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Hera hasn't met his eyes since they parted from Phoenix Squadron. She occupies herself with briefing Zeb and Sabine, talking to Chopper – she sounds calm enough, but Kanan can feel the tension vibrating off her every time she passes him. It's not like anything he's ever felt from her before, and it's only been getting worse the longer they've worked on these blockade runs. Usually he finds Hera's presence comforting and stable, even in the most stressful situations. But right now, Kanan feels like he might not mind a few hours away from her whirring anxiety.

They're still on their way to Shantipole when Hera leaves him and Chopper in the cockpit. She murmurs something having Zeb and Sabine run pre-flight checks on the Phantom, and exits still without looking to him. Chopper's not any better company, so Kanan waits a few minutes, and then follows her. By the time he makes it down, the others are climbing up into the shuttle. He nods to Zeb and Sabine, but steps into Hera's path before she can reach the ladder.

This doesn't seem to surprise her. She finally meets his eyes - and starts to speak her mind. "I can't believe you volunteered me for this reckless mission." Kanan's sure she's been waiting to say that since the minute they left Sato's command center. "After what happened, the fleet needs me now more than ever."

"True, the fleet needs a solution," he answers. "But one that neither you nor Agent Kallus are able to see."

Given her mood, it probably hadn't been the best approach. She raises her eyebrows, and takes a step back from him. "Oh. Are we talking in riddles now? Is that it?"

Kanan sighs. "Fine. You want me to spell it out for you? We can't beat that blockade, not without a better ship, with better firepower, and the best pilot at the controls."

"Even if this ship turns out to be everything we hope it is, I still might not make it back in time to help!"

He moves to walk past her. "Then you better hurry."

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"You don't know that, Kanan," she throws back.

"And even if we survive, we don't know what shape whatever ship there there might be will even be in."

Edited 2019-02-13 02:23 (UTC)

"You think Rex is prone to flights of fancy?"

That old soldier? Never. Which is strange to think, but not nearly as uncomfortable as how angry Hera clearly is.

"And -- who else would you trust on a mission like this?"

"I wouldn't run this mission," she says, shaking her head.

"We don't have time for some wild bantha chase over one ship that might exist."

"We don't have time at all. If something doesn't change, we're stalemated and ineffective. And the only thing we've come up with is the wild bantha chase."

He folds his arms, taking a breath.

"The only thing. And your presence is what's going to make it the least wild a chase as we can get. I'm sorry, I know you don't want to leave the squadron behind. But it's the truth."

"That's not what this is!"

She nearly shouts it. But a moment later, she takes a step back, running up against the ladder, and looks away from him.

He gives her a second, because . . . because he needs a moment, too.

"It's at least part of it."

Another breath.

"What's the rest?"

"No -"

She raises a hand to her forehead, balling it into a fist. "You're not listening to me, I'm telling you we don't have time -"

"We can stall. For a little while longer, we can stall. And after that we've got nothing, Hera. We're going to have to make time, and even that's not going to work for very long."

He swallows, hard, and works to keep his voice from rising, too. It works a little.

"If we don't have time for this, we don't have time for anything, and it's all pointless. And I don't believe that, and I know you don't, either, so -- "

Hera takes a step toward him. "I'm not talking about stalling. I said I could make it through the blockade."

"We don't have any other pilots that can match you, Hera. If you fly the supply transport in, there's no one good enough to watch your back against Imperials here, and all it takes is one lucky shot. If you fly the cover mission, none of our fighters has enough firepower to deter the Imps enough for one of the other pilots to squeeze through."

He exhales heavy, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an incipient headache. The stress of this mission -- of knowing that people are dying while they fail, and fail, and fail again -- it's hard. On all of them.

"You need a small, fast ship with heavy weapons. We -- no, the Ibaarians need you to have a small, fast ship with heavy weapons."

The Ibaarians. Hera's tension spikes when he says it. She raises her hands to her forehead again, and lets out a frustrated sound, almost like a growl.

"They need food, Kanan."

Edited 2019-02-14 03:48 (UTC)

"Yes," Kanan agrees, fervently.

"And they need that food to make it safely down to the surface. Blown up in space isn't going to cut it."

"And I can't get it to them if I'm not there," she shoots back.

Kanan growls in frustration, rubbing his face with his hands again.

"We can't do it if you are here, either, unless you've got a better ship!"

Hera doesn't answer.

She turns from him, rounding on the wall and slamming her hands against it.

Edited 2019-02-14 23:40 (UTC)

Kanan winces, taking a half-step forward before stopping himself.

"There are no good answers this time."

He tries to bite his lip, but --

"But you're going to need your hands."

She stays facing the wall - she doesn't hit it again, but her hands stay pressed against it.

"I tell myself," she murmurs, "not to get detached. But sometimes..."

"It only feels good until you're out of the crisis," Kanan says, on a heavy exhale.

"Then you just feel like shit."

Even if you're only pretending not to care. If a person really managed it . . . Kanan's sure that would feel even worse.

She shakes her head, starting to lower her hands.

"Well it's still pretty shit right now."

"It's pretty shit over here, too," Kanan admits.

"I don't think any of us is feeling all that great, honestly."

Let alone the Ibaarians down on the ground.

She still stays at the wall, but after a few seconds, she turns her head to him.

"Have you seen this before, Kanan?"

He's quiet for a moment.

Then --

"Not at this scale."

Local communities once or twice, but even then, smuggling from other communities made it less awful than it might have been, otherwise.

Her eyes close. Now, her voice is very quiet.

"It happens so fast."

Kanan takes another step forward, close enough that Hera can start to feel the coolness of his presence, but not so close to actually be touching.

"Ryloth."

His voice is quiet, restrained, but not soft.

"How old were you?"

She turns back toward the wall as she feels him approach, though she doesn't move away from him. For the moment, her eyes stay closed.

"The worst of it -"

Hera stops for a moment. Her hands finally come down, as she folds them against her chest. "The worst of it was in the Clone Wars. The Separatist blockade -"

She takes a deep breath, and then, she answers his question. "When I was six."

Kanan closes his eyes, focusing for a moment on not flinching, on not letting his expression waver a bit.

This isn't the time.

Six. And she was far from the youngest person swept up in that. All of these things leave a mark, and to witness that being done one more time --

"And this is that all over again. On another world."

"There must be people down there who're injured, or sick -"

She shakes her head again. "It's nothing you can fight or run from."

Edited 2019-02-17 01:48 (UTC)

He swallows, hard. Because she's not wrong, and she also has first-hand experience of all those attendant horrors.

"You're helpless," Kanan ventures at last, "while it happens. And that's terrifying."

Hera's silent at first. She feels the ship rock gently beneath her feet, as it falls out of hyperspace. And at last, she turns back.

"I can't leave them."

A few seconds later, Zeb's voice calls out - hesitantly - from up in the Ghost. "Um, Hera, we're here."

"You're coming back," is all he can think to say, watching her.

"And that's what will save them."

He rocks onto the balls of his feet at that, ready make way for her to get going.

She doesn't say anything. It didn't matter - it was never going to matter, not since the moment they set off for Shantipole. And she can't waste any more time.

Hera barely nods, and moves on, toward the ladder to climb up into the Phantom.

Edited 2019-06-08 06:18 (UTC)

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