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There are days when Kanan wishes the detection capabilities of the Imperial fleet were a lot less good than they are. Those days usually coincide with missions that involve a lot of sitting around in a dead ship, with a deactivated Chopper and a lot of time to kill until contact is made.

Like today, for instance.

Probably all day, too. Hopefully not into tomorrow.

"So," Kanan says, voice pitched low and not quite sibilant enough to be a whisper. "How do you feel about another round of I Spy?"

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"Yelling at off-worlders was a big part of how I learned Basic."

Hera may be smiling again.

Edited 2017-05-09 02:06 (UTC)

"They had it coming."

Kanan is sure of that.

"It usually got their attention," she allows.

"Is it a tactic we should re-adopt sometime?"

Maybe it works better coming from a kid. But still . . .

"I don't think it'd have the same effect."

There's also nothing unusual about an offworld adult Twi'lek speaking in Basic, even if they are being... direct about it.

"And I don't have the same reasons for it anymore."

"Maybe I can try screaming in Twi'leki?"

He's kidding.

She rolls her eyes.

"I think we're doing okay as it is. And if we want screaming no one else will understand, that's what we have Chopper for."

Notice how she said that while he's powered down.

Edited 2017-05-09 02:46 (UTC)

Kanan has always said that Hera is an eminently sensible woman.

"It's the metallic blorping noise that is the height of terrifying, it's true."

Hera doesn't answer for a moment, looking back out to check their still empty view.

"Didn't you learn anything like this with the Jedi?"

He's quiet for a minute, gaze flicking down to where his hands hang empty in his lap.

Then --

"I think I would have, if there'd been an 'after the war' for us. During, there was only time to focus on strategy, on tactics, on leading the clone troops."

Edited 2017-05-09 03:06 (UTC)

"Or a 'before the war,'" she murmurs.

Hera takes a deep breath.

"I think it worked the other way for me."

He pulls himself out of his head, or at least he tries, going through a quick meditative pass because if anyone doesn't deserve to join him in stewing on the past, it's Hera.

Or at least not to stew in his issues.

"Oh?"

Hera looks out onto the stars again, maybe hoping that she'll be interrupted, that they'll see some distant movement that will tell them their contact has arrived.

But nothing comes, the space beyond them remains still.

"When I was a girl I was – a nightmare for my parents. I'd watch where ships landed and I'd run away to them. I knew to stay away from droids, but cargo pilots and clone pilots and smugglers – I'd just run right to them and tell them to explain their ships, to show me how they flew. Some of them threw me out, but I think a lot of them were so startled that this little girl had run right up to them, telling them what to do. That I wasn't afraid of anything."

She pulls her legs up into her chair, curling around them in a childlike sort of way.

"It terrified my mother. She and my father would tell me over and over again to stop, but I just ignored them. And she was right to be afraid, it's probably a miracle that the worst that ever happened was that some of the pilots were rough about kicking me out. But I didn't care when I got hurt, and I didn't care about my parents' threats. I just kept doing it. And I think they couldn't stand the idea of locking me up."

The problem with being both a parent and a freedom fighter.

"So my mother made this deal with me. That they'd stop yelling at me about it if I came back before dark, if I learned to use a blaster, and if I could prove I knew Basic and Huttese. Basic so I'd know if anyone was threatening me, and Huttese so I'd know when to run."

Well, shit.

"It wasn't safe not to know. Damn."

"That happens in an occupation," she says, quietly.

"Yeah."

His voice is very, very quiet.

Because what do you say to that?

"Someday it won't be. We'll get rid of the Empire and -- "

and -

It's a big and. Not one she feels up to thinking about right now.

And she doesn't want him feeling like this, trying to brace under the weight of this fight, of the last war, of the seemingly unending string of crimes they encounter. She doesn't want her history to have brought him down.

Hera bites her lip, then lowers her feet back to the floor. "I'd also - I'd climb up, at night, on top of our home. Wherever we were, the mountains in Tann Province or the hideouts when we were on the run in the desert. And it was dangerous, obviously, but I wanted to see the ships crossing the sky at night. My mother was so tired of it, me and the ships, so when she'd find me to drag me back inside, I'd lie and say I wanted to watch the stars."

She raises her voice slightly, mimicking a little girl nagging her mother. "Luon, Onni! Onni! Viulen usnajmen, viulen usnajmen!"

Hera nearly laughs again as she says it.

(So she wasn't laughing at you, Kanan. At least, not entirely.)

It's that it happened to Hera, and that it's still happening to little girls and little boys, and teenagers, and their parents, and their grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins all over the damned and bloody Empire, and the Jedi were supposed to be here to stop it and they aren't, they're dead, and there's just him left, and maybe others but maybe not, and it's all --

Shut up, Caleb.

Kanan breathes.

"Ships, stars -- from the right distance they do kind of look the same."

"Not if you know what you're looking for. Which -"

She's looking straight ahead now, and carefully reaches out toward the consul.

"It looks like someone's here..."

Whether or not that's a friendly someone, she's not sure yet. But there's definite movement.

Edited 2017-05-09 16:24 (UTC)

"You want me up here?"

Kanan switches to all business without a blink.

"Or down manning the guns? Just in case."

He's already standing up, ready to move.

"They should be in range to signal soon," she says, eyes fixed on the incoming ship. "But 'just in case' is probably a good idea."

"Copy that."

Kanan nods at her, then goes double-time down to take position and get ready to fire.

Better safe than sorry.

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