STAR WARS REBELS || Her Wings Of Fire

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Tank In The Desert

But everyone had become aware that the droid wasn't doing more than just beeping in a regular pattern. There were no fluctuations or other signs there that would indicate that it was working.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Ezra asked, choosing to voice the general sentiment of all of those in the ship whose names weren't Teri or Sabine aloud.

The dark-haired informant looked up. "It's not instantaneous, Ezra. These droids were experts at winning the long game; the one where patience and thorough analysis were the factors that won them battles."

"Yeah," the Mandalorian agreed. It could have been Ezra's imagination, but, as she ran a hand through her hair, now a bright, two-toned blue, he could have sworn he caught a whiff of hair dye. "I think it's scanning for a signal of some kind."

"Good luck," Ezra said, leaning back in his chair. "You could really get lost out here..."

An uneasy grimace came to Zeb's face. "Maybe that was the idea. What if this great commander we're looking for doesn't want to be found?"

"He's all right with being found... Just not by the wrong kinds of people." Teri crossed his arms, staring off into the horizon moodily. "And we all know the galaxy is home to more than a few of those."

For a moment, everyone was quiet, thinking about what had just been said and other aspects of this particular mission.

Suddenly, the droid sparked to life. As its photoreceptors lit up, its tinny old speaker began playing the same series of digits over and over again, occasionally interrupted by short bursts of static: "7-5-6-7. 7-5-6-7."

Sabine looked up, her eyes wide. "It's homing in on something!"

"Follow it," Teri ordered, putting a hand on her shoulder.

The ship's computer and the droid's artificial brain linked up for a few moments, and the former soon presented them with a course adjustment. Kanan flipped a few switches and tilted the yoke to one side, and soon they were flying in the right direction.

A few moments later, Zeb scrambled over Ezra and Kanan to point off into the distance. "There!" he called. "Up ahead!"

The closer they got to the vehicle Zeb was pointing to, the wider Ezra's eyes grew. He had never seen anything quite like it – it had six legs like some of the insects back on Lothal, and even from quite a while away, the sound its half a dozen feet made when they hit the ground was clearly audible. Although it had clearly seen better days, the heavily armored transport was getting some good use out of it.

"Whoa..." Ezra breathed.

"Now that is a work of art," Sabine said, admiring the colorful paintings along the transport's topside and bits of cloth and wind chimes that were strung from every available overhang.

"It looks like an old Republic tank," Kanan said, in a tone that was somewhere in between surprise and, oddly enough, distrust. "Used during the Clone Wars..."

"Kanan, I know what you're thinking," Teri said softly, his grey eyes compassionate as always. "But it's not like that. My friend is the most trustworthy person I know. He's saved my butt more than a few times when I thought no one was coming. And you have to trust him too, or this is never going to work."

Kanan said nothing.

As the Phantom pulled up alongside the old tank, it ceased its slow lumbering forward, waiting in silence as the ship landed in front of it. There was no reaction whatsoever as the crew came outside and into view of the tank's occupants.

As Sabine and Zeb walked on ahead, Kanan put his hand on Ezra's shoulder. "Ezra... Be on guard."

Why would I need to be on guard? It's just Teri's friend that we're coming here to meet, isn't it? He thought. Kanan really is paranoid. Maybe I should ask him if–