Star Wars Rebels: Hera & Kanan

Chapter Thirteen

(Two years prior to A New Dawn)

RYLOTH, 13 BBY.

Hera Syndulla was on her back, wedged underneath the bulk of an old, battle-scarred V-19 Torrent. She peered up into the guts of the ship, one gloved hand holding some wiring in place while the other groped around for the hydrospanner she'd recently tossed aside somewhere to her left.

"Hera."

Her searching hand stilled at the sound of her father's voice, and she let out a sigh. Looking up through her goggles into the tangle of the ship's innards, she carefully released the wires she'd been holding, and as she did so she dislodged a droplet of engine oil from a leaking hose. She watched it descend until it moved beyond her peripheral vision and splashed onto her forehead.

"Hera," Cham repeated, his tone flat. "Come out from under there."

She wiped roughly at her forehead, smearing the oil on both skin and glove, and began to wriggle her way out from beneath the ship. She knew it would not do to disobey the great Cham Syndulla, who never seemed to remember that he was speaking to his daughter, rather than one of his freedom fighters.

Once Hera had shimmied her way out, she ducked her head and grabbed the ship's wing with one hand, hoisting herself onto her feet. Her father stood before her with his arms crossed and head high, apparently oblivious to the bustle of the sandstone-walled hangar around them. The expression on his face as he looked at his daughter was no different than the expression he usually wore when regarding one of his warriors.

She lifted her goggles from her eyes and let them snap down onto the top of her head, meeting his gaze evenly despite the fact that their last conversation several days prior had turned ugly. "Yes, Father?"

"We have a visitor."

"What visitor?" she asked. Visitors- outsiders- were uncommon, and her curiosity was piqued.

Cham looked disapprovingly at the smear of engine oil on her forehead and her dirty flight suit. He had allowed her to learn how to fly because it was a skill that could be put into use in the service of freeing Ryloth. Her love of flying and desire to become a real pilot did not interest him; indeed, he had come to regard it as a childish dream unfit for the future leader of the Free Ryloth Movement.

"An emissary of Senator Organa of Alderaan," Cham said, his voice lowered. "She cannot stay long. Follow me." He turned and strode toward the hangar exit.

Hera dutifully followed her father through rough-hewn subterranean stone tunnels towards their compound. He had been grooming her for many years- she'd been trained since childhood by the finest warriors and pilots the Free Ryloth Movement had to offer. As of late, it seemed that the only time her father took any interest in her was when he was forcing her to attend endless strategic and tactical planning meetings. She was not, however, allowed to physically participate in attacks on the Empire, which frustrated her to no end and caused many fights between father and daughter. Hera often felt confined, and she longed to leave Ryloth and see the galaxy from the cockpit of her own starship. But how could she leave her home and what remained of her family to the mercy of the Empire? So many people suffered already, and Hera was in a position to do something about it...someday. If her father ever allowed it.

When they finally reached her father's office, her eyes were instantly drawn to their family portrait on the wall. She missed her mother, who had always understood that Hera's heart was in the sky and stars. Things had been so difficult without her.

A cloaked and hooded figure stood in front of Cham's desk, facing the portrait. Cham walked behind his desk but did not sit, regarding the visitor cooly.