Gray Tale, A Star Wars Rebels Story

Realizations II

The cave greeted me with its usual charm: stale air, dust that never went away no matter how often Ben swept, and that faint earthy scent that always lingered after he brewed tea and then forgot to drink it. The old man was in his preferred habitat, planted on the floor like a meditation statue someone had forgotten to pack up during an evacuation.

He didn't even open his eyes when I stepped in.

His voice drifted out calm and sharp at the same time.

"So you returned, padawan. After spending your night doing whatever it is you wished to do?"

I dropped onto the ground across from him with all the grace of a wet sack of womp rat feed. "Master Ken—Ben! Oh radiant sage of the dunes, your beloved disciple offers his heart, loyalty, and hopes your back pain is minimal today."

His eyes snapped open. The look he gave me was the kind a man gives a malfunctioning kettle he has grown strangely fond of but also fully expects to explode.

"Your blessings are… noted," he said slowly. "Now spare me the theatrics and tell me what calamity you've delivered to my doorstep this morning."

"What calamity? Master, please." I patted my chest like a noble saint. "I am a bringer of clarity. Of justice. Of enlightenment."

"You are a bringer of migraines," he muttered. "Out with it."

I leaned in conspiratorially.

"Master. I come bearing news of serious importance. Grave importance. Universe-shaking importance."

His eyebrow rose.

The man had faced Sith Lords, but somehow I still managed to make him dread life.

"It concerns an Inquisitor," I said. "One with the expression of a bantha and the temperament of bantha droppings left in the sun too long."

"Ezra…" he warned.

"And I was appalled. Truly. Deep in my soul. I received a premonition from the Force—"

"Premonition?" His posture went stiff.

"Yes. A very vivid one. About this Inquisitor—Reva, angry face, angry soul, angry everything—trying to kidnap and torture the Alderaanian princess."

Ben straightened so fast I thought he'd levitate.

"That is impossible," he said sharply. "No one should know anything about her family. No one."

"I know." I nodded gravely. "I was shocked too. Spiritually injured. The kind of existential whiplash that makes you reconsider your diet. It was such a big deal that I had to go to Mos Eisley myself to check if the visions were true."

His head turned toward me like I'd thrown a brick at him.

"You went to—Ezra!"

He was in full Jedi Dad Mode now.

"Do you ever think beyond your next reckless impulse? You treat danger as though it were a puzzle to be solved with… snark! This matter has nothing to do with us. You are not ready. Even if these Inquisitors were only Padawans or Knights before their fall, you are still not ready to face them."

"Master, relax." I waved a hand. "I know. That's why I kept myself hidden."

A pause.

"Mostly."

He didn't blink.

Didn't breathe.

Just stared.

The Force around him tightened in that specific way that said: this child is lying and I'm too tired to dig but also absolutely going to dig.

"Ezra," he said quietly, "what did you do."

I lifted my hands in a placating gesture. "Look, the important part is that I confirmed the danger. And I made sure they couldn't follow the trail here."

Silence.

He wasn't convinced, but the gears in his head had begun to turn.

If the Empire was after Leia…

Then maybe—

maybe—they also knew something about Luke.

His aura wound itself tight like a fist.

I couldn't let him fall down that rabbit hole.

"Master," I cut in before he suffocated himself with anxiety, "I don't think they know who Leia really is. My visions were fragmented, but the motive seemed off. I have reason to believe Reva is targeting her because of Bail Organa's connection to you, not because of her parentage."

That stopped him.

His shoulders eased by a fraction.

The storm behind his eyes steadied.

"Bail?" he murmured. "Why?"

"Because if anyone has a direct line to 'Old Ben, legendary Jedi and expert sand-hater,' it's Bail Organa." I shrugged. "Makes more sense than them magically knowing she's the daughter of Skyw— of her real father."

He let out a slow exhale, long enough to age a bottle of wine.

"…Thank the Force," he whispered.

I gave him my most innocent smile. "See? I'm looking out for you."

He squinted.

Hard.

"Ezra."

"Yes, Master?"

"What. Did. You. Do."

"Ah. Right. So. Funny story." I cleared my throat. "In the spirit of easing your burdens and acting proactively like the good little padawan you constantly underestimate…"

He tensed again.

"…I robbed the Inquisitors."

Another pause.

"Robbed," he repeated, tone flat enough to iron clothes on.

"Their ship, specifically. Fantastic model, loved the controls. Needed a wash though. Anyway, they're stranded in Mos Eisley for a while."

A beat.

Then he exploded.

"EZRAAAAAA!"

Dust fell from the ceiling.

A few pebbles rattled near the entrance.

Somewhere outside, I was pretty sure a womp rat keeled over from the sheer volume.

What can I say.

I did promise enlightenment.