a/n: sorry guys, i had taken a bit of break last week without telling. i had gotten a bit struck in writer's block with the story. there is just so much stuff but at the same time its hard to decide how to proceed exactly even if there are some general outlines of story in my mind. somehow was able to write this chapter after stalling for so long, hope its worth it.
---
I spent the last dozen minutes wandering around the guest villa. I didn't find Bail or Master, but that was something I already knew by the first six minutes. I was just exploring the building and appreciating the paintings and stuff.
Even for a guest villa of a remote farmhouse, there were no details left unattended and no corners cut. Many walls were decorated with paintings which by no mention were copy prints. All of them were rich in the sauce of time.
One particular piece caught my eye—some kind of landscape showing Alderaan's capital during what looked like early morning, all soft golds and purples. The brushwork had that organic quality you couldn't fake with digital rendering. Probably cost more than most planets' GDP.
I was still squinting at the signature when voices drifted down the hallway.
The butler stood near a side corridor, talking quietly with two maids about something that involved a lot of hand gestures and concerned expressions. Probably palace drama I had zero interest in. Though from the gestures, someone either broke something expensive or there was a scandalous affair happening. Maybe both.
"Hello sir," I called out, closing the distance. "Can you tell me where Senator Bail is? Princess Leia informed me that he called for me but failed to inform where."
The butler turned smoothly, transitioning from whatever workplace politics he'd been discussing to professional courtesy without missing a beat. Guy could teach master classes in the servant poker face.
"Ah, young Master Bridger. The Senator and Master Kenobi are out in the south fields. I would be happy to escort you there if you'd like."
"That'd be great, thanks."
He led me through a side entrance and out onto a stone path that curved around the villa's exterior. Morning sunlight hit me square in the face, bright enough that I had to squint against it.
The air smelled like grass and flowers and whatever the hell Alderaanian morning dew was made of. Probably distilled hope and government subsidies. Maybe a hint of "we have a functioning ecosystem and aren't a desert hellscape."
We walked for maybe two minutes before the path opened up into a wide field. Bail and Obi-Wan stood near the edge, deep in conversation. A short distance behind them, I could see the outline of a ship sitting on a landing pad I hadn't noticed yesterday.
The butler gave a polite nod and retreated back toward the villa without a word.
I approached at a casual pace, boots crunching over gravel.
Bail noticed me first, turning with that politician's smile that managed to look both genuine and professionally calibrated at the same time. I wondered if they taught that at senator school. Probably right after "How to Dodge Uncomfortable Questions 101."
"Ezra. Good morning."
"Morning, Senator." I glanced between him and Obi-Wan. "Leia said you needed me for something?"
"Indeed." Bail gestured toward the ship behind them. "Though I'm afraid the morning's agenda has shifted somewhat. Master Kenobi will be departing shortly."
I blinked.
"Wait, you're leaving? Already?"
Obi-Wan stayed perfectly calm in that infuriating Jedi way. "I'm afraid so."
"How shortly are we talking?"
"Half an hour," Bail said.
"Half an—" I stopped myself before the rest of that sentence could turn into an undignified yelp. "That's not a lot of notice."
"No," Obi-Wan agreed. "It isn't. But circumstances have made it necessary."
The smile dropped off Bail's face, replaced by something considerably more grim.
"The situation in the Daiyu sector has escalated faster than anticipated," he said. "The entire region is under lockdown. Multiple Imperial Star Destroyers have been deployed, and every ship moving in or out is being subjected to extensive inspections."
I felt my stomach drop.
"ISB?"
"Very active," Bail confirmed. "More so than I've seen in years. The Inquisitorius hasn't been spotted yet, but given recent events, I have no doubt they'll arrive soon."
Recent events being Reva's extremely permanent departure from the galactic stage.
Right.
We really had kicked over a hornet's nest. Except the hornets were fascists with capital ships.
"Alderaan's name will come up eventually," Bail continued. "The kidnapping of a senator's daughter is not something the Empire will ignore, even if our cover story holds. It's best that Master Kenobi is well away from here before Imperial probes start making their rounds."
I looked at Obi-Wan, who met my gaze with quiet understanding.
"The precautions you took during the rescue were thorough," Obi-Wan said. "But no plan survives prolonged scrutiny. The longer I remain, the greater the risk to House Organa."
That made sense.
It still sucked.
"How are you getting back?" I asked.
"A modified GX1 short hauler," Bail said, gesturing toward the ship on the landing pad. "It's configured for passenger transport across multiple hub worlds. Master Kenobi will disembark at one of the mid-route stops and make his own way from there."
I turned to look at the ship properly for the first time.
It sat low and compact on the pad, hull painted in a nondescript gray that screamed "please ignore me, I'm boring." The design was standard enough—nothing about its silhouette would raise flags at a checkpoint. Peak "nothing to see here" energy.
I activated Hyper Perception.
The ship's internals bloomed into focus. Hull plating, power distribution, engine configuration, the way the components fit together like a three-dimensional schematic.
Standard GX1 architecture, yes.
Except for the modifications.
The power couplings feeding into the hyperdrive were way too robust for a stock civilian model. Reinforced structural supports ran along the keel where there should have been empty space. And unless I was completely misreading the energy signatures, there were at least two concealed weapon mounts built into the underbelly.
I let the perception fade and glanced at Bail.
"That's not a stock hauler."
"No, it isn't."
"Upgraded hyperdrive, reinforced frame, and hidden light weapons. Maybe turbolasers, but more likely laser cannons given the power draw."
For a second, Bail just stared at me baffled.
"You identified all of that at a glance?"
I shrugged. "I'm good with machines."
"Clearly." Bail looked wowed in equal amount as confused but he sure didn't let it hold himself back. "You're correct, of course. We've learned over the years that it's best to be prepared for things to go either way. A ship that looks harmless but can fight or flee if necessary has saved more than a few lives."
Obi-Wan made a quiet sound of approval. "A prudent philosophy."
"One I wish wasn't necessary," Bail said. "But we live in the galaxy we have, not the one we'd prefer."
Wasn't that the understatement of the century.
I looked back at the ship, then at Obi-Wan.
Half an hour.
The thought settled in my chest like a stone.
"I suppose this is it, then," I said.
Something gentler crossed Obi-Wan's face. "For now."
Bail took a step back. "I'll give you two a moment. I need to coordinate a few things with the flight crew anyway."
He walked toward the ship, leaving me and Obi-Wan standing alone in the field.
The morning breeze picked up, rustling the grass around our feet.
Obi-Wan looked at me for a long moment, then reached into his robes and pulled out a cylindrical object wrapped in cloth.
I recognized it immediately.
Hett's lightsaber. He had taken it after the incident on Daiyu and perhaps for the best to be honest.
"I had hoped," Obi-Wan said quietly, "to take you to Ilum. Or at the very least, to one of the other temples where you could find your own kyber crystal." He held the wrapped saber out toward me. "I've failed you in that regard."
I took it carefully, feeling the familiar weight settle into my palm.
"You didn't fail me, Master."
"Perhaps." A faint twitch pulled at Obi-Wan's mouth. "But the fact remains that you're walking into a dangerous galaxy with a weapon that isn't truly yours."
I unwrapped the cloth enough to see the hilt. It was as I had seen it last time, with the metal almost black, with angular lines that spoke of Tusken craftsmanship blended with Jedi design. The activation stud sat near the emitter, worn smooth from years of use.
"It'll do the job," I said.
"It will," Obi-Wan agreed. "But you need to understand what you're carrying."
I looked up at him.
"That crystal has been bled," Obi-Wan said. "The pain and darkness A'Sharad felt when he fell has been forced into the kyber itself. Every time you ignite that blade, that suffering will resonate through the Force. And if you use it long enough without purifying it, that darkness will flow back into you."
I turned the hilt over in my hands, feeling the aura of the kyber crystal inside even without activating the weapon.
"Purify it huh? That sure sounds like a long day of work."
"Meditation padawan," Obi-Wan said. "Deep, sustained meditation while connected to the crystal itself. You'll need to reach into it, feel the pain that was inflicted, and heal it the way you would heal a wound. It will not be pleasant. Bled crystals carry trauma that was deliberately carved into them. Undoing that requires confronting it directly."
I nodded slowly. "And if I don't?"
"Then the anger, the fear, the suffering—all of it will leach into you over time. You know better than most what those influences can do."
Yeah.
I did.
"I'll be careful," I said.
"I know you will." Obi-Wan rested his hand on my shoulder. "But if the situation becomes desperate, if you must use it before you've had the chance to cleanse it, then use it. Survival takes precedence over purity. Just don't let it become a crutch. Don't let it define your connection to the Force."
I met his eyes. "I won't."
"Good."
He squeezed once, then let go.
"You have my contact information," Obi-Wan said. "If you need me—for guidance, for help, for anything—don't hesitate to reach out. Distance doesn't sever our connection, Ezra. You're still my Padawan, even if we're walking different paths for now."
Something in my chest tightened.
I wasn't great at goodbyes. Never had been, in either life.
"Thank you, Master," I said quietly. "For everything."
Warmth flooded Obi-Wan's face. "You've given me more than you know, Ezra. A purpose I thought I'd lost. A reminder that the future isn't yet written." He paused. "The Force brought you to me for a reason. I'm grateful it did."
I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat.
"Try not to die out there, old man."
Obi-Wan huffed a quiet laugh. "I'll do my best. You do the same, young one."
The boarding ramp of the GX1 lowered with a pneumatic hiss.
Bail stood at the base, datapad in hand, speaking with a pilot I hadn't noticed before. He glanced over as we approached, then dismissed the pilot with a nod.
"All set?" Bail asked.
"As much as I can be," Obi-Wan said.
Bail extended a hand. Obi-Wan clasped it firmly.
"Safe travels, Master Kenobi. And may the Force be with you."
"And with you, Senator."
Bail stepped aside.
Obi-Wan turned toward the ramp, then paused and looked back at me one last time.
"Trust in the Force, Ezra."
I nodded. "I will."
He held my gaze for another heartbeat, then turned and walked up the ramp.
The hatch sealed behind him with a dull thud.
I stood there, watching as the ship's engines cycled up, listening to the low hum build into a roar. The landing gear retracted. The GX1 lifted smoothly into the air, rotated once, and then shot upward into the sky.
Within seconds, it was gone.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Bail stepped up beside me, hands clasped behind his back.
"He's a good man," Bail said quietly.
"Yeah," I agreed. "He is."
We stood in silence for a moment, watching the empty sky.
Like we were expecting it to give us answers. Spoiler: it didn't.
Then Bail turned toward me.
"Well then," he said. "Shall we discuss what comes next?"
---
H--
We walked back toward the villa at a slower pace than the butler had led me out.
"I hadn't expected Master Kenobi to leave alone," Bail said casually. "When he first mentioned departing, I assumed you'd be accompanying him back to Tatooine."
"You know I'm not going back."
"I do now." Bail kept his tone light, but I could feel him measuring me. "Master Kenobi informed me this morning. He seemed unsurprised by your decision."
"He figured it out days ago."
"Of course he did." A faint smile crossed Bail's face. "The man is irritatingly perceptive." The smile died. "Though I'll admit, I found it difficult to believe. Even hearing it from you now, it still sounds premature."
Bail stopped walking and turned to face me properly. "Master Kenobi suggested I leave the final decision to you. But I have to ask you to reconsider. The galaxy out there is not forgiving, Ezra. Especially not to children traveling alone."
"I can wait, Senator. But the Empire won't."
"That's not—"
"And there isn't much left for me to learn by staying somewhere safe."
Conflict played out across Bail's face.
"My mind accepts that," he said slowly. "Your capabilities, your maturity—I've seen enough to know you're not ordinary. But it's hard to reconcile that with your age. You're ten years old. You should be in school, not infiltrating Imperial facilities."
"The visions I have," I said quietly. "They're as much a curse as they are a boon. I know things about what's coming, what's already happened. Knowing all that and choosing to do nothing? The weight of it would crush me faster than any Imperial patrol."
The morning breeze rustled through the hedgerows beside us.
"I have my own burdens too," I continued. "And even if you're helping me with some of them, I need to be involved myself. Sitting on a balcony while someone else does the work isn't something I can live with."
Bail was silent for a long moment. "And physically? You're capable of handling yourself in the field?"
"As capable as anyone can be."
"That's not as reassuring as you think it is."
"Wasn't meant to be."
Bail let out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. We passed through a section of garden where the path narrowed between two hedgerows.
"For what it's worth," he said, "Alderaan has resources. Connections. Support networks that might prove useful for someone with your particular skills and goals."
I looked at him sidelong. "And in exchange?"
"You continue doing what you're already doing. Finding information. Disrupting Imperial operations where possible." He paused. "And perhaps sharing what you learn with those of us trying to build something better."
"Alright," I said. "I'm in."
Genuine pleasure crossed Bail's face. "Excellent. Then let's start with practicalities. The Scythe, for instance."
"I want to strip out a few key components," I said. "Hyperdrive motivator, sensor array, maybe the weapon control systems if they're modular enough. And whatever that navigational unit is—the one buried deep in the sensor core. I don't know exactly what it is yet, but it's pulling Imperial signals. Frequencies, positions, patrol routes. Every asset within a dozen parsecs, untraceable and undetectable. Whatever it is, it's worth more than the rest of the ship combined."
Bail went very still. "You found one of those?"
"You know what it is?"
"I know what it does." There was a new, careful edge in his voice. "A unit like that in rebel hands would be enough to justify a hard crackdown across the entire resistance. The Empire guards those things jealously for good reason."
"Which is exactly why I'm keeping it," I said. "But when I inevitably steal another Imperial ship somewhere down the line, I'll make sure to grab you one."
Bail let out a genuine laugh. "I'll hold you to it."
"Please do."
He adjusted our course, steering us toward a side path that led around the villa rather than through it.
"After you've taken what you need," Bail mused, "the rebellion could make good use of an Inquisitor ship. Infiltration, false flag operations, intelligence gathering."
"It's yours," I said. "Consider it payment for letting me crash here and eat your food."
"Absolutely not."
I blinked. "What?"
"That ship is your salvage," Bail said firmly. "The remaining vessel is still worth hundreds of thousands of credits. I'm not taking that from a child without compensation." He raised a hand before I could respond. "There's also the matter of payment for the rescue operation itself. Master Kenobi was remarkably uninterested in discussing compensation, so I'm left to negotiate with you instead."
"He just... left that for me to handle?"
Something wry crossed Bail's face. "His exact words were, 'The boy is more than capable of managing practical matters.'"
I stared at nothing for a second.
Then I started laughing.
Of course he would frame ditching financial negotiations as a vote of confidence. Magnificent bastard probably thought he was being encouraging.
"Breha and I have already discussed an appropriate sum," Bail continued. "It should be more than sufficient going forward. You brought our daughter home safely. That's worth more than credits can measure, but credits are what we have to offer."
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"You're welcome."
We walked in comfortable silence for a moment. Then I spoke.
"I'll need a medical scan before I leave."
Bail glanced at me, surprised. "Oh?"
"I've been running hard for a long time. Tatooine wasn't exactly generous with nutrition, and I want to know if anything's been quietly going wrong." I shrugged. "Better to catch it now than find out in the field."
He studied me for a beat, something shifting behind his eyes—surprise giving way to a kind of quiet approval.
"I can arrange that," he said. "It may take a few hours to bring the right personnel in, but yes. We'll make it happen."
"Appreciate it."
The villa came back into view as we rounded the final curve of the path. Bail slowed his pace, glancing at me with that odd mix of calculation and something almost paternal.
"You know," he said, "you're welcome to stay here as long as you need."
I looked up at the estate, all white stone and elegant architecture gleaming in the morning sun. It was a generous offer. It was also a trap, in its own way—not a malicious one, but comfort had a way of making you soft. Of making you forget that there were things outside the garden walls that needed doing.
Vasha was still out there. Somewhere.
"I appreciate it, Senator. Really. But I can't stay long."
"Then we'll make the most of the time you're here," he said. "Rest. Recover. Eat well. And when you're ready to leave, you'll do so with everything you need."
I met his eyes. "Thank you, Senator."
He smiled. "You're welcome, Ezra."
---
[A few hours and one very thorough medical scan later.]
"Weight: thirty-eight kilograms. Height: one hundred forty-seven centimeters. Estimated age: twelve standard years. Any history of chronic illness, and how often do you brush your—"
"Wait, WHAT!?"