"No! Absolutely not! I am not wearing that thing, Kanan!"

Kanan looked at the outfit. "What's wrong with it? It doesn't show too much."

Hera made a face. "It shows plenty."

Kanan let out a dramatic sigh. "Hera, this whole part of plan was your idea."

"Fine. Then you go as the bait and I'll be the slave-peddling scum."

Hera didn't take her eyes off the dress as it flew across the room to land on the cot in a crumpled heap. "We've been over this: it would be much less suspicious if you were the bait. I don't like it either, but we don't have much choice if we want to bust this trade ring. You were fine with it before. Why the change of heart now?"

"It's not the plan itself that bothers me, Kanan," she said, her voice having lost its edge. She still hadn't taken her eyes off the garment, as if it was going to get up and bite her.

Kanan crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what is it?" His irritation soon gave way to concern when she didn't answer for a long moment. "Hera?"

The captain bowed her head so slightly that Kanan would have missed it if he hadn't been so intent on her. "It doesn't have a neck."

Did he hear her right? "I'm sorry, what?"

Hera finally turned away from the dress and fixed him with a look that dared him to mock her. "It doesn't have a neck," she said louder. A pause swelled between them until it filled the entire cabin. "Don't you dare laugh."

Kanan tilted his head at her. "I'm not laughing. Just...why is that a problem?"

Hera's right hand twitched, but she stopped it. "It just...it just is, alright."

Now thoroughly confused by her sudden change in attitude about their plan, Kanan stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hera, what's really going on? This isn't like you." Gone was the defensive tone in his voice, now replaced with pure concern.

Hera looked at him for a beat, then exhaled and turned her eyes to the floor. Her right hand came up to the collar of her flight suit and undid the fastener. She hesitated, then pulled the collar open. "This."

Whatever Kanan had been expecting, it certainly wasn't the gruesome sight he looked at now. A ragged scar cut its way across the bottom of Hera's throat. It was smooth and pale with age, but no less brutal-looking. A million thoughts ran through his head, all refusing to coalesce into a clear image; he wouldn't allow them. "Hera," he whispered, horrified. His thumb gingerly touched the far edge of the scar, pulling back when she flinched. "What happened?"

Hera didn't look up, but she didn't move away either. "Two boys." Her voice didn't sound like her at all. The smallness of it shocked Kanan even more than the sight of the scar. "They cornered me. Wrapped a piece of barbed wire around my neck." Her eyes shot up to look right into his. Anger, pain, and a soul-crushing hurt swirled in her gaze, the intensity of it startling him. "They did it for fun, Kanan. Because I was female, because I was a Twi'lek. Not for anything I'd done or they thought I'd done. Know what made it worse?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know how much worse it could get. "Two Imperial officers were nearby. They just stood there. They watched while those boys tortured me. I was eleven."

Kanan could only stare at her. Her shoulders shook with suppressed anger under his hands. Years'-old emotions had come to the surface now...and he was the one who had caused it. Regret welled up in his chest at the realization. "Oh, Hera, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said with a sigh, her voice sounding more normal now. "I never told anyone. It's not exactly something I'm proud of."

Kanan remained rooted to the spot as she stepped away and refastened her collar. The air grew awkward in the sudden silence. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He scratched the back of his neck, looking at anything but Hera. "I, uh...I can have Chopper trade the dress for another one if you want. Or we can switch roles if that would make you feel more comfortable." He attempted a grin. "I know you like ordering me around as it is."

Hera let out a harsh breath that might have been a laugh and turned back to him. "No, you're right. A Twi'lek slave would draw less attention. And we don't have time to worry about the clothes. Just get me something to hide it. No one's gonna want to pay for 'damaged goods'."

Kanan shuddered at the ease with which she said that. He knew this wasn't real. This was just a deception to infiltrate and hopefully collapse a slave ring that had spread into the Mid Rim region. The Empire claimed to deal with 'illegitimate' slavers and traffickers with the harshest of punishments (the reality of it was that black market slave trading cut into the Empire's own profits from the despicable practice), but slavery was slavery, legalized or not. Neither Hera nor Kanan wouldn't sit idly by when they could and, more importantly, would actually do something about it.

But knowing this was all just an act didn't stop the truth from being any uglier: Hera and any other Twi'lek was easy prey for a slaver based on nothing more than their species. And any kind of blemish lowered their value in the eyes of those who put price tags on life itself.

A beep-boop from the doorway broke him out of his thoughts. Chopper strolled in with something clutched in one of his pincers. It was a broad gold necklace studded with green gems (all fake, of course), just the right shade to match Hera's skin tone. Chopper lifted the necklace to Hera, who took it with a look of astonishment in her eyes, and whistled at her. "Cams in the stones? Nice thinking, Chop." She patted his dome with her free hand, a gesture she had done often enough that its meaning had not been lost on the droid. He beeped at her again and left just as casually as he had entered. "Now, you," she said to Kanan. "Out. We're going to drop out of hyperspace soon and we need to change."

Now that the awkwardness had passed, Kanan felt more comfortable cracking a joke. "Sure you don't want some help with that dress?"

Hera laughed and shoved him out the door. "I'm sure if I can handle flying a ship, I can handle a dress."

Twenty minutes and Kanan was changed and ready to go. He opted for a dark shirt that opened to just below his collarbone and dark pants with orange stripes down the sides. A shoulder holster hugged his chest and another two hung from the belt on his hips; all three held loaded blasters. He looked just right for the part of 'Criminal Underworld Scum #1' in this little play they were about to put on.

So where was Hera?

"Yo, Hera," he shouted down the hall as he brought the Ghost back into realspace. Chopper let out a screech at the sudden volume of his voice in the confined space. "We're almost at the rendezvous point. What's taking so long? I thought you said you could handle a dress all on your own."

A faint tinkling sounded down the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Kanan turned to the source...and nearly forgot how to breathe.

Hera had managed the dress by herself, all right. Shimmering white, trimmed with gold, and as soft as Bespin silk, the cloth molded to her frame like a second skin until it flared out from her hips. Long slits in the skirt allowed brief glimpses of her legs to be seen with each step before being hidden away again. The tinkling noise that had preceded her appearance came from the tiny bells that dangled from the hem. What could only loosely be referred to as a neckline dipped clear down to her navel and seemed dangerously close to slipping from her shoulders. Cutouts at the waist exposed even more skin.

"Not a word out of either of you," she snapped suddenly. If Kanan didn't know her better, he'd swear that she was blushing. "I can't get the clasp on this thing. You mind?"

Kanan gave his head a little shake and stood to take the necklace from her outstretched hand. He lifted it over her head and gently laid it against her neck over the scar. He took his time fastening it, surreptitiously committing the image of her to memory. He was acutely aware of how close he was to her exposed back and the heat that emanated from her. Was she wearing just the barest hint of perfume...or was that all her?

"Are you done yet?"

Kanan shook his head again. Focus, idiot. "Yeah, yeah." He gave himself a mental kick as he stepped away from her; a change in wardrobe didn't mean anything else had changed. "Just waiting for Xyla to ping back."

Xyla was their contact, a Clawditewho had been working in bringing down illegal trafficking for years. She would meet up with the Ghost and transport Hera and Kanan to Tilo Prime where they would meet with Hera's potential 'buyer'. Kanan shuddered at the word. Although they had this planned down to the last detail, he still didn't like the idea of Hera going this deep unarmed. "Remember," he said as she took her seat beside him. "If this goes south, break cover and contact me or Xyla. We'll come pick you up and haul out."

"Yes, Mom," she replied. "I appreciate it, but you can stop worrying. All we need is footage and names to hand over to the Tilo Prime Senate and the ring collapses. A simple in-and-out snatch-and-grab. Easy."

"Yeah, but-" Kanan stopped himself short. Arguing over the severity of this mission wouldn't do anything but put everyone on edge. They needed to be calm if they wanted this to go without a hitch. "Just be careful, okay?"

Hera flashed him a one-sided smile. "I'm always careful."