Star Wars Rebels: Paving a New Road

Chapter 6: Lay of the Land

Kanan did a double take at the man so casually using his birth name. "You know who I am?"

The man chuckled dryly. "I'm disappointed, Caleb. I thought Fulcrum told you I was here."

Kanan's jaw dropped. "Jax Pavan?"

The man spread his arms. "The one and only."

"You...you look so..." Kanan hesitated to speak further, lest he offend his ally that he ought to remember from days past.

"You don't need to be soft with me, Caleb, I know how I look." Jax insisted. "It's the price I pay for keeping this little secret secret." He looked at Jaller. "Do you think I can tell them? These two anyway?" he pointed at Kanan and Ezra.

"I dunno," the other man replied, scratching his neck, thinking. "You may have to clear it with the Head."

"Right," Jax nodded. "Well, until then, how about I show you guys around?"

*

As Jax guided the crew of the Ghost through Stock, each member was awestruck by several sights they saw along the way; hundreds of dozens of Humans, aliens and droids busy about a number of tasks, ranging from reprogramming the transponder codes of hijacked TIE fighters to escorting "undesirables" off-world. They never stopped to talk to each other though, making the environment seem almost Imperial in behavior. It was fitting in a way; if one was going to live on Imperial Center, it was best to make oneself as inconspicuous as possible.

So why not make your home like there's? Live like the enemy, understand the enemy. Understand them, defeat them.

"That's how we've survived," Jax summarized as they drew near to where they had started before. "Besides our little secret, which I hope to show you two," he said, pointing at Kanan and Ezra, "before you go to your bunks. Talking of which, here are your IDs."

When Jax didn't extend his hand to give them a badge or any other means of identification, the Phoenix rebels were confused, then shocked when they felt a sudden sting at the bases of their skulls. As they rubbed their necks, some Whiplash rebels walked by them from behind, holding some now-empty syringes in their hands and looking cheekily pleased with themselves.

"Congratulations," Jax said, betraying no laughter. "You're now registered in the Whiplash cell. Those bio-markers will identify you to our security teams, so you'll never have to go through the hassle of checkpoints."

"THAT HURT!" Zeb roared.

"And it would have hurt even more if I'd warned you," Jax replied flatly. "Now come. Let's get you set in for the night. You've many days ahead of you, and you'll need all the rest you can get before taking part in any of our operations." He gestured with his hand for them to follow him, and they did. After ascending a few flights of stairs, they arrived at what appeared to be the barracks of Stock.

"Your bunks will have your names at the feet," Jax told them. "Chopper will have his own spot down in the workshop."

The little astromech buzzed apprehensively. Jax eyed him.

"You'll have more than sufficient space. And if it doesn't work for you, too bad." he replied sternly. "We have a lot comparatively to your little ship, but here we maximize our resources, including storage space, to the best of our ability. Just don't be surprised if you wake up next to a crate full of medicine. Or mistaken for one."

Chopper warbled something that Ezra would've blushed to translate, but in the end wheeled away towards the other end of the barracks quarter, where several other droids of various make and model were plugged in or being treated to a lubrication bath.