[ Caleb isn't sure he would have made it this far on his own. The deep dark of the outside world rushes by, and he can't fathom sitting in this transport bunker by himself, with nothing but the nagging emptiness of the Force and his own uneasy mind.
He turns toward the open hull of the transport after, mind zooming back into focus on the conversation. ]
Might be able to take some of this with us.
[ He almost instinctively reaches for his lightsaber, concealed under his cloak and hesitates. Everything he's ever known is called into question by that hesitation. They can't be who they were here, they can't rely on all the things they were told to rely on. A real, cold fear snakes its way through his veins. Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?
His eyes burn, and he's done well not to cry so far, but it hits him like a wall, closing up his throat, stinging at his eyes, burning in his lungs. He keeps his back to Ezra, shoulders pinched back and tight. He wants to scream into the Force at what's become of the Jedi, what's become of them, but just as sure, he can hear Master Billaba's words in his head.
What are you looking for, Master? Nothing and everything.
He sucks in a deep, shaking breath and manages a few steps farther into the transport. He swipes at damp his face with the back of his hand. ]
There are some crates over here.
[ His voice trembles, but he does not turn around. ]
[It's kindness, Ezra tells himself, when he doesn't turn to look at Caleb. Kindness to give him space and pretend he doesn't notice the other boy's hunched shoulders, the shudder in his breath, or the tracks of tears on his face. It's not because Ezra's own body is shaking, too, with emotions he's dealing with just as badly.]
Right. You look over there. I'll look at this stack over here.
[He starts forward, feeling carefully along the wall with his hands, not daring to reach out to the Force to guide him. He needs to be the strong one, and he can't, he just can't, if he reaches to the Force and hears the echo of ten thousand screams.
Or worse, the echo of silence.
Working to pry the lid of a crate off at least gives him something else to focus on for a moment, and exertion a better reason for his breath to catch in his throat. He's never been all that tall or strong, so without the Force something like this takes effort. He squints in the dark, trying to see what's inside.]
[ He tries his best to keep calm, to take deep breaths with every step he takes toward the crates nearest him. Being upset will do nothing for them now, will it? He can hear Master Billaba's voice in the back of his head, the way she would console him in that cool, collected way of hers. Not chiding, not doting, but always a solid force in the chaos.
He is able to flip one open and reaches inside. ]
This one has some kind of packs. Maybe med packs? [ Probably tool kits instead, but he tries reaching in for one when the transport begins to rumble to a stop, toppling him backward onto his bottom. ]
[ Caleb scrambles to his feet the moment Ezra speaks. And no matter how heavy the pack seems to be, he drags one out of the crate and hoists the strap over his shoulder. ]
Think they'll see us?
[ There's noise farther up the track as the transport screeches to a halt. But he relids the crate and stumbles toward Ezra. ]
It's dark enough if we hold still the tarp should work.
[ His heart thunders in his chest as he drags up one end o the tarp, waiting for Ezra to climb under. But there's a real concern and fear in his face when, a few cars down, the sliding sound of pressure locks releasing echoes into the night. ] Hurry!
[Caleb doesn't need to tell him twice. Ezra grabs the corner of the tarp the other boy is holding up and slides under it as fast as he can before tucking the edge down around them. Despite his racing heart, he tries to breathe as slow and soft as he can, not saying anything now, because he can hear voices now. Voices of people in the hold. Eyes wide, he grips Caleb's arm, holding still.]
"...get the manifests, you start lining up the stuff we need to offload."
[The reply that came was in a language Ezra didn't know. He couldn't help but tense, wondering if they'd been discovered.
The first speaker just huffed in response, though.]
"Yeah, yeah. I'll get the cargo doors open as soon as we're cleared to unload. Keep your scales on."
[One set of footsteps retreated, and then there was only the sound of alien grumbling.]
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no subject
He turns toward the open hull of the transport after, mind zooming back into focus on the conversation. ]
Might be able to take some of this with us.
[ He almost instinctively reaches for his lightsaber, concealed under his cloak and hesitates. Everything he's ever known is called into question by that hesitation. They can't be who they were here, they can't rely on all the things they were told to rely on. A real, cold fear snakes its way through his veins. Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?
His eyes burn, and he's done well not to cry so far, but it hits him like a wall, closing up his throat, stinging at his eyes, burning in his lungs. He keeps his back to Ezra, shoulders pinched back and tight. He wants to scream into the Force at what's become of the Jedi, what's become of them, but just as sure, he can hear Master Billaba's words in his head.
What are you looking for, Master?
Nothing and everything.
He sucks in a deep, shaking breath and manages a few steps farther into the transport. He swipes at damp his face with the back of his hand. ]
There are some crates over here.
[ His voice trembles, but he does not turn around. ]
no subject
Right. You look over there. I'll look at this stack over here.
[He starts forward, feeling carefully along the wall with his hands, not daring to reach out to the Force to guide him. He needs to be the strong one, and he can't, he just can't, if he reaches to the Force and hears the echo of ten thousand screams.
Or worse, the echo of silence.
Working to pry the lid of a crate off at least gives him something else to focus on for a moment, and exertion a better reason for his breath to catch in his throat. He's never been all that tall or strong, so without the Force something like this takes effort. He squints in the dark, trying to see what's inside.]
Looks like it's just some converters in this one.
no subject
He is able to flip one open and reaches inside. ]
This one has some kind of packs. Maybe med packs? [ Probably tool kits instead, but he tries reaching in for one when the transport begins to rumble to a stop, toppling him backward onto his bottom. ]
Jeez. Don't they know how to drive these things?
no subject
Damn it, so much for raiding this stuff. Whatever that is, just grab one. We don't have time for anything else.
[Either a med pack or a tool kit would be useful, but if nothing else the pack itself is worth it to carry things.]
Quick, over here. I think I see a tarp we can hide under.
no subject
Think they'll see us?
[ There's noise farther up the track as the transport screeches to a halt. But he relids the crate and stumbles toward Ezra. ]
It's dark enough if we hold still the tarp should work.
[ His heart thunders in his chest as he drags up one end o the tarp, waiting for Ezra to climb under. But there's a real concern and fear in his face when, a few cars down, the sliding sound of pressure locks releasing echoes into the night. ] Hurry!
no subject
"...get the manifests, you start lining up the stuff we need to offload."
[The reply that came was in a language Ezra didn't know. He couldn't help but tense, wondering if they'd been discovered.
The first speaker just huffed in response, though.]
"Yeah, yeah. I'll get the cargo doors open as soon as we're cleared to unload. Keep your scales on."
[One set of footsteps retreated, and then there was only the sound of alien grumbling.]