AN: Alright guys, this is it! The last chapter of the extended interlude. Now we can get into the meat of the thing I had planed as my ACTUAL sequel. I don't know what I'm going to call it yet, but I should have the first chapter up by...the weekend, I think? The format's going to be a bit more in line with the other parts in this series, though the tone is going to be a bit different. I think. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! I'll have some one-shots for you while I think of how to start the first chapter. Got a few good ones requested too, some Eeth Koth shenanigans and I believe I got a request for Kenobi at the Imperial Academy. Among others. But expect those two first. I think...also, keep the requests up. I love them.

Anyway, thanks you guys. Intermission over, let's get to the good stuff!

Chapter 13: The Ghost and the Umbra - 6 BBY

His name was Garazeb Orrelios, and he was a Lasat, a tall, agile, impressively strong species with digitigrade legs that allowed them to move faster, jump higher, step softer than humans, despite their large size. Prehensile toes assisted them in climbing, and large, feline ears and sharp eyes allowed them better senses than most species, and their bodies were covered in patterned fur that, supposedly, differed between individuals. They'd never know, of course, because most Lasal were dead, the entire species nearly exterminated by the Empire when the Lasal violently objected to the Empire's claim to their home world. Since then, the Lasal were rarely seen in the galaxy, the few left merely terrified survivors of a nearly complete genocide, and no Lasal lived upon their ravaged world of Lasan.

Also, they smelled terribly.

"I don't like it, Hera..." Kanan mumbled, sitting on the edge of his bed and glancing at the Twi'lek pilot as she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. "He's too rash, too impulsive, too violent."

"Sounds like someone I used to know," she said, an eyebrow raised knowingly at the former Jedi, and Kanan frowned.

"Hey, I avoided the Empire!" Kanan said defensively. "I did everything I could to not draw attention to myself, this guy's looking to start a fight!"

"Just like you, love," Hera said, smirking as she drew closer, her hand on his shoulder as she stood before him. "Only you fought in bars, you drunken roughneck. Zeb fights against the Empire, which is what we're doing right now." She shrugged when the man glowered. "He's got a leg up on you on that one. I don't need to convince him to care."

"Alright, I get it, you like the big purple cat better than me," Kanan drawled as he rolled his eyes. "But that doesn't mean he'll fit in here with us on the Ghost. He's going about the fight all wrong. I mean, you'd never have brought Skelly along, that guy fought against the Empire too, he was also angry and rash, and he blew a lot of Imperials up." Kanan pointed a finger at Hera's chest. "But he's not here."

"Skelly," Hera calmly explained, "threw bombs into the streets and didn't think twice about innocent people getting caught in the crossfire. He didn't like innocent people getting hurt, but he wrote them off as casualties in his crusade to save Cynda." She traced her fingers along Kanan's jaw and gently directed Kanan to look at her when he looked away. "Zeb isn't like that. He hates the Empire, yes, but he's compassionate and has a very clear sense of morality. He knows right from wrong, that means something."

"Hera, he beats up stormtroopers as a way of venting. He's a loose cannon, and it's going to get him and us into trouble!" Kanan huffed and crossed his arms, looking away as he thought, and sighed when Hera sat beside him and took his hand. "He's impulsive and quick to anger. That's the sort of thing that causes people to rush into a situation without thinking and sacrifice the entire mission." Kanan bit his lip. "And Chopper doesn't like him."

"Chopper," Hera said, her voice strained as a wry smile crossed her lips, "doesn't get a vote."

"Oh really? He gets a vote every time I lead a mission."

"Kanan." The Jedi looked at her, the Twi'lek's face warm and sincere, and she laid a gentle hand on his cheek. "We need a team. If we're going to start doing more like we want to, we need help. We have to start somewhere."

"Yeah, but with him?" he gawked, pointing toward the door. "He's more libel to end our operation on an impulsive whim, not help it! How does he even fit this team?"

Hera shrugged. "He's the muscle."

Kanan gave her a skeptical look. "The muscle."

"Well, yeah," she said softly, smiling when she saw Kanan's brow furrow as it always did as he was thinking. As it always did right before he changed his mind. "If we're going to do more, we need to be able to take more, and with how strong he is, he can do the work of several regular people. We can quadruple the amount of cargo we can take if he does the heaving lifting. And besides," she drawled, holding up her hand in front of his face and wiggling her fingers, "it's not like you can just use the Force to load the ship."

"Shhh!" Kanan quickly hissed, clapping his hand over her mouth. "Don't say that! He's got those big ears, I bet he can hear right through the walls!" She smiled against his hand, gently kissed it.

"He's going to know if he's going to be with us, love," Hera said, laying a hand on his chest and feeling his heart beat. "And he did good on that mission today."

"Half the problems we had were because he rushed in without thinking so he could bust some heads!"

"Well, yes, listening isn't his strong suit..." She looked up at him and grinned. "But he did bust a lot of heads, didn't he?"

Kanan laughed lightly as he pulled the Twi'lek closer to him. "Yeah, I'll say. I've never seen one person take down so many stormtroopers. He's like an army."

"And we wouldn't have gotten out of there if he hadn't pried those blast doors open."

"He wouldn't have needed to if he hadn't gotten us in there in the first place!" Kanan crossed his arms, feigning petulance, and after a moment, gave Hera a sidelong glance. She was smirking. "Yeah," he sighed, running a hand over his hair. "Yeah, he did good."

"Glad to see you came around."

"Oh, no, no," Kanan smoothly drawled, leaning in toward the woman. "He did good once. He's too much of a risk. Cut and run while we can, that's what I say." Hera scoffed, crossing her arms. Kanan could be so stubborn, a thing that came from a cautious, careful mind set, something he had learned in his time in hiding. It was a good skill, of course, but faith and trust couldn't be fostered if he wasn't willing to take a chance. That was fine. Hera could be stubborn too.

"His planet is gone, Kanan," she said forcefully. "He has nowhere to go!" The man just shrugged.

"Lots of people have nowhere to go."

"Like you, love." Hera stroked the handsome face when he looked away from her. "Where would you be now if I just dismissed you as a roustabout? If I never took a second look because you didn't care about anything."

"I don't know..." he mumbled. "Probably staring at the ceiling in a bar somewhere, soused off my feet."

"Zeb is reckless, yes, and angry because the Empire took everything from him. His home, his people, his way of life, all gone because they stood in the Emperor's way." She tilted her head and looked at him, a crooked smile on her face when the man looked sullen. "Sound familiar?"

"Too familiar..." Kanan sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, Hera, you win." He shook his head. "I can't believe that you're supposed to be the sane one."

"Just taking a page from you, Caleb..." she said softly, the man shivering and closing his eyes when her hand rested on his jaw as she leaned up and pressed her lips softly to his, melting into him as a wandering hand stroked her lekku.

A crash from outside the door saw them quickly part, followed by the sound of Chopper's outraged intonations and a feral, frustrated growl from their new companion. Kanan and Hera both sighed in unison, looked at each other, and began softly laughing. "Guess we won't be having much alone time anymore," Kanan said softly, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling softly at his lover. Hera just smiled and shook her head.

"Well...we had to grow up sometime."

"Duty first, I know..." Kanan muttered, jumping to his feet and taking the Twi'lek's hands to pull her to her feet. When she stood, Hera pushed him back against the wall, pressed herself against him, leaned up and kissed him, hard and deep and Kanan moaned softly, returning her every motion.

"We'll still find time," Hera said, her voice smooth and sweet and low, and Kanan shivered to hear it. "Between missions, when all our planning is done, during downtime in hyperspace, when the kids are asleep..." Kanan chuckled, running his hand down one of her lekku and smirking when the woman softly gasped with pleasure.

"That kid is more than ten years older than me." Hera swiftly kissed his cheek.

"Then he'll understand. It's no secret that we're together, love, and if he's going to be a part of this crew, he's going to know anyway." She pointed with her thumb to the door. "His room would be right down the hall, and he does have superior hearing."

"Oh, great..." Kanan grumbled. "Just what I need. A cat hearing what I'm up to in my downtime." Hera chuckled and shook her head.

"Shall we go see what kind of mess the two of them have made?"

"Do we have to?" The Twi'lek stroked his chin, shot him a coy smile, and with a sigh, Kanan pushed himself off the wall.

"...Kanan," Hera said softly as the Jedi started toward the door. Kanan looked at her over his shoulder. "We did good work today, and...I'm proud of you for taking a chance on him." The Jedi answered with a playful smirk and a roll of his eyes. "We'll find some time tonight," she promised, gently taking his hand. "For us."

"For us..." Kanan replied, breathless as he leaned down to kiss her, only to be interrupted once again by a loud, metallic clang and the frantic cries from the astromech. Kanan winced, and laughing, Hera patted him on the cheek.

"Come on. We've got to get out there before they tear the Ghost apart."

"Hey..." Kanan drawled as the door slid open and Chopper shot past them, beeping very rudely to a closely pursuing Zeb. "If they did, at least we'd have some peace and quiet."

"You shouldn't even be here!" Obi-Wan Kenobi paced back and forth in the hold of the Umbra, the large space open and outfitted to serve as a training hall, crates blackened from carbon scoring from blaster fire, lined with slashes from a lightsaber, twisted and bent with the Force. In the corner lay Yoda, the beast flat on its belly as he watched his Master's furious, predatory stalking, growling deeply with each inhale it the Sith's agitation. In the middle of the room stood the subject of Kenobi's ire, arms crossed and bored.

"Of course I should be here," Ahsoka Tano said yet again. The subject kept looping back to this, and she was growing tired of the Sith's anxiety. If the man were a Jedi, she imagined that it would come across as being high-strung, and that struck her as...endearing. But for a Sith, anxiety became rage, and while she wasn't afraid, the ship was much colder than necessary. Quinlan Vos, it turned out, was never kidding about the fact that Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi's problems could have all been solved with alcohol and an ample amount of sex. At the very least, it might have relaxed him a bit.

"Prince Organa needs you, Obi-Wan," Ahsoka said firmly. "We have a fleet now, and we need a base. We can't just keep them flying around space forever, we'll be caught."

"You have spies everywhere," he snarled. "Send out a scouting team and look for yourself! You know better than I do what you need!"

Ahsoka scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being difficult."

"I'm being followed, Ahsoka!" he snapped, standing before her in a flash and staring down at her with tense, furious eyes. "I don't know who, or what, but I know something's out there baiting me!"

"Ah, see, that's different from being followed," Ahsoka said, poking the man in the chest and smirking when he growled savagely. She crossed her arms. "And I agree. You're being observed. Not all the time, but under certain conditions." Kenobi arched an eyebrow, and the Togruta just smirked. "After you withdrew last year, Bail ordered that we investigate your claims." She punched his shoulder, and the Sith sneered. "See? You aren't the only one who looks out for people."

Kenobi frowned as he looked Ahsoka over, felt her through the Force, tried to enter her mind and was immediately repelled. He smirked, pleased at how strong she had grown. As a Jedi, she had never been able to resist him. But what she did now was everything Quinlan had ever taught her, coupled with her own knowledge, her own experience, her own need, and it had made her powerful. Not dark, not light, just strong. She had grown into stunning womanhood, both as a Force wielder and physically. Quinlan would have been proud and terribly turned on.

Obi-Wan's displeasure slowly turned into bittersweet pain deep within him, and a sad smile crossed his face when he looked at Quinlan's lightsaber hanging on Ahsoka's belt. He lived on in so many ways, through his Padawan, and in a way, through Leia, who shared his rare gift of psychometry, a thing that was proving to be just as useful to her as it had been to the Kiffar and, appropriately, was landing her in just as much trouble. Being able to track the way that Quinlan had was making Luke and Leia something of a terror to anyone that wanted to keep secrets. Teenagers thought they knew everything, but the twins actually did. Poor Bail had to keep practically everything locked away.

Sighing deeply, Kenobi dropped to the floor, legs folded underneath him, and a moment later, Ahsoka did the same. "...so what did you learn?"

"Well, you are being observed, but it doesn't seem like they have the ability to track you. So long as you're out of Imperial sight, you're invisible, as always." Obi-Wan slowly nodded. If anyone knew, it was Ahsoka, the rebel Fulcrum agent had a very long reach.

"So, what, they're trying to lure me out?" he asked softly. "That's no different from anything else they've done before, but this is different. I can feel it, something's changed, and I haven't caught wind of Tarkin or Vader at all." Kenobi hissed. "I feel like I'm behind glass. I don't like it."

"Looks to me like you're being tested," Ahsoka said softly. "And you're showing up for all the tests, whether you like it or not." She pointed at him. "Feel like you're a Padawan again, hmm?"

"Yeah, kind of. I hate it." He ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes they withdraw, sometimes they stay and fight."

"And no matter what you do, they're learning how you fight, what draws you out, what keeps you away, what your assets are. Our scouts were right. They aren't trying to capture you or kill you, they're writing the book on your behavior."

Kenobi steepled his fingers together as he thought. "I need to find out who this guy is, and I need to put an end to him."

"Which you can't do," Ahsoka said softly. "Go after him, and he's just going to be watching and learning. You'll be walking into a trap, and unlike before, you know way less about this guy than he knows about you. This isn't Tarkin or Vader you're dealing with. This isn't something you can do alone." She smiled. "Care for a trade?" Kenobi arched an eyebrow.

"I don't like sharing."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "No, I know you aren't a team player, Kenobi." She laid her hand on her chest. "But I'm Fulcrum. I assign missions for our rebel agents, and you, Kenobi, are the very best we've got." Her features hardened as she became serious, the Togruta looking over the man carefully. "Your paranoia has kept you out of the fight for almost two years, Obi-Wan, except when your mysterious admirer manages to draw you out of hiding."

"It isn't paranoia, it's-"

"Anxiety then, Obi-Wan, are you really going to debate semantics with me right now, Negotiator?" The edge of Obi-Wan's lips twitched into a sneer, but he kept his mouth closed. "Hunted or not, we need you back in the fight, and I have a mission for you."

"I can't," he said swiftly. "I have too much to do on my own."

"And you're doing none of it for fear of being watched!" Ahsoka sighed. "Obi-Wan. Please. I know you feel this project of the Empire is your responsibility, I know you want to find out what they're doing and ruin it, but you can't, not without playing right into the hands of the one who's looking." She extended her had to him. "But I can. Thanks to you, our rebellion has grown. We have ships now, lots of them, a united cause, thousands of people ready to stand and fight."

"It isn't enough!" Obi-Wan hissed, but the Togruta just smiled.

"No. But it will be. And soon." She held her hand out to him again. "Tell me what you're hunting. Tell me who you're hunting. Tell me what your missions are and my people will see it done."

"If I can't, what make you think you can?"

"We aren't being watched." She smiled. "They don't know we're here." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and held it. Two years, he had spent apart from the galaxy, separating himself from the fight against the Empire in favor of staying with his children as they entered their teens. Occasionally, he'd get word about an ally in danger, like that mess last year with Hondo, and he'd rush in to save them. But they were traps. All of them. Baited especially for him to allow his secret watcher to take notes. Each time he'd foray out to do something disruptive, the next trap would reflect that. No matter where he went, someone was watching. So he disappeared, unable to get through to his highly guarded targets.

Over ten years of Imperial rule saw them becoming more efficient, more effective, Palpatine's grip tightening on everything. But with time came monotony, and while the Empire was practically everywhere, the doldrums had set in, and the further from the Core one traveled, the more lax the Empire became on worlds where they had little investment. Things were nearly ripe for rebellion. It was almost time.

"...oversight of the project belongs to Grand Moff Tarkin," Kenobi said after consideration, and Ahsoka sat back on her heels, attentively listening. "As Governor of the Outer Rim, the project's location falls under his supervision, but he's just the overseer. The project director is a man by the name of Orson Krennic. If we're going to know exactly what this thing they're building is, how it works, and if it's even possible, then we need to get to him."

Ahsoka nodded in understanding. "I take it that we're looking at a weapon. The Empire loves its weapons."

"A battle station, yeah. One of enormous size."

"Where?"

"Planet called Scarif in the Abrion sector. Extremely remote. Don't bother trying to get in, it's a one way trip, and the entierty of the project isn't based there anyway. They have research centers and construction centers all over the galaxy. Taking one out isn't going to stop them, and I haven't been able to identify more than a handful."

"And you're just one man with one ship." Kenobi smiled sadly.

"Even a Lord of the Sith can only do so much. I may be powerful, but I'm fighting against other Sith, and none of them are weak. If they were, I'd have killed them already."

Ahsoka nodded. "The Empire has tightened security around its most valuable assets, but if there's a way to Orson Krennic, we'll find it." She smiled when she felt relief wash over Kenobi, the tension in his shoulders suddenly vanishing and leaving him tired and worn, but relaxed. "Anything else?"

"Luminara." Obi-Wan looked up at her, his golden eyes narrowed and intense, and Ahsoka could feel the strength of his feelings for her. "She's alive, I found her a few years back, and since she's being hunted, she's stayed on the run, but I've...helped her. More than once. Just to escape, lay low for a while, and help her back into hiding. She contacts me when she needs help, but...I haven't heard from her."

"By the sound of your arrangement, it sounds like she's safe," Ahsoka drawled, and the Sith suddenly became more fearsome.

"It's been two years."

"...oh." Ahsoka frowned. "Can you sense her?"

"No," he said swiftly. "I'd say something was wrong, but she's in hiding. I shouldn't be able to sense her, or those that are hunting her would be able to as well." Ahsoka looked down when she felt Obi-Wan's cold hand close around hers, the Sith Lord looking desperate. "I need to know she's safe," he said softly, his voice tight with concern and care and what felt like love to the empathetic Togruta. "Please. I need to know. Something. Anything. This galaxy's a big place, I can't watch all of it."

"I'll attend to that one personally," she said softly, squeezing his hand and smiling. "If she's out there, I'll find her." She patted his hand. "Anything else?" Kenobi shook his head absently. "Since I'm taking your missions," she said, eying the man before her, "you're free to take my mission."

There was silence for a long while, and Ahsoka thought that Kenobi didn't hear her, or else was ignoring her on purpose. "What mission?" he finally asked, and Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief, exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"As I said, we need a rebel base. We need you to scout planets where we can hide a fleet and soldiers and plan for the war against the Empire."

"We aren't ready yet," he said swiftly. "My Mandalorians aren't fully grown, many of them are still teenagers, children." Ahsoka gave him a look.

"I was fighting a war when I was fourteen."

"And you were a child. Teenagers are children, as capable as they think they are." Ahsoka looked at him carefully, tried to gauge him, but found nothing, as usual, though she knew he was talking from personal experience. They never discussed them, never even mentioned them since she had first met them, but Ahsoka knew that the Sith Lord's twins were teenagers now. This was more personal for him than she realized. No wonder he had disappeared, no wonder he had descended into paranoia, he was raising teenagers.

"I didn't say we're ready for an open rebellion now," Ahsoka said reassuringly. "In a few years. We still need more time. And if we're going to keep hidden, we need a base."

"I'll forward you a list of suitable planets," Kenobi said swiftly, taking out his datapad and sliding his finger across it, and after a few swift taps, Ahsoka's comlink beeped with the message.

"You...already have a list?"

"I've been scouting for a while." He shrugged. "Camping trips. Don't ask." The tension returned to Kenobi's face. "There. I've done my part for the Rebel Alliance. Now, if you want to stay hidden, you'll get away from me."

"Why?" Ahsoka chirped, carefree and easy. "You just completed your last mission, so...sounds to me like you're free." Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"Now what..."

"Nothing much. Ever heard of Lothal?" Obi-Wan shrugged indifferently and nodded, but inside him, he felt...something. A tug, a pull, a whisper from deep within, the gentle hand of the Force pushing him to where he needed to go. "Outer Rim," Ahsoka explained anyway. "It's become a major hub of Imperial industry. They're one of the galaxy's largest supplier of Imperial starships. It's become something of a core world away from the core. The natives welcomed the Empire in, but after what they've done there, the planet is in a state of unrest."

Kenobi groaned. "This is a recruitment mission..."

"It's not just that, Kenobi, they're getting raw materials, making parts to something, and shipping them out. That sounds an awful lot like your secret project." She had his full attention now. "If we can sabotage their starships, if we can get people inside their factories, we can-"

"You've been studying my war strategies..." Obi-Wan said, smirking. "Alright. I'll take a look. Anything else, Lady Tano?" Ahsoka leaned in toward him, the Sith looking at her suspiciously.

"I think," she said softly, "that we need the Shadow King of Mandalore." Obi-Wan drew away immediately. "Kenobi, we lost contact with Bo-Katan years ago because Tarkin won't let her out of his sights. She isn't a prisoner, but if she isn't free to lead her people, Mandalore won't just be pretending to be Imperial for long. They need another option. They need to remember that they are Mandalorian. We destabilize the Mandalorian territories, and it's going to weaken Tarkin's hold on the Outer Rim, and it might free up Bo-Katan long enough to get her back in the loop." Ahsoka took his hands in hers. "We need the Shadow King."

"You know this could see the Mandalorians crushed under Imperial rule, right?"

"Which will send them running to you." Ahsoka sighed. "I know it's a risk, but it's one we have to try. Sundari burned, Obi-Wan, and their Mand'alor died, but they still have you. They called you king, Obi-Wan, and Bo-Katan hasn't been shy in the past about telling her warriors that you're their Mand'alor. They will follow you. You just need to ask."

"It's too soon for this," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head.

"Yes, but the groundwork needs to be laid now. You're being observed. Time to force their hand."

He didn't like this. Obi-Wan had never liked rushing into a situation where he didn't know his opponent, but the longer he waited, the more his enemy learned. Invisible or no, if he gave them something to look at, perhaps he could alter how he was viewed. Confusion had always been his strong point. Perhaps his mystery watcher would see through it. Perhaps he would know that now the observer was being observed. But it didn't matter. He needed to draw this person out, and the only way to do that was to make his presence known. People would be suffering anyway. It may as well be on his terms.

"Alright, Fulcrum," Obi-Wan said softly. "I'll see what I can do."

She nodded, a frown on her face. "Obi-Wan. I want revenge for my Master." Kenobi's eyes drifted to the lightsaber at her belt, a saber he missed, but he knew it was in the right hands. It was the weapon of a Jedi, of a man that learned to walk in darkness, but in his final moments, had stepped into the light to save the girl that now carried his blade. His student should have it.

"We'll get it together, Ahsoka," the Sith Lord growled. "I can promise you that."

Her name was Sabine Wren, and she was a Mandalorian, not of the Imperial variety, but of the rougher, wilder bounty hunter type, one of those belonging to the few clans that rejected the claim of Bo-Katan as Mand'alor, a title that wasn't inherited, but earned, and there were those that believed that what she had accomplished was at the grace of another, just as she had risen through the Imperial ranks, not by merit, but by getting close to the right man. Sabine loved Mandalore, but she hated what the Empire had done to it, hated that a Mandalorian would sell her people's independence for power, and so she ran, became a bounty hunter, became part of a team, and that team had betrayed her, left her for dead, and Sabine had nothing.

She was an artist, a free spirit, one that couldn't be contained by the shackles of the Empire, one that needed the space to fly and fight, and with a heart beating for Mandalore, the young warrior decided to bring her fight to the Empire. That she was a genius with explosives, an expert in weapons of all kinds, and an artist of destruction didn't hurt either, and when Hera entered Kanan's room with that look in her eye, he knew he was in for a fight.

"No!" Kanan said as soon as the door closed, and Hera immediately crossed her arms, her foot tapping impatiently upon the ground. Her battle stance. "I admit, I was wrong about Zeb. He's turned out to be very useful, but I'm putting my foot down here." He stomped his foot upon the ground. "No Mandalorians!"

"And what's wrong with Mandalorians?" Hera calmly asked. Kanan looked at her like she was crazy.

"Are you serious?! What's wrong with Mandalorians!? You mean, besides everything?!"

"Yes, besides that."

"Well, they're crazy!" Kanan said, counting off on his fingers. "Violent, bloodthirsty, gun slinging murderers, the whole lot of them! Oh, and they serve the Empire! Those that don't are bounty hunters, which are professional killers, by the way." He grinned wildly, a clear indication of his stress. "So they kill people for work and for recreation. Great bunch." Hera simply shrugged, sauntered up to Kanan, and pushed him back to sit on his bed.

"Sabine's different," she said softly.

"Uh, no. No she isn't." Kanan pointed to his temple. "Hello, Hera, are you in there? She is an explosions enthusiast! On today's mission, she blew up the entire hangar bay as we left!"

"Well, we weren't pursued by any Imperials, were we?"

"She shot three stormtroopers." He paused. "In the face!"

"They were good shots!" Hera crossed her arms, standing tall before the Jedi. "Fighting against the Empire means killing stormtroopers, Kanan, and you do your fair share of it." She pointed an accusing finger at his chest. "This isn't about Sabine, so what is it?" Kanan sneered and looked away, his fingers drumming against the armor on his right arm.

"...it's the Shadow King," he finally whispered, and Hera's eyes widened, carefully observing the man as she sat down beside him. "You saw the broadcast last month. It was the only thing on the HoloNet on Empire Day," Kanan said mockingly. Hera lightly touched the Jedi's hand, her eyes searching her face. She didn't understand.

"Kanan, I saw that broadcast as a call to arms against the Empire. He's doing what we're doing, but on a much larger scale."

"We're not the same as him!" Hera recoiled from the sudden flash of anger, so unusual for her temperate, measured lover, and watched him curiously as he put his face in his hands and took deep, calming breaths. "We aren't the same..." he said again, calmer this time. "We saw him before," Kanan whispered, and Hera looked at him, confused for a moment before her eyes widened in understanding.

"On the Forager," she said softly. "Back when I met you on Gorse, the one that killed Vidian, the one that helped us." Kanan silently nodded. "He used the Force," Hera whispered excitedly. "He had a lightsaber. Kanan, he's a Jedi."

"No," he said, shaking his head, his eyes wide with fear. "No, not a Jedi. Not like me. And not like us." There were very few things in this galaxy that could make Kanan Jarrus afraid, but Hera saw fear in him now, raw and primal and planted so deep within him it seemed impossible to uproot. She didn't understand why, but there were things at work that were beyond her, far bigger than her, and it was always something she accepted. She was a small part of something larger. One day, there would be a wide-spread galactic rebellion against the Empire that oppressed them. One day, the people would become organized, would realize that there was more at stake then their friends, their families, their homes, even their planets. That day wasn't now, but there were forces at work that would see it come to pass. Hera was a small pert of that, and that was good enough for her. Some things were just bigger than one person, one crew could ever be.

She had heard of the Shadow King before, but he was exactly that. A shadow. A story. A myth, part of the legends that parents told to frighten children into behaving, part of the Mandalorian stories they told to instil fear into those that opposed them, part of the tales surrounding the cursed world of Ord Mantell, a once thriving planet reduced to ash and boiling seas, made inhabitable because the Shadow King of Mandalore had reached out and brushed his hand upon it. Hera never put much stock into stories like this. Fear so often transformed ordinary people into gods and monsters, and there was a reasonable explanation to all of it. Ord Mantell had been victim of a natural disaster, and the Shadow King was a fable, the rallying cry of a people that had been devastated by the criminal thugs that killed their peaceful Empress, a demon of vengeance unleashed that protected Mandalore, that raised them up when they were at their lowest. If the Shadow King was ever real, and Hera doubted he was, then he was just a man made myth by desperation and grief. Nothing more.

Of course, now there was a Shadow King, a man that had stepped forward, clad in Mandalorian armor that called for the Children of Mandalore to take back their identity, to become Mandalorian once again by forcing the Empire out. A man that demanded that his people obey him when he calls them to action. Calling himself Shadow King was symbolic, of course, picking up the mantle of a myth clad in fear and victory to inspire Mandalore into action. Hera knew well the power of a symbol to a people that were suffering, and while it didn't look like Mandalore was suffering, Sabine had said it best. The Empire had stripped them of their culture, forced them to serve, to ask no questions, had taken their pride and their honor, indoctrinated them into willing service to a master, had made them all dar'Manda, Mandalorians that had lost their heritage, and therefore, their identity and soul. And that was the worst thing of all.

Kanan had shut down when he saw the broadcast, which is why they had yet to discuss it. Kanan was careful and cautious, and while they were doing good work, the former Jedi had been reluctant to the idea of joining with something larger than what they were doing now. Larger in this case meant military, meant war, and Hera wasn't sure if Kanan was ready for another war, and he was certainly mistrustful of soldiers. But where Kanan saw danger, Hera saw an opportunity. This Shadow King, to her discerning eye, looked like an ally, and if it was the same man that had worked with them in the background, in the shadows in their fight against Count Vidian, then that man was a Jedi.

Or, so it seemed, but she knew nothing about the Force. Kanan, on the other hand, did, and as soon as he had seen the broadcast, as soon as he had seen the Mandalorian warrior stand between them and Vidian on Forager, Kanan Jarrus ran. And for a man that rarely expressed fear, terror could only mean one thing. He knew something, and he wasn't sharing.

"Kanan..." Hera said softly, scooting closer to the man and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If you know something about this man, you need to tell me. If he's something dangerous, something bad, then I need to know, because from where I'm standing, he looks like an ally."

"An ally?" Kanan scoffed in disbelief, and Hera held up a hand to silence him.

"Hear me out," she said softly, "and I promise you, I will listen to what you have to say." Kanan looked at her for a long moment, teal eyes more intense than she had ever seen them, and slowly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close, and the Twi'lek could feel his body trembling.

"Go on, then." he whispered, and Hera took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts.

"This...Shadow King," she started carefully, "has become a symbol of rebellion overnight, not just for the Mandalorians, but for anyone that feels the Empire has taken everything from them. He isn't inspiring a small, isolated uprising, he's calling for something bigger, and if this is the same guy from Gorse, well, he isn't just a symbol, he's actually doing something about it. He's a rebel." She looked up into Kanan's face, hard and cold and unmoved, and sighed. This may not have been an argument she could win. "We've been talking about doing more. We've been talking about doing something bigger, which is why we're expanding the team, but this is our chance to be with something larger, something organized, something that could make a real difference. And if he has the Force-"

"He does have the Force, Hera," Kanan swiftly interrupted. "But he's not a Jedi and he's not like me. There are things you don't understand about the Force."

"Then make me understand," Hera pleaded, gently stroking his cheek. "Please." Kanan looked at her for a long while before he sighed heavily and drew the Twi'lek closer, holding on to her for comfort and reassurance.

"His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said quietly, and Hera drew back.

"What, the Separatist leader?" she asked in disbelief, and when Kanan nodded, she couldn't help but laugh. "That isn't possible. Mandalore was neutral in the Clone Wars. If he was their king, why wouldn't they have joined with the Separatists?"

"I really don't know," he said softly. "I was young at the time, and there were so much rumors and confusion surrounding the matter it was hard to keep straight. But my Master always said that Obi-Wan was the Shadow King, and after what we saw on Forager...well, it didn't leave any room for doubt. That was the Shadow King. That was Obi-Wan."

"He had the Force," Hera said, and Kanan's eyes tightened around her.

"Y-yeah." He took a deep breath. "Obi-Wan used to be a Jedi. He was a legend. And then he ruined it all when he betrayed the Jedi Order." Kanan laughed bitterly. "The Jedi Traitor. The Fallen Knight. Hera, Obi-Wan, the Shadow King, is a Sith Lord." He stuttered when Hera looked at him without understanding. "They're Dark Jedi," he quickly explained. "Those that have the Force but use their powers for evil, for selfishness and greed, for cruelty. The dark brothers of the Jedi Order, and because of him, because of Obi-Wan..." He growled in frustration and ran a hand over his hair. "He tore the Jedi apart from the inside, he fractured us, bested our greatest Masters. He even fought my Master, Depa Billaba, before I was her student, and that...monster left her broken, entered her mind and tore her apart so badly that she was in a coma for years."

Hera shook her head in disbelief. That couldn't be possible...could it? "How is any of that even possible?" she asked softly, but Kanan just shook his head.

"I don't know, but he did it. Master Billaba never talked about Obi-Wan much, but she knew she could never defeat him, so..." Kanan growled in frustration. "He destroyed the Jedi, Hera. From the inside. The Masters were so focused on tracking that traitor down, on bringing him to justice that it was all we could see." He sighed heavily. "If it wasn't for him, maybe we would have sensed the Republic's betrayal."

"...but he was a Separatist, wasn't he?" Kanan nodded slowly, his eyes shut tight. "This makes it almost seem like they were working together."

"...I admit it doesn't make much sense," Kanan said quietly. "I tried not to think about it much, but the Jedi thought the Sith were in the Republic too. The clones betrayed us, but maybe the Sith made it happen. This whole thing is the work of the Dark Side."

"...and he's fighting against the Empire now."

"Oh no, Hera, don't even go down that path," Kanan warned. "He isn't an ally. He isn't part of some noble cause, he isn't fighting because it's the right thing to do. We need spirit, and you said yourself that all the capability in the world is worth nothing without conscience, and he has none. The Dark Side has warped and corrupted him, like it does to everything. He might be fighting against the Empire now, but that's only because, eventually, the Dark Side always turns in on itself. Betrayal and greed and lust for power drive them, and soon enough, we're going to be fighting against him too."

"But what if-"

"If nothing, Hera," Kanan said firmly, grabbing her arms and looking her in the eye. "We see him, we run, and that's all. You heard him when we were trying to save Cynda. He brushed everyone but you and me off as insignificants. He thought it was a shame that he had to kill Vidian! He was in favor of letting the moon be destroyed! Life doesn't matter to him at all."

Hera sighed heavily. Kanan was right, of course. The cold, ruthless lack of conscience had horrified her as well. But still, he had provided them information and a means to save the moon he didn't care about, curious and amused and completely unaffected. It was...chilling, yes, but maybe there was more. At the very least, it seemed like getting to know more about this Shadow King was of the utmost importance, if not to determine if he could be a potential ally, then to arm themselves with knowledge in the event that one day, they'd have to stand against him. Of course, there was a lot of unknowns in this equation, a lot of assumptions, a lot of things that just seemed off to the Twi'lek.

"If nothing else, he sounds dangerous," Hera quietly mused, and Kanan nodded.

"He is."

"But to who."

"To everyone," Kanan said firmly. "To all life, everywhere. Maybe he's against the Empire now, but when they're gone, someone else will be next. That's the nature of the Dark Side, Hera, you just keep feeding it and feeding it and it's never enough." He shrugged. "That's what Master Billaba said, in any case."

"Are you sure that the man we saw on Forager was the Shadow King? Are you even sure that it was Obi-Wan?" Kanan growled in irritation and let go of the Twi'lek, his elbows on his knees and his hands pressed together.

"No..." he finally said. "I'm not sure of anything. I just...I felt the Dark Side on him, Hera, he carried a red lightsaber, that's the weapon of the Sith, I just..." He shook his head. "I don't know. There's so much I don't know. And if I learned anything from the Jedi about the Sith, it's really dangerous to go around making assumptions about them...that's how they got into such trouble with Kenobi."

"Sounds to me like we need more information before we decide anything," Hera said softly as she caressed Kanan's clenched jaw, and with a sigh, Kanan slowly nodded. A devious smirk crossed the Twi'lek's lips. "You know who would know more about this Shadow King?" Kanan slowly looked at the woman beside him. "Sabine."

"Oh no," Kanan said quickly. "No, no, no, no, no. No Mandalorians."

"She doesn't serve the Empire!"

"No, but what happens when that Shadow King of hers come to call, hmm?" Kanan shot Hera a look that dared her to challenge him. "What happens if he is a Sith Lord, what then? Will she go running to fight for him and abandon us?" He scoffed. "We're inviting a traitor in, and Sith kill Jedi. Mandalorians kill Jedi! It's too dangerous."

"Does Sabine strike you as the type to follow orders?" Hera asked, crossing her arms across her chest. She'd meet his challenge. Hera Syndulla wasn't intimidated by Kanan Jarrus.

"And isn't that part of the problem?" Kanan asked slyly. "She doesn't listen. She is young and brash and...and explosion happy!" The crooked smile on Hera's lips said to Kanan that she liked that about her. "You really want her for this team, don't you..." he asked, already defeated, and with a smile, Hera laid her hand upon his chest and leaned in toward him.

"I really do. We need a strong, capable team if we're going to take on the Empire by ourselves, and Sabine is strong and capable." She sighed heavily. "If there's a greater resistance out there...I don't know, maybe things would be different then, but it's just us" She kissed him softly, felt his tension melt away, felt his arm snake around her waist.

"I'm just worried about it..." Kanan said, breaking away from her, his tension returning. "Mandalorians...it just doesn't seem smart, not with this Shadow King in the mix. Power without conscience...that's no better than the Empire, and we have to be better than them."

"Sabine is better, love," Hera said, smiling gently and stroking the tense man's leg. "She's an artist. A free spirit. She served the Empire, she believed in it, and she felt smothered by them, so she left. She is strong willed, Kanan, and she doesn't trust blindly. She's been hurt too many times for that."

"And she doesn't trust us," he said, pointing at his chest.

Hera smiled softly and stroked his hair back as she kissed his jaw line. "She just met us. Give her time. And she did do well on today's mission. Without her, we wouldn't have gotten away so easily."

Kanan sighed heavily, a soft smile on his face. Despite his objections, Hera had won this fight a long time ago. "Yeah. She did good. She's...feisty. Getting her to follow orders isn't going to be easy."

"Orders she disagrees with, maybe, and you can bet she'll throw paint over everything, but..." Hera smiled. "I think she'll do what we ask if she knows what we're doing is making a difference." The Twi'lek ran her hands down his chest, watching his face as he smiled in contentment. "She's a free spirit, love. If this Shadow King looks like bad news, she'll fight against that too."

"...yeah, maybe," Kanan grumbled, groaning loudly as he stretched. "And now we have an actual child on the ship. We barely had time alone as it was, but now that's definitely over with."

"Oh, I don't know..." Hera said slyly, slinking into Kanan's lap, and the Jedi's hands rested on her hips. "She is an artist. She's got to spend some time painting. All the galaxy is that girl's canvas, and the Imperial drabness offends her. She did say she was going to repaint her armor." She paused to kiss her lover. "And her hair..."

"The more you talk about her, the more I like her..." Kanan said, his voice low and husky as he dragged Hera against him. "Creative thinking is essential in our line of work..."

"Mmhmm..." They kissed, deep and passionate, the first time they had been able to have a moment to themselves in weeks, and they had missed this, had needed it, and Hera quickly pulled Kanan's shirt up, running her hands over his strong, defined stomach, the Jedi moaning softly at her touch.

They both jumped, parting swiftly when there was a loud banging on Kanan's door, and they leapt to their feet, flushed and breathless and quickly straightening out their disheveled clothing. "Kanan!" Zeb called through his incessant pounding, "come quick, that Mandalorian's crazy, just like you said!"

Kanan grit his teeth as he tried to suppress his need. It wasn't working. "Zeb, so help me, she's-"

"She's painting one of the passenger seats in the cockpit!"

"She's what?!" Hera snapped, slamming her hand on the door controls and racing down the hall toward the offending Mandalorian's new masterpiece. "Sabine Wren, don't you dare defile my ship!" Hera screamed, pounding on the locked door of the cockpit.

"I'm not defiling it!" Came Sabine's muffled reply from the cockpit where she worked. "I'm improving it!" Kanan stuck his head out of his room and looked toward Hear, who was screaming for Chopper to come and override the lock. Zeb looked at Kanan, his hair disheveled, a faint blush on his cheeks, and snickered.

"We aren't...interrupting anything, are we?" Zeb growled, endlessly amused, and the Jedi shot him a glare that could kill.

"Hey, Hera," he drawled lazily. "I changed my mind. Throw the Mandalorian out the airlock."

"When I get my hands on her, I'm going to!"

From inside the cockpit, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of spray paint and soft, amused laughter.

Lothal hung before them, a planet of green and blue and tan, an agricultural world once, turned into a world of industry by the Empire, a world where the farmland had been transformed, mined for minerals and gems and crystals, resources that the earth was rich in. Covering the landscape now were enormous factories and assembly plants belonging to ship manufacturers, churning out TIE Fighters and Star Destroyers at an alarming rate, along with hundreds of other projects that the Empire required. They received shipments of raw materials throughout the galaxy that were quickly transformed into parts and pieces for other projects that were then shipped elsewhere for assembly at other plants in other locations. The whole thing seemed a bit roundabout, but if sabotage was a major concern, and it was, keeping the components separate made sense. It made it easier to locate the source of the problem.

Obi-Wan didn't understand what made Lothal special, other than the fact that the people of the planet had welcomed the Empire with open arms, hoping that the neglected farm world would see an economic boom with the Imperial interest. They did, but not in the way they expected, and thousands of people were relocated, their farms and lands seized by the Empire, and the people were forced to work in the strip mines that covered the land that once was there homes. They had been relocated to shanty towns that were barely livable, little villages called Tarkin towns, named after the Grand Moff of the Outer Rim, the one who decided the conditions they should live in. Everything about them was poor, and the people were soon left regretting the day the Empire came.

Fulcrum was right. This planet was primed for rebellion.

Of course, Kenobi didn't actually care about the people there. These were farmers, crushed under the yoke of the Empire, miserable and afraid and they would never amount to anything. They were better off forgotten. However, there were broadcasts out of the city encouraging resistance to the Empire, but by the time Kenobi had gotten there, the rebels, a husband and wife team with the last name Bridger, were gone, and had been gone for a long time. The broadcasts were recordings, replayed by another who stayed very well hidden. He'd find them eventually.

It had taken Obi-Wan a few months to actually make it out here. There were other planets he had wanted to scout for the eventual rebel base, none of which were terribly comfortable, which helped in keeping people away, and re-establishing himself as the Shadow King was far more difficult than intended. The things he had done were bolder, more brash than anything he had done since the Clone Wars, not done to cause damage, which he had, but to get people talking. Even Yoda, Grandmaster of the Rancors, got in on the action, released in an Imperial stormtrooper garrison on Concord Dawn in the Mandalore system.

It had worked, and while the Empire had been trying to silence all media and transmissions that even mentioned the name of the Mandalorian Lord, stopping people from talking was far, far more difficult. The radical change in tactics, he had hoped, would prove confusing for his secret watcher, though he suspected that whoever he was, was devilishly intelligent and saw the act for exactly what it was: an acknowledgment that a game was being played, and it was the watcher's move.

The Empire was left in a tricky situation with how to deal with the Shadow King's spectacular re-emergence, and what they settled on was the most logical choice. This man was an imitation. A traitorous dissident. A mockery of Mandalore's legendary, respected Shadow King. It couldn't be him. The real Shadow King was dead and gone, had to be, and if not, would have been a man past his prime, incapable of the feats that the pretender was capable of. Analysis of the traitor's movements put him as a young man in his early twenties, while the old one would have been in his fifties. This was a young man making a mockery of the proud Mandalorians, a traitor that sought to seize power through deceit.

It was the official story, in any case. How else did one explain something as insane as immortality? How did one explain to the average person that the Separatist Leader Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator, a man that had never been officially caught, never aged past twenty five? How were they to explain that the fifty year old Negotiator was the twenty year old Shadow King? They didn't. Instead, Obi-Wan Kenobi was scrubbed from the record, a dangerous menace finally caught in hiding on a remote world and very, very publically executed.

Obi-Wan didn't feel bad for the poor fool that stood in his place, an older man that looked a great deal like he would have had his hair and beard ever grown white with age. To the galaxy, he no longer existed, which was both a blessing and a curse. His name had carried weight. Fear. An inspiration to others that showed that resistance was possible, that the Empire was nothing to be feared if they couldn't capture one man, if they were made into fools by him, and were they to attribute his name to the Shadow King as well, it would have been open rebellion, one powerful, intimidating figure to stand strong against Palpatine's rule.

Instead, they killed Obi-Wan and made the Mandalorian Lord an insult to the proud warriors he imitated, claiming to be king when he had done nothing to earn it. If anything, the Imperial propaganda machine was terribly powerful. If one controlled information, then one controlled everything, and Sidious had always been very good at that. By killing Kenobi, they fought one enemy instead of two, and the one was...small. Hardly worthy of note. A young upstart that would soon be apprehended. Were Kenobi to be alive, the fearsome Separatist leader revealed to also be the Shadow King...well, that was a hell of a scary opponent. Though people still talked. They still whispered. And the war orphans raised by the proud Mandalorians, children with the power of the Force, they knew.

On the bright side, his official death made it a fair bit easier to simply disappear. It was like having a clean slate, and he was hoping to keep it that way, at least until the rebellion was ready. He's have to thank Sidious right before he killed him. He wondered how many knew the truth. Vader, obviously. Maul, of course. Tarkin certainly did, but Obi-Wan didn't think that Sidious would be so careless to reveal such a thing to anyone but his inner circle. He wondered if his watcher knew. He must have.

...who was this guy?

"You know..." Cody drawled in the co-pilot's seat, his gaze focused out the forward viewport at Lothal. "For such an important Imperial planet, you'd think they'd have more Star Destroyers in orbit."

"Why should they?" Obi-Wan quietly asked, his eyes closed as he immersed himself in the Force, his hand lightly clutched around the red pyramid of a Sith holocron. "The planet is heavily defended, and they need their ships to control the rest of the sector." He chuckled softly as a smirk crossed his face. "I hear there are rebels in the area."

"Yeah, small fish in a big pond," Cody scoffed. "They're just harrying them, it's nothing major."

"The smallest crack can make the dam break, brother..." Kenobi muttered, opening his palm and commanding the holocron to float before him and open, the soft glow of red filling the cockpit. "A single crew, from what we've seen." He opened his eyes and looked at the clone. "Do you agree?"

Cody nodded. "From what we've seen in their attacks, yeah. One rebel cell. One crew. One ship."

"We are of the same mind, though for such a small operation, they certainly cause a lot of damage."

Cody laughed. "Must have a Mandalorian on board."

"I believe that's a certainty." He frowned as an Imperial light cruiser came out of hyperspace in the distance and sped toward the planet before them. He knew the ship to be under the command of the ISB Agent Kallus, recently transferred to Lothal to deal with the rebel insurgency, little more than annoyances in the might of the Empire, but not to be tolerated in any case. He had no luck so far, just as Obi-Wan and Cody always arrived too late to get a glimpse of this rebel cell. Fulcrum had asked them to keep an eye out for recruits while he was out.

"He's never going to find them," Cody said, pointing at the Imperial ship. "That boy ain't an idiot, but if we can't intercept the rebels, there's no way he can. Are we even sure they're still out here? Honestly, Kenobi, we've been waiting here for days. Yoda's getting restless!"

"Yoda, is fine," the Sith Lord stressed. "You're just impatient. Aren't old men supposed to be patient?" Cody crossed his arms and slunk down in his seat, grumbling.

"I've told you a hundred times. I'm not old, I'm vintage." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

"The rebel attacks have all occurred on planets and supply convoys and stations surrounding here. Lothal. Imperials are using it as their base of operations in the sector to hunt the rebels, and I'm willing to guess that our rebel cell is doing the same. At some point, they will return here."

"We haven't been able to find them yet."

"Because they are good, Cody," Obi-Wan drawled, shutting his eyes once again. "They're very good. Worth our time. Worth our attention." If Cody responded, he didn't hear it, his consciousness pulled beneath the waters of the Force to flood his mind with visions, some clear, some vague, but at the end of it all, he found himself in his field of Jedi, the ashes falling from the sky like snow, and standing tall and proud stood the Padawan. Kanan. He had the vision often these days, one of the final visions from his early days that had yet to be resolved, though he felt the time was fast approaching.

There was something else. Something within the Force that drew his attention toward the planet below, a low hum, barely audible, but sitting in his mind like a headache, leaving him unable to focus on much else, and his thoughts wandered again to why. Why had the Empire taken Lothal? Why here, of all the worlds they could have chosen? There was something here, something secret, something hidden. Something the Empire wanted badly. There must have been a secret reason they were here, one that went beyond being invited there...

The hum became a soft ring, a melodic chime, a song on the winds of the Force, and Kenobi recognized it immediately. Kyber crystals. There were kyber crystals on Lothal. No wonder the Empire was mining the planet bare, the battle station they were crafting seemed to require vast amounts of kyber crystals to power it. He wondered if there was a Jedi Temple on the planet. Some secret, final holdout of the Jedi Order, a Temple long forgotten. He hadn't heard of any Temples during his tenure as a Jedi Knight, but then, the Jedi have always been a secretive bunch. He'd have to check. At the very least, it was worth investigating. Perhaps they kept holocrons of the...darker persuasion. The Jedi collected even those.

No matter how hard he tried to stay focused on it, his thoughts drifted back to the field of ash and death, and the lone man that stood in the middle of it all. But this time, it was different. This time, he could see him.

Teal eyes widened with fear, and the Jedi backed up, hands flying to his belt to grab two cylinders which he quickly clipped together, and a blue blade extended from his newly assembled lightsaber. Obi-Wan folded his hands before him, never reaching for his. This was a vision. He couldn't be hurt here. Neither said anything, the Jedi cautious and afraid, the Sith Lord still and curious. Obi-Wan could feel it, the Jedi's eyes looking right through him, the vision now a vision shared between both himself and this Jedi. This Kanan. He wondered if this Jedi had the training necessary to recognize the experience for what it was, or if he would simply brush it off as a nightmare, the recent "death" of Obi-Wan Kenobi bringing his image to the forefront of the Jedi's mind.

"Obi-Wan..." the Jedi finally whispered, staring the Sith Lord fearfully in the eye. Kenobi just smirked.

"Kanan." Teal eyes widened, fear becoming pure terror, and the man stumbled back, tripping over the body of a Jedi behind him, and with a panicked scream, Kanan scrambled to his feet, covered in ash and staring at the body of his Master, her body covered in scars left by a red lightsaber, and to his horror, he found himself lifted up with the Force, his eyes meeting the fiery, golden gaze of the Sith Lord. Obi-Wan reached out his hand to the frightened Jedi, fingers extended to touch his face, his gaze never leaving the frightened Jedi's eyes.

"Ship incoming, brother," Cody said swiftly, and with a sharp gasp, Obi-Wan was thrown out of the Force, his eyes flying open to stare out the viewport at a ship that appeared right before them, a modified VCX-100 light freighter, it's engines blazing as it flew toward the planet before them. Not an Imperial vessel. The Rebels.

Kanan was on that ship.

A slow grin spread across Kenobi's face to the confusion of Cody. Who simply shook his head. His boss, on his best days, was positively insane. "Those are our Rebels..." Kenobi said softly. Cody wasn't even surprised. Obi-Wan just knew things.

"Want to follow them?"

"No..." the Sith Lord said softly, staring at the ship as it disappeared into the planet's atmosphere. "We're going to watch them. I'm curious to see what they may do, and right now, they have my undivided attention."

Kyber crystals. The Empire's secret project. A clever rebel cell. A Jedi, one of the few that survived Order 66. All in one place.

Everything, it seemed, was converging on Lothal.