[So Ti Ago On A Planet Far Away]
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The Ghost sat tucked beneath an overhang of rust-colored rock, running lights killed, engines idling at the barest whisper. From the cockpit, Hera Syndulla had an unobstructed line of sight down the canyon mouth three klicks east, where the convoy would erge in approximately twelve minutes.
Assuming Imperial logistics ran on schedule. Which they always did. Say what you want about the Empire—and Hera had plenty to say—but they moved cargo from Point A to Point B with the kind of obsessive punctuality that would make a Muun banker weep.
She adjusted the comm bead in her ear. "Specter Two, status."
Canyon mineral deposits played hell with short-range comms, turning clean signals into sothing that sounded like talking through a mouthful of sand.
"In position." Kanan's voice ca through, flat and professional. "Got visual on the approach corridor. Nothing moving yet."
"Copy. Specter Three?"
"Bwoop bworp." ()
"Good. Hold position, both of you."
"Bweeep bworp boop." ()
"When I tell you to."
"Bweeeeep." ()
She muted the channel.
The silence that followed was almost pleasant. Hera knew from experience that Chopper's patience had a half-life shorter than unstable baradium, and that every second of enforced waiting increased the probability of him doing sothing creative with the explosive charges.
She settled back in the pilot's seat and let her eyes track across the landscape.
Kessoria didn't show up on tourist brochures. The surface was oxidized rock formations and scrubland for kiloters in every direction, the kind of terrain that looked dramatic in a holo postcard and felt absolutely miserable to actually stand on. Hot, dry, and gritty in ways that found their way into every seal and joint on a ship.
The canyons were the exception. Deep gouges cut through the plateau by so ancient river system, walls rising nearly a hundred ters on either side, layered sedint banded in reds and oranges and browns. She'd scouted the route herself two days ago, walking the canyon floor with Chopper while Kanan stayed with the Ghost. Mapping sight lines, identifying choke points, choosing where to plant the charges.
Her father would have spent a week on reconnaissance. Would have had contingency routes for the contingency routes, fallback positions mapped to the ter, and at least two additional cells on standby.
Hera had a forr Jedi who refused to act like one and a droid who considered arson a legitimate form of self-expression.
She was working with what she had.
The comms crackled.
"Bweep bworp boop?" ()
Hera unmuted. "No."
"Bworp?" ()
"Still no."
"Bweep bweeep bworp boop?" ()
"Chopper, I swear to—"
"Fine, fine, fine."
Kanan's voice cut in. "He's been doing that every forty-five seconds. I've been counting."
"I'm aware."
"Just wanted to make sure you were also suffering."
"Bworp bweep boop!" ()
"Both of you, clear the channel. Please."
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Twelve minutes beca ten, then five.
Hera used the ti the way she always did before an operation—running scenarios. Charge failure, faster escorts than expected, Imperial comm checks that might bring reinforcents from the garrison forty klicks north. Each possibility branched into responses, and each response into further branches.
She'd learned that from watching her father plan ambushes on Ryloth. Not that he'd been intentionally teaching her. Cham Syndulla had been too busy liberating a planet to notice his daughter morizing his tactical briefings from the next room.
That felt like a lifeti ago. A different Hera, on a different world, fighting what felt like a different war. Though the enemy hadn't changed. The Empire was always the Empire.
"Movent." Kanan's voice sharpened. "Lead vehicle cresting the ridge. I count six transports in column formation, two escort speeders—one at the front, one bringing up the rear. Light armor. Standard trooper complent, maybe eight to ten total."
Hera's hands moved to the Ghost's controls on reflex, even though she wouldn't be flying this part. "Weapons on the escorts?"
"Chin-mounted repeating blasters. Nothing that'll punch through Ghost's hull, but I'd rather not find out the hard way."
"Agreed. Specter Three, confirm charges are prid."
"Bwoop bwoop!" ()
"Define 'fixed.'"
"Boop boop." ()
Hera closed her eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. "Chopper, is the secondary charge going to detonate when we need it to?"
"Bweeep bworp boop." ()
"Kanan, did you copy that?"
"Unfortunately, yeah."
"Can we run the op without the secondary?"
"It's our rear cover for extraction. If soone follows us into the east branch, we've got nothing between them and us except wishful thinking."
"I know what it's for."
"Then you know the answer."
Hera pulled up the canyon layout on her datapad. The primary charges would collapse the canyon wall at the midpoint, cutting the convoy in two. The secondary was planted at the entrance to the eastern branch canyon—their escape route. If the Imperials recovered fast enough to pursue, the secondary would seal the branch behind them.
Without it, they'd be running with an open back door.
"We proceed," she said. "But we adjust the tiline. Chopper, once you have the hauler, you don't wait for anything. Straight into the east branch. Kanan, you disengage the mont he's moving."
"Bworp bweep." ()
"Copy," Kanan said.
"And Chopper? If we survive this, you and I are having a conversation about field maintenance protocols."
"Bweeep bworp boop." ()
"Because you got lucky."
"Bweep bworp boop." () He flexed his grabber arms again for emphasis.
Kanan dropped from the cargo bed a mont later. He'd brushed off so of the canyon dust during the ride, but his jacket was still coated in a layer of red grit and there was a scrape along his left forearm that was bleeding sluggishly into his sleeve.
Hera had seen enough combat to know when soone was carrying sothing beyond the physical. Kanan moved fine—no limp, no favoring a side—but there was a delay in him, a fraction of a second where his eyes would track to sothing before the rest of him followed, like his thoughts were running just slightly behind his body.
"You want to tell what happened back there?" she said.
He walked toward the ramp without stopping. "Got distracted for a second, that's all."
"You stopped dead in the middle of a firefight with blaster bolts coming at you from multiple directions. Chopper had to bail you out with a loading arm and a boulder."
"Bwoop bweep bworp!" (
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