Kanan Jarrus

It's not like Kanan's trying to let Rex get under his skin, but if the clo -- guy -- could just keep his opinions about what makes a good Jedi to himself, this would all be a lot easier. Not that Kanan's jealous of him trying to mentor Ezra, there's nothing wrong with that.

Nothing.

Just --

"You really think wit's going to get you out of every hole you dig yourself into?" He finds himself asking Rex, halfway through heating up a protein pack in the galley. "I thought you couldn't fly by the seat of your pants in the army."

Rex folds his arms across his chest, scoffing out loud. "You have to have heard the one about battle plans surviving enemies. Maybe you didn't remember it, in all the time you spent off the front lines, but surely you heard it somewhere."

Here on the bridge of Phoenix Home, Kanan keeps expecting to see trooper armor, to hear Grey’s voice teasing him about all the questions he's not asking right now, to hear Styles weigh in on the discussion of objectives, to bring his frontline experience to bear on the Rebellion's problems. The bridge isn't as sparkling clean as he remembers bridges being, back when the Republic still existed, when all the wars were new, but the space is right, the lines and curves and angles of each and every corridor, of the comm boards and holo displays, the mess and the bunks and -- everything really. It makes his stomach hurt, makes his neck and shoulders tense, brings a sharp twist of headache to the back of his skull. He looks up suddenly, attention primed for the mention of Imperials, then bleeding into now and all he can feel is relief. Which he knows is going to change very shortly, but --

Some things can't be helped.

Sato, hands folded across his chest in a posture of thoughtfulness and determination, is laying out the scenario. "-- scouted in this area are usually made up of three hauler freighters with docking ports for two fighters each. Even with our smaller squad of A-wings, we believe we could successfully combat their defenses. But we've previously lacked a freighter large and maneuverable enough to pick up any cargo we could free. Could the Ghost accomplish this?"

Ask a stupid question, Kanan does not say. Of course the Ghost can do it. Well -- the Ghost by itself, no, but with Hera piloting --

Hera, herself, speaks up at this point, nothing but respect and professionalism in her voice. "Yes sir, we can use a magnetic lock to pick up the crates."

She's better than Kanan at that, too, especially these days. Especially today, maybe. It shouldn't be like that, and Kanan knows it, but all of this remains far too familiar and that's . . . maybe that's always going to be disturbing.

Meanwhile, Sato and Hera are collaborating on the plan, and it's a good one, Kanan can't even deny that, either.

"All right, Captain Syndulla," Sato says, "In that case, Phoenix squad can clear a path for you."

Hard on the heels of that comes Hera, filling in the gaps as easily as breathing. "With the A-wings busy with the fighters, the Phantom should be used to free the cargo."

Kanan doesn't even need to look to know how pleased Sabine is to be tasked with a pivotal role, he doesn't even need the tone of her voice as she says, "I can do that."

"Good, Sato says, pointing to the holomap. Kanan can't help the way he leans forward to look more closely, and somewhere within him the Caleb-that-was is momentarily resentful.

"They use a position here to shift hyperspace lanes. Once they fall out of hyperspace, we estimate it will take them between ten and fifteen minutes to calculate their next jump."

"Short window," one of the other pilots mutters, and Kanan is already shaking his head. It's like they don't know what the Ghost's crew is capable of, at all.

Hera, of course, sets them straight. "We can manage it if we get the drop on them. Especially if we let at least one ship launch TIEs, they'll have to redock before jumping."

Another voice in the crowd has their own idea to contribute. "In that case it sounds like we should be waiting for them."

Sato, like a good commander, considers this point of view just like he has all the others, saying, "I agree."

Then, like they planned it, Ahsoka pushes herself away from the wall, emerging from the shadows to offer her own piece of the puzzle. "Their next shipment should be within one cycle. You should all take the time to prep yourselves and your ships before we get in position."

And just like that, they're dismissed. It shouldn't get his hackles up, Kanan knows that, but it does, all the same. He keeps a weather eye on Hera, waiting to see what direction she commits to before falling in alongside her. It's the one comforting thing he can find in this whole mess, and maybe if he holds onto it (and her) tightly enough, he'll be able to pull himself through.

Kanan can always hope.

This had proved to be one of the smoothest jobs they'd ever run. Hera, acting as a graduate assistant who had ended up at the administrative building when she'd meant to get to the xenobiologly labs on the other side of campus, had distracted the guards long enough for Kanan to slip in and out of the Imperial liaison's office without any trouble at all. Then again, neither the office nor the files inside were overly protected – the Empire didn't seem too concerned with anyone slipping away with their notes on Bar'leth University's faculty. It wasn't a weapon, or some exploitable resource, so maybe that wasn't surprising. But there were contacts in the rebellion who could use the information on which academics might be sympathetic, and which might be in imminent danger from the Empire.

And so they finish far ahead of their scheduled rendezvous with the Ghost. Kanan changes out of his maintenance uniform disguise, though Hera keeps her civilian clothes, and with little else to do in the meantime, they wander along the edge of the campus, its famous natural and cultural history museum looming not far in the distance. Most students and faculty have cleared out by now, but the paths and column-lined buildings are illuminated with white lanterns, keeping the campus bright as the cool evening sets in. The paths are lined with flower beds, and ahead of them is a wide pond, still enough to reflect the gymnasium just beyond it.

It's a very peaceful place, on the surface. But they had already read enough of the files they'd recovered to find that under that surface, it's anything but.