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Hera Syndulla

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Hera Syndulla

Hera Syndulla

Scene:

"A Quiet Landing on Lothal"

The Ghost descended low through Lothal’s morning cloud layer, her engines dampened to a whisper by atmospheric silencers. Far below, fields of dry grass stretched for miles beneath the pastel light of dawn, broken only by the silhouette of a crumbling comms tower and the occasional Imperial patrol skiff gliding in the distance.

Inside the cockpit, Hera Syndulla narrowed her eyes, flicking a switch to stabilize the landing struts.

"Smooth as ever,"

she murmured to herself, easing the freighter down behind a sloping ridge just outside the outskirts of Jhareda.. a sleepy farming town under light Imperial surveillance.

The ramp hissed open with a soft pneumatic sigh. Hera stepped out, dressed not in her usual flight suit but in local workwear.. weathered boots, utility trousers, and a faded jacket over a tight-fitting underlayer. Her lekku were wrapped close against her skull and tucked beneath a cloth hood, hiding her identity from curious eyes or Imperial facial scans.

She moved with calm purpose, boots crunching the dry soil as she scanned the area. No stormtroopers in sight. That was good.. atleast for now.

Lothal had changed. There was more tension in the air than the last time she’d touched down here. Patrols had doubled. Checkpoints cropped up in unexpected places. Still, this world had its hidden pockets, and Hera knew how to find the cracks.

She paused near an abandoned moisture pump, tapping into her comm.

"This is Spectre-2. I’m dirtside. If any friendly ears are still out there..I’m listening."

No answer.. just static.

That was fine. She didn’t come here expecting an escort. She came here with a message, and a reason.

She glanced over her shoulder, one hand resting casually near the concealed blaster on her hip.

Somewhere out here, someone would answer. A smuggler, a farmer, a rogue pilot, or maybe just someone who’d had enough of watching the Empire walk all over their home. (Or Perhaps an Imperial or Bounty Hunter)

Hera didn’t care who spoke first. She was here. And she was ready to listen.