outrageous! And who are you to judge me?" the pirate scoffed.

"I'm Consular Caleb Dume," Caleb replied coolly.

"Never heard of you," the pirate retorted, earning a chuckle from Ezra.

"Now, the young lad there seems more agreeable. What's your name, son?" he asked Ezra.

"I'm E…" 

"He's my Padawan, and we're not here for friendly chats," Caleb intervened, signaling for the guards to take charge of the situation.

Just then, their transport landed on the platform, probably at Hera's instructions for Chopper to pick the prisoners up.

"Oh, my friends, there's no need for such drastic measures!" the pirate protested, pointing at the transport.

"I'll be the judge of that," Zeb growled, moving to apprehend the old Weequay.

But the pirate wasn't where he should have been. Surprisingly agile for his age, he leaped towards the two Jedi, dropping a grenade in their direction. 

Despite the shock, Caleb managed to dodge the grenade, shielding Ezra with his body and pushing him to safety. The singed robes he discarded were nothing compared to the scorched carbon left by the explosion on the ornate walls, stunning the lasat guards close to him.

Just another crime to add to Ohnaka's list.

The pirate ran past the two Jedi, half running, half sliding, he hopped into the vehicle the pirates came with and sped off towards the jungle, probably trying to get back to his shuttle.

Hera was running to the transport Chopper had brought, yelling for him to get airborne.

*************

When she saw the grenade explode and the blast engulf Caleb and Ezra, her heart nearly stopped. A second later, her training kicked in, and she started running to catch the Weequay. 

She passed by Caleb, who was only slightly shaken, dropping his smoking robe on the ground and already turning to search for the pirate. Ezra, meanwhile, looked very surprised. 

She jumped onto the bulky transport, instructing Chop to initiate departure. Seated in the pilot's chair, she quickly memorized the control positions. It wasn’t too different from the more agile vehicle she was used to flying, but its characteristics were clearly distinct. 

She made the ship gain altitude to scan the area for the pirate who claimed to be a friend of the Jedi. The old guy was heading into the jungle in his transport, hoping to disappear more easily.

Kriff!

There was no way the heavy transport could compete in speed and agility with the smaller vehicle. But she wasn’t just any pilot, and she knew a few tricks. 

She locked onto the pirate's vehicle on her monitor. Ohnaka was clever and wasn't flying in a straight line. He had experience, but flying was in her blood.

She yanked the control stick, forcing her transport to climb high above the jungle. Then, checking the pirate vehicle, she dove sharply, using the planet's gravity to her advantage. 

She zoomed right in front of her target, forcing the pirate to veer off to avoid a collision.

Hera quickly adjusted her trajectory, steering the pirate along a path she had chosen. 

No matter how skilled he was, he didn't know the route through the trees well enough to maintain his speed. But Hera did. She had flown through that area in the middle of a violent storm, so doing it now was a piece of cake for her.

She kept pressing the small transport, trying to push the pirate against one of the massive trunks, but the old Weequay was skilled enough to dodge them at the last second. 

Hera gained altitude again, then descended directly onto the smaller ship, forcing Ohnaka to drop lower, where the trees were denser. Her larger ship could handle the vines and the lush foliage, while the smaller vehicle couldn’t. Flocks of scared, colorful birds scattered, and flashes of gold and white fur showed that primates were doing the same.

Ezra doesn't need to know about this, she thought.

She managed to force Ohnaka's vehicle to graze a trunk with a flank, damaging a stabilizer and reducing its maneuverability. But the old pirate wasn’t giving up. In fact, he seemed to believe that his erratic flying could shake her off his tail. Clearly, he had no idea who he was dealing with.

“Chop! Simulate his trajectory!” she ordered.

"WHOoooop," was Chopper’s annoyed reply.

“Do it! Now!”

She was very pleased with what she saw on the monitor. She forced her bulky transport up and to the right, then left again. The target was exactly where it should be. She dropped in a controlled fall, branches cracking against the hull, followed by the sound of metal against metal. She literally kicked the smaller vehicle onto the rich soil below, causing a small explosion of dried leaves and dirt. A soft landing, after all!

She landed her transport close enough to prevent the small vehicle from any attempt at taking flight again, though she doubted it was still capable of it. Blaster in hand, she approached as Captain Ohnaka emerged from the wreckage, stunning him amid the broken branches.

—----------

Lasan prisons weren't exactly known for their hospitality — not that any prisons were. These were carved deep into the red rock of the capital, giving an unparalleled sense of claustrophobia. The cells were large enough for a couple of Lasat, clean and dry, with special lamps to simulate sunlight. Still, you could almost feel the weight of the mountain pressing down on you.

It was the second day since they had returned with the prisoners, leaving only the soldiers of the garrison to guard the archaeological site. 

Caleb and Captain Orellios were in Captain Ohnaka’s cell for the second day in a row, trying once again to get the information they needed from the Weequay. The old pirate wasn’t shy about talking — he just talked about everything that crossed his mind, almost as if he were drunk.

“Once again, Ohnaka,” Caleb said, his voice tense with frustration, “who did you deliver the stone you stole to?”

“But of course, Master Jedi! The stone!” Ohnaka replied with exaggerated cheerfulness. “That reminds me, I think I met your Master once. Such a beautiful woman! How is she? Depa Billaba, right? Beautiful, beautiful woman!”

Zeb laid a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, sensing his sudden urge to strangle the old pirate. It helped, a bit. Caleb wasn’t known for losing his temper, but Ohnaka seemed to have a talent for pushing his buttons.

“Who did you deliver the stone to? Your sentence will be lighter for you and your crew if you cooperate,” Caleb repeated trying to control his frustration.

“No one will ever say that Hondo Ohnaka betrayed one of his clients. It would be terrible for business!” the old Weequay said, feigning indignation.

“A 20-year sentence in our prison will be even worse for your business,” Zeb growled.

They had hoped to intimidate the old man with the gravity of the situation, but Ohnaka had clearly seen enough in his lifetime to not be impressed by a pissed-off Jedi and a massive, if annoyed, Lasat.

“Is it true my good friend, Master Kenobi, married the Duchess of Mandalore? Oh, if only I could have been there! But I was very busy at the time, unfortunately,” Ohnaka said with feigned regret.

Caleb tried to focus.

Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. 

Connect with the Force. You're one with it. 

You will not ignite your lightsaber to make a skewer out of him. 

In and out. 

But it wasn’t working very well, especially now that the pirate was claiming a long and cordial acquaintance with his grandmaster.

“Even if we make him speak, we can’t really trust him” Zeb whispered, his tone resigned. And it was probably the truth. And yet, the Weequay was their only lead right now.

Caleb was about to repeat his question when the guard outside opened the small window on the upper side of the door, catching their attention.

“Captain, Master Jedi, Captain Syndulla is here and would like to speak with you,” the guard announced.

Caleb almost sighed with relief. A pause was very welcome, it would help him avoid falling to the dark side.

“We'll be back,” Garazeb growled to the Weequay before leaving the cell.

The old pirate declared that he was delighted by the prospect as they made their exit.

Hera was in the corridor, looking somewhat agitated.

“Captain Orellios, Master Dume,” she greeted them, “it wasn’t my intention to overstep your authority on the case, but I thought it would be worth the effort to try questioning the Ugnaughts too.” 

She took a breath and continued. “So I asked for a protocol droid and interrogated them. Well, one of them was more than happy to cooperate.”

Caleb cursed himself for wasting two days with Ohnaka instead of having the same idea as Hera.

“Let's go somewhere more private to discuss what you found,” he suggested, motioning to the turbolift.

In Zeb's office, the protocol droid TB-3BO awaited them, despite Chopper buzzing around his legs. With a perfect bow, TB-3BO introduced himself.

“TB, could you repeat the prisoner's testimony for Captain Orellios and Master Dume?” Hera requested.

“Of course, Captain Syndulla! The Ugnaught called Ghurt said they delivered the carved rock to an old Zabrak with red skin and black tattoos,” the droid reported.

Caleb couldn't help but curse under his breath. He knew exactly who the droid was referring to, and it wasn't good news.

Ignoring Caleb's reaction, the droid continued, “He paid the promised amount without any objection, but didn't seem like a good person. The prisoner’s recommendation was for one to avoid any dealings with him. The exchange took place in Space, at coordinates provided after confirming the acquisition of the stone.”

“That doesn't give us any leads to find him,” Zeb observed, frowning.

“I hadn't finished, Captain. Mr. Ghurt said Captain Ohnaka was quite impressed by his ship and ordered them to record any information about it, including its signature, just in case.”

“And those records are…?” Zeb inquired.

“On Captain Ohnaka's navicomputer, sir,” the droid replied.

Caleb looked at Zeb, seeking confirmation. Zeb retrieved a datapad from his desk and quickly found the information.

“It's in the northern hangar, stall 39,” Zeb announced.

Hera patted Chopper's dome and said, “Chopper can easily extract that data.”

Caleb wondered if allowing a psychopathic droid to torture a poor navicomputer was acceptable by the Jedi ways.

Chapter Text

“Caleb, don't blame yourself for this. You did an excellent job with your team,” Master Kenobi reassured him, perhaps sensing his disappointment. “I'll personally investigate this case. If it really is Maul, no one wants to see the end of this more than me.”

“And I'll be in Mandalore to give you a ride in a couple of days,” Anakin Skywalker said, adding “What do you say, Snips?”

Ahsoka smiled hearing her former Master calling her by her old nickname. “Why not, just like old times.”

“Then it's settled,” Mace concluded. “You're dismissed, Consular Dume.”

There was nothing more to say. Caleb bowed before the Council and exited the room, as it was expected of him. This was a job for Jedi Knights, not for a well-dressed archivist. He had no reason to feel sidelined in this matter. 

Of course, the Council was right. 

Of course, Kenobi and Skywalker were the best choice, if their target truly was Palpatine's former apprentice. But still...

"Caleb," Depa's gentle voice reached him as he approached the turbolift. He waited for her, seeing her warm smile as she walked towards him.

She took his arm under hers once she was next to him. "I know you're disappointed. You hate leaving any work unfinished. But Kenobi is the best choice for this."

"I know," he replied with a smile.

"Take a break this evening, my dear. Go have some fun with your friends. You've worked hard in the last few months," she advised as they entered the turbolift together. "And then I guess it's time for you to leave for your excavation. The timetable is quite pressing as it is, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not. We're already three weeks behind schedule."

"You don't have to do it all by yourself, my dear. I know you, and I know you have regrets about this mission. But your research is just as important, and unlike this hunt, you're the only one who can see it through to the end."

He sighed. There was no arguing with Depa; she always saw the best in him and treated him like he was special. He loved her dearly for that. There wasn't a day he didn’t thank the Force for bringing him to Depa, unconscious in a bacta tank. She always said it was he who called her back to life. She was his family and never failed to console him.

"Thank you, Depa," he said, bending slightly to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll go for a drink with my friends then."

"Call me if you're too drunk to drive, dear," she reminded him.

"Sure, mom," he said with a smirk before leaving her to give Stance instructions for their annual expedition.

—-------

Depa had given her a heads-up on where to find him, and she spotted him sitting alone at the Comet's bar.

“Hey,” Hera greeted, sliding onto a stool beside him.

He was in civilian clothes, his hair loose like he hadn't bothered to tie it up after a shower. Still, he looked stunning, lifting his mesmerizing teal eyes from his drink to meet hers.

“Hera,” he replied, his voice a bit rough, probably from a few drinks. “Let me guess.”

“Depa,” she confirmed.

“She's such a mom sometimes…”

“She mentioned they pulled you from the investigation and you were disappointed. So, I thought maybe you could use a non-Jedi friend to vent. I mean, I'm disappointed too. I would really like to kick that guy's ass.”

Caleb smiled, taking a sip from his glass. 

Goddess, wasn't he just gorgeous when he smiled? 

She wished he'd smile at her forever.

“What'll it be?” he asked, gesturing to the liquor selection.

He seemed so un-Jedi-like in that moment that she could almost picture going home with him later.

Don't be silly, Hera!

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Something fruity.”

Caleb caught the bartender's eye and placed her order. It almost felt like a date, except he was a Jedi and probably not interested in the slightest.

“What's next for you?” she asked, just as her colorful cocktail arrived.

“I have to get back to my research. Ezra, Stance, and I are heading out in a couple of days.”

“I guess you won't be needing a pilot this time,” she said, taking a sip.

“Unfortunately, Ezra will have to put up with me this time. All our gear is already set up on site.”

“Too bad. Chopper was getting used to you guys.”

“Oh, I'm sure he was!” Caleb grinned, signaling for a refill.

“I…” she started, but he cut in.

“Your help was invaluable, Hera. You managed to gather all the crucial info in the end.”

Hera wasn't sure if she should be disappointed or grateful for the interruption. 

Was it deliberate? 

Did he know what she was about to say and decided to spare her the embarrassment?

She felt her eyes prickle and took a deep sip of her drink to hold back the tears.

“We'll miss you,” he said.

We. Not I. Of course he'd never say “I”.

“So, let's toast to getting back to your research,” Hera suggested, raising her fancy glass in a toast.