For the first time in over fifteen standard years, a light shone in the darkened room. At first, it was barely noticeable – a faint blue glow that highlighted the sealed doorway. As the minutes passed, the grey durasteel door began to shine, first red, and then orange to pale white. Then, with a shower of sparks, a glowing blue beam of plasma penetrated the room.

Gritting his teeth, Ezra Bridger pushed down on the bulky hilt of his lightsaber, willing it to cut through the durasteel. To his annoyance, he found himself rising up off the deck plate below. Without a gravity generator keeping him on his feet, the young Padawan had to expend much of his energy keeping himself upright. His spacesuit was hardly helping, either. The magnetic boots refused to stick, and he found himself cursing as one slipped out from underneath him entirely.

Somebody was laughing in his earpiece. Frowning, Ezra shone his flashlight down the gloomy corridor in the direction of his companion.

"I have to say, Spectre Six, your approach to lockpicking is certainly unique."

A figure dressed in heavily customised Mandalorian armour drifted slowly into view.

"Why are you floating upside down?"

"We're in space, kid. There is no up or down." Sabine drifted close enough to inspect Ezra's handiwork. "And while we're on the topic of space, you do realise that your lightsaber will never melt the door when it's this cold."

With a huff of annoyance, Ezra tugged his lightsaber free of the door. "Huh. I'd like to see you do better."

"Is that a challenge?"

A new voice cut through their conversation.

"Cut the chatter you two. Have you found anything down there yet?"

Sabine called up a map on her helmet display. "Nothing so far, Spectre One. There are a few more sealed rooms on this level we haven't checked yet, though."

"I'm giving you fifteen minutes. Spectre One out."

"Spectre Five out." Sabine gestured for Ezra to move aside, pulling a fist-sized object from her utility belt. "Come on, you heard her. Let me show you how a Mando unlocks a door."

With a flash of brilliant light and a jet of blue flame, the final door popped noiselessly from its hinges and spun away into the room beyond. Sabine entered first, activating her helmet-mounted lights.

Stretching away into the gloom was yet another storage room, identical in dimensions to the last three rooms they had checked. The flickering light swept back and forth in the darkness, revealing row after row of heavy crates. Ezra pulled himself closer to the nearest one, and waved his torch over the faded label stamped on the lid.

"Sabine. I think we're on to something here."

His companion drifted over.

"Spectre One. We may have a lead down here."

The response, when it came, was muffled by interference. "Copy...Five. Meet...topside...done. Five minutes."

Despite the absence of gravity, the intense cold of space had partially welded the metal crate to the decking beneath. When a few sturdy kicks produced no effect, Ezra resorted to cutting a hole in the lid with his lightsaber.

Pushing the rapidly cooling disc of durasteel aside, Ezra peered into the crate. When he looked up, his grin was plainly visible through his helmet visor.

"Looks like we're in luck."

Sabine gave a dismissive grunt as she shone her flashlight into the hole. "All I see are more battle droids."

Ezra's grin grew broader, and Sabine sighed internally – here comes the know-it-all.

"Kanan was showing me some holos just the other day about these droids. They may look like the cheap B-1s, but the yellow markings on this one – oh, and the red shoulder plates on that one there, mean these are OOM-series droids. They're smarter than the rest..."

Sabine continued to nod her head as she scanned the storage room, despite only half-listening to her companion. One object in particular caught the Mandalorian's attention. Switching to infrared, she scanned the far wall of the storage room. The light threw up a bizarre kaleidoscope of shadows, and Sabine switched to her secondary sensors for a clearer view. Automatically, the 'periscope' arm on her helmet pivoted down to eye level.

"...never really made too many of them though, I guess because they cost too much to produce compared to the dumber droids."

Ezra pushed off from the lid of the open crate, drifting through the vacuum towards the next crate. Within seconds, he had passed where Sabine hung suspended near the ceiling, and was jetting silently towards another batch of crates in the centre of the room.

A combination of blinking and rapid eye movements manipulated the grainy image on Sabine's helmet display, cycling through different sensor inputs. On thermal, the far wall of the room showed up in ghostly blue - save for one patch. That's odd...

Sabine's voice cut through Ezra's rambling. "Thanks for the history lesson kid. Seeing as you're already nearly at the back wall, would you mind checking something out for me?"

"What kind of something?"

"My sensors are picking up a pretty strong heat reading from the other side."

Ezra braced himself against a crate, and pushed off to land feet-first at the far end of the room. He ran a thickly gloved hand across the wall in the place Sabine had indicated – and recoiled sharply with a shout of pain.

"Ezra? Are you alright?"

Ezra's shout trailed off into a chuckle. "Oh, so now you decide to listen to me. Yeah, I can feel something."

Sabine rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to reply – only for a blinking light to appear on her display. This time, the static on the comm allowed only a few words to get through.

"Spectre...found more rooms...keep searching...twenty minutes max."

"Understood, Spectre One. Good luck up there."

Sabine drifted over to where Ezra was floating. His eyes were closed, both palms braced against the wall.

"What do your Jedi-senses tell you?"

He simply shook his head. "I'm...not sure."

Ezra unhooked his lightsaber from his belt. The heated area on the wall was clearly visible in his mind's eye, but before he could start cutting, Sabine grabbed onto his arm.

"Don't! My rad counter just got a reading. That hot patch could mean there's a reactor on the other side."

"So what's the plan?"

Weapons at the ready, two figures in bulky pressure suits stepped out of the cramped corridor and out into a large, open plan room. The smaller of the two keyed his wrist comm.

"Spectre One. Zeb and I have reached the bridge."

"Copy that. You know what you're looking for?"

"Believe me, I know a tactical droid when I see it. Just the head, right?"

"Affirmative. Fulcrum was very specific."

Kanan nodded to the Lasat. "Alright Zeb. Start checking the command droids. We're looking for one with a bulky body, built in helmet. Should be stamped all over with logos."

Zeb grunted his acknowledgment. The pair split up as they moved onto the bridge. Battle droids of all types were dotted around the various control consoles, slumped over holoscreens or lying on the floor. Kanan noted that many of the larger windows on the bridge were covered in durasteel panels – they must have blown out when the ship had been crippled all those years ago.

Of all the missions that the crew of the Ghost had performed for Ahsoka Tano, this one was certainly on the unusual end of the spectrum. The rebel agent had wanted a piece of Separatist equipment for use in some special recovery operation – specifically, the head of a tactical battle droid. Despite being on first name terms with Ahsoka, she had been unusually cagy about the exact parameters of the mission, providing the crew with the bare minimum to get the job done.

This time, the intel had been accurate. Rebel alliance records pinpointed a Republic ambush on a Separatist evacuation route in an isolated system near Lothal, in the final days of the Clone Wars, and sure enough there were several abandoned cruisers still drifting in space, decades later.

Kanan prodded an OOM-series droid with his boot, and watched as it sank slowly to the floor in the low gravity. He shuddered – he would never be comfortable around these things, or any other Clone Wars relics.

"Ghost, how are the others doing?"

"Your time to shine, kid."

Closing his eyes, Ezra focused on the scorched and pitted section of wall upon which Sabine had exhausted her supply of thermal detonators. Having searched the rest of the crates and finding no tactical droids, the pair had allowed themselves to become sidetracked by the mysterious heat signature.

Ezra pictured the durasteel bulkhead in his mind. He imagined running his fingers across it, probing every fissure and crack, searching for a weak point. The longer he concentrated, the more the image became solidified in his mind, until he could feel the rough texture under his palms, even through his gloves.

Focus.

Flakes of paint puffed silently from the wall.

Focus.

Sabine leaned in. A nearly imperceptible vibration was beginning to spread across the wall.

Breathe.

Ezra stuck out his hand, and the wall moved with him, bending inwards at its weakest point. Even Sabine could not help but gasp as the steel buckled silently. Slowly, Ezra clasped his hands together in a swimming motion, and the wall plate tore in two, sending up a cloud of dust fragments that momentarily obscured him from view.

For several seconds, silence reigned, broken only by the sound of laboured breathing from Ezra's comm. He clenched and unclenched his fists, mumbling something to himself – then he looked up, and flashed Sabine a grin.

"That's how a Jedi opens a door."

"Pfft. After I used three thermal detonators to 'unlock' it for you."

Ezra slipped aside with a laugh, allowing Sabine to inspect the rend in the bulkhead wall – and what lay beyond.

A/N: Hey guys, Houndeye here. The idea for this particular story comes from the most recent Season 2 promo. I'm still relatively inexperienced with the fandom however, so any feedback will be greatly appreciated, and I'm happy to respond to comments. If you like what you see so far, my profile has a link to my other Star Wars fic "The Forgotten War".

Thanks for reading, and see you next chapter.