One of the things one adjusted to being a crewmember on the Ghost, you couldn't take things too seriously all the time. It was something Ezra had been quietly thrilled to find kindred spirits in. You got focused when you needed to, but if you let everything weigh on you all of the time you burnt out. He'd seen it happen before, people who had been hurt just a little too badly by the Empire and either gave up or just stopped being careful.

Because of this, the unusual pre-mission quiet was almost spooky. No good natured teasing or threats, no discussion of the plans, even Chopper was unusually subdued as he checked over the crates stacked securely, ready to be loaded up onto the hovercarts and delivered. They were ready in case of Imperial presence, but not expecting it. That was the entire problem. The Empire was willing to devote time and resources, to a degree, to its populations, as long as they were useful. The minute someone in charge decided you weren't worth the effort of supplying it was if you stopped existing. At least until you tried to complain about it, then it was cruel irony that the Empire would spend far more effort crushing the dissidents than in preventing the intolerable conditions in the first place.

Rae had been an aquaculture supplier, giant bays filled with quickly breeding sea life, both animal and vegetable, until the Empire deemed the ores under the seabed more valuable and sent in mining crews to extract them. The waste from the mining operations flooded the bays, not enough to kill everything, just enough to make everything removed from them unsuitable for export. The ores extracted after a few years the mining companies left, along with anyone who was smart and could afford to.

The city was slightly more fortunate than most, and that was what has lured too many people into staying. The seafood was still safe enough for a majority of species, the Empire didn't meddle in your lives like in other places, it seemed nearly perfect. Except the inhabitants quickly discovered that reputable traders avoided it, why risk your operation for something like tainted seafood that was close to worthless even when legal? And the city had little else to offer, even the majority of black market smugglers avoiding it in favor of more suitable spots, so when disaster struck Rae was on its own.

On its own, except for an idealistic crew commanded by a Captain who believed just attacking the Empire wasn't enough for the long run. When transmissions for aid were over and over again met with bland excuses as to why the Empire had far more important business to attend to, Hera had put together a plan.

"Mask on, Ezra." Kanan's voice was slightly tinny as a result of the low quality speaker in the medical face mask.

"We're not there yet, and the air tastes terrible. I think you gave me a bad one." Ezra scowled at the device, finally slipping it back on and tightening the strap down to assist the seal.

"They're all like that, but it's the better option. None of us can afford to get sick, you know that."

"Yeah, but I don't see why I can't wear one of my helmets instead. Sabine's wearing hers." Ezra tried not to fidget with the mask again, knowing it wouldn't improve the fit, or the air quality.

"My helmet's equipped with a medical grade filter, better than the ones you have. I need it for a lot of the chemicals and fumes I work with. The filter on a cadet helmet might keep out dust. Might. I wouldn't count on it." Sabine was leaned against one of the crates, tenser than usual even if the helmet blocked all trace of expression.

Raeviss Fever had a nearly non-existent mortality rate under normal conditions. It responded well to nearly all supportive therapies and anti-virals, and even left untreated healthy adults generally recovered fully in about a week. The very young, the old, the infirm, however, it could be devastating, killing outright, disabling, or leaving them weak to secondary infections. Normally it didn't spread that quickly, but the weather had been unusually hot and muggy, the air saturated and allowing the virus to become airborn and to linger on surfaces long after it normally would have died. It had gone from a few individuals, to an outbreak, to an epidemic, all while the Empire ignored it.

They landed in what looked like a ghost town, everyone grabbing a cart and pushing the crates loaded with medical supplies into the empty square.

"Do you think we're…" Zeb gestured around at the lack of people. "Too late?" He was the only one with no form of protective gear. None of the masks fit properly, and he claimed Lasat's tended to be immune to most humanoid illnesses anyway.

"No, unless this is something new… there." Hera turned as people started coming out of a couple of the buildings, in full medical suits.

"Thank you for coming so quickly. We've put out a voluntary quarantine curfew during the day, to try to limit exposure. But without supplies.."

"You have them now." Hera guided the person who seemed to be in charge over to the crates, grateful that the situation seemed to be under control. No sooner did she list off the contents that orders were being given on where to take them and distribute them where they'd do the most good, what supplies were to go directly to the hospitals and which would be better distributed directly.

Ezra was torn between being relieved and a little let down. It was obviously a serious situation, but it felt nearly anti-climactic after the rush to get there. At least until the first people started emerging from their homes, some obviously ill and others it was hard to tell if it was fever or near panic driving them. The suited locals who weren't guiding crates quickly turned to crowd control, trying to reassure people and get them back to their homes and Ezra finally caught on to why exactly everyone else had been so tense. A whole city full of people terrified for their lives and the lives of their loved ones, who knew exactly how scarce resources could be, could quickly turn into a mob. Everyone frantic to make sure that they got something, anything, for their own, no matter what the cost. Uncomfortable with the press of people, so many broadcasting distress, he grabbed one of the empty hovercarts to start pushing it back onto the ship. He just needed a moment, just a minute or two to ground himself and remind himself why they were there.

He flinched, but didn't quite manage to evade the hand that grabbed onto his upper arm like a vice.

"Please, you have to help me, please!" The strange man stared at him wild-eyed, holding onto him like a drowning man.

"Let go! That's what we're doing. They'll get you the medicine you need." Ezra tried to pull free, struggling, hampered by the knowledge he was here as a rescuer. Against someone else he'd have no problem using whatever means necessary.

"No they won't! They won't! My baby's sick, and they won't treat her. I've been to every hospital and they won't even give her a bed. How can they have no beds? Please, anything!" And still holding him in place one hand reached, wrenching the mask from Ezra's face.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Kanan was fast, but not as fast as he should have been, grabbing the man's wrist and squeezing, making him loosen his grip on the mask so Ezra could yank it back. He'd been too preoccupied with keeping an eye on the crowd and making sure no one interfered with the supplies to keep his eye on his young padawan. There was a flash of worried irritation, of course Ezra would find trouble, but it was quickly banished by the fact it was obvious Ezra wasn't at fault.

"No one will listen to me." The man let go of Ezra at that, turning to Kanan instead. "Please, you have to help."

"Fine, we'll help, but you need to calm down." Kanan made sure Ezra had his mask back on before he started to follow the man.

"Wait, he grabs me and you're just going to help him?" Ezra sounded indignant, following him instead of continuing on to the ship.

"That's what we're here for, isn't it? To help people."

"Yeah but..." Ezra made a frustrated sound as the three of them went into the home. He was glad for the mask, even the chemical tang of the filtered air was better than he imagined it smelled like from the stuffy gloom inside the home. He was familiar enough with the smells that came with sickness and had no desire to experience them again. He tried hard to think about that, and not the reality of the small form in the bed.

The fever left unusual marks on the skin, the man himself was carrying them on his exposed arms. They were dark red and smooth, nearly like a birthmark, but sore to the touch like a bruise. Many of the people uncovered by suits had some visible on their skin like they'd been blotched with paint. The small child on the bed was nearly covered in them, and so still that Ezra started to back away, convinced that they'd been dragged in to save a corpse. It wasn't until Kanan put a hand on the child's head that he saw the slight rise and fall of the chest showing they were still breathing. From the way the officials were talking, the kid didn't stand a chance. It wasn't any wonder the hospitals had been turning them away, to spend what resources they had on those who had a chance.

"Ezra, come here." Kanan could feel the way the small child's life force was failing, the disease burning them up. Force-healing was something that took at least one of two things, a lot of power or a lot of training. He didn't have either. Most Jedi warriors learned just a little beyond the basics, his own injuries healed faster than those of someone who wasn't force sensitive, and with focus and meditation he could speed up the process even further. True Force Healers had spent as much time on their craft as warriors did on theirs, and most species never lived long enough to make mastering both disciplines a reasonable goal. It was entirely possible this would fail, but trying could hardly make things worse. "And you, whatever your name is, go get some clean water if you have any, but don't come back in until I say so."

Ezra waited until the man was gone before he came over. "What are you going to do?"

"What are we going to do. The Force can be used for fighting, you've seen plenty of that, but it can also be used for healing. So that's what we're going to do." And Kanan hated the lies of omission he seemed to do on a near daily basis with him, but sharing his own doubts was too risky. Ezra needed to believe in himself without worrying that he was expecting him to fail, a lot. Part of his training would eventually be accepting his own limitations, but not while things were still new and he didn't have a secure enough foundation of accomplishments to fall back on. "Close your eyes and make the connection."

That part at least Ezra was familiar enough with, even if it had been non-sentients up until then. He held his hand out, not quite touching, his face going into the familiar blankness, and then his brow furrowing. "It feels strange, like they're far away. And.. it's not right."

"Perfect. You want to try and pull them back closer. Trust in the Force." Kanan added his focus to his, trying to guide and support.

Ezra struggled, it was harder than lifting the blast doors, or the Temple. The doors were just held by artificial gravity and inertia, the temple wanted to admit them, this felt like they were actively being fought against. He could feel the presence slipping, trying to pull back away, and he redoubled his efforts, stubbornly, not even noticing when his hand started to shake.

Kanan opened his eyes, letting out a breath. "Ezra, you can stop now." He waited until his apprentice opened his eyed with a small gasp, looking down at the child.

It wasn't a huge difference, not to the unassisted eye, the marks were maybe a little fainter, and the breathing steadier, but when Kanan went to the door to let the father back in she opened her eyes, starting to cry. The man rushed in at that, paying no mind to the two as he babbled to her. Kanan gave Ezra a small nudge, to urge him outside.

"We really did it? We saved her?" Ezra looked a little dazed still, glancing back at the building.

"Maybe"

"What do you mean maybe?"

"I mean there's no way to tell just yet. The kid might be fine, might get worse again, something else could happen." Kanan was glad to see the crowd had mostly dispersed, the crates were gone and the rest of the crew was hanging around the hanger to the Ghost.

"That's certainly optimistic."

"Yeah, well better than the alternative." He didn't pause in walking towards the Ghost.

"Kanan." Ezra seemed to be turning something over in his head. "When you're connected to someone like that, and you can feel them like that, can you feel them… what if they don't. Make it that is."

"Worry about that later, we've got paying missions to worry about. All those supplies nearly cleaned out our wallets, and our list of favors." They would be fine for food, there was a supply depot on the other side of the bay with no reported illness. They might get a little tired of fish, but they've all eaten worse at one time or another.

Ezra grumbled, but went up the hanger ramp eagerly enough. Hera was nearly to the cockpit when Kanan caught up to her.

"We might have a problem"