Ghosts

Chapter One: A Familiar Face

"Spectre Two to Spectre Six, do you copy?"

Ezra leaped over the cruiser, sliding across the metal hood, and he hit the ground running. Blaster shots hit the wall beside him, missing his head by a few inches at most. He cursed under his breath, firing a few shots over his shoulder. Ezra didn't know how the bucketheads were keeping up with him, they were faster than usual today.

In fact, all of today had been different than usual.

The op had been simple: an Imperial shuttle was scheduled to land at the factory on Lothal, stocked with crates of weaponry, fuel, and supplies, cargo the rebels desperately needed. Their intel had said it would be a routine pickup, with little to no Stormtroopers to guard the cargo, and they would be out within minutes. And they did. They walked out within 10 minutes, and walked right into a trap.

The crew had done the best they could to defend themselves, but the more Stormtroopers they shot down, new waves kept coming in. Ezra had been in the midst of it only moments ago, fighting alongside his friends, before he got separated. Fighting Stormtroopers in a group was easy. Running from them alone was not. Ezra had learned that long before the rebels had taken him in.

He scanned the street ahead, searching for any route away from his persuers. It took him a minute, but he spottted a side street ahead. He had enough distance between him and the soldiers, and if he could make it away fast enough, he could rejoin the crew before they rendezvoused with the Ghost.

Ezra ran as fast as he could, shoving a few stray crates into the street as he passed to try and slow down the Stormtroopers and buy himself more time to escape. He made it to the side street, rounded the corner, and found himself face to face with a wall.

He had just run into a dead end.

"Oh, karabast!" He growled. He'd have to use the Force to jump over the wall if he had any chance of getting away. Taking a deep breath, Ezra braced himself, and pushed off the ground—

A sharp pain seared his arm, and Ezra cried out, crumpling to the ground. His head hit the ground hard, his cheek scraping against the pavement. He clutched where the blast had hit him. His fingers felt wet, and without looking he knew he was bleeding.

He heard the footsteps of the Stormtroopers come to a halt, and with what strength he had left he propped himself up. His head screamed in protest, and he could barely focus his eyes enough to see he was trapped.

"We've got you now, rebel scum." The lead Stormtrooper's voice echoed through the alleyway. "This is the end for you." Ezra heard them cock their blasters, but he couldn't see it. The world was spinning like a top around him.

So this was the end. He hadn't pictured his death to happen like this. He'd figured he'd go down fighting alongside Kanan, both of them fighting together. Instead, he was going to die alone, weak, without the ability to see his killer.

I'm sorry, Kanan, he thought, and he closed his eyes, awaiting the fatal shot from whichever buckethead decided to shoot first.

He waited.

The shot didn't come.

"Hey, metalheads!"

Ezra's eyes snapped open as a new voice sounded from above him, and he snapped his head towards the source of the noise, a move he instantly regretted when the pain sharpened.

The speaker had jumped off the wall where she'd been perched, landing right beside Ezra, so lightly she didn't even make a sound. The Stormtroopers trained their blasters on her, though she didn't seem to be bothered.