The Goal Is Not To Fall - SneakyBunyip (2024)

Chapter 1: Reaching Out

Chapter Text

Kallus sat on the edge of his bed much like he had done every night since coming back from Geonosis’ moon.

He turned the small meteor rock over in his hand.

Kallus watches the lasat approach him with a strange, golden meteorite. For a single, horrifying moment he expects the alien to bash him in the head with it.

Instead, the lasat tosses the glowing rock to the injured imperial.

“Here. Warm yourself up.”

The meteorite was dying.

The light that had kept him alive in the frigid cold of that moon now was barely a whisper of warmth. He pressed his palm over it, as if trying to will his own heat into its center and bring it back to life. He knew it was useless. In another day or two, the light within would go out entirely and all that would remain was a dull, lifeless stone. The profound sadness he felt at the thought of this was jarring.

His quarters were perfectly heated. He had no use for this thing and should have thrown it in a bin weeks ago.

“At least we still have this to keep us warm.” The lasat says. They are sitting together in the lee of a snow covered rock, watching the blizzard tumble over their shelter.

“Still think your friends will find you?”

“Unless the Empire gets here first.”

Kallus pressed the meteorite to his chest. The rock did its best to project its warmth through the thin material of his tank shirt.

“By the way, it’s Zeb. My name, it’s Zeb.”

“Short for Garazeb. I know.”

Kallus gritted his teeth, slammed the rock back on the shelf beside his bed and grabbed his datapad. He leaned back and began to scroll through the day’s reports. He pulled up a series of surveillance reports taken over the last week, flipping through bland landscapes, shadows and landmarks that may or may not be rebel bases.

Kallus’s finger hovered over one of the images. A pair of humanoid silhouettes ran from an imperial base in the dead of night. One tall and lean, the other short and scrawny. Behind them was a larger humanoid, a mass of muscles with short pointed ears, long arms and tri-toed feet. An AB-75 Bo-Rifle was strapped to his back.

The report noted the suspects had fled the imperial base in a small shuttle. The lieutenant in charge informed agents that they could not pursue the shuttle as all transports had been sabotaged; they also could not shoot the shuttle out of the sky as the canon’s energy had been drained into canisters of which the rebels had taken with them. The base, for all intents and purposes, was crippled.

Smart. They crippled the base first with the assumption they were going to get caught. They stay alive because they always assume their job will fail in some way. They are the worst criminals and yet the best escape artists.

Kallus should have felt enraged and a month ago, he would have been. The rebels were nothing but blood flies to him, bothersome gnats that one swiped away, never noticing just how much they bleed their victim until it’s too late.

He zoomed in on the largest silhouette and focused in on the face. Light reflected off a pair of large, round eyes. The image made him look like some sort of predatory feline, when in fact those eyes were soulful and expressive. They were guarded by a heavy brow that seemed to do nothing but furrow in discontent. But Kallus had seen another side of them. He had seen those eyes soften, that brow knit, that expression soften...

“My name. It’s Zeb…”

A series of beeps trilled on Kallus’ datapad. An incoming text transmission was coming through.

With the use of holodisks there was no reason for any imperial agents to bother with a text message. And in any case none of his men owned his personal datapad frequency. Kallus frowned. A computer slicer perhaps?

[Incoming Message: Source: Frequency 1.22.845]

He did not recognize the frequency. 1.22.845? That’s from the Outer Rim somewhere. All imperial frequencies start with a three.

He ran a quick scan. Not a virus. A non-droid entity was confirmed to be on the other side of the message.

His firewalls and failsafes were more than a match for any common slicer. And even if someone did manage to get through, Kallus was no stranger to the art of computer slicing.

Curious, he clicked {Accept}.

A black screen consumed his datapad. Then a string of ellipses blinked on the screen as the entity began to type out its message. In green blinking block letters a single message appeared.

[1.22.845]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Who is this? Identify yourself at once.

[1.22.845]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: You will get no answers from me until you identify yourself.

There was a long pause, then finally...

[1.22.845]: Karabast. Forget it. This was a dumb idea.

Kallus shot up in bed and the datapad fumbled out of his fingers. Frantically he picked it back up and typed out a quick.

[A. Kallus]: Wait.

His mouth was dry. It couldn’t be. But who else used that bizarre, assumed curse word?

[A. Kallus]: Garazeb?

[1.22.845]: Is the line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Yes it is.

[1.22.845]: Yeah. It’s me.

Kallus’ heart hammered against this chest. He was at a loss.

[A. Kallus]: How did you find this frequency?

[1.22.845]: I’ve got my sources.

[A. Kallus]: Does anyone know you are doing this?

[1.22.845]: Nah.

[A. Kallus]: Why are you contacting me? What do you want?

There was a long pause. Kallus’ heart would not quiet down. His hands were shaking. Why? Because he speaking with the enemy? Because if anyone knew he was talking with this convict he would be executed on the spot...right?

[1.22.845]: I just wanted to make sure you were okay, okay?

His heart twisted in a peculiar way. It didn’t feel like fear of the Empire…

[A. Kallus]: I am fine.

[1.22.845]: How’s the leg?

[A. Kallus]: A bit stiff.

Then, half a heartbeat later, Kallus typed:

[A. Kallus]: It would have been a lot worse had you not been there.

[1.22.845]: Eh, wasn’t a big deal.

[A. Kallus]: Yes it was, Garazeb. Thank you.

[1.22.845]: You’re welcome, Kallus.

What are you doing, agent? Start tracking that frequency or disconnect. Garazeb Orrelios is an enemy of the Empire. He is not merely checking in on you.

[A. Kallus]: You did not contact me because of my leg. What do you want?

Another long pause. Kallus watched the three ellipses wiggle on the screen as Garazeb started to type, then the ellipses disappeared entirely. Then they blinked on and off several times. Whatever Garazeb was trying to say, he kept erasing the message.

[1.22.845]: I dunno.

Kallus leaned back on the bed. His mind was a whirl of conflict. His hand hovered over the disconnect button, but every muscle in his body refused to let him press the screen.

He pulled away and just sat there.

[1.22.845]: If you’re busy I can go.

[A. Kallus]: I’m not.

[1.22.845]: Okay.

It was strange. It had been a long time since Kallus really exercised any kind of “small talk.” There was so little time to converse leisurely on the star destroyer, and honestly, who would he talk to? That uppity bastard, Konstantine? Grand Moff Tarkin who would sooner drone on about his own victories than talk to Kallus about the weather.

But for a long while, neither of them said anything. And yet that silence seemed to be...comforting.

Kallus was used to being alone, he found solace in isolation, away from his peers and superiors, and he had no family to really “miss.”

After being stranded with Garazeb, however, something clicked within him. He returned to the star destroyer different in some way. Something had been torn within him, and that tear was beginning to grow as time went on. Watching the meteorite flicker and die only seemed to add to the disquiet and he realized that when it died, he would feel the full weight of what it felt to be lonely.

Kallus spoke first.

[A. Kallus]: The meteorite is dying.

[1.22.845]: The what?

[A. Kallus]: The strange rock you gave me on the moon. The light is going out.

[1.22.845]: I’m shocked it lasted that long. I looked it up and it’s one of those kyberite crystals. It’s not actually kyber crystal like the ones Jedi used to use, but it’s sort of related. It’s probably fractured inside and that’s why its light is dying.

[A. Kallus]: You don’t peg me as geologist, Garazeb.

[1.22.845]: What can I say? I got layers.

Kallus smirked.

[A. Kallus]: So it seems.

[1.22.845]: Maybe if I find another one of those kyberites I’ll send it on over to ya.

[A. Kallus]: Are you going to drop it off personally? My superiors would love that.

[1.22.845]: Haha, sure. Let me know which window is yours and I’ll toss it through.

Kallus actually laughed at this. Some of the tension was beginning to leave. This felt...nice to just talk to someone. To anyone. And Zeb was...just easy to talk to somehow.

[1.22.845]: Does the Empire let you have any hobbies.

[A. Kallus]: Of course they do. It keeps morale high. They encourage extracurricular activity so long as it does not interfere with the job and it is one of the listed allowed activities.

[1.22.845]: Allowed activities? Oh yeah, sounds like the Empire is a real party house.

Kallus rolled his eyes.

[A. Kallus]: I cook.

[1.22.845]: You cook what?

[A. Kallus]: All sorts of things. I’ve been working on a recipe for Karkan ribene.

[1.22.845]: Isn’t that Trandoshan? I didn’t think the Empire would let you cook anything but human food.

Kallus stiffened at this, feeling a flash of defensiveness until he realized that actually no, his superiors would frown on him stretching his culinary expertise outside of human and chiss meals.

[A. Kallus]: It is none of their business what I cook. I only cook for myself in any case.

[1.22.845]: That’s awfully rebellious of you, agent.

[A. Kallus]: Watch your tongue, Orrelios.

There was a long pause. Kallus felt a small chill. Finally the ellipses began to flicker on the screen again.

[1.22.845]: I should get going.

Kallus’s heart panged.

[A. Kallus]: I was joking.

[1.22.845]: No, no I mean everyone’s starting to wake up. I don’t want them asking questions.

Kallus felt a rush of panic. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say goodbye. This had all been unexpected and it was now all over.

[1.22.845]: Can I message you later?

Relief and giddiness washed over Kallus. What was wrong with him? He was feeling like a school boy sneaking messages to his fellow cadets. The thrill of this was so entirely unexpected. And the prospect of talking to him again...his fingers trembled as he typed out a response.

[A. Kallus]: My shift will be starting soon. I get out at 1800 standard hours. Ten hours from now.

[1.22.845]: I’ll see if I can scrounge up another frequency around then.

[A. Kallus]: If I don’t hear from you again, Garazeb, thank you for checking in on me.

[1.22.845]: Yeah well…thanks for not tracking my signal.

Kallus felt a twinge of guilt at this. Every moment he spent talking to the lasat was another moment of betraying his Empire. Still...

[A. Kallus]: You’re welcome. Bye, Garazeb.

[1.22.845]: Later, Kal.

The green frequency sign dulled to gray. Kallus stared at the last line, blinking dumbly.

Kal.

He had never been called anything, but Kallus or Agent before. A nickname? What did that mean? Should he be mad that Garazeb disrespected his name like this?

Zeb…

He had dared to call him Zeb on the Geonosian moon. It felt odd on his lips even though the lasat had given him permission to do so. Still, it felt like a blatant betrayal of his duty to the Empire conversing with the enemy let alone addressing them with any sort of familiarity.

“Zeb…” he tried the name out in the darkness. It sounded nice. It was easy to say…

Ten hours… he hoped Zeb would find a way to contact him then.

Chapter 2: Speeder at Sunset

Chapter Text

For the first time in his military career, Agent Kallus, snuck out early from his shift.

He submitted his reports to the Imperial Security Bureau ahead of schedule, and took the opportunity to leave while Admiral Konstantine was engrossed in chiding a pair of Lieutenants who were late for their shift. There was a subtle thrill in leaving a whole ten minutes early. It gave him time to return to his quarters and slip out of his Imperial uniform and into something that made him feel more...normal.

Wearing his standard issue gray boxers and thin gray tank shirt, he sat in the center of his bed, pulled the datapad off its charger and waited.

The clock signaled 1800 hours, exactly ten hours since he had last spoken with Garazeb Orelias.

He stared at the datapad. It stared back at him.

1805…

1810...

Kallus shifted on his bed, scooting closer to the dying meteorite on the shelf next to him, which seemed to pulsate a little brighter as he drew near. A sadness was beginning to wear away at the edge of his mind, no matter how he tried to push it away. Perhaps that one brief conversation was all he would get from Garazeb.

Maybe the lasat thought better of talking with an Imperial Agent of the Empire.

Maybe the lasat was caught contacting Kallus by his fellow Rebels and was no longer allowed to send transmissions.

Or maybe, Kallus thought with an icy chill, the Empire finally caught up to him and his friends...

When the datapad flickered to life, Kallus snatched it up so quickly he fumbled it onto the bed, his finger tapping dangerously close to the {BLOCK} button next to the new frequency’s incoming transmission. His gut lurched at the close call and he forced himself to take a moment. Taking in a steadying breath, Kallus propped up the pillow against the headboard, picked up the datapad and clicked {Accept}.

[5.15.943]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Hello Zeb.

Kallus’ fingers tingled even as he hit send, hoping it was still acceptable to call Garazeb by a nickname.

[5.15.943]: Hey Kal

Kallus felt a calming warmth wash over him. He tried to imagine Zeb’s voice calling him “Kal” in that deep husky tone he had heard only briefly on the Geonosian ice moon. It was certainly preferable to the way he snarled the title “agent” in some of their previous encounters.

[A. Kallus]: You found a new frequency.

[5.15.943]: Yeah. Sorry I was a little late, but we had some trouble.

[A. Kallus]: Imperial entanglements?

[5.15.943]: You could say that.

[A. Kallus]: I am glad you are safe.

[5.15.943]: Hah! Quite an honor to have an imperial agent care about my safety.

[A. Kallus]: I do not care. I simply would prefer to catch you myself.

[5.15.943]: Yeah? Remember how well that went last time?

[A. Kallus]: Well, I did get a nice rock out of it.

[5.15.943]: Hahahaha. You're actually kind of funny, Kal.

Kallus’ closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine Garazeb’s laugh. Was it rough like sandpaper against gravel? Was it a deep rumble like a boulder rolling down a hill? Did his peculiar feline ears wiggle? Did those owlish green eyes glitter?

Kallus rubbed his neck for a moment before typing again.

[A. Kallus]: Yes, well, I am very witty. Now you know two things about me. And here I am having yet to learn anything new about you.

[5.15.943]: That's fair, I guess. Alright, what do you want to know?

Kallus had to word this carefully. Standard getting-to-know-you questions were not an option. Not only did he already have extensive knowledge on Zeb’s background based on his investigation of the rebel cell, but the Imperial agent also had a part to play in the near-extinction of the lasat race. It was best to leave questions like “where did you grow up?” behind. And he certainly could not talk about things like “where do you live?” or even something mundane like the weather anymore than Zeb could ask Kallus about his whereabouts. The less either one of them knew, the safer the other party would be.

Keep it simple...very simple.

[A. Kallus]: Well, you know I am a culinary enthusiast. What interests you?

[5.15.943]: Eh, nothing fancy like food. I doubt you’d be interested.

[A. Kallus]: It interests you, does it not?

[5.15.943]: Well yeah. It’s almost all I do in my spare time, when I have any.

[A. Kallus]: So, if it interests you, I would like to know what it is.

[5.15.943]: Fine. I like carving things.

[A. Kallus]: You mean carving those wretched Rebellion symbols into my Imperial bases? Yes, I have noticed. You are quite the artist.

[5.15.943]: No, and anyway that’s not me that’s someone else’s work.

Kallus’ first instinct was to press as to who was defacing the Empire’s private property, but he restrained himself.

[A. Kallus]: Very well. What do you like to carve then?

[5.15.943]: In Lasat it’s called wudgrank . Relief Carving in Basic. It’s no big deal. I carve out reliefs from slabs of wood I collect on every planet I’ve visited. Well, the ones that had wood to spare.

Kallus chewed on his lip a moment in thought before typing.

[A. Kallus]: May I see something you did?

The ellipses flickered on the screen indicating Zeb was typing. Then it stopped. Then it started again.

[5.15.943]: I guess? One sec, I’ll take a holoimage. Just promise me you’ll delete it afterward okay?

[A. Kallus]: You have my word.

Kallus felt a twinge of guilt. Of course he intended on deleting the holoimage, but he could not deny it would also feel like destroying potential evidence for the Empire, which went against all of Kallus’ training since was sworn into the Imperial Security Bureau.

Loyalty and honor, those two principals were the foundation of Agent Kallus’ persona.

And you are willing to risk all that just to see some art a lasat made out of wood?

The question vanished as a long, green bar stretched across the top of the screen.

[Attachment Received from 5.15.943: Convoree on Zherry Blossom]

[5.15.943]: Go easy on me ok? Like I said, no big deal.

Kallus tapped the {Open} icon on the screen and a holoimage hovered over his datapad.

The relief was...impressive, actually. A plump bird with doe-eyes and cone-shaped beak was perched on a thin branch adorned with round zherry blossoms. The wood was heavily knotted, but the actual art itself had been sanded and gouged into smooth curves and flawless, rounded edges.

[A. Kallus]: This is wonderful, Garazeb.

[5.15.943]: Come on, don’t make fun of me, agent.

[A. Kallus]: I am serious. I truly am impressed.

[Attachment: Convoree on Zherry Blossom]{DELETED}

[5.15.943]: Yeah? Well, thanks. Here, I just took another one. It’s not done yet though.

[Attachment Received from 5.15.943: Speeder at Sunset]

A new holoimage flickered above his datapad...

...and Kallus’ heart skipped a beat.

The speeder was exquisitely detailed with small, meticulous notches as it sat idle on a flat landscape with a low moon on the horizon.

The image, however, was not what drew Kallus’ eye.

A meaty hand was visible, holding up the relief which took up most of the holoimage except for a small portion of Zeb’s quarters. There, Kallus spied a Rebellion recruitment poster framed and covered in a protective sheet of glass.

Kallus zoomed in on the glass.

A reflection of the lasat was clearly visible. And he looked...contented. His ears were tilted down slightly, and his eyes were softened by hooded eyelids. A gentle, half-smile touched his lips forming slight dimples on his otherwise flat, bat-like face.

Kallus had seen hundreds of pictures of Zeb on surveillance footage, wanted posters, and the dossier that Kallus had put together himself. Yet in all of these images, none had captured just who Garazeb Orelias was more than this single image.

Is he smiling because he is proud of his work? Kallus wondered. Then with a small swallow he dared to ask himself , Is he smiling maybe...because of me?

[5.15.943]: Hello? Hey, it’s not that bad is it?

Kallus bit his lip. Doe he not know he inadvertently sent a picture of himself to me?

Stumbling over how to respond, Kallus simply wrote:

[A. Kallus]: It is very well done.

[5.15.943]: Karabast. I have to go.

The sudden response gave Kallus a start. Before he could reply, however, Zeb messaged again.

[5.15.943]: I’ll be right back. Maybe ten minutes. You'll be around, right?

Kallus relaxed a little, sinking back into his pillow.

[A. Kallus]: I will be here.

[5.15.943]: Good.

The activity icon next to Zeb’s frequency dimmed.

The minutes ticked by.

Kallus gazed intently at the holoimage.

It had been easier to blame his eagerness to talk with Zeb on just being lonely and desperate for some sort of interaction. He had told himself as much for the last ten hours as he caught himself feeling brief flutters of excitement as his shift drew to a close. Yet seeing the flickering holoimage for the first time since they had parted on the ice moon...he found himself yearning to see the lasat again.

Kallus wished he could recall more details of Zeb than just brief flashes. So much of their time together on the ice moon was spent fighting for their lives and the pain in the agent’s broken leg diluted any focus he could have lent to studying his new friend.

Not that Kallus could have known that he would end up…

Kallus blinked...

End up...what?

Kallus licked his dry lips. He zoomed in more on the lasat’s face.

He wondered if Zeb was attractive by lasat standards. He clearly had some sense of style, with a beard grown out on the side and a long, well-trimmed goatee in front.

His appreciation for unique facial hair is...noteworthy , Kallus thought, scratching at his own sculpted sideburns.

The way the light glinted off of the lasat’s lower lip gave his mouth a luscious quality. And those eyelids that hung heavy over those moonglow eyes…

Kallus felt a stir within him as if something within his very core was awakening.

It was strange to feel anything for an alien, though truth be told, to feel anything emotionally or physically for another, human or non-human, was surprising enough.

He had been propositioned before by other officers, people he knew other humans would find physically and mentally attractive, yet his interest was never piqued. Sexually, looking at the human form gave him as much stimulation as looking at a finely upholstered command chair. It led to a lot of lonely nights, but Kallus had simply grown used to it, preferring isolation than attempting to fill the void with meaningless carnal pleasure.

And now here he was, gazing at the flickering image of a smiling lasat, and finding his mind begin to wander.

He wondered what it would feel like to run his hands over that soft, velvety fur; fur that too briefly brushed against his cheek once as the two of them scrambled to safety on the ice moon. He wanted to see that heavy brow lighten and those eyes close as he lost himself in more intimate acts.

And for the briefest moment he tried to imagine that deep, gruff voice soften to a purr…

“Kal…”

[5.15.943]: Alright back. Chop needed help with some repairs.

Kallus sat up in bed suddenly feeling heat rush to his face. He quickly typed back (and also misspelled),

[A. Kallus]: Welcme bak.

[5.15.943]: Thanks. You deleted those pictures right?

Kallus’ heart sank, his eyes desperately flicking back to Zeb’s tender smile.

No one would know...I would be careful to keep my datapad locked away from prying eyes.

No...

If he wanted this thing with Zeb to be anything more than it already was, he needed to be honest with the lasat. He wanted to prove to Zeb that he was the honorable warrior the rebel thought him to be.

He drew in a deep breath and like ripping off a band-aid he punched the {Delete}

[Attachment: Speeder at Sunset]{DELETED}

A profound sense of loss washed away the warmth he had felt just moments earlier. He took several deep breaths before responding.

[A. Kallus]: It is done.

[5.15.943]: Thank you, Kal. I appreciate it.

Neither one of them talked for a few moments.

A few times Zeb started to type something out, only to delete it soon after and the screen fell quiet again.

Kallus, meanwhile, wanted to say so much and yet could say so little.

He wanted to tell Zeb about the last planet he had last visited. He wanted to talk about the trees that the lasat would have found suitable for carving. He wanted to talk about the food that Kallus snuck back onboard to practice new dishes.

Above all, he wanted to tell Zeb that perhaps one day he would take him to that world and show him a beautiful sunset of purple and gold…

But telling Zeb these things meant revealing his current location. It would put his ship at risk. It would put the whole fleet at risk.

And worse it would put Zeb in a difficult position. He trusted Zeb, but he also would understand entirely if the rebel told his friends about Admiral Konstantine’s current whereabouts. The rebels were currently on the losing side of an impossible war. That kind of position would make anyone desperate.

[5.15.943]: So, what are you cooking next?

Kallus smiled. It seemed Zeb shared Kallus eagerness to talk and struggled to find safe topics as well.

[A. Kallus]: A dish called me’montri. It is popular in Ithorian culture, but no one has yet to tailor it to a human palate. I now know why.

[5.15.943]: Is it poisonous to humans or something?

[A. Kallus]: Some of the ingredients are, yes, and I am having difficulty finding spices that taste similar and are safe for human consumption.

[5.15.943]: How do you know if you've got the right ingredients to substitute?

[A. Kallus]: Well that is another problem. I have needed to speak to Ithorians chefs about such things. I did speak to an Ithorian vendor on-

Kallus deleted the planet name quickly before continuing...

[A. Kallus]: -on a planet we visited. We managed to come up with three ingredients I could use. Two are as simple as cumin and chocolate. The third, however, is going to be difficult to obtain.

[5.15.943]: You speak Ithorian? I thought Imps are only allowed to speak Basic.

Kallus winced.

[A. Kallus]: It is not encouraged, no.

[5.15.943]: What else do you speak?

[A. Kallus]: Ithorian, Nautolan, Rodian, and I am currently learning Muun, they have a few stews I am eager to try.

[5.15.943]: You could get into a lot of trouble if your Imp friends find out.

[A. Kallus]: I am careful, Zeb. You forget that I am head of security in this fleet. I am the one who would catch such infractions.

[5.15.943]: No one watches the watchmen, huh?

Kallus chewed his lip a moment, unsure of what to say. Zeb seemed to sense the agent’s discomfort and quickly changed the subject back.

[5.15.943]: So what is this difficult ingredient exactly?

[A. Kallus]: The ingredient I cannot use is starfish fruit unless I want to spend the next several days confined to a refresher. The Ithorian recommended Mercy root instead as it is closest in both taste and texture to starfish fruit. The Mercy plant grows in wet climates, but is also extremely sensitive to its environment and can either dehydrate or drown easily depending on the season. The plant is also nearly impossible to dig up without completely destroying the root. I have all the other necessary ingredients, but without Mercy root, I do not have a dish.

[5.15.943]: I’ll keep an eye out for you, if you like.

[A. Kallus]: You will?

[5.15.943]: But you have to do something for me.

Kallus felt a blush rise to his cheeks, though he did not immediately know why.

[5.15.943]: You have to keep an eye out for a prisma tree. The bark on the outside is a deep gray but it’s core is a rainbow of colors. The color sequence is different with every tree so the relief I would make from one plank would be completely unique to only that particular tree. The branches are thick so I really just need one. Don’t kill it or anything.

[A. Kallus]: I am not a monster, Zeb. I will do my best to look out for such a tree. I promise no permanent harm would come to it.

[5.15.943]: Alright deal.

[A. Kallus]: If we do manage to find these impossible items, perhaps we can meet on our ice moon to trade.

[5.15.943]: OUR ice moon?

Kallus’ heart seized. He did not mean for it to sound so...intimate. He typed out a hurried response.

[A. Kallus]: I suppose it is not our moon yet. The Empire has no need for it as of yet and therefore it has gone unclaimed.

[5.15.943]: Oh. I misunderstood.

A chill settled over Kallus. Was Zeb disappointed? Did he want Kallus to think it was their moon? He reread Zeb’s message.

OUR ice moon?

It had sounded skeptical, or maybe incredulous? Was it a flirtation?

Kallus tried to write out something to backpedal on his statement, but knew it was already too late.

“The Empire has no need for it”? I sound like bloody Konstantine, Kallus thought with disgust. But then, am I any different from him?

Kallus looked at the time. They would be landing on Felucia in five hours and he needed to be at his best.

Besides, I have done enough damage tonight...

[A. Kallus]: I need to get some sleep. I have matters to attend to in a few short hours.

Zeb did not respond right away. Perhaps he was not going to. Perhaps Kallus had succeeded in reminding the rebel he was addressing a servant of the Empire, the enemy, someone who could never…

[5.15.943]: Alright. When can I talk to you again?

A grin broke across Kallus’ face so suddenly it made his cheeks ache. He eagerly typed out his reply.

[A. Kallus]: We go planet-side in five hours. I’ll be up in four if you would like to talk while I prepare.

[5.15.943]: Alright. We have some downtime here so I’ll be on this same frequency. I’ll contact you then.

[A. Kallus]: Are you alright?

[5.15.943]: What do you mean?

[A. Kallus]: You have downtime and you were doing repairs. Are you in danger?

[5.15.943]: Aww, you worried for me, Agent?

[A. Kallus]: Yes

[5.15.943]: I’m fine, Kal. I promise. I will talk to you in four hours, alright?

[A. Kallus]: Yes. If you are able.

[5.15.943]: I’ll make sure I’m able. G’bye Kal.

[A. Kallus]: Goodbye, Zeb.

Kallus closed out of the messaging system and immediately cleared the cache and history from his datapad.

Satisfied that all evidence of his conversation with Zeb was destroyed, Kallus slipped under the covers and sank into his pillow. A peculiar mixture of loneliness and excitement electrified his nerves. In four short hours he would be able to talk to Zeb again. About what, exactly, Kallus had no idea, but even if Zeb merely continued talking about woodworking, the agent would be happy.

As Kallus drifted to sleep he dreamt of a warm cave on an icy moon. The blizzard howled outside, but he felt safe within the shelter, lying on the smooth ground next to a warm, velvety-furred lasat with glistening golden eyes.

“Is this our moon, Kal?” Zeb asked, softly.

Kallus lifted himself on one elbow. “If you want it, it’s yours. I will conquer a hundred moons for you if you asked me to.”

Zeb gave Kallus a patient smile. “You’re not an Imperial anymore, remember? You’re free. If you want it to be our moon, then it is ours.”

“It is ours, then,” Kallus said, grateful to be able to finally declare it.

Zeb pressed his forehead against Kallus and let out a soft purr. “Are you mine too, Kal?”

In the peaceful darkness of the agent’s quarters as well as the snowy depths of his dream, Kallus murmured dreamily, “Yes...I was always yours...”

Chapter 3: A Smile on Horizon Station

Chapter Text

[5.15.943]: I’m looking at a picture of you right now.

Agent Kallus shot up in bed.

[A. Kallus]: What?

[5.15.943]: The Rebellion made some new anti-Empire posters for us. Congratulations, you’re now the poster boy for your precious Empire.

[A. Kallus]: I am flattered. Do not tell me you have it in your room?

[5.15.943]: Nah, I’m in the mess hall. Everyone’s in a meeting so I thought I’d stretch out a bit while I talk to you.

[A. Kallus]: Show me the poster? I am curious.

[5.15.943]: Sure. Hold on.

[Attachment Received: Evil Empire]

Kallus rolled his eyes at the name. The image loaded slowly.

He cringed when it finally came into focus.

The first thing he noticed was his eyebrows. One was a straight line while the other was pulled up in an almost perfect triangle, horn-shaped and devilish. His mouth was small, but pulled up in a vicious sneer. That, coupled with the dramatic underlight, and he looked like a demon from a holodrama.

He stood with his arms folded with a battalion of stormtroopers behind him. Red splattered the black background above with the words. “Fight Them or Burn.”

[A. Kallus]: It is rather harsh.

[5.15.943]: I thought they got the sneer right.

[A. Kallus]: They altered the image, I do not SNEER, thank you. Do you have to look at this poster every day?

[5.15.943]: Nah, I’m not actually on our ship right now. But maybe they’ll give us one if I ask.

Kallus chewed on his lip. It took him several false starts before he finally typed out the words.

[A. Kallus]: To inspire your cause? Or because you want to see my dashing face every day?

There was a long pause, and the ellipses indicating he was typing flashed on and off a few times before he finally replied with:

[5.15.943]: Bit of both.

Kallus’ heart skipped a beat. He quickly typed out:

[A. Kallus]: Does not seem fair you get to see me and I cannot see you.

[5.15.943]: What? No frowning pictures of me in your archives?

I’ve looked at them too often. I had to stop or it it will raise red flags, thought Kallus, knowing full well he should not divulge that information to the rebel.

[A. Kallus]: That’s classified.

[5.15.943]: Well next time I pass by an imperial surveillance camera I’ll smile real big for ya.

[A. Kallus]: Do not do something foolish for my sake.

[5.15.943]: Nah, I’ll be fine.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb...

[5.15.943]: Hey I gotta head out. Same time next rotation?

[A. Kallus]: Yes.

[5.15.943]: See ya Kal.

[A. Kallus]: Goodbye Zeb.

-----

Six hours to go…

Kallus played their last conversation over in his head, wondering if Zeb was really going to risk himself to smile at a camera just for Kallus.

Just for me…

Logically, Kallus hoped that the lasat was more prudently cautious than that, but then...If he was reckless enough to pull that stunt, Kallus would easily be able to clip the footage and save it under a redacted file so that no one, but he, could look at it. It was safer than receiving incoming files to his datapad and he would be able to access it at any without it raising any red flags.

And besides, that meant he would actually have a pleasant image of Zeb and not some mugshot or shady surveillance footage.

And most importantly, it would be a holopic that Zeb gave to Kallus freely.

Not an accidental image like he had sent before, and not something Kallus had to steal from the Empire to get, but something Zeb would want him to have.

If he was serious…

Kallus sighed. He truly hoped he wasn’t. It was irresponsible and dangerous. He could be caught or worse-

“Sir, we have located the Ghost !”

Kallus’ stomach lurched and he whirled towards the lieutenant. “Where?”

“Horizon Station. They stole a shipment of fuel cells from our depot there. Surveillance footage is picking up-”

Kallus snatched the lieutenant’s datapad just as the footage loaded onto the screen.

Zeb…

A hoverdolly flew by the surveillance camera. Pushing it was a familiar bat-like face. The lasat looked straight into the camera and burst into a wide and surprisingly boyish grin before disappearing off camera again. Following close behind him was Ezra Bridger aka Jabba and Pilot Hera Syndulla.

“Shall I inform Admiral Konstantine?”

Kallus said nothing. He rewound the footage and paused it on the lasat’s face.

Such a foolish risk. He expected anger to well within his chest. Such a foolish risk for me. Instead all he felt was a peculiar flutter. He disapproved of the lightness he felt in his chest.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” Kallus looked up, blinking at the officer.

The Lieutenant frowned. “Shall I inform the Admiral?”

Kallus transferred the surveillance footage from the Lieutenant’s datapad to his own...and deleted the footage entirely. “That will not be necessary. I will inform him myself.”

The lieutenant took the datapad and frowned. “Yes, sir.”

The alarms sounded throughout the flagship. Kallus flipped to the Imperial Data Network.

He paled. Slowly, he rose his eyes to a nearby viewport. There in the middle of the blackness of space was the Rebel Fleet.

All of them…

Before his eyes, Kallus watched imperial star destroyers appear out of hyperspace. Surrounding the Rebels.

“Agent Kallus” the intercom sounded overhead. “Report to the bridge immediately.”

----

Kallus stood on the bridge, his eyes glued to the viewport. He did not see the Ghost anywhere.

Good…

“We need to act now before they go into hyperspace, Admiral,” Kallus said, irritably

And before the Ghost shows up and does something stupid.

“It won’t matter if they make the jump, Agent.” Admiral remarked with a sniff. “For one thing, the entire fleet is out of fuel. And if they do make the jump, we already have star destroyers standing by in the Yost system.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow. “The Yost system?”

“There was a leak in rebel intelligence. It seems that they are heading to the Yost system in hopes of finding a new base.”

Kallus touched the edge of his finger to his lip in thought. Flashes of Zeb’s smile suddenly dissolved into a blurred image of fuel cells flying across the screen.

Fuel cells…

Kallus whirled back to the viewport. As if on cue a familiar manta-shaped ship zipped into view.

“Ah, just in time.” Konstantine clapped his hands. “The infamous Ghost has rejoined the fleet. We shall destroy them all in one fell swoop.”

Kallus felt sick.

The Ghost immediately took evasive action, zipping around destroyers and rebel carriers alike in smooth, yet unpredictable patterns. The nose and dorsal turrets fired rapidly at TIE Fighters on all sides, small fireworks of destruction lighting up the dark space. Kallus could not see who was manning the cannons, but knew without a doubt one of them was Zeb. As more TIE Fighters poured from the star destroyers, all Kallus could do was watch helplessly, and hope he maintained a callous visage.

Is this how it ends? Is this the moment I watch my only friend die. Will I only have an image of a smiling lasat left to keep me company…Zeb…I am so sorry...

From out of nowhere, a hammerhead corvette flew over the Ghost picking off several TIE Fighters, clearing a path for the rebel craft to fly into the nearby flagship and out of sight. The TIEs dispersed and attacked other corvettes, taking out several as if attempting to make up for missing the chance to destroy the Ghost.

“Let them go,” Konstantine said, sounding so smug he was almost bored. “Notify the Yost fleet they will receive visitors soon.”

Kallus bit on his bottom lip, still staring out the viewport, not trusting himself to look anywhere else.

One-by-one the ships disappeared into hyperspace.

Kallus closed his eyes.

The moments ticked by slowly.

This should be my crowning moment. If the Rebellion is wiped out, I will be hailed as a hero throughout the Empire. This is all I have ever wanted…

A question surfaced in his mind that he did not want to answer.

And what do you want now?

“What?” Konstantine snapped.

Kallus’ eyes snapped open. He looked back to the admiral who had his finger pressed against his earpiece.

“Call in the Yost fleet. Tell them to scan the area. They should not have known we were waiting for them.” He paused, listening to the ear piece then snapped. “Just find them, dammit!”

Kallus’ mind thrummed with a mixture of relief and shared frustration with the admiral. They were so close to ending this Rebellion. Always so close…

Kallus’ datapad buzzed in his hand. He looked down.

An incoming text message.

[8.24.541]: Is this line safe?

“Excuse me, Admiral,” Kallus said, but the admiral merely waved him away, too consumed in screaming at his Lieutenant to take notice.

----

Kallus sat on the edge of the bed, still in uniform, not even bothering to take off his boots. He hurriedly typed out his response.

[A. Kallus]: You are safe.

[5.15.943]: Yeah. Fingers and toes intact.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I did not know about the ambush on Yost.

[5.15.943]: If you did, would you have told me?”

Kallus’ fingers froze.

Would I have?

His stomach churned.

He had been a fool to not prepare for this. Eventually his interactions with Garazeb were going to conflict with his duties. He had been ignoring this just as he realized he had been ignoring Admiral Konstantine’s updates regarding the Yost system. Was he subconsciously keeping himself in the dark so he would not be put in a compromising position? What would he have done had he known?

[A. Kallus]: I honestly don’t know, Zeb.

They did not say anything for a while.

[A. Kallus]: You are safe though?

[5.15.943]: Yeah. Your precious Empire isn’t going to find us anytime soon.

The comment stung.

He banged out a response...

...then froze.

He stared at the words on the screen: “It is not precious to me.”

He deleted the words...

And gritted his teeth.

[A. Kallus]: I did not ask for this.

[5.15.943]: Ask for what?

Kallus did not answer at first.

I did not ask for these feelings.

I did not ask to care for someone I may never see again.

Someone who is on the wrong side...

[A. Kallus]: Why are you talking to me? What could you possibly get out of this?

The long drawn out pauses were killing Kallus; his heart hammered in his chest. It was not a fair question because he could not answer it himself. Still...

[5.15.943]: I had to.

[A. Kallus]: Why?

Had to? As what? A spy? Did he actually contact me because he was forced to? Maybe they were trying to...

[5.15.943]: After I left the ice moon I just needed to know you were okay. Then after that I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you were still okay. I want to know you’re okay every day, I guess. I can’t explain it.

Kallus stared at the screen dumbfounded. The screen lit up again.

[5.15.943]:Eventually we are going to have to face each other again.

[A. Kallus]: I know.

[5.15.943]: I won’t fight you.

[A. Kallus]: You may not have a choice, Garazeb.

[5.15.943]: Karabast. There is always a choice.

[A. Kallus]: Not for me.

It did not hit Kallus just how trapped he truly was until that moment.

The Empire would never let me go. Stars, do I even want to go? For what? For him? This is too much...

[A. Kallus]: I have to go.

[5.15.943]: Kal wait.

[A. Kallus]: Yes?

[5.15.943]: Do you want to stop this?

Kallus typed out the word “yes.”

His finger hovered over the Send button.

It would be safer for both of them. If the Empire found out about these little talks he would be executed immediately. Who knows what those savage rebels would do to Zeb if they found out he was talking to not only an agent of the Empire, but the apparent poster boy of the Empire.

Kallus pressed the screen just to the right of the Send button. With a few clicks he pulled up the holoimage of a rebel lasat who grinned at an Imperial camera just for him.

He focused on the flickering blue image, trying to remember how golden those eyes were in person.

He wanted to look into those eyes again...even if he did not know when that may be...or under what circ*mstances...

[A. Kallus]: No. I do not.

Kallus felt a chill, as if those four words just branded him an official traitor. He had a window to sever his ties with this rebel...and he closed it.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, what are we doing? What is this?

[5.15.943]: I really don’t know. I just know I don’t want to stop talking to you.

[A. Kallus]: Neither do I.

[5.15.943]: So then we cross that bridge when we get to it. Deal?

[A. Kallus]: Yes. Deal. Also, thank you for the holoimage.

[5.15.943]: Hah! You got it huh? For the record, we got caught and that camera happened to be there. I didn’t do anything reckless. Well not any more reckless than what we did on Horizon.

[A. Kallus]: Fine, yes. You were VERY responsible I see. It will not make a good wanted poster, unfortunately. I will have to just keep it for myself.

Kallus broke out into a sweat. He hoped that Zeb would find it humorous and not take it as a threat, or blackmail. He was bad at...this…

[5.15.943]: Good. That was the hope.

Kallus smiled.

[A. Kallus]: I should get some sleep before the next shift.

[5.15.943]: Kal. Take care alright?

[A. Kallus]: I believe YOU need to be the one who takes care, Garazeb Orrelios. The Empire came too close this time. You have to be more careful.

[5.15.943]: I can handle imps, Kal. Don’t you worry your pretty face about me.

Kallus’ face went red.

[A. Kallus]: Pretty?

[5.15.943]: I meant sneering.

[A. Kallus]: Well if I find a rebellion surveillance camera I will be sure not to sneer.

[5.15.943]: Yeah? I’d like that.

The heat in Kallus’ face did not go away.

[A. Kallus]: Goodnight, Zeb.

[5.15.943]: Night, Kal.

Chapter 4: The Goal is Not to Fall

Chapter Text

Agent Kallus loved the Empire.

At a young age he remembered vividly the transition from the Republic, a weak and failed system, to a powerful, honest and extremely efficient Empire. Even as a youth, he understood the unruly galaxy was better off under the thumb of Emperor Palpatine. If nothing else, it was better than watching the whole worlds cannibalize themselves under petty skirmishes and shady political dealings.

Kallus wanted to be part of the Empire’s foundation. He wanted to grow with it, to be honed by it, to let it use his unparalleled skills of deduction and his unwavering sense of loyalty to make the galaxy a better place.

He would be shaped to become an important cog in this Mighty Machine.

That was what Agent Kallus wanted.

What Kal wanted, however, was entirely different.

Kal just wanted to be with his friend.

Kal wanted to sit with him, to talk with him, to perhaps one day share a meal with him. Yet as time went on, it became more and more difficult to even steal a few minutes of conversation with his friend. Eventually, Zeb had to explain to Kal that their sparse communication was soon to be non-existent, at least for a couple of weeks.

“But don’t worry, I won’t be gone forever.”

Zeb was not concerned, so Kal did not allow himself to fret either.

He could not, however, do anything to avoid the pangs of painful loneliness that gnawed at Kal’s insides every night as he returned to his quarters. His heart ached for that familiar chirp of an incoming text communication and that beautiful question: “is the line secure?”

Kal could not be with his friend. At least not for a long while.

So it would be Agent Kallus that would have to keep his mind preoccupied.

Agent Kallus rarely slept. Agent Kallus consumed himself in his work. And eventually Kal found that three weeks came and went like the light of a shooting star.

Unfortunately, the day Zeb’s message appeared was also the same day Agent Kallus met Grand Admiral Thrawn.

And for the first time since he met Garazeb Orellios, what Agent Kallus wanted and what Kal wanted finally came to a head.

-----

Grand Moff Tarkin, Admiral Konstantine and Agent Kallus had been at this debate for nearly twenty minutes with no headway.

Konstantine voiced a firm denial of the existence of a large-scale rebel operation. If Kallus did not know the admiral well, he would think the mustachioed officer was a rebel spy, but his denial of the Rebellion was based solely on not discovering this himself first.

Tarkin stood with impeccable posture, hands tucked behind his back, his face, though permanently soured by nature, was passive and calm.

“Although we have seen little from the Ghost itself,” Tarkin said, “there have been several small rebel-related events transpiring in the Outer Rim in quick succession. We must face the possibility that these small events are not coincidences, but something much larger than anticipated.”

The Imperial Agent side of Kallus’ brain screamed for him to speak up. From the small snippets of what Zeb had told him during their talks, it actually did seem possible a larger Rebellion existed. The lasat was careful with his words, but every now and then he would let slip about the existence of other rebel ships. He had once actually used the word “fleet”; Kal had ignored the word, but Agent Kallus had tucked the information away just in case.

I should say something. I should let them know that there is a rebel fleet growing and it could be indeed a galaxy-wide operation.

Kallus opened his mouth. The words were there. He just needed to let them tumble from his lips.

What are you doing? His loyalty screamed at him. Just say it!

He lowered his gaze and remained quiet.

Admiral Konstantine filled the silence with a pretentious sniff, turning his nose up. “I’m certain Governor Pryce is overestimating how organized the Resistance is. While it’s true there are pockets of rebellion, there has never been any evidence of a galaxy-wide operation.”

Before Kallus could dwell further on confessing his own “suspicions” about an existing fleet, another voice sounded from the doorway.

“And I would like to keep it that way, Admiral Konstantine.”

The voice was menacing, a serpent slithering through tall grass. A looming, formidable man emerged from the shadows of the entryway. He was tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, and clad in a gleaming white tunic and trousers that complimented the cerulean hue of his skin. The newcomer looked almost human separated only by his pigmentation, blood-red eyes, prominent cheekbones and a protruding brow.

He stood beside Admiral Konstantine, with the cool-eyed, dark-haired Governor Pryce in tow.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Tarkin greeted.

“Grand admiral?” Konstanine balked.

In a deep, breathy voice Thrawn answered. “The Emperor recently promoted me after my victory in Batonn.”

“Civilian casualties outnumbered the insurgents at the time ,” Kallus said, forcing his tone to be even.

Kallus glanced at Tarkin, expecting a distasteful expression on the Grand Moff to rival his own. What he received was a face of complete and utter indifference. Konstantine also remained impassive.

“Acceptable margins, Agent Kallus,” Governor Pryce said cooly, “for there are no longer rebels in that area.”

Pryce. Of course she would side with Thrawn. The others, however…

Kallus looked at Tarkin again. Surely he would say something. The Empire does not condone slaughtering civilians. Tarkin remained unmoved.

Batonn was a massacre. How is everyone fine with this? It reminded Kallus too much of the mild reaction to the annihilation on Lasan. A whole race wiped out, and aside from a very intimidating and profound speech warning the rest of the galaxy to obey the Empire, there was no lament about the actual slaughter itself.

And what about Geonosis and their missing people?

That thought surprised him even as it popped into his mind. The analytical part of Kallus’ brain kicked into gear. Puzzle pieces he had not seen before began to float together, clicking into place. Lasan...Batonn...they were connected. They were extreme measures to tighten the Empire’s hold on the galaxy.

What was different about Geonosis? Why had the Empire not sent the ISB to investigate?

“Good questions.” The lasat had once said to him, with a grim smile. “Chase the answers and maybe you’ll learn the truth…”

“I trust you have a solution,” Tarkin said to Thrawn, bringing Kallus back to the conversation.

“I will start my operations here,” Thrawn pressed a button on the war table console, “and pull the rebels apart piece-by-piece.” In a quiet purr the chiss declared, “They will be the architects of their own destruction.”

Once Thrawn’s intricate plan and almost self-indulgent diatribe was over, the officers dispersed. Before Kallus could leave the war room with the others, however, Thrawn put a hand on the agent’s shoulder.

“A word…?”

Thrawn’s grip was not forceful, but it froze Kallus in place all the same. “Kallus, is it?”

Kallus stole a longing glance at the door before turning back to the grand admiral.

“Yes, Agent Kallus.”

“Ah yes, The Butcher of Lasan, am I correct?”

Kallus stiffened. “An exaggerated title, I am afraid. I played but a small role in the battle.”

“Do not be so modest,” Thrawn said, his pale lips thinning into a smile that perhaps could have been friendly, or meant to intimidate. “Your prowess in battle is rivaled only by your analytical assessments of your enemies. It was your tactical planning that won the day.”

“The Empire wanted to make an example of the planet. I did my duty.”

Thrawn regarded Kallus silently for a moment. “A humble man. I admire that. A pleasure to meet you, Agent Kallus. I do look forward to working with you closely.”

Kallus made sure to maintain eye contact with those fearsome scarlet eyes. “As do I, sir,” he said. He exited the war room fighting every urge to hurry down the hall away from those piercing bloody orbs.

Blasphemous thoughts rolled around in Kallus’ head as he made his ways back to his quarters.

I have to warn Zeb. I have to tell him to be careful. Thrawn is dangerous. He will stop at nothing.

Kallus let out a breath. For the first time in three weeks, Kallus was glad for the lasat’s absence. If Zeb and his friends could just lay low for a while perhaps Kallus could formulate how to help his friend and not betray his Empire.

As if on cue, his datapad burst to life. An alert glared across his screen in bright red letters.

Kal’s stomach lurched.

[ALERT: Attack On Imperial Shipyards: Coordinates 98.22.34.1C]: Possible Rebel Attack. Suspects: Three humans, a weequay, and a lasat. Details in report below.

“Kriff, Zeb…” Kallus muttered under his breath.

-----

The rebels were lucky it was Officer Titus in charge of the shipyards. Titus, a stubborn and odious man, was once an imperial admiral, knocked from his perch when he let the rebel terrorist Ezra Bridger aka “Jabba” escape from his base. It was, in fact, Agent Kallus who had demoted Titus and banished him to these shipyards.

Despite Titus’ assurances to the high command that he was handling the situation, Governor Pryce insisted Seventh Fleet provide the shipyard with assistance. Her decision was a good one, much to Kallus’ chagrin. This act of theft could mean the rebellion was gathering ships to add to a single fleet, a fleet which Thrawn predicted would come to their rebel friend’s rescue if threatened.

That would be when Thrawn would strike.

Agent Kallus should have been thrilled.

Kal, however, felt completely helpless.

When the Executor came out of hyperspace, it was greeted by a meager flock of ancient y-wing fighters. Kal wondered which was piloted by the reckless lasat. The TIE fighters dispersed, flanking the rebel fighters in attempt to guide them towards the tractor beam.

As Kallus and Pryce stood on the bridge watching the events unfold Pryce sighed.

“I fight so hard to gain so little. Contact Grand Admiral Thrawn, immediately.”

Kallus kept his face calm even as he saw one particular y-wing blast a TIE fighter, turning it into stardust. He hailed Thrawn’s comm and moments later the grand admiral flickered above the holocomm.

“Update me on your progress, governor.”

“The situation is proceeding much as you anticipated. The rebel fleet composed of three star cruisers have come to their rescue.”

Surprisingly, Thrawn frowned. “That is not the rebel fleet. Break off your attack and allow them to escape with their...meager reward.”

Pryce broke into a satisfactory smile. “Very good, grand admiral.”

Konstantine blinked. “We are letting them get away? I don’t understand!”

“I know you don’t,” Pryce said, coolly, “but rest assured Thrawn has a much larger objective in mind than the capture of a single rebel cell.”

Kallus remained silent, not trusting himself to voice fake concerns.

Zeb is safe. That is enough.

-----

Kallus sat in the center of his bed, staring at the blinking cursor on his datapad.

[File 88-2517: Operation: Queen’s Egg. Please Enter Security Clearance Code]

The fact he did not recognize the name of this operation formed an icy rock of dread in his gut.

Once he went into this file, there would be no turning back.

But I have to know. I need to know the truth.

He typed in his clearance code.

There was a delay, then a document scrolled across his screen. It was redacted heavily. Parts of sentences gave him little to go on.

[Permission has been granted to initiate Operation 2517, Code name “Queen’s Egg” for {redacted} effective immediately.

Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin will oversee {redacted} for purposes of ensuring {redacted}. Must complete {redacted} .]

Kallus clicked the next page. And the next. Thick black lines hid the most damning of evidence, but Tarkin’s name was on every page. As was Director Krennic, Governor Pryce, and Grand Admiral Thrawn.

All of high command knew about this except the Imperial Intelligence Agency. What are they hiding?

[ {redacted} should not hinder development of {redacted} . Further construction will take place {redacted} and the testing will be scheduled {redacted} pending Director Krennic and Governor Tarkin’s approval.]

Development? Testing? What are Tarkin and Krennic building? Is it worth the extinction of an entire race? Billions of lives for one...structure? Weapon?

The next thought tumbled out of Kallus’ mind before he could stop it.

This is not the Empire I signed up for.

He did not hear the chime announcing a visitor until it sounded a second time. He blinked blankly at the door.

Who would wish to see me at this hour unannounced?

Running a hand through his hair, he closed the file and put the datapad on its charger facing the screen to the wall.

As he activated the door lock, it immediately hissed open.

“Grand admiral,” Kallus said, suddenly wishing he had put on his tunic instead of greeting the officer in his black tank shirt and trousers.

Thrawn did not seem to notice the casualness of his appearance however. “Agent Kallus. Might I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course,” Kallus replied, standing aside to let the grand admiral pass. “This is not exactly a venue of which to have a comfortable chat, I am afraid. Would you not prefer to use the conference room instead?”

Thrawn looked around the quarters mildly. “My quarters are not so much larger than this. I have no need for lavishness, after all.”

Kallus bit back a smirk, knowing full well Thrawn’s quarters on his own star destroyer was a glorified art gallery of artifacts from around the galaxy. Still, he knew Thrawn was attempting to find common ground. So he indulged the man.

“On that we agree. I do not have time for frivolous trinkets to distract my time.”

Thrawn’s red eyes landed on the softly glowing meteor. “Indeed,” he said softly.

Kallus pulled out the plush leather chair from his desk in the corner of the room and turned it, allowing the grand admiral to settle in. Kallus, having no other place to sit, returned to his bed and sat on the edge.

Thrawn took a moment to look over the room once again. Twice his eyes landed on the glowing meteor. It disturbed Kallus more that the ever-observant grand admiral did not remark on the item. He only looked at it with interest.

“Agent,” he said finally, returning his gaze to Kallus, “I believe we, what is the phrase, “got off on the wrong foot”. I would like to remedy that now.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow. “I do not believe that is necessary. I have no issue with you.”

What was the grand admiral’s angle? Why come to Kallus in such an intimate setting if not to intimidate the agent? Perhaps make him feel as if there was no place for him to hide from the grand admiral. It irked him that Thrawn would use such an intimidation tactic on him, the man trained in extracting and coercing information from suspects for a living.

“I disagree,” Thrawn said, with the utmost politeness. “I believe you to be a man of honor and it is apparent my actions at the Battle of Batonn were deemed less than honorable judging by your distaste in the war room.”

The moment Kallus shifted uncomfortably on his bed, Thrawn added, “I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable, agent, but I do want you to understand we are at war here. If my actions seem ruthless it is because ruthlessness is necessary to defeat our enemies. Fighting a rebellion means we are fighting faceless foes, foes that can be a small rebel cell or an entire planet invested with rebellious tendencies. My decimation of Batonn may have appeared to be a sloppily executed attack, but of those recorded ‘civilian casualties’ we found many of them were already sympathizing with the rebel forces.

“If we are to be working together I hope you will come to understand and perhaps appreciate that my methods, while harsh, are effective. You are a loyal servant to the Empire, Agent Kallus, and I greatly admire that of you.”

Kallus regarded Thrawn for several moments before nodding. “Thank you, grand admiral, for your candor. I apologize if I have been apprehensive. It is, after all, my job to be suspicious of anyone new boarding our ship regardless of rank or status. I admit my initial judgment of you could be unfounded. You are a grand admiral now and are highly regarded in the Empire. I also am not above admitting that while I find extreme actions on Batonn distasteful, they did garner favorable results. I cannot deny your shrewdness, which is a reputation that precedes you.” The words poured from Kallus effortlessly, channeling every drop of diplomacy he could muster.

Thrawn tilted his head. “My...you do have a way with words, agent.”

Kallus made it a point not to swallow, though his nerves urged him to stifle his rising nervousness. Thrawn was not buying his charming bluff.

Before Kallus could respond, the datapad buzzed to life.

Both Kallus and Thrawn looked to the datapad as it vibrated across the nightstand on its charging stand. Kallus’ face was neutral, but his chest was a frantic mess of panic and dread.

It is Zeb. It has to be.

Thrawn eyed the datapad curiously. “It seems there is a transmission coming in, agent. Are you not going to address it?”

Kallus broke out into a cold sweat. He was an Intelligence Agent . Most intel he received came via datapad. It was more suspicious to not check his pad immediately for messages. Trying to not appear too eager, he plucked the datapad from its perch and swiped the screen.

Sure enough the message he had been waiting three weeks for appeared on his screen.

[5.15.943]: Is this line secure?

Years of conditioning his expressions to be neutral and unreadable no matter the situation prepared him for this moment. Loneliness clawed at his insides, yearning pounded at his chest, his nerves screamed for him to type out two words: Hi, Zeb.

Calmly he typed out his response.

[A. Kallus]: No.

He hit enter, closed the window and set the datapad back on the nightstand facing to the wall once again.

“Was it something pressing,” Thrawn asked.

“Nothing that requires my immediate attention,” Kallus said, waiting a dismissive hand.

“Curious,” Thrawn tilted his head, his eyes not leaving the datapad. “The style of vibration sounded like a text-based message rather than a holocom notification.”

“It was a text message,” Kallus agreed, not bothering to lie to the grand admiral. “It was a personal message which I don't intend to discuss.”

He braced himself for Thrawn to lecture him about keeping secrets in the Empire, but instead Thrawn seemed...amused.

“A secret liaison,” he said, with a gentle tease in his voice.

“Nothing so intriguing as that, sir,” Kallus said, but Thrawn was already throwing up his hand.

“There is no need to underplay it, agent. I can tell by the rosiness of your cheeks that it must be someone of importance. You humans are so easy to read like a mood ring in a curio shop.

No, not to worry, I will not report you. In fact, I understand your position. In higher ranks such as ours, any romantic liaison we have is one we must handle with the utmost care. Discretion, especially in the early stages, is sometimes necessary. Even I am aware my relationship has been the subject of gossip within the Empire despite never having announced our companionship.”

Kallus had to admit that even he had partaken in speculation of Grand Admiral Thrawn and General Veers relationship despite there being little evidence to support or deny the claim. Though not a conflict of interest nor a political obstacle for either, their relationship did little more than provide some “office intrigue”. Still, to openly admit his involvement with another officer to Kallus was an interesting move.

This is precisely the tactic I would use on someone I did not trust. Reveal something of myself of little consequence in an effort to coax an “even exchange” of information from the person in question. Upon knowing my “admission of truth” they would let their guard down giving me just enough information that I could perhaps use later against them. Well, he will get nothing out of me. For all he knows it could be a conversation with the ISB or a family member or-

“Have you two been together long?” Thrawn asked.

Kallus was helpless to control the blush blossoming on his face.

He must have looked like a damn Nabooian rosebud because almost immediately Thrawn waved a dismissive hand. “I apologize. I should not pry.” He rose from the chair. “Thank you for this conversation, Agent Kallus. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

Kallus fumed. He had said nothing and yet revealed far more about himself than he had intended.

All he had learned from Grand Admiral Thrawn was he was not a person to be underestimated.
Kallus stood up and followed Thrawn to the door.

“I look forward to working with you, agent,” Thrawn said, with a cordial smile.

Without waiting for a response, Thrawn tucked his hands behind his back and walked down the hallway leaving Kallus leaning in the doorway, dumbfounded.
-----

Kallus awoke three hours later to a familiar buzz from his nightstand. He shot up in bed and lunged for the datapad, nearly knocking it and the charger over in the process.

[5.15.943]: Is this line secure?

For the first time in nearly eleven hours Kallus felt like he could breathe again.

[A. Kallus]: Yes. I am here.

[5.15.943]: Everything okay?

[A. Kallus]: It is now.

[5.15.943]: I didn’t get you in trouble did I?

[A. Kallus]: No. Though it resulted in a very interesting conversation.

[5.15.943]: Sorry about that.

[A. Kallus]: Do not be. Thank you for trying again.

Kallus typed out a second response, but hesitated to send it. He feared it would sound desperate. Pathetic, even. But it was honest. He could not think of a more honest message to send the lasat. He held his breath and hit [Send].

[A. Kallus]: I missed you.

He watched the tell-tale ellipses flicker on his screen indicating Zeb was writing a response. It rippled and disappeared and rippled again. It seemed the lasat was typing and deleting his response a lot.

Perhaps he believes I am growing too attached to him. Perhaps he is trying to formulate a way to let me down gently.

Kallus blinked. Let me down gently from what? We are not in any...we haven’t formed a... Kallus blew out a breath. I am tired. I am not thinking clearly. We are friends and nothing more .

[5.15.943]: I missed you too. A lot actually.

Kallus felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard and typed out his response.

[A. Kallus]: Are you alright? You are not hurt?

[5.15.943]: Nah, it takes a lot more than an Imperial Fleet to knock me on my ass.

Kallus smiled at the bravado, imagining that co*cky sideways grin Zeb gave Kallus on the holovid.

[A. Kallus]: I am grateful you responded back. After today’s events and other unwelcome interactions I am happy to talk to you again. It feels more normal talking to you. You are truly the only escape I really have in this life.

As soon as Kallus hit send he saw the words scroll across the screen and realized just how much of a ramble that was.

Too much. That is way too much. Why do I feel this way? Why can I not calm down?

The delay in Zeb’s response took too long. Another wave of doubt and anxiety crashed against his resolve. He wished he could take back his words. He wished he could say something more productive like “I am grateful you responded back” and leave it at that. He was so disciplined in all other aspects of his life.

What is it about Zeb that makes me act like a blubbering first-year cadet?

[5.15.943]: You know it doesn’t have to feel that way, Kal.

Kallus frowned at the screen.

[A. Kallus]: What do you mean?

[5.15.943]: Kal, you talk to me because you need an escape. For me, I don’t look for an escape when I talk to you. That’s the whole reason I am part of the Rebellion and not the Empire. Never for one moment have I wanted to forget where I am or who I am. I fight for a cause I believe in, Kal. I go to sleep every night knowing that today I did the best I could to help those around me. If you are looking for an escape from the life you are leading, then maybe you are leading the wrong life on the wrong side.

Kallus felt like he just plunged into an icy lake. Nausea washed over him.

[A. Kallus]: I have to go.

[5.15.943]: Kal, wait. Can we talk about this?

[A. Kallus]: There is nothing to talk about. I need to get some rest.

[5.15.943]: G’night Kal. Same time tomorrow?

Kallus’ hands shook terribly. He stared at the screen truly uncertain as how to respond.

[5.15.943]: Please, Kal?

[A. Kallus]: Yes, good night.

The screen was flickering as Zeb typed out a response, but Kallus logged out and slammed the datapad back on the table before he could receive it. He felt raw. Like his nerves were raw and exposed, his heart a throbbing lump of doubt drowning in betrayal.

Betrayal? Zeb betrayed nobody. It is you who are betraying your Empire by talking to that rebel scum.

Kallus sank back onto his bed, hot tears welling in his eyes spilling down the sides of his face as he stared at the ceiling.

Life was simpler before crashing on that ice moon. Life had meaning and focus. Agent Kallus was at the height of his career, thriving on the pureness of the Empire’s intentions, focused solely on loyalty and honor and duty.

He missed a world of Black and White.

Zeb smeared that perfect canvas with streaks of gray.

Agent Kallus felt a simmering hate for the lasat.

But Zeb is not the one to blame, is he? Geonosis, Batonn, Lasan...your Empire is not the black and white entity you had hoped it to be.

Kal reached up and grabbed the datapad from the stand. He rolled over on his side, his body spooning around it as he scrolled through the screens until he found Zeb’s holoimage. He resized it so that the boyish, co*cky smile of the moon-eyed lasat gazed back at him.

Kal let the tears flow freely as he looked into those eyes.

“The goal is not to fall…” Kallus says, looking down at the bird-monsters, trying to make light of a dire situation.

“The goal is not to fall…” Kallus whispered to the holoimage.

But he was falling…

And there was not much he could do about it.

Chapter 5: Heads and Tails

Chapter Text

"Cut the charbote root like this,” Chef Arond’to explains. The old Rodian chef’s teal, tubular fingers wield the paring knife as if it is an extension of himself, making quick work of the root. He chops the top and the bottom first. He sings: “Chop off the head or you will be dead! Chop off the tail or dead as a doornail!” He chortles at his own clever rhyme.

“Are they really so poisonous?” Kallus asks in Rodese, with slow and careful pronunciation.

“To Rodians and Humans absolutely,” the chef replies. He tosses the pale green “head” and “tail” into a waste sack behind the counter and begins to slice the black skin off the root’s plump crimson body. “It apparently has no effect on twi’leks, though! And the only reason I know that is because a twi’lek flat out took a bite of the tail right in front of me! He chewed it up, swallowed and just said ‘seems fine to me!’”

Kallus laughed. “That...must have been alarming.”

“Gave me a heart attack, it did! Apparently twi’leks have a robust immune system. Still, he shouldn’t have tested his resilience in the middle of my market!”

“Perhaps you should put up a sign. ‘No life-threatening taste tests at my booth, thank you.’”

Chef Arond’to’s antennae wiggled jovially and he made a deep harmonized sound equivalent to a hardy laugh.

“Alright, now we are ready to slice. Remember, even cuts, Chef Kallus.”

Kallus beams with pride at the title. He is determined to live up to it.

“The body of the root may not be deadly,” the Rodian continued, “but it will make you mighty sick if undercooked, so keep your cuts uniform. I’d say five to seven centimeters wide. That size will cook nicely right alongside your shimmerstalk, border brocc and nerf meat without having to worry.”

Kallus shifted his gaze from Chef Arond’to’s recipe to the charbote root and back again. Back on Serenno Chef Arond’to made it look so easy, but here in the Imperial galley, Kallus realized his knifework left much to be desired.

This was going to take some focus.

Kallus picked up the paring knife and chopped the green head and tail. A rich loamy smell filled the air. He then carefully cut away the root’s black skin and was left with a smooth red surface.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

When he opened them, he took hold of the root and focused on his knifework.

And tried to not think of Garazeb Orrelios.

“If you are looking for an escape from the life you are leading, then maybe you are leading the wrong life on the wrong side.”

It had been a week since Zeb and Kal had a proper conversation. Zeb still contacted Kallus after every shift, but Kallus insisted every time that he was too busy to talk for long.

In truth, Kallus did not know what to say to the lasat after the rebel had so blatantly cornered him regarding his loyalty to the Empire.

Agent Kallus was loyal to his Empire. They had done so much for him. They gave him purpose and direction. They were the shining beacon in a galaxy lost in the dark.

Then Zeb came in and tried to snuff out the light.

And what did the lasat expect him to do exactly? Join the Rebellion? Fight alongside the rebel scum? The very idea made Kallus’ stomach churn.

Except Zeb is a rebel, and an honorable warrior. Does he not do what he feels is right in the galaxy? Is that not what you try to do too?

Kallus had spent the better part of the previous night pouring through report after report looking for any extremist activity directly related to the Ghost and their crew . He disregarded the exaggerations of officers and testimonials of obviously coerced locals ( “there were at least fifty of them with thermal detonators! It was horrifying! We thank the Empire for saving us!”).

In the end he found...nothing. In fact, on most occasions, the rebels were doing their best to do good in the galaxy.

They saved small villages from starvation. They helped relocate tribes after the Empire confiscated their land, even the goods stolen from Imperial bases were not based on greed. The last base they attacked was only relieved of fuel cells, and the coffers filled with credits remained untouched.

The rebels worked tirelessly helping others and gained so little in return.

The Empire helps people too though…

Even as Kallus tried to defend his Empire, he could not deny that every life they saved was one that benefited “the cause.”

The Empire provided aid to warrior tribes and in return hired the strongest tribesmen as mercenaries on off-world missions. The small villages they saved had access to local resources of which they would now harvest for the Empire. Even the donations they doled out always came with the contingency that the locals would sing the Empire’s praises; anything less would result in an immediate cut of funding.

Before meeting Zeb, Kallus would have found these rebels foolish for risking their necks for little reward.

“I go to sleep every night knowing that today I did the best I could to help those around me.”

When was the last time Kallus had slept so well?

All Kallus wanted was what was best for the galaxy. Did the Empire still share his point-of-view?

Did they ever?

Kallus looked down at the charbote root and found he had absolutely mutilated it. Not only were the portions were not cut evenly, but he had continued to cut and cut until they were nothing but ribbons.

With a sigh, he put down his paring knife and wondered if there was a Rodese recipe that could accommodate for the slivers that remained.

“Is that charbote root I smell?”

Kallus whirled around.

The imperial cooks were not due to arrive for another few hours. In fact, Kallus had a personal arrangement with them to allow him access to the galley in off-hours, alone and undisturbed.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Kallus said, unable to hold in his surprise.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Agent Kallus.” Thrawn strode into the galley unapologetically. “I was told I could find you here and I prefered to share with you the good news face-to-face.”

“Good news?”

Thrawn approached the countertop, his scarlet eyes studying the botched charbote root. “Correct me if I am wrong, but are you not supposed to cut charbote root in even slices at least five centimeters apart for a stir fry?”

Kallus gathered the shoestring root together and shoved it to the edge of the cutting board. “That was the plan, yes.”

“A shame. Do you plan on making another clandestine trip to the surface to procure more then?”

Kallus hesitated before answering.

Whenever the fleet was stationed over a new planet, Kallus always managed to sneak away on a small shuttle to converse with the local chefs and obtain new exotic recipes or ingredients. It was not forbidden for him to leave for the surface on his own, but he did not want to draw attention to it. Nor did he want anyone to look too closely at his affinity for non-human-based foods, and more importantly his knowledge of multiple non-human languages.

“I may return, yes,” Kallus conceded, finally.

Thrawn tilted his head. “How did you manage to purchase them? The villagers in town do not speak Basic.”

Kallus broke into a cold sweat, but he kept his jaw firmly clenched and allowed himself to express only a hint of the annoyance he felt. “Pointing at a root requires very little knowledge of Rodese, sir.”

“True. Though I imagine deciphering the local chef’s recipe requires a bit more knowledge of the language, does it not?” Thrawn retorted, nodding to the datapad still open on the counter.

Kallus cursed himself quietly at seeing the recipe which he had not bothered translating to Basic since he was, in fact, fluent in Rodese. He flicked the datapad off, feeling silly in doing so since he was already caught.

Thrawn waved his hand dismissively. “Please, Kallus, I am not a human and I do not share the Empire’s disdain for foreign languages. Basic is a second language to me and I am impressed you have the desire to learn of other cultures. As far as your root problem, I have already taken the liberty of sending you a crate of charbote root as well as a few baskets of spices you may find interesting.”

Kallus arched his eyebrows. “Not to sound ungrateful, sir, but how did you know I enjoyed the culinary arts?”

Thrawn smiled as if pleased with himself. “Quite simple, really. The delectable aromas that occasionally waft from the galley does not match up with the unsophisticated slop the Imperial cooks prepare for the officers. I inquired and found that it was the scent of your experimental cuisines I was most likely enjoying.”

“Very observant, sir, and thank you for the compliment. I would appreciate if you did not mention my time in the galley, nor my trips planetside, to anyone.”

Thrawn sniffed. “There is no reason anyone else should know of your extracurricular activities, Agent Kallus. This is where you come to enjoy solitude and I would not dare interrupt that.”

Kallus did not like the idea of Thrawn having this sort of leverage on him, but he had little choice but to trust the chiss.

“Bin'vah vah ren'musi,” Kallus said, hoping he pronounced the “thank you” phrase well enough.

Thrawn gave Kallus a faint smile, but the glimmer in his eye told Kallus the chiss was impressed.

“ Nah can’a. I will leave you to create your comestibles, Agent.” Thrawn said, turning to leave.

“Sir?” Kallus called just as Thrawn reached the door. “You...mentioned you had some good news for me?”

Thrawn did not look back, not entirely. He merely shifted his head just enough that a single scarlet eye cast a peripheral glance at the agent. “Ah yes, my good news. You will be happy to know that we have now occupied the Rodian hamlet and you will have full access to the markets, free of charge.”

Kallus stiffened. “I do not think that will be necessary, I have arranged a discount deal with Chef Arond’to and would be happy to provide credits.”

“Chef Arond’to was executed this morning. He has a daughter that is quite a vocal rebel sympathizer and he refused to give up the whereabouts of her and her rebel friends. In addition, we found several green ‘heads’ and ‘tails’ of charbote root in a bag next to the food stores. We have reason to believe he was intending on poisoning our supplies.”

“What do you intend on doing with the heads over there?” Kallus asks as Chef Arond’to tosses the root’s head behind him in a sack.
“Bury them! The seeds are what make them so poisonous, but toss ‘em back in the dirt and fresh charbote is what you’ll get!”

Kallus did not blink and nodded. “A wise decision, sir.”

“A shame. As I understand he was quite a skilled chef.”

“One of the best,” Kallus said, careful with his tone. “I look forward to my shipment, sir.”

Thrawn nodded. “Good luck with whatever you conjure with your new bounty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And with that Thrawn was gone.

Kallus turned and picked up his paring knife and placed a shimmerstalk on the cutting board.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

When he opened them, he took hold of the stalk and focused on his knifework.

And tried not to think about Chef Arond’to.

-----

[7.43.531]: Hey Kal, I have some good news for you!

[A. Kallus]: I do not know if I am in the mood for any “good news”

[7.43.531]: What? What do you mean?

[A. Kallus]: Sorry. It has been a trying day.

[7.43.531]: Well, this will cheer you up, I promise.

[A. Kallus]: All right. What is it?

[7.43.531]: I found Mercy root and it’s intact, too!

Kallus choked on the water he was drinking. He hastily wiped away the liquid splattered on the datapad.

[A. Kallus]: You did? Where?

The moment he sent the message he instantly regretted it. He knew better than to ask such a question and put Zeb in a position to have to remind him he cannot give away his position. The ellipses indicating Zeb was typing flickered on and off a few times before scrolling across the text chat in a steady rhythm. Kallus braced himself for a gentle reminder. They had successfully spent months dancing around the fact they were an imperial agent and a rebel and not just two regular people who enjoyed each other’s company. This was just one slip-up though, the lasat would forgive him.

[7.43.531]: Serenno. I found it in on Serreno.

Kallus’ blood went cold. He watched the ellipses flicker again as Zeb typed another message.

[A. Kallus]: Do not say anymore.

[7.43.531]: We were on Serenno two days ago, Kal.

Two days ago. There are only so many systems a small ship like that can jump to, which means…

Agent Kallus’ brain began to narrow down possible locations; Kal wanted to think of anything except where the rebels might be at this moment.

Zeb was typing again.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb. Stop.

But Zeb was still typing...

[7.43.531]: We are heading to-

{Disconnect Transmission? Y / N}

{/Y}

{A. Kallus is Disconnected}

Kallus tore his eyes away from Zeb’s message and slammed the datapad down on the nightstand, heart pounding in his chest, room spinning around him.

Serenno.

He could not unsee it. It was burned into his mind.

I have to report this. I have to...

The datapad started buzzing. Another incoming message.

He looked at the datapad like it was a live thermal detonator.

Shaking, he picked it up.

[Gov. A. Pryce] {cc: G.Adm Thrawn}: We have just tracked the rebels to Serenno. We shall arrive there in twelve hours. I suggest you all get rest. We have a rebellion to quash.

Kallus stared at the message. They were going to waste precious time searching for the rebels when they had already moved on.

And you know where they are going…

Kallus looked at the minimized window where Zeb’s message remained.

He did not delete the chat history yet...which means when he opened up the window it would reveal the rest of Zeb’s message: the Rebellion’s current location.

Kallus’ finger hovered over the chat.

Tears blurred his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

{Delete Chat History: Y / N}

{/Y}

{Chat History with 7.43.531 Deleted}

Kallus dropped the datapad on the bed, a wave of nausea rolling through him. He placed his head in his hands.

Another message. Dully he looked at the datapad and saw Thrawn’s response to Governor Pryce’s message.

[G.Adm Thrawn] {cc: Gov. A Pryce}: Governor Pryce, I would be surprised if they were still in Serreno considering our significant presence there. The report states they stole fuel and a sizeable stockpile of munitions. Whatever business they conducted they are most likely retreating to their fleet as they have in the past. If you would like to continue to Serenno, that is your prerogative, however I would like to hear Agent Kallus’ thoughts on the matter.

The Imperial Agent in Kallus shook him to his core.

This is a test. Thrawn knows something. This is your chance to redeem yourself, agent. Agree with Thrawn. Pursue nearby systems. Do not waste time.

Kallus picked up the datapad.

Before he could reply, however, he noted a message in his inbox.

[Imperial Post Delivery]: Pick up at earliest convenience.

To: Agent Kallus

From Arond’to Market:

Contents: 2 Boxes of Charbote Root, 1 Box Shimmerstalk, 2 bottles of Corellian Wine.

With a steady hand, Kallus swiped away the message and pulled up a new text box.

[A. Kallus] {cc: Gov. A Pryce}: Grand Admiral Thrawn, though I agree that it may be unlikely the rebels still linger on Serreno, we would be gravely mistaken in leaving any stone unturned in that sector. I am in agreement with Governor Pryce. We should avoid a wild goose chase and head to Serenno and search their twin moons as well.

[G.Adm Thrawn] {cc: Gov. A Pryce}: Very well. Thank you for your input, Agent. I defer to your judgement. After all, you have been chasing these rebels for much longer than I.

Kallus knew that was a stab at his ego, but it was a mere graze compared to the laceration the agent just inflicted upon himself.

What have I done? What am I doing?

When his datapad buzzed again, Kallus gritted his teeth. Was it Thrawn asking to meet with him? Perhaps to ask him if he was betraying his Empire over the death of some Rodian chef? Was it Governor Pryce revealing to him that this was all a test and, in fact, Zeb and his rebel friends were already captured?

[Incoming Message: Source: Frequency 8.55.133]

[8.55.133]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I can’t do this.

[8.55.133]: Did you tell them we were on Serenno?

[A. Kallus]: Pryce had a lead on it already. We are heading to Serenno now.

[8.55.133]: Did you tell them we aren’t there anymore?

[A. Kallus]: No.

[8.55.133]: Do you want to know where we are right now?
[A. Kallus]: I will disconnect again, Garazeb. Do not tell me.

[8.55.133]: Fine, but I will tell you this.

Zeb typed for a long time, erasing and typing and erasing again. Kallus’ hands were shaking, his heart raced, his mouth dry.

[A. Kallus]: I have to go.

[8.55.133]: Kal wait please. Don’t go again.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I have to. There is a lot to do before we land on Serenno and I need to sort myself out.

[8.55.133]: Do you hate me?

Kallus hesitated despite knowing in his heart he could never hate the lasat.

I do not believe I could if I tried at this point...

[A. Kallus]: No, of course not.

[8.55.133]: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to dump all of this on you, for putting all of this on your shoulders. I trust you, Kal. And I promise I’m not just trying to push you away from the Empire because of how I feel about you. You want to make this galaxy better, and you know and I know the Empire is not the way to do this; otherwise you would have given away our position already.

Suddenly another message scrolled across Kallus’ screen.

[Gov. A Pryce] {cc: G.Adm Thrawn}: Please report to Conference Room 1Q. A new development has captured our attention and must be addressed immediately.

Kallus frowned.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I really do have to go.

[8.55.133]: Can we talk later?

[A. Kallus]: I would like that.

[8.55.133]: Yeah? Me too…And I’ll figure out a way to get that Mercy Root to you.

[A. Kallus]: Do not do anything risky, Garazeb.

[8.55.133]: Me? Risky? Haha. Bye Kal.

[A. Kallus]: Bye Zeb.

They disconnected and Kallus felt as if he could breathe again.

He sighed and moved to delete the text from his history.

He paused…

...and reread Zeb’s apology.

“And I promise I’m not just trying to push you away from the Empire because of how I feel about you.”

Kallus’ hand fell to his side. The whole conversation had been a such whirlwind that he missed Zeb’s subtle admission.

“...because of how I feel about you…” What did that mean? What does he feel?

His heart sank.

Did Zeb feel wounded that Kal did not address his feelings? Did it all happen so fast perhaps even Zeb did not intend to write that at all?

His inbox sprung to life as the report for the meeting came in, snapping Kallus from his thoughts. He quickly deleted the text, slipped on his uniform and hurried to Conference Room 1Q.

He was met by Governor Pryce, Grand Admiral Thrawn and Admiral Konstantine.

“Agent,” Thrawn said in his usual predatory purr, “we have found the rebels.”

Chapter 6: Ours

Chapter Text

“Agent, we have found the rebels.”

Agent Kallus only paused for half a heartbeat before taking his place next to Konstantine at the war table. He was an ISB agent. His mission was to find rebels. He should be pleased.

“Of course you did,” Kallus said, smugly. “They were obviously still hiding on Serenno. Now we can-”

Konstantine cleared his throat. “They are not on Serenno. The grand admiral took it upon himself to send probes beyond this star system.”

“Did he,” Kallus asked, tempering his surprise while also keeping a firm grip on the panic swelling within him.

“Please do not find my actions to be a challenge to your judgement,” Thrawn mollified. “I merely deployed a small number of probe droids to nearby star systems based on a hunch and my own personal curiosity.”

Kallus raised a steady hand. “Grand admiral, my ego is not an issue here. You single-handedly found the rebels for us and I, for one, am impressed and humbled.”

Governor Pryce nodded. “I agree with Agent Kallus. We are grateful to you, sir.”

Thrawn pulled up the map of a glittering star system.

“Do not sing my praises just yet, officers. This is but a small rebel cell, but a cell that could lead us to the rebel fleet if we act quickly.” He pressed the console and a green and yellow mottled planet flickered on screen. “This is Utapau. Though a planet deeply embedded in the Clone War’s history, it is of little significance at present. Very few settlements exist here, but two of note are heavily Pau’an-populated underground cities, Pa’dan Major and Pa’dan Minor. A third settlement, a small hamlet to the south of the two cities, is called Varactyl Tor. It is there that the utai are hosting our rebel friends.”

The holoimages flipped through surveillance footage of a bland desert terrain and a village that resembled little more than a collection of colorful animal-hide tents. A few screens later a familiar ship filled the screen. Kallus’ stomach lurch.

“The Ghost!” Konstantine smacked his fist in his hand. “Finally, we can put an end to those rebel dogs.”

Thrawn held up a hand. “Admiral, if I may, I would prefer we capture a few of the Ghost crew members in an effort to extract the remaining fleet’s location. Three to be precise: Hera Syndulla, Ezra “Jabba” Bridger, and - for our Agent Kallus - Garazeb Orrelios.”

Kallus’ blood turned to ice

“For me, sir?”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “Of course, whether we obtain the rebel base’s location or not, I imagine the Butcher of Lasan would like the honor of eliminating the last rebel lasat in the galaxy.”

Kallus felt the blood drain from his face despite his neutral expression. “Thank you, sir.”

Thrawn’s gaze lingered on Kallus for a half-beat longer than the agent would have liked...then returned his focus to the rest of the group. “Admiral, set our course. We will arrive in Utapau in twelve hours. Dismissed.”

Kallus took no more than a step towards the door before Thrawn called for him.
“Agent Kallus…”

Kriff...

“Yes, grand admiral?”

Thrawn did not respond, his aloof expression never wavering as Konstantine and Pryce exited the room. The door slid shut and still Thrawn said nothing.

Moments ticked by…Thrawn’s scarlet eyes scanned Kallus’ face as if dissecting every centimeter of him.

Kallus stood very still, holding Thrawn’s gaze.

I should have appeared more eager to kill Zeb. I should have thanked him for the opportunity. He knows something is up. He knows I am betraying the Empire through inaction. He knows-

“Your personal history with the lasat will not be a problem correct, agent?”

Kallus frowned. “I...do not understand your meaning, sir.”
“Do not play coy with me. Garazeb Orrelios has become an obsession of yours and I need to hear from you that you will follow orders and not kill the lasat before he is brought in for interrogation.”
Kallus disguised his sigh of relief as an incredulous scoff. “Sir, I assure you I will perform my duty as requested and nothing more. I do not give in to petty grudges.”
Thrawn tilted his head. “A man who does not give in to petty grudges would not access Garazeb Orrelios’ file several times day for nearly fifteen rotations would he?”

Kallus said nothing.

Thrawn continued: “And this same man would also not cut out a portion of surveillance footage taken on Horizon Station of Garazeb Orrelios as he smiled mockingly into the camera?”

Kallus was sure Thrawn could see his heart thumping in his chest. Sweat cooled his temples and under his arms.
“I am not here to embarrass you, Agent Kallus. However I know a vendetta when I see one. Tampering with Imperial evidence to obtain the image of your mortal enemy as some sort of...totem of negative focus is unhealthy to say the least. I will send you planetside, but I advise you to temper your fascination lest it get the better of you, is that clear?”
Kallus nodded. “I...admit I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, sir. I assure you it will not happen again.”
Thrawn gave him an approving nod. “I meant it when I said I greatly admired you, agent. Thank you for your soberness in the situation.”
There are plenty of things I would rather be at the moment, sober is not one of them, Kallus thought.
Kallus gave a short bow then turned towards the exit. No sooner did he get to the door that it hissed open and an imposing figure blocked his path.

The broad-shouldered, grim-faced General Veers peered at him with hard hazel eyes. Despite being of similar height, the general succeeded in looming over him.
“General Veers,” Kallus greeted stiffly.
“Ah, the illustrious imperial agent, the right arm of the ISB. How kind of you to grace us with your presence,” Veers said, mildly.

There was a time when Kallus and Maximilian Veers were better known as star student and devoted mentor. Kallus was on the road to becoming one of the first - and best - AT-AT pilots within the Veers’ elite squad, The Thundering Herd. However, once the ISB offered Kallus a position, he found the call to Imperial Security was stronger than becoming a mere “ground pounder.”
Veers had never quite forgiven Kallus for abandoning his cleanly-paved career. The dagger was further twisted when Veers had begrudgingly agreed to let Kallus borrow three AT-AT prototypes for a mission on Seelos. Thanks to the ex-clone soldiers and the crew of the Ghost all three prototypes were destroyed.

Veers slammed a shoulder into Kallus as he passed by and greeted the Grand Admiral. “You wished to see me, grand admiral.”

“Yes, general. That will be all, Agent Kallus.”

Veers stood next to Thrawn, a faint smirk on his face as Kallus bowed to them both and left.

As Kallus’ fingers hit the door panel, he gave it a quick double-tap. The door hissed shut, then a fraction of a second later it glitched and reopened just a few centimeters. The space was not wide enough to see into the room, but Kallus could hear the voices inside. He pulled out his datapad and pretended to work as he listened in.

General Veers spoke first: “I saw your request to use my Thundering Herd on your rebel extraction mission on Utapau.”

“I did,” Thrawn replied.

“I know you enjoy watching me work, but it is a bit overkill to use my boys on a few peaceful settlements, is it not?”

Kallus heard a click followed by the hum of the holoprojector.

“The Empire has had its eye on occupying Utapau for some time now, but its historical significance does not allow for a blatant invasion. Pa’dan Major and Pa’dan Minor are settlements with a vast mining operation beneath the surface that would prove useful to Director Krennic’s pet project. I want the Thundering Herd to...make a raucous, shall we say, above ground. You will take out half of the power generators and the air vents. It will kill a fraction of the citizens, but it will be enough to scare the rest into evacuating the city.”

“Rather counter-productive to scare the very workers we will need for an Imperial occupation.”

“On the contrary, these settlements are entirely underground and we shall use such blindness to our advantage. If we succeed in making it look like x-wing damage from an ensuing rebel attack, then the people will need assistance from the Empire. Refugee survivors from Pa’dan Minor will come to Pa’dan Major where the Empire will be there waiting with supplies, aid and work to repair their city and get the mines back in working order. The city will repay the Empire’s generosity with handing over a significant portion of what the mine produces.”

There was silence as if Veers was chewing this over, then finally: “That can work. Adjusting the cannons to mimic a simple X-Wing Blaster fire will not be difficult. What of the small settlement occupied by the rebels?”

“They are far enough away that they cannot prove or disprove a rebel attack. Any expressions to the contrary will be quickly dealt with.”

“Agreed. It is not the most ideal, but this will be a devastating hit to the rebel’s ever-growing reputation. I will prepare my men.”
Thrawn hummed in approval. “This marks another first for us. My personal deployment of you and your Thundering Herd. Are you excited as you look, Max?”
Max… Kallus arched an eyebrow. So the rumors are true about the general and grand admiral.

“I am always eager to show off what my herd can do, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”
“The operating words are ‘show off’,” Thrawn said in a way that was surprisingly tender for two people that were willing to take out civilians to tarnish the reputation of the Rebellion.

Their words dissolved into softer murmurs that Kallus could not hear. Confident that he would not glean anything more useful, Kallus walked towards his quarters.

How many of the Rebellion’s terrorist attacks were staged by the Empire? How many more secret operations, projects and weapons did the Empire have in store for the galaxy? I cannot sit idly by and watch the Empire destroy the galaxy they are supposed to protect.

A cold sweat broke over Kallus.

I have to do something...
Being a traitor through plausible deniability was a far easier pill to swallow than taking action against the Empire.

Am I truly going to do this?

By the time Kallus reached his quarters he was trembling. Logically he knew warning the rebels was the right thing to do, but the prospect of being branded a traitor fractured his vindication.

Am I doing this for the right reasons? Are my feelings for Zeb so strong that I am rationalizing treason to save him?

It would have been easier if that were true.

It would have been easier to pretend Zeb clouded his judgement.

It would have been except for one simple fact:

In all of Kallus’ life, his mind had never felt so clear.

----

Kallus spent the remaining seven long hours of his shift trying to warn the Rebels of the very seige he was preparing to launch.

Zeb did too good of a job Torring his tracks. If “the line” was ever not secure, the Empire would still have a difficult time tracking the lasat’s whereabouts.

The hours ticked by, the Imperial fleet drew ever closer to Utapau, and still Kallus found no way of contacting the rebels.

All he could do was sit and wait for their next scheduled conversation.

Those last hours were the longest in Kallus’ life.

[9.98.375]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Zeb! The Empire knows where you are. You have to leave.

[9.98.375]: How long do I have?

[A. Kallus]: Two, maybe three hours.

[9.98.375]: Alright. We weren’t planning on staying much longer, anyway.

Kallus leaned back against the wall staring at his message.

It is official. I am a traitor to my Empire…

After a few moments, Zeb sent another message.

[9.98.375]: This must have been hard for you to do. You okay?

The question slapped Kallus in the face. Tears welled in his eyes.

[A. Kallus]: They were going to use the Rebel presence as a reason to invade the planet. They were going to attack Pa’dan Minor and blame it on the Rebels. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent people were going to die just to boost the Empire’s reputation and give them an excuse to seize their mining operation. I had to do something.

[9.98.375]: You did what you felt was right. Kal, I’m so proud of you.

Kallus ran a shaky hand through his hair.

[9.98.375]: I have to go tell the others. Hey you’re coming planetside right?

[A. Kallus]: Yes, to “lead the charge” as it were.

[9.98.375]: Good. There’s a small tent on the northern side of Varactyl Tor. It’s an ugly shade of green, you can’t miss it. You’ll find the Mercy root on a pile of empty food crates. I’m hiding something else for you in the soil so don’t water it until you get it out okay?

[A. Kallus]: What is it?

[9.98.375]: Something I made for you a while back. I was hoping to give it to you in person, but who knows when that’ll be.

[A. Kallus]: Perhaps one day.

[9.98.375]: Yeah. I hope you like it. Ok I really have to go, but one last thing:

Several seconds ticked by before the next message came through.

[9.98.375]: By the light of Lothal’s moons.

[A. Kallus]: What does that mean?

[9.98.375]: It means you are now officially a secret agent of the Rebellion, Fulcrum. Just say that code whenever you run into rebels and they’ll know you’re one of ours.

Kallus stared at the message.

Fulcrum...he had heard whispers of that code, but did not know it was a person. So many of the jumbled transmissions he had intercepted from the rebellion made sense now.

And now he was one of them.

The knot in Kallus’ stomach loosened, just a little.

[9.98.375]: Alright I’m going now.

[A. Kallus]: Please be careful, Zeb.

[9.98.375]: Hey, its me. You take care of yourself, Kal. Don’t forget, ugly green tent.

[A. Kallus]: I look forward to it. Bye Zeb.

[9.98.375]: Bye Kal.

-----

No rebel presence was found on Utapau.

As a result, General Veers was unable to deploy his Thundering Herd, Grand Admiral Thrawn was unable to further smear the rebellion’s reputation and seize the mine, and Agent Kallus was unable to capture his lasat arch-nemesis.

Kallus used all of this to his advantage.

The furious scowl he wore as he marched back into the imperial shuttle deterred any questions about the potted Mercy plant he cradled in his arm. A few officers cast a nervous glance in his direction, but otherwise he was left alone.

The moment the door closed behind him, he blew out a breath of relief. His jaw ached from keeping it tight to both maintain his sour facade and suppress the excited smile that threatened his cheeks at the prospect of a gift from Zeb.

He sat cross-legged in the center of his bed looking down at the plant. It was surprisingly large for a Mercy plant, which resembled a rutabaga with a splotchy brown and yellow skin. Beneath the bulb was, Kallus hoped, four or five thick roots the size of his pinky. A single root could be cut up, dried and could last him a month if he rationed. If he cared for it properly, gave it just enough water and made sure the plant had at least three roots at all times, the Mercy plant could last a lifetime.

Taking a deep breath, Kallus sank a finger into the soil. A few centimeters in and he felt something solid. Small bits of dirt fell on the bed as he withdrew something curiously long. A cord of some sort made of thick leather. Something was attached to the end.

Kallus blinked...

...then smiled.

He placed the necklace in his palm and carefully blew away the loose soil. The pendant was a wooden circle. Carved into the rich brown wood was a planet with several rings. Beveled just above the rings as if floating in front of the planet was a small moon. “Z & K” were carved into the moon.

Kallus’ chest tightened, his smile broadening. He turned the pendant over. In aurebesh it read “Our Moon.”

The lump formed in Kallus’ throat as he thought back to the conversation that still nagged at him from time-to-time.

[A. Kallus]: If we do manage to find these impossible items, perhaps we can meet on our ice moon to trade.

[5.151.943]: OUR ice moon?

[A. Kallus]: I suppose it is not our moon yet. The Empire has no need for it as of yet and therefore it has gone unclaimed.

[5.15.943]: Oh, I misunderstood.

Kallus often fantasized of all the ways he could have responded that did not make him sound like a cold-hearted Imperial.

He wanted Zeb to see him as more personable, more compassionate, as a human being and not just a ruthless Imperial agent.

Apparently he did.

Blinking back tears he tied the leather cord around his neck. The pendant made a friendly clunk next to his dog tags. His cheeks ached from the unfamiliar strain of his wide smile.

Smoothing out the soil in the pot, Kallus placed the Mercy plant next to the dying meteorite. It flickered once, then faded into its usual sluggish pulsating glow. Kallus patted it a few times and it extended a bit of warmth to his palm before cooling again. Kallus’ heart ached knowing one day he would come back to his quarters and find its light completely gone.

His datapad buzzed on the bed. For a split moment, Kallus’ heart skipped a beat until he saw Grand Admiral Thrawn’s name scroll across the screen.

[G.Adm Thrawn]: Agent Kallus, I am sure you are currently in your quarters lamenting today’s lost opportunity, so I am here to pull you out of the quagmire. We have a lead on several possible defectors in the Skystrike Academy’s Cadet Program. I would like you and Governor Pryce to investigate. Attached is Pryce’s report.

Kallus picked up the datapad.

Cadets looking to defect from the Empire? If caught they would be executed immediately.

Kallus chewed his lip as he looked over Pryce’s findings. They had no suspects as of yet, but with Pryce’s diligence it would not take long to sniff them out.

If they were able to escape, they may prove useful to the rebellion.

Kallus waited for the guilt to knot his gut at the prospect of betraying the Empire again so soon. He clutched the moon pendant and drew and exhaled a deep, steady breath. He felt strangely calm.

It looks like I have my first Fulcrum assignment...

Chapter 7: Fulcrum

Chapter Text

[0.44.044]: Fulcrum, welcome to Rebel intelligence. Please see the following instructions to connect via holoRnet.

Kallus studied the instructions carefully. Using an old datapad and a few parts from a broken mouse droid, he created a makeshift analog relay that was able to lock into the single frequency provided by Zeb.

The signal failed twice and the butchered mouse droid overheated once, but eventually Kallus was able to summon the diamondesque symbol of Fulcrum on the small projector.

Kallus looked down at the display with a smile.

Zeb went through this sort of trouble just to contact me? Kallus ran a hand over the droid’s dented black surface. It gave him a small zap and the symbol hissed and flickered before stabilizing again. So much trouble just to check on an Imperial agent’s fractured leg...

A low tone sounded from the mouse droid and moments later a monotone voice said: “Passcode.”

“By the light of Lothal’s Moons,” Kallus replied. Even alone in his quarters it felt scandalous to say aloud.

“Fulcrum identified,” the disembodied voice intoned. “Hold please.”

To their credit, the rebels took great lengths to remain enigmatic as they bounced Kallus’ signal through a gamut of security channels.

Their cautious efforts would have been successful had their most recent informant was not also an expertly trained ISB agent.

Kallus was able to glean far more intel with each channel he was transferred to than the Rebellion would have intended.

The first contact Kallus spoke to was a young man was friendly, chatty about being excited he was part of the Rebellion, and in the end forgot entirely to double-check Kallus’ for the code phrase.

First line of defense is none at all, Kallus noted. Anyone could get past if they knew this frequency, code phrase or not.

The second contact was far more diligent, but there was a great deal of background noise as if he was sitting near a hangar. A familiar zoom sounded in the distance.

Those sound like TIE Fighters. Which means they have absconded with at least two TIEs. The Empire would need to scan their fighters for possible infiltrators...if they ever found out.

The third contact was far more professional and the background was quieter. However, Kallus could hear nerfs mooing occasionally.

Nerfs are native to Alderaan, Jaresh, Arkanis and Lothal and all off-world farms are registered with the Alderaanian Dairy Association which means it would be easy to...

Kallus had to stop himself. He was not here to investigate these rebels. He was here as an informant, nothing more.

Still, when I earn these rebels’ trust, I will be giving them an earful on security protocol. This is an embarrassment for any establishment. They are lucky I am on their side! The Empire would find all of these findings very useful.

“Thank you for your patience, Fulcrum,” the nerf farmer chirped. “You are now being transferred to your final contact.’”

Kallus crossed his legs on the bed and waited.

His hand reached up to the wooden pendant around his neck, his fingers tracing over the engraved “Z & K” on the ice moon carving.

Is it too much to hope they will put me on contact with Zeb? I would not abuse the Fulcrum line of course, but knowing I could contact him...

“Fulcrum,” said a warm, friendly voice. “I am General Jun Sato.”

Kallus’ eye twitched.

I spent two years of my life hunting down the Rebels as Agent Kallus and achieve nothing. Yet, I am Fulcrum one day and here I am speaking with the infamous General Sato?

“General Sato. Thank you for heeding my message.”

“Considering your frequency, Fulcrum, I trust this must have been a difficult decision for you to make.”

“Not as difficult as you would think,” Kallus replied. “The Empire made my decision to defect easy for me.”

“There are many here who can sympathize. Please tell us all you know.”

Kallus went through Pryce’s report regarding the possible defectors at the Skystrike Academy. As meager as the information was, Sato was very receptive, asking several questions and thanking Kallus for each answer.

It was safe to say Kallus liked Sato right away.

He is certainly more inspiring than than the mustachioed frogdog Konstantine.

“Alright, Fulcrum, I am assigning you to our Spectre Force. If you have any information relevant to our cause you will be contacting them directly from now on through one-sided communique so as to avoid being tracked.”

Kallus’ heart leaped.

Spectre Force? Is that Zeb’s team? Do not abuse this, Fulcrum, he reminded himself.

“Go ahead with your first message, Fulcrum.”

Kallus typed in the new code. The Fulcrum symbol gave a low tone signalling it was ready to record.

“I have information that may help you replace your staple of pilots. There are Imperial cadets at the Skystrike Academy who wish to defect to the rebels. I do not know their names but they will require some assistance to escape. I suggest you move quickly before the Empire discovers their intentions. Fulcrum Out.”

After a moment, the screen flickered again and Sato’s voice came through “Thank you, Fulcrum. Before I go I would like to say it is an honor to have you as part of our organization. A word of advice, something I tell all our Fulcrum informants: Be careful. I can assume you are still working for the Empire directly so be conscious of your attitude towards them and do not veer too far from your normal routine. You will find yourself in compromising positions at times and the urge to act will be stronger now that you are part of our cause. Trust me when I say you will do the Rebellion more good by keeping your true identity secret than you would sticking your neck out for the life of a rebel. All of us would live and die for the Rebellion, and we know our Fulcrum agents’ lives are more precious than that. If you feel alone, if you feel isolated, please remember that we - all of us - thank you for your brave service to our cause.”

Kallus had never heard a high-ranking officer speak so candidly before. It felt more like a heart-to-heart talk with a father figure than a superior. It was...nice.

“Thank you, sir. I will exercise the utmost caution. It has been an honor speaking to you. Fulcrum out.”

When the Fulcrum sign fizzled and vanished, Kallus let out a loud breath and flopped back onto the bed.

That was it: His first Fulcrum message.

Though sad he could not use the relay to send a message to Zeb, there was something comforting in knowing the rebel lasat would be able to hear his voice, even if it was the garbled voice of Fulcrum.

With any luck, the rebels would be able to provide a daring rescue of these defectors and Kallus could jot this off as a job well done.

-----

Finding the defectors was embarrassingly easy.

Kallus merely had to walk past the long line of cadets before immediately spotting the three dodgy individuals: Wedge Antilles and his evasive gaze, Rake Gahree and his profuse sweating, and Derek “Hobbie” Klivian who practically clung to Rake as Kallus walked by.

After the inspection, Kallus found footage of all three cadets conspiring their defection in a main hallway of all places.

Let us hope their piloting is better than their discretion.

Working quickly, Kallus deleted the footage and soon after found several more damning recordings to remove as well. By the time Pryce summoned him to the academy’s observation deck, he was able to convey confidently his lack of findings on any such defection.

Pryce seemed almost delighted in Kallus’ inability to produce results. “Then perhaps it’s time for me to take a more direct hand in this inquiry.”

“With all due respect, governor,” the nasally Officer Goran interrupted, “I am trying to train pilots here. How are they to progress under these circ*mstances? Certainly not while they are all grounded!”

“You’re quite right,” Pryce retorted. “Perhaps getting your cadets back into space would be to our mutual advantage.”

“I do not see why that is necessary,” Kallus said, quicker than he intended.

“No? Do you have a better idea in mind,” Pryce asked, arching an eyebrow.

Kallus stiffened. “Well...no.”

“If I did not know any better, Agent Kallus, I’d say you were stalling.”

Sato’s words bled into Kallus’ mind. “Be conscious of your attitude towards them and do not veer too far from your normal routine.”

Kallus bristled. “If it appears I am stalling it is only to delay you further undermining my investigation. Last time I checked I was the ISB Agent here.”

Pryce narrowed her eyes. “And last time I checked, Kallus, I outranked you. Thrawn sent me to investigate this matter as well. We tried your way, now we shall try mine. Officer Goran, fetch your cadets.”

That was definitely a normal routine for us, Kallus thought, subtly wiping the sweat from his brow. Keeping such a routine however was going to prove difficult.

-----

The next hour was a blur.

Kallus could only watch as his efforts as Fulcrum unraveled with every passing moment.

A rebel hammerhead corvette appeared on the edge of the system in an attempt to abscond with the defector’s TIE Fighters, and unfortunately Pryce was ready for them. Activating a macro on the control station’s panel, all four defector’s TIE Fighters were dismantled.

And for no other reason than to gloat her power, Pryce ordered one of the fighters to be destroyed.

Kallus’ heart lurched as laser fire easily obliterated one of the four pods.

Please, let it not be one of Zeb’s rebel friends. Not on my watch. Not on my first mission.

It was all he could do to keep his face from breaking into a relieved smile when he walked into the interrogation room to find Sabine Wren safe and unharmed. The hair was different, but the contempt in her glare was undeniable.

“Agent Kallus,” Pryce said, “escort these two back to their cells. Sabine and I have a lot to talk about.”

“Looks like they found someone who could do your job.” Sabine spat.

A year ago the scathing comment would have dealt Kallus’ ego a serious blow. Now, Kallus felt only a little deflated.

It was strange working with others whom had no idea he was on their side.

It was also strange working against those who had no idea he had turned.

The whole situation felt very...isolating.

At least I know Zeb and General Sato are appreciating what I’m trying to do here.

In any case, it did not matter. Even if Sabine hated Agent Kallus, she could still accept help from Fulcrum.

As it turned out, she did not need nearly as much help as he wanted to give.

Moments after he secured the cadets in a cell, Sabine had managed to break free from Governor Pryce’s talons, gather up the cadets and head towards the main elevator platform.

Kallus scanned his datapad, stormtroopers swarmed several of the levels.

But not all of them. Kallus’ nerves crackled with a peculiar thrill. Looks like Fulcrum will be able to help after all.

Kallus waited in a small alcove along the main corridor and waited for Sabine and the cadets to approach. As they rounded the corner, Kallus punched the control panel, sealing off both sections of the hall, and trapping the rebel and cadets with him.

“Don’t shoot,” Kallus said, having difficulty balancing his voice between helpful and forceful.

Sabine’s glare was as vicious as the blaster in her hand. “Give me a good reason not to.”

Kallus hit the control panel reopening the hallway. “Avoid levels 3 and 5. Level 24 is your best possibility.”

Sabine hesitated. “Wait. Why should we trust you?”

Because I support your Rebellion. Because I want to see the Empire fall as you do. Because I have so much to atone for...

“Tell Garazeb Orrelios, we are even,” he replied coldly.

-----

“Tell Garazeb Orrelios to send me a message soon. I miss him…” These were words Kallus could not have said, but desperately felt as he lay in bed hours later.

Today had been a success. His first Fulcrum mission resulted in the Rebellion gaining two formidable pilots and the safe return of one of their own.

It was encouraging. He should have felt a swelling pride. Yet, a large part of him felt hollow. Right now Sabine and the others were being welcomed with open arms. Kallus, meanwhile, stayed behind on his bed curled around a datapad, clutching a small wooden necklace, and waiting for Zeb’s question to appear on screen.

“If you feel alone, if you feel isolated, please remember that we - all of us - thank you for your brave service to our cause.”

Sato’s words brought some comfort, but there really was only one person he needed to reassure him at that moment.

When the datapad finally buzzed to life, a warmth spread over Kallus and the turmoil of the day melted away effortlessly.

[2.44.091]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Hello, Zeb.

[2.44.091]: That was some fine work you did there today, Fulcrum.

[A. Kallus]: At least you appreciated what I did. I feel like both the Empire and the Rebellion hate me right now.

[2.44.091]: I like you.

A smile flickered on Kallus’ lips before doubt weighed down his face.

[A. Kallus]: I am doing the right thing, right?

[2.44.091]: Of course you are, Kal.

[A. Kallus]: I thought I was doing the right thing when I joined the Empire.

[2.44.091]: Yeah well, if you still felt that way you would have turned us in on Utapau.

Kallus smirked.

[A. Kallus]: And, oh, what a hero I would be if I had done that.

[2.44.091]: Traitor! I want my necklace back.

[A. Kallus]: My apologies, but it is mine now. And I will never give it up.

[2.44.091]: Never? Good.

[A. Kallus]: I really do love it, Zeb. I can feel it against my chest under my uniform every day. It feels as if you are with me even when we are not talking.

[2.44.091]: I’m glad. Ya know I made one for me, too? I play with it a lot. Ezra asked if I had a rash or something because I keep messing with it under my jumpsuit.

Kallus’ heart thumped and he clutched the pendant tightly.

[2.44.091]: I am so glad you became Fulcrum, Kal. I don’t have to sneak around or be careful with what I say around you so much anymore.

[A. Kallus]: To be perfectly honest, Zeb. There were a few things I had to willfully ignore. You are not nearly as secretive as you would believe.

[2.44.091]: Hah, well fine, I guess anything I tell you can be on purpose this time.

[A. Kallus]: I still feel you should keep me in the dark as much as you can. If I am ever caught, it would be safer for you the less I know.

[2.44.091]: You won’t get caught.

[A. Kallus]: I appreciate your vote of confidence in me.

[2.44.091]: How are you holding up?

[A. Kallus]: I honestly do not know. Helping a rebel who has every reason to hate me was a new experience. That I can say for certain.

[2.44.091]: She gave me your message, by the way. It stirred up a whole lot of questions.

[A. Kallus]: Yes, I figured it would. I hope that did not cause a problem for you. What did you tell them?

[2.44.091]: The truth. We crashed. We didn’t kill each other. I saved your life.

[A. Kallus]: You omitted the part where we huddled for warmth in a small cave until daybreak?

[2.44.091]: Haha, yeah well as I remember you shoved me off you the moment you woke up.

[A. Kallus]: I seem to remember you shoving me off as well.

It was so long ago, and the moment was so brief. Kallus remembered something warm and soft pressing against him. It was comforting and his instinct was to gather it up and hold it tight. The spell was broken the moment he opened his eyes. In truth he did push Zeb away first.

It feels like a lifetime ago...

[2.44.091]: And what if I hadn’t?

[A. Kallus]: Well, at the time I did not “huddle” with rebel scum.

[2.44.091]: Good thing you are one now, then.

[A. Kallus]: I am not scum.

[2.44.091]: Hahaha.

[A. Kallus]: I’m sorry if my message caused you any trouble.

[2.44.091]: Eh, Kanan wasn’t thrilled I let you go. You would have been a great bargaining chip.

[A. Kallus]: The Jedi probably wanted to do much more than keep me as a bargaining chip.

[2.44.091]: Kanan? He’s not like that.

Kallus’ stomach twisted. The last time he had been in a room with Kanan Jarrus, he and Tarkin were torturing the jedi knight for information.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, you know what I did to him.

Kallus felt a lump form in his throat.

[A. Kallus]: And what I have done to you was far worse.

He saw Zeb begin to type but Kallus quickly typed out:

[A. Kallus]: Do not dare say that I am a different person now. I am not.

[2.44.091]: You are, Kal.

[A. Kallus]: Why do you trust me? I am an Imperial Agent. I have tortured your friends. I helped massacre your people. You should hate me, Zeb. I do not deserve your trust.

Kallus did not expect how quickly Zeb typed out his next words.

[2.44.091]: Because the good little soldier that crashed on that moon with me was not the same man who pulled me out of that crater, who handed me my bo rifle, who did not tell the Empire about my frequency codes the first time I contacted you.

Kallus raised his hands to type, but Zeb was not done.

[2.44.091]: Kal, everything you’ve done in your life has been for a greater cause, right? Well, it just so happens you were also raised to believe the Empire was that Great Cause. You think you’re the first one to have the wool pulled over his eyes by the Emperor? Like Sato once told me: The Empire was a slow disease no one knew they had caught until it was too late.

[2.44.091]: I’m sure you were fed lots of stories about the lasat before you came to our planet, too. You had no reason to believe we were any different than that cold-blooded lasat merc you met on your first deployment.

[2.44.091]: But you wanna to know the biggest reason why I trust you? Because it is rare that a lasat warrior carries out the Boosahn Keeraw with anyone that is NOT lasat. Karabast, I honestly don’t know any non-lasat that has been given that kind of honor. He saw what you truly were, Kal. And so do I.

Kallus gathered the pendant in his palm and pressed it to his cheek. He drew in several breaths to steady himself. Finally, he said:

[A. Kallus]: I wish you were here with me, Zeb.

Zeb did not answer right away. After too long, Zeb responded.

[2.44.091]: I wish you were here too.

[2.44.091]: If we were trapped on that Ice Moon now, would you push me away?

[A. Kallus]: No.

Kallus wished he had something more eloquent to say. Something to show his...affection. Affection was a foreign concept to him even with his own species. He had no idea how much or little he could, should, wanted to say.

[2.44.091]: I wouldn’t either. I miss you.

[A. Kallus]: I miss you too, Zeb. I hope we see each other again under better circ*mstances.

[2.44.091]: We’re rebels. Chance and hope is what we live for.

[A. Kallus]: I do not believe I will ever get used to hearing that.

[2.44.091]: No worries. I’ll just keep saying it until it sinks in.

[A. Kallus]: I better get some sleep. Zeb, thank you again for trusting me this much.

[2.44.091]: It wasn’t a hard decision to make, trusting you I mean.

[A. Kallus]: I promise you’ll never regret that decision. Good night, Zeb

[2.44.091]: Gnight, Kal.

Kallus placed the datapad on the nightstand and took the meteorite from the shelf. It lazily pulsated as he cradled it. He drew up his knees and gazed into the gentle yellow light. As his eyes grew heavy he thought of everything he should have told Zeb...and everything he feared the lasat would never know.

I miss you, Zeb…

I miss the warmth of your fur as we leaned against each other in the cave.

I miss the purr of your voice when you told me your name.

I miss the soft smile you gave me just before you left.

Stars...please...let me see him again. I do not want my pushing him away to be the last thing he remembers.

I promise I will never push you away again.

-----

Zeb lay on his bunk curled up and rolling the wooden necklace over his clawed fingers.

He wished he could have said more. He hated how clumsy he was talking to Kal about his feelings. He had a lot of feelings, but they felt jumbled, like trying to shake a bunch of beads out of a narrow bottle.

I miss you, Kal.

I miss that confident smirk even when you face defeat.

I miss that silky voice...I had no idea it could sound so gentle…

I miss the way you said my name the last time. It brought a smile to my face. I never thought you, of all people, could make me smile like that.

If I have to tear the whole Empire apart we will see each other again, Kal. I promise. I do not want me walking away to be the last thing you remember.

I promise I will never walk away from you again.

Chapter 8: Breaking Bread

Chapter Text

[7.32.557]: What are we cooking today?

Kallus rubbed his freshly washed hands together as he looked down at his complete ingredients: Calna Muun sauce, garlic, allspice berries, chili powder, salt, Denonian cinnamon, cayenne pepper, cloves, a jar of tomato sauce, vinegar, and a package of ground reek.

Kallus also had chocolate and cumin, which were replacements for Ithorian ingredients too toxic for the human digestive system.

And of course, the finishing touch was a single root from the Mercy plant cut fresh that morning.

With his pinky, Kallus clicked on the voice-to-text application on his datapad which was propped up in the corner of the Imperial kitchen’s cooking station.

[A. Kallus]: We are cooking my dream meal today, the Ithorian dish: me’montri.

[7.32.557]: You’re using the Mercy root I got you?

[A. Kallus]: I am.

[7.32.557]: Great! Glad you are getting use outta it. I like being able to sit with you while you cook.

[A. Kallus]: Agreed. It is nice to have some company.

Kallus turned on the stove and placed a pan on the largest burner. The center of the pan had an obnoxiously large Imperial symbol etched into it. In fact, when Kallus looked around for just a regular unmarked pan he found that every utensil, appliance, pot and pan in the kitchen had the symbol plastered on it. He would have prefered to cook in something a bit less “patriotic”, but beggars could not be choosers.

[7.32.557]: We got your last Fulcrum message. Actually, I was the one to grab it this time.

[A. Kallus]: How does my voice sound over the Fulcrum modulation? I have never heard it.

[7.32.557]: Honestly? It kinda sounds like you, but it’s just me. I know you’re Fulcrum so I can hear the way you talk, your cadence I guess, and your accent. But the voice is much deeper and a little garbled. Still, it’s nice hearing your voice even if it’s not quite right.

[A. Kallus]: I am glad you heard it. Even if it does have an Imperial accent attached.

[7.32.557]: It doesn’t sound so bad on you.

Kallus blushed and gathered up the mercy root, chopping it into small cubes; the zesty yet fresh scent tickled his nose.

[A. Kallus]: I wish my message contained more information, but I stumbled upon Thrawn’s new weapon plans as a fluke. It was on his display as I walked into his office and he closed the window before I could get a good look at it.

[7.32.557]: You don’t have any idea what kind of weapon Thrawn is planning?

[A. Kallus]: A naval weapon of some sort. I will try to make inquiries when I talk to him next.

[7.32.557]: Well, Fulcrum, you’ve been with us a few weeks now. How does it feel? Does it still feel weird?

Kallus slid the ground reek into the pan and it sizzled beautifully.

[A. Kallus]: Not even remotely. I know who I am and what my purpose is now. It is...liberating, actually.

[7.32.557]: I’m proud of you, Kal.

Kallus smiled as he began to chop and add ingredients to pan with the gradually browning reek.

[A. Kallus]: Yes, I suppose I am...proud of me as well.

[7.32.557]: Karabast! Oh, ah, sorry.

[A. Kallus]: Are you alright?

[7.32.557]: Yeah, I figured since you were cooking, I’d get on a voice-to-text app too and carve a new relief.

Kallus’ face brightened.

[A. Kallus]: What are you carving?

[7.32.557]: It’s uh, two loth-cats on a beach.

[A. Kallus]: I was not aware loth-cats enjoyed the beach.

[7.32.557]: You like the beach.

[A. Kallus]: Ah, you remember!

[7.32.557]: Yeah, ever since your dad took you to the Gold Beaches of Corellia when you were a kid.

Kallus felt the heat rush to his cheeks, forgetting he had told Zeb that story months ago.

[7.32.557]: And I like loth-cats, so...I dunno, I thought it’d be nice. But I nicked one of their ears.

[A. Kallus]: Well, they are battle-worn loth-cats. Sort of like us, I suppose.

[7.32.557]: Haha, battle-worn. Yeah I like that. Alright I’ll leave it alone. Maybe I’ll nick the other cat too.

The savory smell of fatty reek mixed with sharp and sweet fragrance of spices made Kallus’ mouth water. He swirled around the ingredients with a spoon shaped like an Imperial symbol, loving the satisfying hiss of ingredients as they moved around the hot pan. As he stirred, he slipped the noodles into the neighboring pot that had just began to boil.

His movements were a smooth, unbroken dance of stirring and mixing and tasting. In the kitchen he felt like a true master of his domain. Things made sense here because he had sole control over the environment. Successes were his to enjoy, failures were his to stomach, but then he rarely failed here.

[A. Kallus]: What do you like to eat, Zeb?

[7.32.557]: I dunno. Food.

[A. Kallus]: You do not have a favorite dish?

[7.32.557]: Not really. I’ll eat anything. Lasat food is pretty utilitarian, I didn’t actually know it was eaten for pleasure until I started hanging around humans. Actually, funny story if you got time.

Kallus poured in the sauce and turned the heat down to a simmer.

[A. Kallus]: Yes, please tell.

[7.32.557]: Well, most food on Lasan doesn’t require any preparation. You don’t even need to cut into it or remove seeds or anything. You just pop it into your mouth and you’re done. So for a long time I thought humans had plastoid-grade stomachs because Kanan told me he eats pineapples. He showed one to me and uh...

[A. Kallus]: You didn’t...

[7.32.557]: Yeah, I took a huge bite outta it right in front of him.

[A. Kallus]: Were you alright?

[7.32.557]: Haha, actually yeah. Turns out lasat stomachs are as strong as our jaws, but it tasted kriffin’ awful. And Kanan almost passed out watching me chew it up.

[A. Kallus]: Kanan? The jedi? I did not think anything fazed him.

[7.32.557]: Haha apparently hearing lasat teeth crunching into spined fruit gets him a little woozy. I used to eat all kinds of things in front of him just to watch him turn green: pineapples, kiwi, a coconut once, but the hairs are annoying. I don’t do it anymore though, learned my lesson.

[A. Kallus]: What stopped you?

[7.32.557]: He showed me a Huttese durian fruit and told me it was a “different kind of pineapple.”

Kallus’ laugh burst forth so suddenly he nearly knocked the pan off the stove.

The thought of Zeb biting into a fruit that notoriously smelled as bad as a Hutt looked only made him laugh harder. He braced himself on the side of the kitchen counter as he laughed, something he very rarely experienced before. In fact, when had he ever laughed this hard?

When he finally caught his breath he looked to his datapad and to his horror found the VTT application had recorded his laughter simply as:

[A. Kallus]: {Laughing}

[A. Kallus]: {Continued laughing}

[A. Kallus]: {Quiet laughing}

[7.32.557]: Haha, you alright there, Kal?

[A. Kallus]: I apologize! I did not know the VTT also summarizes sounds too!

[7.32.557]: No worries. I like making you laugh.

Kallus’ still quietly chuckled as he shut off the heat, giving the “chili” a chance to set while he tended to the noodles.

Zeb seemed to have fallen quiet too, most likely working on the relief.

It felt comfortable. In a way, it felt like they were in the same room together. Zeb could be sitting at the kitchen table whittling away while Kallus prepared a meal for the two of them.

Meal for two…

Kallus stared down at the noodles, then at the chili, then back at the noodles.

[A. Kallus]: Kriff ...

[7.32.557]: Something wrong?

[A. Kallus]: I made two servings.

[7.32.557]: Can’t you freeze the rest for later?

[A. Kallus]: And risk that xenophobic toad Konstantine getting his hands on my prized dish? Absolutely not. I would rather throw it out the airlock.
[7.32.557]: Would it help if you wrote: “Not For Konstantine”?

[A. Kallus]: {Chuckling}

[A. Kallus]: Probably not. One moment. I am draining the noodles.

As Kallus poured the pot’s contents into the steel colander (marked with two small Imperial symbols on the handles) a thought came to mind.

[A. Kallus]: There is another option besides expelling my leftovers to the vacuum of space, but you are not going to like it.
[7.32.557]: Kal, I figured you’d share it. It’s not like I would get jealous of you eating with Pryce. Though the way Sabine describes her I’m pretty sure she lives off of protein cubes and pure spite.

[A. Kallus]: I was not thinking of Pryce.

[7.32.557]: No. Kal, no way. Not him.
[A. Kallus]: As an ISB agent working closely with the Seventh Fleet, I need to form a stronger alliance with their grand admiral. What better way to do that than to break bread with him?
[7.32.557]: Kal, I get what you’re trying to do, but this is a bad plan. From what Hera has told us Thrawn is a clever bastard.

[A. Kallus]: I will have you know I was a star pupil at the Royal Imperial Academy on Coruscant. That is not an easy role to obtain.

[7.32.557]: No, I know you’re smart. You’re really smart, but this guy is something else. He sees things. Like he knows exactly where you’re going to move even before you take that first step.

[A. Kallus]: Do you trust me, Zeb?

[7.32.557]: With my life.

Kallus smiled at the lack of hesitation of his response.

[A. Kallus]: Then please trust me that I know what I'm doing. I have been an Imperial agent a long time. I can handle myself. Staying in Thrawn’s good graces means I will have a better chance at finding out more about this new secret weapon. I promised Sato and I promised you that I would do all that I can for the Rebellion and this is a way to do it.

Zeb fell quiet for several heartbeats before finally saying:

[7.32.557]: Just be careful. For me?

[A. Kallus]: I promise I will. Will you message me in a couple of hours?

[7.32.557]: I think it’ll be closer to five. We gotta help Kanan and Ezra prepare for their trip to the Imperial factory on Lothal.

[A. Kallus]: I thought we agreed you would keep me in the dark of such missions.
[7.32.557]: Oh right, sorry. Well, now you know we're heading to Lothal!

[A. Kallus]: Wonderful. Alright I will talk to you later.

[7.32.557]: Have a good dinner I guess.

[A. Kallus]: Thank you. Goodbye, Zeb.

[7.32.557]: Bye Kal.

Kallus closed and deleted his chat history with Zeb before opening up a new message.

[A. Kallus]: Grand Admiral Thrawn. I hope I did not catch you at a bad time. It seems I have been overzealous in the portions of my latest Ithorian cuisine. If you are not busy and have an appetite, please meet me in Kitchen K81. I do not know chiss allergies, but here is a list of ingredients you will find in this particular dish.

Surprisingly Kallus did not have to wait long before Thrawn issued his reply.

[G.A. Thrawn]: Agent Kallus. Thank you for the invitation. I accept. The ingredients you have enclosed are agreeable and I look forward to seeing how you transform them. I shall see you shortly.

Kallus caught his reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator. He smoothed out the mild fluff of his bearded cheeks, ran his fingers through his blonde hair, then took off his sauce-splattered apron. He looked at his outfit and frowned, then grabbed the datapad.

[A. Kallus]: Grand admiral, do feel free to dress casually.

Kallus wore dark gray khakis and a standard olive green Imperial shirt with collar that hugged the base of his neck. He contemplated removing Zeb’s necklace and hiding it in his pocket, but as he pulled it out he felt a small flinch of anxiety. If he was to find the strength to get through his meeting he would rather have the reassuring feeling of the wooden pendant against his heart.

He quickly tucked the necklace under his shirt and pulled out his dog tags instead. They lay over his chest easily covering the subtle round shape of the pendant beneath the fabric.

Just as Kallus finished setting up the small square table in the center of the kitchen, the door hissed open and Thrawn strode in with a small bottle of lilac-colored wine.

Though not in Imperial whites, there still was a regality to the grand admiral’s outfit: White trousers and black half-calf boots, a fine-tailored black jacket and a thin black shirt that had a silken sheen to it.

The outfit was disarmingly dashing, and far less intimidating than the imperial white.

Which is precisely why he wore such an outfit. Do not drop your guard, agent.
“Grand admiral,” Kallus greeted. “Thank you for joining me.”

Thrawn's smile was mild, and not altogether unpleasant. “Thank you for the invitation, Agent. I admit I have never dined on Ithorian cuisine, so I hope this Chateau du Pellaeon ‘91 will do. I hear it pairs nicely with reek.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow. “It does, indeed. I am impressed, it is an excellent choice especially for a lay person.”

Kallus pulled out a seat for Thrawn who settled himself in. “I may not know much about Ithorian food, but I do know a fair bit about wine. I missed my calling as a sommelier I am afraid.”

“The Correllian Wine Society’s loss is the Empire’s gain,” Kallus said, easily, as he returned to the counter. “I admit I do not know much about Ithorian cuisine either as this is my first attempt at such a dish. I suppose we will both learn something new tonight.”

Thrawn popped the cork and poured two glasses of wine.

“Oh, I believe I will find this dinner very educational.”
Kallus allowed the distaste to spread across his face as he prepared two plates.

What have I gotten myself into? He thought as he doled out generous portions of noodles before covering it in the thick, rich gravy.

“Educational? Shall I expect an interrogation over dinner?” Kallus replied, keeping his tone light as he returned to the table. As per Ithorian tradition he allowed Thrawn to choose his plate.

Thrawn thought for a moment then chose the plate with the smaller portion.

“I...apologize,” Thrawn said, setting the dish down. “I do not mean to imply an interrogation. Rather, I am curious about you, as I would be curious about anyone I work with closely and know little about.”

“That is fair,” Kallus conceded. “I am a private person and tend to believe any question directed at me may be construed as invasive. I suppose it comes with the job.”

“A job which I do admire.” Thrawn replied. “Your job is not unlike loyalty officers, another profession that impresses me greatly.”

Professional tortures, more like. Kallus thought. Of course he admires them.

“I do not find their methods to be as effective as that of an Imperial agent,” Thrawn continued, “but it is the spirit of loyalty I find admirable. There is a strong sense of justice within your kind and it keeps the Empire honest.”

“Oh, I forgot the toppings,” Kallus said, a little too quickly. As he rose and turned away from Thrawn, he allowed his face to make an incredulous expression at Thrawn’s mention of “loyalty.”

He gathered up three small bowls containing small crackers, shredded cheddar, and chopped mercy root and set them on the table.

Thrawn looked over the bowls. “Is there an order in which to utilize these toppings?”

Kallus chuckled. “Yes, but apparently no one can give me a straight answer as to that order. I have asked several Ithorian chefs and all have been very adamant in very different combinations. I decided to go with the style of Southern Ithor: mercy root, cheese, then crackers.

“This is all very fascinating,” Thrawn said, and for the first time since Kallus had met him, the chiss actually seemed genuinely pleased.

With great care, Thrawn dispensed his toppings in modest quantities, eyeing Kallus’ portions as they went. He added a few more crackers after Kallus put a generous helping on top. He stirred his toppings into his dish a half a beat after Kallus.

Part of Kallus was disheartened that his first Ithorian meal was not with Zeb, yet seeing Thrawn’s almost childlike wonder with this new dish actually put his mind at ease.

Thrawn was many things, mostly tyrannical and cruel, but his appreciation of others cultures shone through in that moment.

He is...not so terrible of company I suppose, Kallus had to admit.

They both took a bite. They both chewed slowly.

Thrawn’s eyes lit up as brightly as Kallus’ eyes felt.

The reek practically melted on the tongue. The spices were a beautiful medley that lifted the reek to a richer quality. The noodles were not too soft and not too stiff and the crunch of the mercy root and crackers gave the dish a wonderful texture.

“This is wondrous,” Thrawn gasped.

“It...it is.” Kallus replied, hardly believing it himself.

“Truly,” Thrawn said, taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. “The noodles are very well done, the meat is quite tender and the marriage of sweet and savory within this sauce is nothing short of perfection. Well done, Agent Kallus.”

Kallus found himself smiling broadly in spite of himself. “That is quite a compliment. Thank you, grand admiral.”

They took second, third and fourth bites quietly, both so engrossed in the meal that it did not feel as if conversation was lacking.

It was Thrawn who spoke up first.

“Chiss dishes are usually much sweeter than most food I have experienced in the Empire. It is refreshing to taste another culture’s food that has an element of sweetness to it, and not have it be considered ‘dessert.’”

“I have heard chiss enjoy sweetened dishes though I have not had the occasion to study their - er, your - cuisine.”

Thrawn toyed with the stem of his wine glass for a moment as if contemplating something. “I am...no chef, but I do know a meal or two if you were interested.”

Kallus’ heart leapt instinctively at the notion of learning new dishes, before remembering who was offering.

“I would appreciate any recipes you could give me,” he managed, casually. “Though, I am surprised that you do not cook. I tend to think you excel at all artistic endeavors.”

Thrawn chuckled. “Do I put on such a notion of being -what is the human phrase- a ‘know-it-all.’”

“A bit,” Kallus admitted, taking a generous sip of wine. The heady drink brought out the richness of the reek nicely, which of course it did, because Thrawn had brought it.

“I am admittedly a terrible cook. While I can follow a recipe, there is an element of creativity that I lack. It is yet another thing I admire about you: your ability to think beyond the confines of a recipe.”

“You mock me.”

“I do not,” Thrawn set down his fork and steepled his fingers as if to emphasize his sincerity.

“I am not without flaw, Agent Kallus. And my shortcomings I believe are balanced by those at my side. Governor Pryce is an invaluable subordinate, but she is hot-headed and impulsive. You, however, appear to have developed an empathy that is in short supply for most Imperial officers. I heard of your argument with Governor Pryce at the Skystrike Academy regarding the manner in which she baited the Imperial defectors. As I understand she pulled rank and killed one of the cadets. It was a meaningless death, and I assure you if I had been there I would have heeded your suggestion over hers.”

“I...appreciate that, sir,” Kallus said, carefully.

“I know you do, which is why I am inviting you to come with us to Lothal. There are reports of faulty equipment coming from our Imperial factory there. I suspect purposeful sabotage. While I would usually allow local officers to address such matters, that particular factory contains a...pet project of mine.”

Kallus’ heart slammed against his chest at the mention of Lothal.

Focus...focus…do not be too quick to agree.

“What sort of pet project?” Kallus asked.

The smile that crept on Thrawn’s lips sent a chill down Kallus’ spine. “It is a new weapon of my own design. That is all I will share at this time.”

Kallus took a slow sip of wine, furrowing his brow as if taking time to consider Thrawn’s invitation.

“Very well,” he said finally. “I will accompany you.”

They ate in silence for some time. Kallus’ mind reeled with possibilities.

What if he ran into the two jedi on Lothal?

What if they attacked him?

Or worse, what if he was put into a position to seize them?

It was risky enough helping Sabine escape without having her shoot him down, but two rogue jedi was more than Kallus could handle.

I have to get a Fulcrum message to the Spectre team.

“When do we leave for Lothal?”

“I would like to leave as soon as possible. I feel there is something else brewing in Lothal that requires our immediate attention.”

Kallus set down his fork, but Thrawn raised a hand. “Agent, please. There is no need to rush this. Let us finish our meal first.”

Kallus looked at his half-eaten plate. “Very well.”

Kallus tried to remind himself this was a good thing. This meal did what he had hoped, given him an assignment that could, in the long run, help the Rebellion.

Or I just found myself in yet another position of helplessly watching the Empire do as it pleases.

He thought of the poor cadet Pryce blew to pieces at Skystrike Academy. He could do nothing then, what could he do if Thrawn discovers he has two jedi snooping around his factory?

“How is your beau, Agent Kallus?”

Kallus blinked. “My beau?”

“Your clandestine pen pal. The one who messaged you during our first private meeting.”

Kallus forced a chuckle. “He is fine, thank you.”

“I am surprised he did not join you for this meal.”

If only…

“He is stationed elsewhere.”

“Is he? A long distance affair is it?”

Kallus shifted uncomfortably. “I do not believe it is at the ‘affair’ stage, yet.”

“...yet?”

Kallus took a large bite of me’montri.

Thrawn regarded Kallus with an almost soft expression. When he spoke it was quiet. “It is...difficult to maintain a relationship in the Empire, I know. Max and I are often stationed in different parts of the galaxy. I find long-distance communication to be unsatisfactory, but there is always the promise of being reunited that carries us through. Would you not agree?”

It took everything Kallus had to not slowly sink underneath the table and hide there for the remainder of the meal.

Relationship advice from the enemy was not something Kallus was prepared to deal with at the moment, nor the painful fact that if Kallus never saw Zeb again it would most likely be because Grand Admiral Thrawn discovered that he was Fulcrum.

“I honestly do not know when I will see him again.” It was a safe statement to say, as many times low-ranking officers were stationed planetside for indeterminate amounts of time. The Empire often said to these unfortunate souls “simply stay until the job is done.”

Thrawn nodded.

“I understand. If you do need to talk about such things I will glady be an ear.”

The sincerity in Thrawn’s voice combined with the yearning to confide in someone about the mixture of emotions he felt for Zeb was...tempting.

No. It would be too risky. This, like most things, is something I have to deal with alone.

“I will,” Kallus said, mustering a smile. “Thank you, grand admiral.”

“Of course, agent.”

They finished their meals in silence, but there was an ease in the air that felt of a fresh start.

He is not a friend, Kallus reminded himself. As much as he would like to think so. This camaraderie, like all things, is a plan of some sort. Thrawn does not do anything without a scheme. If he is being kind it is because he needs my expertise on Lothal. I can use this. I just need to stay focused.

Their meal finished, Thrawn helped clear the table, rinse and clean dishes. As they did so, Thrawn spoke more on the minor nuances he noticed in the dish then asked about the proportions of some spices to others as well as requesting tips on how to replicate the dish.

As Kallus answered Thrawn’s flurry of questions, he did not notice his defenses begin to slip.

He delved into reek cooking methods. He described techniques he compared from Ithorian cuisine to Trandoshan. He also talked about possibly developing a Rodian/Ithorian me’montri fusion dish.

“And what kind of foods does your beau enjoy?”

So absorbed in his divulgence of information, Kallus blurted out, “From what he’s told me: anything. Food is more utilitarian for him.”

Kallus froze...

...but only for a moment before forcing himself to continue cleaning.

“From what he has told you? Have you two never shared a meal?”

Kallus felt everything begin to slide. The cold sweat felt as if it was broadcast on his face and he worked hard to focus on scrubbing the clean surface of the counter.

“We have not.” Kallus said.

“So peculiar. How did you two meet exactly? Or, have you met?”

We met on a holonet dating site? We crossed paths on a mission long ago? We only just met? We have not met at all? We crashed on a moon together, fought to survive, kept each other warm, talked every single day, always struggling to stay optimistic even if we may never meet again?

No...no lies...I cannot risk it.

“Grand admiral, I appreciate your curiosity,” Kallus said, expelling an honest and uncomfortable sigh. “Yet, you and I are not so good of friends that I can divulge the story of how I met my...my beau...to you. Our distance apart is painful to me and I would prefer to keep a tempered spirit this evening.”

Kallus dared to glance up at Thrawn, bracing for a scowl from the chiss.

Instead, he received only a slight eyebrow raise.

“I admit, your resistance to talk of him only piques my interest, but you are right. I apologize for the forwardness of my questions. I tend to forget humans are not as forthcoming as chiss.”

“I do appreciate your interest and your advice as well,” Kallus said, quickly. “Perhaps one day I will tell you.”

One lie...I can afford one lie at least.

“I look forward to it.” And with the last dish drying on the rack, Thrawn dried his hands on a towel also marked with an Imperial symbol. “Well, I must get ready for our departure. I shall see you in two hours outside Hanger Three if that is acceptable.”

“I look forward to it,” Kallus replied, careful not to let his relief shine through. “Thank you for inviting me to this mission, grand admiral.”

“It is the least I can do for introducing me to this fine meal. I do hope you invite me again.”

Kallus smiled silently and waved as Thrawn left, unable to afford telling another lie this evening.

Chapter 9: Accidental Attachments

Chapter Text

Everyone on the factory floor of Lothal’s Imperial factory knew the 624-AVA speeder was faulty.

The workers knew, Agent Kallus knew, and most importantly Thrawn knew.

And still, the grand admiral made Worker #5473 climb onto the speeder mounted to the testing platform and push it to full speed.

“Something’s wrong,” the worker said. “It’s overheating! Gonna have to shut it down.”

“No,” Thrawn replied, calmly overriding the speeder’s controls on his datapad. “The demonstration is not yet over.”

Waves of heat surrounded the speeder.

A thick stench of burnt fuel and ozone filled the air.

The worker had no time to scream. When the speeder blew, only fragments of shrapnel and ash remained.

Kallus’ face betrayed him for only a moment, eyes widening, a quiet gasp, before he forced himself to regain his composure.

Thrawn turned to the cowering workers. “Now that I have your attention, know this: whatever you build here, you will test personally.” With a chilling casualness, Thrawn plucked a charred piece of remains from his shoulder and flicked it to the ground. “I expect your malfunction rate to drop substantially.”

Kallus spied one of the workers starting to lunge forward only to be pulled back by another employee. Kallus’ eyes flicked to the rest of the cowering engineers and frowned. The smaller worker clenched his fists but calmed himself. In fact, both of them stood with an eerie calm.

It appears the jedi are here

As Lieutenant Lyste lined up the workers for verification and questioning, Kallus and Pryce followed Thrawn to the turbolift.

Kallus’ stomach churned as the turbolift began to rise, though the change in pressure was not what nauseated him.

Another rebel supporter dead at my feet and there was nothing I could do about it.

The stench of charred speeder and remains still coated his nostrils.

“Agent Kallus?”

He could still see the terrified face of Worker #5473.

“Agent?”

And what could I do?

“Agent Kallus.” The sharpness in Thrawn’s voice brought Kallus out of his daze.

“Yes, grand admiral.”

Thrawn peered at him thoughtfully. “You disagree with my demonstration?”

Kallus thought of denying it, but he knew the troubled look on his face was telltale enough that he disagreed. “I...would have handled it differently, to be honest.”

“Then it is a good thing you are not grand admiral,” Pryce stated with a stifled yawn, not looking up from her datapad as she spoke.

Thrawn ignored the statement. “Please explain.”

Kallus resisted the urge to lower his eyes and instead lifted his chin at the grand admiral’s scarlet gaze.

Because using fear to get results is not how the Empire should operate. The Empire I envisioned should be better than this.

“Because now you have given me a litter of frightened loth-cats to question rather than sober-minded factory workers who may cooperate in exposing insurgents.”

Thrawn studied Kallus’ face for a moment before speaking. “I understand and I wish there was another, less extreme way of dealing with the workers. However, when the lives of our troopers are at stake, it is necessary to instill additional...motivation...to ensure these workers perform to the best of their capability. Whether this was an act of sabotage or irresponsible engineering, the ashes of Worker #5473 will serve as a reminder that failure is not to be tolerated. That single worker’s death may have saved the lives of hundreds more troopers, Agent. Is that not preferable?”

Kallus lowered his gaze, purposefully acting humbled at the grand admiral’s “flawless logic.” “It is, sir. I am not condemning your actions. I only wish to express my predicament.”

“As a skilled ISB Agent I am sure you are up to the challenge,” Thrawn said, mildly.

The turbolift doors of the factory line level opened and Thrawn stepped out first, Pryce following next, tucking her pad away and Kallus a half-step behind, his mind whirling on finding a way to help the jedi scurrying around in the factory.

-----

The Jedi proved to be about as helpless as Sabine Wren in the Skystrike Academy.

In less than an hour, the pair of rebel Force-users managed to escape the factory floor’s lockdown, find new disguises and break into section A-2 where Kallus believed the hidden weapon plans were stored.

Also, like Sabine Wren and her defectors, the two jedi were ridiculously easy to spot despite their disguises.

It took barely a glance at the crooked-helmeted stormtrooper and misplaced scout trooper to know these were not Imperial soldiers.

“You two,” he said to the poorly disguised jedi. “Come with me to secure the perimeter.”

The jedi exchanged a look and walked calmly inside the turbolift just as the real stormtroopers shouted a warning to Kallus.

Alright, I have them, Kallus thought, now I just need to calmly introduce myself. Let them know I am an ally, a-

He noticed the taller jedi’s hand go towards something on his belt.

They were about to attack. Instinct kicked in. And Agent Kallus snarled. “Don’t move...Rebels.”

It was not the smartest move he had ever made.

The jedi most certainly moved.

And after an embarrassingly quick tussle Kallus found himself pinned against the wall about to be pummeled by a pair of rebels who had every reason to loathe his existence.

“Listen to me, I am Fulcrum.”

This was not how he wanted his big reveal to go. He had always imagined him coming in, blasters smoking, saving the rebels at the last moment when all hope was lost. “I am Fulcrum,” he would declare atop a broken AT-AT, or a fallen TIE Fighter.

But no...instead he found himself sputtering the Fulcrum code, blurting the very meager resume of rebels who could vouch for him, and clinging to the hope that at least their C1 droid trusted him.

It seemed to help, but not much.

As they blasted into the communications sector, Kallus was at least able to give the jedi what they needed, except now he was left with a pile of unconscious officers and troopers at his feet.

“Now, I just have to make this look convincing” he sighed.

No sooner had he finished his sentence that the impetuous Ezra Bridger hurdled him through the glass comm display.

“Ezra!” Kanan snapped as Kallus fell in a heap on the ground.

“What?” Ezra shrugged. “That is convincing!”

“Yeah, but I was gonna do it,” Kanan sighed.

“Well, if he’s one of us now, you’ll get your chance!”

Kallus tried not to take it personally. He tried to remember that for several years now, he was the enemy. To them, he had only been a Rebel for an hour. Still...the bruise on his ego was almost worse than the growing goose egg on his head.

At the very least, the jedi were able to escape, safely.

And they left him with a large enough knot on his head, and cuts on his neck to garner some sort of concern from Governor Pryce as they met outside Thrawn’s quarters.

“They injured you,” Pryce remarked, arching an eyebrow.

“You sound more surprised than concerned.” Kallus winced as he stretched out his aching neck.

“Only that they allowed you to live. These jedi rebels do not give an impression of mercy when it comes to the lives of Imperials. Curious they merely tossed you aside.”

Fighting past the throbbing in Kallus’ head, he quickly formulated a reasonable explanation.

“They were in a hurry. I doubt they had time to deal with the death of a superior officer. It is slightly more complicated to kill an ISB agent than a hundred stormtroopers.”

Pryce considered this a moment before finally nodding. “So it seems the jedi can be reasonable.”

“Either that or I am extremely lucky.”

Pryce hummed in mild agreement and together they walked into Thrawn’s office to be debriefed.

-----

Kallus was still trying to find a more comfortable position to sit on his bed when his datapad buzzed to life.

[9.57.222]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Finally, a rebel who will not try to shoot me or throw me through a glass wall.

[9.57.222]: Yeah, I heard about that. I’m sorry. How’s your head?

[A. Kallus]: It is fine, just a mild concussion. Aside from that I did enjoy your droid.

[9.57.222]: Really? No one enjoys Chopper.

[A. Kallus]: I have always been a fan of the C1 series.

[9.57.222]: So...Everyone knows you’re Fulcrum now.

[A. Kallus]: Yes. It seems that way.

Kallus groaned as he shifted on the bed. Every part of him ached. The small cuts on his neck stung and itched. Accepting the fact there was no comfortable position, he simply sank back against the pillow propped against the wall.

[A. Kallus]: They do not trust me.

[9.57.222]: No, they don’t. Not yet anyway. I’m sorry.

[A. Kallus]: Do not be. They would be foolish to.

[9.57.222]: Tell me about it. ;-)

[A. Kallus]: I did not mean you are foolish.

[9.57.222]: Nah, I know what you mean. They don’t know you like I do. They’ll figure out what a good man you are sooner or later.

[A. Kallus]: I hope so, though to be honest I am not so sure I am making a difference for your cause.

[9.57.222]: We got two new pilots that turned out to be invaluable, and you helped my friends escape twice now.

[A. Kallus]: I could be doing so much more…

[9.57.222]: You won’t be doing anyone any good if you risk too much too soon, Kal. You’re a spy. Keep your eyes open and trust your gut. It’s gotten you this far.

[A. Kallus]: I suppose it has.

[9.57.222]: They did mention how helpful you were in their escape.

Kallus’ smile was tight and thin.

[A. Kallus]: You do not have to try and sugar coat what they said. I served their purpose. When they see me, they will always see an Imperial, nothing more.

[9.57.222]: Maybe not. Maybe they’ll see your charm like I see it.

[A. Kallus]: Will that not make you jealous?

[9.57.222]: I’m jealous of anyone who can see you before I can.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I need to tell you something, but promise me you will not worry.

[9.57.222]: I can’t make that promise.

Kallus winced. Still...he needed Zeb to know. If anything ever happened to him, he at least needed the lasat to be prepared.

[A. Kallus]: Thrawn knows there is a rebel mole in the Empire.

[9.57.222]: Karabast.

[A. Kallus]: I concur.

[9.57.222]: We need to pull you out.

[A. Kallus]: No.

[9.57.222]: Kal, what if Thrawn knows it's you?

[A. Kallus]: He does not. If he knew I was the mole he would certainly not reveal to me that he suspects one exists.

[9.57.222]: Unless that’s part of some big plan of his.

[A. Kallus]: It is not.

[9.57.222]: How do you know? Please, let us get you outta there.

[A. Kallus]: No.

Zeb fell quiet, as did Kallus. He could imagine Zeb fuming with anger, swearing in lasat, maybe swearing at Kallus. His heart sank at the thought of Zeb being cross with him.

[9.57.222]: Fine.

[A. Kallus]: Thank you for understanding.

[9.57.222]: Yeah, well, I don’t have to like it, but I get it.

They sat in silence for a while. Kallus could feel the tension across the stars. Was this their first argument?

[9.57.222]: Was that our first fight?

[A. Kallus]: I believe I almost killed you during our first fight.

[9.57.222]: No I mean since I gave you the necklace.

Kallus’ hand drifted towards the pendant, his fingers instinctively going towards the Z&K in the moon.

[A. Kallus]: I suppose so. Is the necklace a mark for something?

[9.57.222]: Well yeah. Isn’t it the same for humans?

Kallus blinked.

[A. Kallus]: I don’t understand

[9.57.222]: Karabast, I knew I should have asked Ezra.

[A. Kallus]: Asked him what?

[9.57.222]: Ah, nothing.

Kallus’ heart quickened. He had not noticed he was hunched intently over his datapad now.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb? Is the necklace important? I mean aside from my loving it. Is it a marker of some sort?

Zeb’s reply was slow.

[9.57.222]: Yeah. I guess.

Kallus frowned. Zeb was clamming up. Usually it was him that froze when it came to expressing affection. Was this necklace some sort of meaningful expression of being more…

More what exactly? They were worlds apart without any chance of being together.

What future is there?

Kallus swallowed hard. Maybe that was why Zeb did not want to say what they both were thinking…

He will not say what we both want to be and cannot.

[9.57.222]: By the way, I meant to ask you, how are you sleeping these days?

Kallus sighed.

[A. Kallus]: A lot better.

[9.57.222]: Good. I knew you’d sleep better when you knew you were doing some good. Bet you’re getting better sleep than the rest of the imperials, huh Agent Kallus?

[A. Kallus]: Yes, but do me a favor and don’t call me that.

[9.57.222]: Yeah, i guess it no longer applies. Maybe one day no one will call you Agent, anymore.

[A. Kallus]: Just as long as you keep calling me Kal. No one has ever shortened my name before.

[9.57.222]: Yeah?

Kallus smiled as he could sense even over text that Zeb was relaxing again. He was about to reply when he noticed Zeb was still typing a message. The ellipses wiggled, disappeared and wiggled again as Zeb struggled to type something out.

[9.57.222]: I love calling you Kal.

Kallus’ heart swelled at the word “love.” Even if it was just regarding his name, no one had ever “loved” anything about Kallus.

[A. Kallus]: I wish I could see you.

[9.57.222]: Me too. And all I got is this anti-Empire poster of you. You still have that holovid?

[A. Kallus]: I had to delete the frame.

Kallus pointedly left out the fact Thrawn found out he had tampered with the evidence. Zeb was rattled enough.

[9.57.222]: I wish I could send you a whole holovid, but the Empire would notice that big of a file coming through to one of their ships. I did snag a remote enough frequency to where I could probably send another holoimage though. Let me try.

The wait was agonizing. Kallus hoped for another image of Zeb smiling, but honestly even if the lasat was scowling in the image it would be better than nothing at all.

[Attachment Received from 9.57.222: I Hope This Is Okay]

Kallus’ eyes went wide, heat rushing from his ears to his face. He tried to look away, and yet his eyes remained glued to the image.

Zeb was...shirtless.

Kallus could only see the lasat’s upper torso, a broad chest of gray with purple stripes that lined his chest. His pectorals were broader than Kallus imagined - not that he imagined or thought such things of course - and his arms were sculpted and bulged slightly from the angle of the camera. One arm tucked under his head accentuating the subtle curves of muscles. There was an easy smile on his lips. He seemed relaxed, his eyes were hooded casually. Kallus did not know how long he had been gazing at the image, but it was long enough for Zeb to reply:

[9.57.222]: Hello? You there?

[A. Kallus]: I am.

[A. Kallus]: Yes.

[A. Kallus]: Sorry I am here.

[9.57.222]: Is that okay? I’m sorry, I just thought maybe I could...for you, I just wanted. I don’t know.

You are perfect…

[A. Kallus]: Zeb. It’s perfect.

[9.57.222]: Yeah?

[A. Kallus]: Yes.

Kallus eyed the camera icon on his datapad. He swallowed hard.

[A. Kallus]: One moment.

Kallus tried to find an alluring position.

He tried to replicate Zeb’s position, but the datapad was awkward and it kept slipping from his hand. It landed on his face first, then painfully on his clavicle. The third time it nearly bounced off his chest and onto the floor. Every position he tried did not feel natural.

And every successful angle came out as an unflattering holoimage.

He resorted to grabbing the charging stand off his night table and positioning it on the bed in front of him. He flicked on the recorder and set it to a rolling capture mode. At the very least he could choose what picture he wanted from a roll of images.

Kallus knelt on the center of the bed and looked at his reflection in the datapad as it took a rapid fire of images.

Tentatively, he raised his arms, then lowered them. Then tucked them behind his back, then brought them back to his front.

[9.57.222]: You alright?

Embarrassment washed over him. He rubbed his neck and bit his lip.

This is ridiculous. What am I doing?

The rapid fire application finally stopped with a noisey click. With a relieved sigh, he lifted up the pad and flicked through the pictures.

He found one where he was kneeling with his back perfectly straight. His hands rested on his knees and his face was...not terrible. There was even a bit of a smile.

That is the one.

He attached the picture to the message and hit send.

[Two (2) Attachments Sent to 9.57.222]

Kallus’ eyes went wide.

What? Two images?!

He grabbed the datapad and pulled up the sent box.

The first image was the chosen chaste pose of him sitting with his hands in his lap and smiling stiffly. The other, however, was the final image the datapad took.

He swore under his breath.

The pose showed a different side of Kallus than he intended. As Kallus had blushed and rubbed his neck in embarrassment, the camera caught him in a more suggestive pose.

His thin tank shirt was pulled down slightly exposing the solidness of his pectorals, and as his fingers touched his neck, it revealed the corded muscles of his biceps. The camera also revealed a less-than-chaste blush on his cheeks and the way he bit his lower lip appeared sensual rather than anxious.

[9.57.222]: Wow

“Noooooo,” Kallus groaned, sinking back into his bed.

I must have selected the last image the recorder took before swiping through the image roll.

Before he could explain this to Zeb, he received another reply:

[9.57.222]: You lok god

[9.57.222]: Good! You look good. Sorry. Typo.

Kallus blinked.

[A. Kallus]: Really?

[9.57.222]: Yeah, really. Just...wow. I can keep both of these right?

[A. Kallus]: On the condition you never share them with another living soul.

[9.57.222]: I wouldn’t want to. These are mine and I don’t like to share. Z & K, remember?

Kallus clutched his pendant.

[A. Kallus]: I always want it to be Z & K, Zeb.

[9.57.222]: Yeah? Good. Me too.

Kallus had never felt so light and giddy in all his life.

-----

It was a small blip.

Yet that small blip was enough to capture the attention of the bored comms officer.

One file attachment sent out would have gone unnoticed, but any messages leaving the Seventh Fleet with multiple files was supposed to be documented as per Grand Admiral Thrawn's orders.

The bored officer pulled up the blip and found the two files were sent to an unknown frequency. 9.57.222?

That was a close system. Why would they send it to a non-imperial frequency?

It was probably nothing.

But then what else did she have to do?

She pulled the frequency and traced the imp code back to the Seventh Fleet. She did not recognize the frequency that sent the files, which meant it was sent by a superior officer.

She grabbed her mug of lukewarm caf and gulped it down before reaching for the pot to refill it.

The farther she dug, the more odd frequencies she pulled up. None of the communications nor attachments were visible and today's attachments were blocked as well.

And still she dug.

And clawed.

And chewed through the flurry of bizarre frequencies.

She came up with very little.

But she did come up with something.

A single word.

“Fulcrum?”

She paled and grabbed her commlink shakily.

“Lieutenant Lyste? Sir, I know it is late, but I think Grand Admiral Thrawn would like to see this…”

Chapter 10: The Second Step

Chapter Text

Kallus should have been sleeping.

Instead he lay on his bed, datapad propped on his bent knees gazing at the holoimage of Zeb floating over the small projector.

He tucked an arm behind his head, the other pulling out his necklace, rolling the carved wood over in his fingers.

“Zeb? Is the necklace important? I mean aside from my loving it. Is it a marker of some sort?”
“Yeah. I guess.”

Kallus kicked himself for not asking sooner. He was happy enough to just receive anything from Zeb let alone something that had the ice moon with their initials carved into it.

Kallus chewed his lip for a moment, then slid the holoimage to the side. He dug through his labyrinth of folders in the datapad until he uncovered where he kept his encrypted cultural texts. The lasat texts were one of the first he had collected and it took some time decrypting the information before he could unlock the book on lasat customs.

He scrolled through lines and lines of text, stopping every so often to admire the holoimage of Zeb smiling at him before returning to his search. He came upon a very small chapter entitled: The Steps.

“The First Step (Je Dun Yeeran)”

“When a lasat wishes to initiate a bond with another, the Proposer creates a pair of tokens. These tokens will be worn by both the Proposer and the Proposed if he or she accepts. These tokens come in all shapes and sizes, but they are often a symbol of romantic significance for both parties.”

Kallus’ blushed at the words ‘romantic significance’. Considering he and Zeb refrained from murdering each other on that ice moon, it was about as romantic as it could be. And besides, that event set into motion everything that came after, Kallus supposed.

He continued:

“This token is the First of many Steps towards one day becoming a-”

Kallus stopped breathing. His heart climbing into his throat and he fought to swallow it back down.

“...a life mate.”

Kallus gazed down at the pendant in his fingers, his eyes focusing on the Z & K etched into the moon.

Life mate...

Heart fluttering rapidly around in his chest, he whispered the rest of the passage:

“If the Proposed is open to the possibility of taking further steps, they initiate The Second Step: The Pledge. When they are ready (and there is no timeframe to mark just when the Second Step will occur) they will tell the Proposer: No matter how far apart we are, I shall always walk with you. If the proposer is still interested in taking the Second Step, they will reply: No matter the distance, we walk together.”

Kallus ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Zeb has been waiting patiently for me all this time, only to find out I had no idea what the necklace truly meant.

Kallus looked over the words.

He drummed his fingers rapidly on the edge of the datapad for a moment, then pulled up a third screen, finding a lasan translator.

He spent the next few hours learning enough lasan to properly speak and write The Pledge with the proper syntax, emphasis and even a little bit of the accent.

It never occurred to Kallus to question whether he would Pledge himself to Zeb.

His only question was how he could say it properly when he talked to Zeb next.

-----

Kallus gazed out the viewport of the Chimaera, quietly mouthing The Pledge in lasan. He focused on the way his tongue curled around the complex syllables, and forming his lips into shapes so unlike what he was accustomed to in Basic. As he spoke, his fingers subtly moved through the air, spelling out the Pledge as he spoke.

His pronunciation was getting better. The written form was beginning to feel more comfortable too. It was a shame Zeb would only be able to see it in text. Kallus thought about making a short voice recording, but no, it was too risky. Holoimages and text messages could easily be scrambled beyond recognition, but if a voice recording was intercepted outside his Fulcrum frequency he was good as dead.

But perhaps one day...

“Agent Kallus,” said a petty officer behind him, ripping Kallus from his thoughts. “We’ve lost contact with one of our Infiltrators. It hasn’t reported in.”

Thrawn’s infiltrators, Kallus corrected silently. Infiltrators he did not inform any of the officers he was deploying until after they were sent out.

“What was its last known location?” Kallus asked.

“The droid never transmitted its coordinates, so we don’t know. Should we alert Command?”

It could be nothing, but it also could be the rebels have found and destroyed the droid to keep it from exposing their base.

“If we chased down every temporary comm failure, we’d have little time to do anything else,” Kallus reasoned with mild irritation. “If there’s still no contact by next cycle, we’ll follow up.” Kallus casually turned and walked off the observation deck, brushing past the petty officer. “For now we wait.”

Kallus resisted the urge to hurry down the long corridors back to his quarters. When he returned he pulled out his makeshift comm device dedicated to the Fulcrum channel.

Please, let Zeb hear this before it is too late.

The two-pronged Fulcrum symbol hovered above the modified mouse droid and Kallus began to record his message: “The Empire has begun to deploy recon droids. These Infiltrators sweep the Outer Rim worlds for rebel bases. They are extremely dangerous, but can appear harmless while in protocol mode. One recently failed to report in. Be advised, if the droid remains out of contact, the Empire will come after it, and soon. Fulcrum out.”

Kallus looked at his chronometer. Four more hours until Zeb was due to contact him. Heart fluttering around his chest, Kallus made his way back to the bridge, continuing to practice the Pledge as he went.

-----

Two hours before Kallus’ shift ended his datapad buzzed at his hip. With a furtive glance around the empty bridge, Kallus opened the incoming text transmission.

[2.01.887]: Is this line secure?

Kallus’ heart lurched. He glanced around the quiet bridge and typed back.

[A. Kallus]: It is for the moment. You are early. Did you get my message?

[2.01.887]: Loud and clear! Ran into a bit of trouble, but it’s sorted. You aren’t on the same ship as the droids are you?

[A. Kallus]: No, they have their own dedicated SD-2.

[2.01.887]: Okay, good. Hey do me a favor? Are you on an observation deck?

[A. Kallus]: I am. Why?

[2.01.887]: Because I’m gonna put on a little fireworks show for you.

Kallus glanced around again before daring to smile.

[A. Kallus]: I do enjoy fireworks

[2.01.887]: I know. You’ve mentioned it before. Alright gotta go! I’ll talk to you in another couple of hours.

[A. Kallus]: Good because there is something I need to tell you.

[2.01.887]: Yeah?

[A. Kallus]: Yes. Something I would have said earlier had I known of it.

There was a pause; a few flickers of ellipses appeared as Zeb stumbled through typing.

[2.01.887]: I’m tempted to ask, but I’ll hold off. I’ll talk to you soon. I can’t wait!

[A. Kallus]: I look forward to it as well. Goodbye Zeb

[2.01.887]: Bye Kal.

Kallus made his way to the main observation deck where he could see all of the Seventh Fleet before him. The moment he located the SD-2, Seeker, containing the Infiltrator droids, the fireworks began.

It was spectacular.

The explosion came from the belly of the star destroyer, blooming with fiery petals of orange and red, illuminating the darkness of space.

Kallus snuffed out his awe almost immediately and glowered at a nearby petty officer. “What. Just. Happened?” He demanded. “Report!”

“I believe it was a proton warhead detonation, sir.”

That’s my Zeb...Kallus thought turning back to the viewport and gazing at the beautiful light show. Plumes of black smoke billowed out and disappeared into space, and the glittering debris of the obliterated Star Destroyer felt like a display made just for him.

My Zeb...He allowed himself a small, private smile. I can’t wait to pledge myself to you tonight.

-----

Kallus snuck off the bridge a few minutes early to relay a message via Fulcrum: “I can only assume you found and reprogrammed the lost Infiltrator I warned you of. Well, as you no doubt planned, the droid did self-destruct on its return to base. I don’t know how you pulled it off, but you have my congratulations. Fulcrum Out.”

As soon as Kallus sent out his recorded message, his datapad chimed.

Kallus’ fingers twitched. This was it. He was ready. Time to write out The Pledge and declare his-

Kallus winced as he looked at the message on his datapad.

[G.A. Thrawn]: Agent Kallus, please meet me in War Room C-8. We have a few matters to discuss.

[A. Kallus]: Yes, sir. I am on my way.

Kallus let out a slow exhale.

Of course the grand admiral would want an immediate report on why an Imperial II Class Star Destroyer was blasted to bits within his fleet without so much as a warning. All Kallus had to do was stay calm, let Thrawn lead the conversation, and answer his questions as honestly as he could.

Kallus found the grand admiral in the center of the war room, gripping the edge of the projection table. His scowl was partially obscured through the mess of star systems floating above the projector, but his scarlet eyes pierced through the holograms clearly.

“How did this happen, Agent Kallus?”

Calmly…

Honestly...

“I suspect the rebels captured a unit in the field and reprogrammed it to self-destruct upon its return to base. Quite ingenious, really.”

Agent Kallus always had a begrudging respect for the Rebels’ ingenuity and the last bit felt good to express as it was the most honest thing he had probably ever said to the grand admiral.

“I am inclined to agree.”

Although Kallus predicted that would be Thrawn’s response, he did not expect the unsettling smile spreading across the chiss’ face.

Kallus eyed Thrawn curiously. Their interactions had, as of late, been positive ones, so he risked remarking on his observation. “You seem in surprisingly good spirits, considering this loss.”

“Loss, you say?” Thrawn scanned the star systems intently. “The rebels may have protected the location of their base for now, but in doing so they have narrowed my search.” Thrawn pressed a small button on the display and many of the star systems minimized, while others expanded and turned a haunting hue of blood red. “Before today, they could have been hiding in any of a thousand systems. But now…” Thrawn’s voice came out in a low, threatening purr. “Now I know they are almost certainly on one of the ninety-four planets surveyed by my Infiltrators. The rebels have won this battle, but the war will be ours.”

Kallus felt his stomach turn.

He had to warn Zeb, he had to tell them to get out now.

“Sir, if you excuse me, Lieutenant Lyste had an urgent matter to discuss with me.”

The chiss’ eyes gazed at Kallus unblinking as the agent bowed to him. Just as Kallus was about to leave however, Thrawn suddenly asked: “Agent, does the name ‘Fulcrum’ mean anything to you?”

Thrawn might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water on Kallus with that name.

Kallus froze, and his words failed him.

“Ah,” Thrawn arched a blue-black eyebrow. “So you have.”

Kallus forced out a snarl of distaste. “Fulcrum...I have been tracking that code name for a while now.”

Thrawn tilted his head. “Have you?”

How much did Thrawn know? How much had he read? There was only one report on Fulcrum that I issued myself. Is that enough to carry this lie through?

“I have.”

“Curious, I have only found a single report mentioning the name and there is not much to it.”

Think, Kallus. Think...One slip up and you’ll be letting the Rebellion down… you’ll be letting Zeb down.

Kallus dropped his eyes. “It was...part of my...personal obsession in pursuing the lasat.”

Thrawn tilted his head. “I see.”

“Sir, I assure you, after we talked about my…” Kallus made a point to pause as if consumed in shame. “...my misdirected focus in seeking revenge on this lasat, I expunged my records of any toxic and distracting information.”

“Did this include notes you took on Fulcrum?”

Kriff…

“Grand admiral, they would have been no use to you. All that I had were the feverish scribblings of a paranoid officer. It would have been a waste of your time.”

Thrawn ran his hand along the war table thoughtfully. “A pity. I may have been able to extract something useful about this Fulcrum character from those ‘feverish scribblings’.”

“I apologize, sir.”

“No need. I understand your desire for a fresh start, as we had discussed.”

“Thank you for your understanding, sir. I better see what Lieutenant Lyste wants.”

Thrawn frowned. “Are you not going to ask where I have heard the name?”

Dammit, Kallus, focus.

“I assumed you came across the report I had issued.”

“No, there was a transmission sent from our Fleet into the Outer Rim at 2100 yesterday. Neither frequency was recognizable or easily tracked, however, our comm officers proceeded to dig through the records and found a pattern of similar transmission spanning for nearly a year.”

Kallus felt his whole world begin to crumble around him.

“Although we could not pinpoint who was sending the transmissions, the word ‘Fulcrum’ was pulled out of one of the more peculiar communication patterns.”

Kallus allowed surprise to spread across his face. “So then Fulcrum is in our fleet?”

“It was what I deduced, yes.”

“We will find them, sir. I will not rest until I do.”

“I am sure that is true,” Thrawn said, with a peculiar look of amusem*nt. “To aid you, we will be monitoring all transmissions leaving the Fleet very carefully. If we find anything, we will notify you.”

Kallus fought the dizziness that took over his whole body and dipped into a humble bow. “Thank you, Grand Admiral.”

The walk back to his quarters was a slow one.

Somehow, Kallus put one foot in front of the other when truly all he wanted to do was crouch where he was and wallow in the despair that threatened to swallow him whole.

He walked into his empty quarters and, not bothering to remove his uniform, he numbly sat in the middle of the bed.

Tears welled in his eyes as Zeb messaged him moments later.

[2.01.887]: Is this line secure?

It did not feel as if he were typing. It was as though someone else had taken over his fingers, typing in the words he wished he did not have to say.

[A. Kallus]: Not anymore.

And with that, Kallus set down the datapad on its charging dock.

The loneliness was dizzying. The room felt smaller, colder, the world more empty knowing he may never talk to Garazeb Orrelios again.

His hand went to the meteor on the shelf.

It had been dead for a few days now, but Kallus had hardly noticed, or maybe he just didn’t want to. He had allowed his grief to be drowned out by the reassurance that even if the meteor was gone Zeb would always be there.

His fingers touched the cold stone and let himself slowly sink into his grief like a thick mire.

Suddenly the datapad burst to life again.

Kallus glanced at it half-heartedly...

...then lunged towards it. A new frequency emerged.

[0.10.001]: We are gonna be okay. This isn’t the end.

And with that, the lights dimmed on the text message.

Kallus clutched the datapad tight.

“We are going to be okay,” Kallus whispered.

And for a little while Kallus resumed practicing the Pledge in the quiet of his quarters.

-----

We are gonna be okay…

This isn't the end…

As quickly as Zeb typed the words he erased his chat log, digitally shredded the frequency and shoved the datapad into the cubby below his bunk.

Panic did a full flip in his gut before being snuffed out by a tidal wave of frustrated rage. He slammed the side of his fist hard against the wall.

I’m so sorry, Kal…

Zeb knew something like this would happen. So did Kallus, most likely. And they never talked about it! They never had a plan in place should Kallus get discovered. Kal had always changed the subject.

Probably because he’d rather die than let us try and save him.

Another frustrated punch assaulted the wall.

Zeb had felt helpless plenty of times in his life; more times than he cared to admit.

But this felt different and familiar at the same time, like the air had left his lungs, like time was slowing up. Like I just lost everything all over again.

No, I’m not losing him, Zeb thought with a snarl and rose from his bunk.

Sulking was useless, and besides he understood action better than feelings anyway.

Kallus was in trouble, Zeb was gonna save him. That was something Zeb could understand.

He couldn't do it alone though. As much as he would love to barge into the Seventh Fleet, bo-rifle blasting, sweep Kallus into his arms and save the day, that was probably not going to happen the way he’d hope.

He needed help. He needed a jedi.

Karabast...he’s gonna kill me…

Zeb found Kanan talking to Hera and Ezra in the co*ckpit of the Ghost. They were giggling about something, Chopper’s indignant warbling only fueling their laughter more. No sooner did Zeb step into the hallway, however, did Kanan’s mirth suddenly vanish.

His sightless eyes drifted towards where Zeb stood frozen.

“I’ll be back later,” Kanan said to the crew and walked towards where Zeb stood.

“Zeb? What’s wrong?”

Zeb rubbed his neck nervously. Over Kanan’s shoulder, Zeb could see Ezra looking at Kanan and Zeb with unabashed curiosity. “Can we talk privately?”

“Of course. Come on.” Kanan led Zeb to his quarters, a simple room with a meditation mat in the center. Kanan offered him the mat, but Zeb was content to plop on the ground.

Kanan knelt down, hands in his lap. “What’s going on, Zeb?”

Zeb hadn't exactly planned how he was going to proceed here. How much would he tell him? Fulcrum was in trouble and somehow only Zeb knew it?

“Fulcrum…” Zeb started. He licked his lips. “...Kal...Agent Kallus...uh…”

“Did...you just pull me aside to list all of our Imperial friend’s names and aliases?” Kanan chuckled.

Zeb said nothing.

Kanan frowned. “Zeb, what’s going on?”

“Kallus is in trouble.”

Kanan frowned. “Did you get a new transmission?”

“Sort of…”

Kanan tilted his head, waiting for more of an explanation.

And so Zeb gave him one…

...And somehow ended up telling Kanan everything.

He didn’t really mean to, but once he started talking, Zeb found it difficult to stop.

For nearly a year now he had no one to confide in about his growing feelings for Kallus. During those dark times when he missed Kal the most, he had to suck it up and move on like his heart wasn’t breaking. When he heard of a rebel victory against the Empire, he couldn’t ask if Agent Kallus was in the skirmish, much less if he was okay. He could not vent his constant worry of one day asking Kal if the line was secure and having Kal say “no”.

And now he found himself telling Kanan about all that had happened on the ice moon. He confessed how he pulled stolen frequencies from the Rebellion’s database. He explained that he was careful not to speak about anything that would endanger the Rebellion...until he did...but only because he trusted Kallus that much.

And then he found himself talking about Kal, himself.

He spoke of Kal’s love of language, his ever-growing skills in culinary arts, his fascination with other cultures. He spoke of his dry sense of humor, and that he made Zeb laugh more often than even Kallus probably realized. And although these were tired, raw confessions, he told Kanan how much potential Kal saw in an Empire that had never really existed. And how much of a burden he carried on his shoulders for doing so much for them he could never undo.

Zeb took a breath…

...and his ears wilted, waiting for Kanan’s inevitable, furious reply.

Kanan was silent for a long time...too long.

Zeb shifted uncomfortably on the floor, his eyes unable to meet even the jedi knight’s milky white orbs.

Finally, Kanan asked: “Do you have a plan?”

Zeb’s ears flickered. “You...you’re not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?”

“Why?” Zeb balked. “I stole frequency codes from the Rebellion. I snuck around talking to an Imperial agent, the enemy. I lied to you guys about being alone on the ice moon and even when I came clean I didn’t tell you guys the whole truth. I haven't exactly been the best crewmate, Kanan. You could at least yell at me for what I’ve done.”

“Zeb…” Kanan’s voice was surprisingly patient, even for the jedi. “We’ve been together a long time, and in that time you and Hera were about the only people in the galaxy I could truly count on. From the moment I met you I knew I could rely on you, Zeb. I’ve always trusted you and I trust you to always do what you feel is right. Your instincts saw something good in Kallus and guess what, you were right. You stole frequencies from the Rebellion? Fine. We have plenty of false frequencies and no one noticed any missing anyway. Those frequencies were invested into you forming a connection with someone who needed rescuing from the Empire.Kallus may have found his own path towards the light, but you were the one who pointed out the light existed. Honestly, Zeb, I couldn’t be more proud of you for taking that kind of risk.”

Zeb dropped his gaze and picked at a small snag in his jumpsuit. “Thanks, Kanan,” he mumbled.

“Is it serious?” Kanan asked.

“What?”

“Between you and Kallus...are you two…”

“Ah,” Zeb rubbed his neck. “Yeah...I mean, I hope so…” He hesitated and said, “I...initiated the Je Du Yeeran.”

Kanan’s eyebrows arched.

Zeb flinched.

“Is that what you have been wearing around your neck?”

“How did you…?”

“When you are stressed I sense your focus returns to your chest. I assumed you were wearing some sort of charm…Did he accept the First Step?”

“Well...He’s wearing the other necklace. I left it for him just before we left Utapau months ago. He said he wanted to tell me something tonight so maybe…” A sharp pang assaulted Zeb’s chest. And reflexively his clawed hand traced over the place where his pendant lay beneath his jumpsuit.

Kanan craned his head, as if sensing something. Then he nodded.

“Alright, Zeb. Let’s go get your Proposed.”

A surge of excitement and relief warmed Zeb’s body. “Thanks, Kanan.”

“I don’t suppose you have a plan, then?”

Zeb winced. “Not really. I kinda haven’t thought that far yet. So far I figured we’d just sneak in, get him and sneak out.”

Kanan scratched at his bearded chin. “Well, you can’t sneak anywhere as a lasat, and I can only go so far on my own.” Kanan tilted his head up as if looking at someone over Zeb’s shoulder. “Ezra? Do you have any thoughts?”

Zeb whirled around just in time to see the door hiss open and Ezra standing on the other side with a sheepish grin.

“Actually, I do.”

“Ezra,” Zeb growled. “How much did you hear.”

“Enough, big guy,” Ezra said with a surprising amount of gentleness. “Look, we’ve been bunkmates a long time and I kinda had the feeling you being upset today was about Kallus. I want to help. If Kallus is what you say he is then we should go save him, no question about it.”

Zeb continued to glower at Ezra for the invasion, but his ears wilted belying his attempt to really be angry.

Ezra flashed a mischievous smile. “So...do you guys want to hear my plan?”

Zeb glanced back at Kanan who was nodding.

Zeb sighed and let himself grin. “Alright, kid. Let’s hear it.”

Kal, Zeb thought as Ezra laid out his strategy. We are coming for you. Just hold on...please...

Chapter 11: Chipping Away

Chapter Text

The first day was the hardest.

Kallus lingered on the bridge long after his shift was over, gazing out the viewport, unsure as to what to do with himself. Going back to his quarters only meant facing the fact that there would not be a message from Zeb waiting for him. And that was something he was not ready to acknowledge just yet.

He closed his eyes...only for a moment...

“Is this line secure?” Zeb asks, sitting next to Kallus on the bed.

“Not anymore I am afraid.”

Kallus cannot bear to gaze at those gentle green eyes, but allows the lasat to wrap a warm arm around him and pull him close.

“We’re gonna be okay, Kal.” Zeb’s voice is deep and soothing.

Kallus closes his eyes and presses his head against the lasat’s chest.

He believes him. He believes Zeb with every molecule of his being. It will be alright somehow...

“This isn’t the end…”

“...Sir?” said a gentle voice behind him.

Kallus snapped awake and wavered slightly where he stood.

He turned to see Lieutenant Lyste stiffen to attention, chin raised too high, shoulders pushed back, eyes glassy with nervousness belying his brave front.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, it is 2200. I believe your shift ended an hour ago. You just...you seemed tired so...”

Kallus considered denying the claim, but truly he was too exhausted to come up with an excuse.

“I suppose I have been working too hard as of late,” he lied. “Thank you, I appreciate your concern.”

Lyste’s cheek sunk a little as if he was biting it to keep from smiling. “You are quite welcome, sir! Is there anything you need?”
“Just rest,” Kallus reassured him. “I will be in my quarters if you need me.”

“Of course, sir,” Lyste stepped aside as Kallus exited the bridge and made his slow, inevitable trek towards his quarters.

The act of actually stepping inside his room felt a bit like ripping a bandage from a wound not ready to heal.

In addition to his life losing a bit of color since he was cut off from Zeb, it seemed his quarters reflected this as well. The gentle warm light given off by the meteor was now non-existent, as the rock sat, cold and dark on the shelf.

Kallus could not bring himself to look at it, focusing on the ground as he mechanically removed his uniform, slipped into his tank shirt and pants and climbed into bed.

The moment he pulled the covers over him the datapad buzzed across his nightstand.

It was as if a jedi’s light blade had pierced his chest.

He knew it was not Zeb, he knew it, and yet his heart lurched painfully, hoping against hope that somehow it was him and the line was secure and he would no longer be alone.

[Lt. Lyste]: Sir, I know it is none of my business, but you seemed distressed today. If ever you need an ear, I can lend you mine.

Kallus could barely type out the words.

[A. Kallus]: Thank you, lieutenant. I assure you I am fine.

[Lt. Lyste]: Very well, sir, have a good evening.

[A. Kallus]: You as well.

Kallus set the datapad down on its charger and rolled back over on his side, drawing his legs up as he gathered the pendant in his hand.

The pendant was small, and warm, but the wood was strong, so strong that Kallus did not fear breaking it as he held it tightly. He squeezed until his fingers ached, tears blurring his vision for a moment before they slid down and disappeared into the pillow.

The first night was the hardest...

“There is no way it will fall,” Kallus murmurs. He cranes his neck, trying to see the top of the monstrous redwood tree, but it disappears into the clouds above.

“Sure it will.” Zeb is standing beside him, a small axe resting on his shoulder.

“With that?” Kallus looks skeptically at the tool.

“With this,” Zeb confirms.

“It will take a long time.”

“Sure will, but the point is it will fall. You have the tool, you have the strength, you just need to be willing to keep chipping away.”

Zeb tosses the axe to Kallus who catches it with both hands. He looks at the base of the sturdy tree.

“I suppose I better get started then…”

“When yer done, when yer ready to come home, I’ll build us a life from that the bark of that tree.”

“It will take a while, Zeb.”

Zeb leans down and kisses Kallus on the cheek. “I’ll wait forever if I have to. Just don’t stop chipping away, okay?”

Kallus jolted awake.

He could still feel the ghost of Zeb’s kiss on his cheek, the warmth of his presence at his side. For several long moments he laid there, treasuring the fleeting illusion that he was not alone.

Only when his alarm sounded on his datapad did he finally resign himself to reality. As he moved, he felt the pull of tear-stains on his cheeks and a slight cramp in his hand from falling asleep holding his pendant. Slowly he loosened his grip, looking down at his hand to see the words “Our Moon” had embedded themselves in his palm.

With a hard swallow, Kallus forced himself to roll over, shut off the alarm and gather the will to get out of bed.

The last part posed a challenge.

What was the point? What more could he do?

He was no longer Fulcrum. He was completely cut off from the Rebellion and trapped in the Empire without any tools to stop them.

“You have the tool, you have the strength, you just need to be willing to keep chipping away.”

Kallus’ fingers ran over the wooden pendant.

“I suppose I better get started then…”

Kallus grabbed his datapad and opened his settings, selecting the “Admin Access” report. As an ISB Agent, Kallus knew he had access to many databases the rest of the Empire was not privy to, but he did not expect what he saw on the list.

Kallus blinked at the report.

I have damn near unlimited access.

He chewed his lip.

“The point is...it will fall,” he said, quietly.

And with those words, Kallus realized exactly what he would do with his remaining time in the Empire.

He may not be Fulcrum any longer, but he most certainly was still Kal...and Kal had the small axe that would slowly bring down the monstrous Empire, chipping away at it until it came tumbling down.

Kal spent his day pouring through dozens of leads from various sources, looking for clues to finding rebel bases throughout nearby sectors.

He came up with three promising leads and snatched up their assignments just a hair quicker than his fellow ISB agents assigned to the other fleets in the area.

From there, Agent Kallus assigned a variety of petty officers to set up scheduled jump coordinates, request additional supplies, and send approvals for stormtrooper deployment to high command. After his shift, Kal gathered up all of the petty officers’ data, holed himself up in his quarters and started “chipping” away.

They were all small cuts: a coordinates point off by a number or two, a scheduled hyperspace jump just a bit too short from its destined planet, a shipment of AT-ATs sent to the incorrect Imperial base. The changes were little more than clerical errors and yet it did not take long before Kallus began to see results.

Over the next week, those small cuts turned into larger gouges in the Empire’s foundation.

Reports came in detailing several rebel groups narrowly escaping well-placed Imperial traps, cases of mishandled and mis-shipped supplies, and confessions of ill-timed hyper jumps.

All of these reports were attached with profuse apologies from low-ranking officers, and reprimands working their way up the chain, none of which were directed at Agent Kallus.

By the second week, Kal had found his new routine and purpose in life: gathering up the best intel he could as Agent Kallus, and chipping away at that same intel as Kal at night.

Fulcrum’s chainsaw may have been taken from him, but Kal’s small axe was still very sharp.

Before falling asleep each night, Kallus pulled up Zeb’s image on his datapad. The sly smile of the lasat brought a bittersweet ache in his chest. Kallus would kiss his fingers and gently place them against the image which flickered at his touch.

Each night he whispered to the image: “Zeb…I hope I helped you today. And I hope one day the mighty tree will fall and you can build something from it...even if it is without me. My Proposer...this is not the end...”

-----

“Three weeks?!” Zeb balked, punching the table which shook violently beneath his fist.

Kanan folded his arms, his voice calm. “Zeb, this is the only way we can get close enough to Kallus without raising suspicion. Sato says the Empire is scheduled to patrol Lothal in three weeks, we can’t speed that up.”

“Karabast,” Zeb cursed. “He could be dead by then.”

“He’s stayed alive this long,” Ezra piped up. “He’ll be fine.”

Frustration, rage, despair and fear swelled within Zeb’s core and he didn’t know whether he wanted to just throw the damn table, shout undeserved expletives at the two jedi or just break down into angry tears. “He doesn’t even know we’re coming,” he said finally, cupping his head in his hands. “For all he knows I’ve abandoned him.”

“I doubt that’s even crossed his mind,” Kanan said, putting a hand on Zeb’s shoulder. “I know this is not ideal, but this is the best we have. Three weeks - three busy weeks - and we will bring him home, Zeb.”

Zeb let out a frustrated breath. “Fine…”

The first week was the hardest.

Zeb struggled to keep himself busy, but Kallus was always in his thoughts.

Guilt wracked his nerves almost as much as the pain of missing his talks with Kal. At the very least, Zeb now had his crew, his family, to comfort him. Kallus had no one, just a cold rock and Thrawn looking over his shoulder.

Most nights, Zeb didn’t sleep. When he did, there were nightmares of Kal being ripped away from him by stormtroopers.

“I made him do it,” Zeb cries to the troopers. “I told him to betray you! Take me instead.”

“Zeb! Please, help me!” Kal pleads.

But Zeb’s feet are heavy, his movements are slow, like moving through thick molasses.

“Don’t take him,” he snarls.

“Zeb…” Kallus’ face is pale, streaked with tears . The troopers aim their rifles at his heart. “I am so sorry…I failed-”

Blaster fire ripped Zeb from his sleep.

Wild-eyed and panting, it took Zeb a moment to realize it was just another nightmare, the same nightmare...

...Maybe the last nightmare…

Zeb looked over at the chrono.

It was early still, but it was okay because today was the day.

Today Kal comes home.

It would be another seven hours before the mission was underway.

Seven hours...Zeb chewed his lip for a moment. Maybe I should do one last thing for him...just in case...

Careful not to wake Ezra in the bunk above, Zeb gathered his woodworking tools, a small electrical toolbox, and the tote full of electrical equipment he kept stashed beneath his bed.

Just in case...Zeb thought, as he made his way down to his workshop in the hangar.

Just in case…

-----

Summary Report: Wobani: Complications with rebel activity. Nothing further to report.

Summary Report: Ryloth: Inconclusive. Investigation underway.

Summary Report: Lysatra: Requires further analysis before giving full report.

Kallus stared at the reports in disbelief.

Complications? Inconclusive? What does this mean? Where are the full reports?

For three weeks Kallus had worked tirelessly to sabotage the Empire little-by-little and yet lately it seemed all his efforts had been buried beneath vaguely written paperwork.

Even with his own special access he could not glean much on the results of his recent “chipping.”

Did the Ora’tau family make their escape with the stolen Imperial caches?

Did the Rodian resistance get out of their base in time?

Did the medical supplies reach Lysatra’s rebel sect?

Kallus did not bother to remove his uniform as he laid down on his bed.

The cuirasse was not uncomfortable, and somehow it made him feel safe, as if it was holding his insides together. Insides that were rapidly beginning to crumble under self-doubt, pressure, and the gnawing loneliness he found harder and harder to ignore.

He stared at the ceiling, letting the determination he had built up over the last few weeks crumble under ceaseless questions.

Am I doing enough?

Have my efforts been wasted?

Has anything I have done actually mattered?

As he had done every single night before this, Kallus reached for his datapad and pulled up a file labeled “Z4” where Zeb’s holoimage was kept.

His finger hesitated over the file.

A lump formed in his throat.

He closed the datapad and tossed it back onto the nightstand.

As illogical as it was, Kallus did not want Zeb’s holoimage to see him like this: a failed Rebel spy, as effective as an irritating woodpecker against a monstrous, immoveable tree.

His mind wandered to the lasat with a painful ache.

Does Zeb know I have not given up? Does he know I still fight for him? Zeb...My Proposer...I wish I could talk to you again, even if it was for one last time. There’s so much I need to say…

He closed his eyes and placed a hand over his cuirass where the pendant lay beneath.

He had successfully managed to hold these tears back for three solid weeks, burying his emotions beneath his desire to do good, to do the right thing.

Now, with his efforts seemingly becoming futile, he felt the dam begin to crack. Anxiety, loneliness, dread leaned against the unstable foundation that he tried to hold together, but those emotions crashed against his resolution mercilessly.

What was the point of holding it together any longer? Kallus thought, emotions crashing against his logic like tidal waves. If I just let go now would it truly matter? I am a cog without a machine to latch to. I have no Rebellion to fight for, no Empire to obey, I am nothing now…

He closed his eyes...hoping to get at least some sleep that night.

Moments later, a high-pitched whoop of the alarms sounded outside his door.

Kallus blinked several times before sluggishly getting out of bed and pressing the control panel to open his door.

A frantic stormtrooper charging through the corridor stopped in his tracks and exclaimed, “Battle stations, sir,” before running off again.

Numbly, he closed the door and went to the sink. He let the water heat up, steam rising as he gazed into the mirror.

The reflection that gazed back at him was not Agent Kallus, but a broken, tired, lost shadow of Kal.

You do not have a choice here. Kallus said, slowly taking off his gloves. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how you feel in these quarters, when you walk out that door you are Agent Kallus. You do not have a choice in this.

He looked back at his reflection.

“I do not have a choice in this.”

He splashed warm water on his face, warding away the threat of tears.

You can do this.

You can…

When he wiped the water away, the coolness of the room sharpened his senses. He exhaled sharply and drew himself up to full height.

He walked out of those quarters as Agent Kallus, and left the grieving Kal behind.

-----

“Lieutenant Lyste! Are we under attack?” Agent Kallus asked as he entered the co*ckpit.

“No and I intend to keep it that way. This stolen shuttle reportedly blasted its way out of the Lothal spaceport. I’m moving to intercept. Prepare the tractor beam!”

Kallus should not have been surprised when Ezra Bridger was pulled from that stolen shuttle. They were on Lothal after all.

“What’re you looking at, Imperial scum?”

Ezra posing a bounty hunter?

Something did not add up. There was no reason for Ezra to put on this charade unless…

Unless he wanted to get caught.

Anger flickered at Kallus’ nerves, yet with a calm gait, he lead the prisoner to his cell.

“Leave us, I will interrogate him myself,” Kallus said, shooing away the guards.

The moment the prison cell door closed, Kallus allowed himself to snap: “Don’t you realize how dangerous it is for you to be here? If anyone recognizes you…”

“They won’t,” Ezra said with an easy smirk, turning to let Kallus remove his binders. “You know how big the Empire is. Most troopers don't even know what I look like now.”

“I hope that’s true for both our sakes. If they discover you here, I’ll be executed for treason!”

“You might be anyway. We think the Empire was monitoring your last Fulcrum transmission.”

“So you got captured to warn me?” Kallus balked.

“Nope. To get you out of here.”

For a split moment, Kallus’ heart stopped.

I can escape? I can be free? I can be with Zeb?

A sudden sharp pang seized his chest and he found himself growling: “Well, I guess I have no choice now.”

“Look I'm not happy about it either. For all I know, you’re playing a long game to set us up.”

“I could say the same to you,” Kallus spat, though honestly he trusted Ezra far more than he wished to admit, even to himself. “I suppose for now, we’ll just have to trust each other.”

As he extended a hand in friendship to Ezra, Lyste shouted from the other side of the cell: “Open this door!”

Ezra grabbed Kallus’ offered hand and slammed into it, falling hard on the ground just as Lyste opened the cell room door.

The charade was clumsy and completely unnecessary, but it seemed to appease, and even impress, Lieutenant Lyste on Kallus’ aptitude for a quick confession.

Yet despite the success of the act, Kallus felt his control over the situation begin to slide. Without Kanan keeping the young jedi in line, Kallus was on his own to keep things in order and carry out a successful escape.

Escape...why did that word hurt so much? The question plagued him as he sat next to Lieutenant Lyste in the co*ckpit, the shuttle heading towards the Chimera as per the grand admiral’s request.

His thoughts kept drifting back Zeb’s word in his dream.

“And when yer done, when yer ready to come home, I’ll build us a life from that tree.”

Am I not ready? No, of course, I am. I cannot do any more work here. I am unable to. It is safer for me to return with Ezra.

And still something gnawed at Kallus’ heart...something perhaps-

“I haven't been summoned by ranking officers since that incident with the princess of Alderaan,” Lyste said suddenly, looking nervously at the Chimera steadily coming into view. He exhaled sharply. “That was not a pleasant meeting. I shall endeavor to make a better impression this time.”

Kallus shook the doubt from his mind. “I’m sure you will, Lieutenant.”

From the corner of his eye he could see Lyste smile, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the agent’s words of encouragement.

Honestly, Kallus liked Lieutenant Yogar Lyste.

Lyste was the kind of man Kallus appreciated to have on his side: loyal, determined, and sometimes, to his detriment, extremely trusting. The lieutenant saw the Empire as Kallus once did before crashing on the Ice Moon: a beacon of light for which to blindly follow.

And Lyste followed it with the largest blinders of them all.

There had been moments in the past few weeks that Kallus considered talking to Lyste, to see if perhaps he would help aid him in cutting into the Empire’s sturdy trunk, but he could not risk it. If Lyste said no, Kallus would have to take drastic measures to keep himself hidden.

Even if Lyste was technically the enemy, he did not have the stomach to hurt the man. There were still good people in the Empire…

It was a shame, though, he could have used a friend…

“Shuttle TYA77, transmit clearance codes.”

Kallus frowned. “It is peculiar the grand admiral summoned us both.”

“I...thought so as well,” Lyste admitted. “To be quite honest, my mind was set at ease when I heard you were also being summoned. I cannot imagine it is a reprimand if you will be there.” He looked at Kallus quickly. “Unless, you are there to reprimand me too?”

“No, Yogar,” Kallus said, putting a hand on Lyste’s shoulder. “I am sure it will be fine.”

Another smile melted onto Lyste’s anxious face. “Thank you, agent. I am sure you are right.”

He looked away from the trust that shined in Lyste’s blue eyes as he focused on the Chimera and whatever waited him in Thrawn’s office.

-----

For a split moment, Kallus thought Thrawn was being attacked. And surprisingly his first instinct was to charge in to assist.

The ease of the guard in front of Thrawn’s office, however, stayed Kallus’ tensed muscles and he managed to keep his gait even as he and Lyste made their way inside.

Curious that Thrawn was training with assassin droids now of all times.

Kallus and Lyste could not help but pause and watch the display. In the short while that Kallus had known Thrawn, he did not see him as a man trained in combat. Of course all graduates of the Royal Academy had been trained in basic combat skills, but then Kallus supposed he had no idea what the chiss’ history was prior to his recruitment in the Empire.

He wondered what stress weighed on Thrawn’s mind that propelled his need to let off steam between meetings. It was stress, Kallus was sure of it; Thrawn’s movements were not those linked to a training regiment, there was anger to them, a furious passion that fueled his actions. Yet, those emotions seemed to act as an asset rather than a hindrance. Every shift in stance was perfectly timed, every strike was purposeful and deliberate. He evaded the coming onslaught with ease and struck true in every instance.

Kallus pitied whomever was caught in a melee combat with the grand admiral.

“Override Code Ruhk!” The grand admiral commanded, and the two assassin droids shut down obediently.

The room was silence for several heartbeats. Thrawn, panting, postured, looking as if ready for another battle, turned his head slightly towards the door, before it shut abruptly.

Lyste drew in a deep breath, as if ready to practically sing the praises of the performance they just witnessed when Thrawn’s office suddenly hissed open.

Surprisingly, it was Admiral Konstantine that greeted them both.

“He is ready for us,” Konstantine said.

He? Not Thrawn?

Exchanging a confused glance with the lieutenant, the two of them followed Konstantine into the office and were greeted by…

Kallus’ heart leapt in his throat. His eyes widened.

And he restrained an awe-struck grin.

Even before the man turned around Kallus knew immediately who it was, that white hair, that calm stance, that confident posture.

“Colonel Yularen,” Kallus greeted, a wave of shyness coming over him. “I don’t know if you remember me from the academy.”

“Of course,” Yularen replied, extending his hand. “Young Agent Kallus. I keep tabs on all my star pupils.”

Kallus shook Yularen’s hand and suddenly he was fifteen again:

“What is your name cadet?”

Kallus stands a little straighter trying hard not to break into a goofy grin at the very notion of the ISB Colonel talking to him.

“I’m…uh...” He doesn’t use the name he used to make people call him, the nickname “Wulff” after his favorite hero of the Clone Wars, the Eye of the ISB, his boyhood idol, Colonel Wulff Yularen. “I’m just Kallus, sir,” he says, finally.

Yularen holds out his hand and Kallus shakes it. “Well, Cadet Kallus, I expect great things from you. You will do me proud at the academy, yes?”

“Yes, sir!” Kallus’ voice cracks with ill-timed pubescent charm.

Yularen gives him a wink and moves on to greet the next cadet.

“What brings you to Lothal?” Kallus asked, hopeful it was a project they could work on together. After so many weeks of being alone, it would be good to use his skills on an Intelligence assignment again with his idol.

“We are in need of his expertise,” said a familiar voice behind him.

Kallus’ heart sank as he realized what Thrawn was going to say before he said it.

“There’s a rebel spy in our midsts, Codename: ‘Fulcrum.’ And perhaps today we are going to learn of their true identity.”

Horror seeped into Kallus’ being, followed by a flood of shame.

For the past year, Kallus’ whole world had been focused on taking down the Empire that Grand Moff Tarkin and Grand Admiral Thrawn had forged. It had been easier to focus on them and not take into account that their Empire was also shared by men, good men, like Colonel Yularen.

Yularen was a war hero, he was a pragmatic and brilliant Intelligence man, he was inspiring and kind, fair and just. He was everything Kallus strove to be and when given the opportunity the young cadet gave up a promising career in General Veers’ ranks to be an Agent just like Yularen, himself.

Betraying the Empire now meant he was betraying everything Yularen taught him about loyalty, honor, devotion to the cause.

But our cause is not the cause of the Empire, Kallus reminded himself, as Thrawn droned on to the other officers. Colonel, I hope one day you will forgive me. I hope one day you will understand...and maybe you will get out, too.

Yet, even as he thought this, Kallus knew it was a futile hope. Yularen was no fool. If he chose to stay with the Empire this long, it was because he either accepted the way things were, or he looked the other way when incidents like Lasan and Geonosis occur.

Or maybe, Kallus thought, he stays because he still believes he can effect real change from within the belly of the beast.

In any case it would not matter soon. Kallus was leaving the Empire today. He was going to be reunited with Zeb and all this would be like a bad dream.

“You are dismissed,” Thrawn said and all rose from their seats.

“Agent Kallus,” Colonel Yularen called as they left Thrawn’s office. “You’ve had multiple encounters with the rebels in this sector. Any thoughts on our traitor?”

Too many, Kallus thought, wryly.

“A high-level intelligence leak suggests an officer.”

“True, but in our technological system, accessing information tends to be easier than having the means to transmit it without the Empire’s knowledge.”

Which is why Sato had me use an augmented mouse droid and underground frequencies to avoid the transmission being intercepted.

“Perhaps the communication division?” Kallus threw in casually.

“Too obvious. Whoever this spy is they have a method of transmitting that we are as yet unaware of.”

There was a peculiar sense of giddiness in watching Yularen methodically work out ideas for whom the traitor must be. If anyone was to catch Kallus, he supposed he would rather the honor come from Yularen.

“If I can do anything to help,” Kallus said, ignoring the guilt gnawing at his gut.

“I’ll let you know.”

It was a shame, under any other circ*mstances he would have been honored to help Yularen take down a threat against the Empire. If only he was not the threat.

Still, it will not take long for Yularen to catch my scent, Kallus thought as the colonel returned to Thrawn’s office.

I need a decoy. Someone who can access higher level areas, but is not above suspicion. Someone trusting. Someone I can manipulate...

“It is said no traitor escapes the eye of Yularen for long,” Lyste said, returning to Kallus’ side the moment he was alone again. Though his words were casual, Kallus could see the lieutenant’s eyes glitter up at the agent as if hoping to agree with his propitious statement.

Ah… Kallus thought, his heart sinking a little. Lyste...

“I guess, we’ll see,” Kallus said, a plan already formulating in his head.

“Kallus,” Pryce greeted, appearing suddenly from around the corner. “I saw a report that a shuttle theft from Lothal was prevented.”

Perfect…

“Actually, Lieutenant Lyste was responsible for that.” Kallus said, pushing Lyste a bit forward towards the governor.

“Really?” Pryce arched an eyebrow. “Well, that deserve commendation.”

“Thank you, governor!” While Lyste watched the governor continue down the hall, Kallus pulled out his rank cylinder, slipping it between his pinky and ring finger.

“Step carefully,” Kallus warned, putting a hand on Lyste’s shoulder. “ISB is watching her.” As he spoke he smoothly exchanged his rank cylinder for Lyste’s. “You should too.”

“What? Why?” Lyste blinked. “You don’t mean Pryce is the Rebel spy? That’s why she wasn’t in the meeting!”

This is too easy, Kallus thought, his heart aching sympathetically for the trusting lieutenant. “Thrawn has no proof yet, but I’m sure he’d be grateful if you kept an eye on her.”

Lyste rose his chin proudly. “He can count on me!”

And with that, Lyste set Kallus’ plan into motion...where that plan would end, however, Kallus was not entirely sure.

It will end with me boarding a shuttle bound for the Rebel base and Zeb’s awaiting arms…or?

He pushed any alternative possibilities from his thoughts and focused on the next task at hand: Freeing Ezra Bridger.

Chapter 12: Little Miracles

Chapter Text

“Throw me the tunic,” Ezra said, tossing the bounty hunter’s clothes out of the locker room’s fresher.

It was frankly harder to find a uniform that fit the young jedi than actually freeing him from his prison block. Thanks to Lieutenant Lyste keeping an eye on Pryce, Kallus and Ezra were able to maneuver around them with relative ease.

All they had to do next was get into Thrawn’s office, retrieve the clearance codes and remove the Rebel’s secret base from Thrawn’s database before the grand admiral returned.

It was not going to be easy, but then nothing was when it came to the Rebels.

Kallus plucked the tunic from the locker and tossed it into the fresher.

“Thanks,” Ezra grumbled.

Ezra was making it painfully obvious he did not like nor trust Kallus, and to be honest Kallus could not blame him. It was any wonder the jedi came on this mission at all. They all could have left him, forgotten him, left him to rot within the heart of Imperial space.

But no...Ezra came to rescue him. Why?

Even as he asked himself this, Kallus knew the answer. His heart ached.

Zeb...

He wanted to ask how the lasat was doing, if he was safe and, perhaps maybe, he was still thinking of Kal as much as Kal thought of him. Then again asking Ezra such things may complicate things for Zeb. Kallus had no idea how much the lasat told them about their relationship such as it was, if anything at all.

And if he were to be honest with himself, he could not imagine Zeb wanting to tell his crew that he cared about some Imperial scum that was powerless to save people without being Fulcrum.

People like the Ora’tau family…

Kallus brightened.

“Ezra? Do you know the Ora’tau family?”

The noisy shuffle of cloth ceased momentarily within the fresher.

“Why,” Ezra asked.

“Are they alright?” Kallus pressed.

Ezra did not respond right away. “They’re...fine, actually, but how do you know who they are? The Empire didn’t have them on their registry.”

Because I removed their names and address and replaced them with the neighbors’ information.

“It is not important. I am happy to hear they are safe.”

Ezra came out of the fresher, still fastening each clasp. “They barely escaped actually. The Empire drove right past them to their neighbor’s home and ransacked the place. The Ora’tau’s took off before the troopers realized they were in the wrong place.”

“Interesting,” Kallus said, his heart swelling at the news.

It worked. It actually worked. They really did escape.

“Weird, though,” Ezra mused. “We’ve been getting reports like that for the past few weeks.”

“Oh?” Kallus said, shifting a bit.

“Yeah,” Ezra eyed Kallus as he straightened out the uniform’s sleeves. “Bunch of dumb luck all at the same time. The Empire jumping to the wrong planet, misplacing supplies we could just pick up without anyone knowing.” He paused a moment. “There was even a twi’lek resistance group that narrowly escaped Ryloth in time.”

“Rodian,” Kallus corrected before catching himself.

He winced.

Ezra squinted at Kallus. “Hand me that belt.”

Kallus did not meet those scrutinizing eyes as he passed the accessory over.

“Anyway, the Ora’tau family gave all these near misses we’ve been having a name, like they are guardian angels: Pekkinos meela’gros.”

Kallus blinked. “Little Miracles?”

Ezra arched an eyebrow. “You know Rodian?”

The kind-hearted sparkle of the late Chef Arond’to’s eyes came to Kallus’ mind. He merely nodded.

“Huh...So you’re the Little Miracles then? All these strange mistakes the Empire’s been making, it was all you?”

Kallus rubbed his neck, uncomfortable with the title. “I did very little, just doctored a few reports here and there.”

Ezra focused too closely on his belt, working to smooth out the temperamental material of the tunic behind him, his gaze turned inwards as if mulling something over in his head.

“He misses you.”

Kallus’ heart seized. “What?”

“Zeb...he misses you.”

“I…” Kallus wanted to say he missed Zeb too, so very much, but no words came to him.

“Is it true? He really gave you the pendant?”

Kallus blushed and unbuttoned the collar of his tunic just enough to show Ezra the leather necklace. “I never take it off.”

“Neither does he.” Ezra fidgeted with his already smoothed out sleeves. “You really do care about him?”

“More than I ever thought possible,” Kallus confessed. “I think of him every day. Some days it is the only thing that keeps me going…” He stopped himself before the emotions could get the better of him. For too long he had wished he could tell anyone , how he felt about the lasat. It felt good to tell someone, even if it was Ezra.

“Well, you can tell him this yourself when we get you out of here.”

“Thank you, Ezra, for retrieving me.”

Ezra looked as if he was about to protest, perhaps to say something like “I’m not doing this for you ,” but in the end he huffed. “You’re welcome. Man, you make it really hard to hate you, by the way.”

Kallus tilted his head. “I...trust that is a complement of some sort.”

“Sure,” Ezra said, off-handedly. He gathered up the bounty hunter disguise and shoved it into a locker. “Oh, wait, I almost forgot.” Ezra withdrew the pants. “This is from Zeb.”

Ezra produced a wooden tube from one of the smaller pockets. There were etchings in Lasan on it that Kallus had trouble translating. “What is it?”

The static voices of stormtroopers echoed in the hallway nearby. “I’ll explain later, we gotta go.” “Fair enough,” Kallus replied, putting the odd tube in his pocket. “We will take the stairwell near the showers, we can get to the upper level from there towards Thrawn’s office.”

Kallus’ heart fluttered, feeling the weight of the strange item with him. A charm of some sort? Another lasat token of affection Kallus was unaware of? He could not wait to find out...

-----

Things were unraveling quickly.

This should not have surprised Kallus. This was, after all, the fourth time he had saved the crew of the Ghost from peril; somehow things always seemed to go very, very wrong before going right again.

Fortunately for Kallus, the rebels seemed to thrive on “just in time” scenarios:

Chopper managed to remove the Rebel’s secret planetary base from the database just in time before Thrawn walked into his office.

Kallus managed to reprogram Thrawn’s assassin droids just in time before Thrawn discovered Ezra and Chopper’s hiding in his office.

And he, Ezra and Chopper managed to make their escape to the hanger bay…

...just in time to see Governor Pryce and her trooper escort approach a pair of stormtroopers exiting a shuttle.

“There’s our ride!” Ezra exclaimed.

“And there’s Governor Pryce,” Kallus replied, sourly.

Words seemed to be exchanged between Pryce and the two stormtroopers.

One of the troopers, Kallus could only guess was the jedi, Kanan Jarrus, waved his hand in a “mind trick” sort of fashion.

Kallus winced. Bad move, jedi.

“Shoot him,” he heard Pryce order.

A stun blast hit Kanan in the chest and he was hurled backwards. His companion acted quickly, shooting Pryce’s trooper, but was not quick enough to dodge Pryce’s flurry of attacks.

Kallus spied Lyste sneaking past the battle between Pryce and the trooper, hiding beside the shuttle.

“Chopper, seal the door,” Ezra said, and headed towards the shuttle.

Kallus hesitated.

He looked towards the shuttle, its ramp open and ready to take him away from the Empire forever.

He could finally be free of the Empire. He could finally shed his uniform like a serpent’s skin. He could finally just be Kal.

But then...there would be no one left to provide those Little Miracles for the Rebellion.

Kallus gazed at the shuttle, the cure to his loneliness, his pain, and his longing to finally be with Zeb.

He looked...and made his choice.

Kallus ran towards Lieutenant Lyste who had his blaster aimed at Governor Pryce.

Lyste, I am so sorry for what I am about to do.

Lyste stunned Pryce just before she could fire her own blaster at the Rebel trooper.

“I’ve got her! She’s the traitor!” Lyste declared, proudly. “Trooper, are you alright? Trooper?”

Ezra paused on his way up the shuttle’s ramp and gave him a sarcastic salute. “Bad choice.”

Lyste’s eyes widened, his blaster trained on the jedi. “You! You're the shuttle thief who-”

Kallus slammed his body against Lyste hard and they both crashed to the ground before the blaster could go off. While Lyste lay there dazed, Kallus swiftly switched his rank cylinder back with the Lieutenant’s and turned his attention to the shuttle.

Ezra leaned out the ramp as the shuttle rose in the air. “Kallus! Come on.”

Kallus planted his feet. “There’s been a change of plans now that I've captured Fulcrum,” he said, gesturing to Lyste.

The full weight of his words did not hit him until he saw the look on Ezra’s face.

The young jedi’s lips tightened, his eyes flickered with something akin to...begrudging respect.

“I can do more good here,” Kallus said, and with that, his fate was sealed. The ramp closed. His way out gone forever.

I suppose I am a hero now? Kallus thought, dryly as he fired a couple of half-hearted shots at the ramp.

He did not feel particularly heroic…

...not when he yanked Lyste to his feet and shouted loud enough for the fast-approaching Colonel Yularen to hear: “You! You’re the Rebel spy.”

...not when he ordered the troopers to arrest the shocked lieutenant.

“What?” Lyste blinked in dismay. “What are you talking about?”

...not as he coldly stood there as Lyste’s kind face crumbled under confusion and panic as the troopers dragged him away.

“No! Wait! I’m not the spy, Governor Pryce is! Tell them, Kallus!” He pleaded. “It’s her! She’s the one! Kallus!”

This was necessary. Kallus tried to remind himself. I had to do this or all would be lost. I did this for the Rebellion, for the Ora’tau family, for Little Miracles...

“Kallus! Tell them, please!”

I am doing this for Zeb…

Zeb...I am so sorry. I hope you understand...one day...

-----

Zeb spent most of the day cleaning.

Not that he lived in filth by any means. His days in the Honor Guard taught him the discipline to always have a clean bed and tidy quarters. Still, Zeb took his time arranging everything neatly in the room he shared with Ezra.

He dusted the shelves, mopped the tile, even went so far as to wipe down Ezra’s collection of helmets, giving them a proper shine. Looking over his work with a satisfied smile, he grabbed a small box from beneath his bed and went to Sabine’s room next.

Sabine was generous enough to let Kallus use her quarters while she was away helping her family. The mandalorian’s only request was that he didn’t mess with her murals, which Zeb assured her was probably the farthest thing from Kal’s mind.

Zeb’s ears flicked at just how bright her quarters were though.

He hoped Kal would be able to sleep in here. The thought had occurred to him that Ezra could bunk in here and Kallus could stay with Zeb, but that wasn’t fair to Ezra. Plus, Kal joining the Rebellion was quite a change, it would be better if he had his own space while he adjusted.

Zeb set the small box down on the Dejarik table beneath Sabine's bunk.

He changed the bedsheets, put down a fresh duvet, and fluffed up two fresh pillows which he had actually acquired from a black market vendor on Lothal. As it turned out, the Empire spared no expense on their standardized pillows and they were notoriously comfortable. Zeb figured perhaps Kal would find the transition to the Rebellion a little less jarring if he had something familiar to lay his head on at night.

With Sabine’s permission, Zeb took his time clearing away the contents on the small shelf in the wall next to her bunk: A mandalorian diamond-shaped chest piece, a box of earrings, and a book on Mandalore the Uniter.

After setting Sabine’s items gently in the box, Zeb pulled out a small bundle wrapped in felt. He withdrew a wire stand and placed it on the center of the cubby. Then he carefully withdrew a freshly carved relief and placed it on the stand.

After several weeks, Zeb finally had the relief finished to his liking: Two loth-cats sitting on a sandy beach looking out onto the water.

Zeb had chipped away the dark wood on the smaller cat, giving it a “blonde” coat, while the larger of the two was strategically chipped with a familiar pattern of stripes.

He hoped Kal liked it.

He hoped Kal liked all of this, and that he would adjust, and that’d be happy here.

...and that’d he’ll be happy with me...

The floor and walls trembled briefly and Zeb’s heart lurched.

They’re back! They’re already back!

Zeb hid the box in the corner of Sabine’s closet, closed it and looked at the room one last time, his heart fluttering madly within his chest.

Kal...Welcome home...

He tried not to hurry when he walked down the hallway towards the hangar.

He tried to keep his grinning face in check, so as to not look too eager.

And he tried not to worry, because beneath his fluttering heart there existed a shallow pool of doubt.

He had been ignoring that apprehensive gnawing in his gut, that whisper warning him to be careful, to not be too hopeful, to be prepared for anything...just in case…

Zeb was nearly sick with the mixture of emotions by the time the shuttle opened and the ramp came down…

Rex and a limping Kanan came down the ramp first.

Ezra followed behind.

The young jedi looked at Zeb.

He barely felt the comforting hand of Kanan as he and Rex walked by.

“Ezra...Where’s Kal?”

-----

Kal did not know how he survived the next hour.

Then again, he had no other choice.

As if stepping outside of himself, he let Agent Kallus take the reigns, mechanically accepting the praise and congratulations from his peers and mentor on a job well done. He attended the meeting in Thrawn’s office wearing a satisfied smile. He even found himself offering an apology to Thrawn for not catching Fulcrum before there was an attempt on the grand admiral’s life.

“None required, he did not succeed,” Thrawn said simply. “You may go.”

His dismissal could not have come sooner, feeling the weight of the day’s events crush the remains of the facade he had carefully built these past few weeks.

When the door to his quarters shut behind him it felt as if his tomb had been sealed.

There was no turning back now. He had been offered an opportunity for freedom and turned it down. Now he had to deal with the consequences; consequences that included never talking to Zeb again.

He took off his cuirass, dropping it carelessly to the ground. He shed his tunic and kicked off his boots. He reflexively checked his pockets before removing his trousers as well and-

He froze. He withdrew a small wooden tube from his pocket.

“This is from Zeb.”

A final present, but what was it?

Kallus sat in the center of his bed, turning the wooden trinket over in his hands, carefully sounding out the words in Lasan.

“ A...ra...ku...mok?”

Push here?

There was a little bubble in the “o”. Licking his lips he pressed on it and a small silver plug popped up.

A holodrive? It looks like it would fit in...a datapad!

Heart pounding, Kallus lunged for his datapad on the nightstand. Sure enough, it plugged in perfectly.

A new folder popped up on the screen. There was a single file it. All it said was “Secure.”

With a shaking hand he pressed the file icon and immediately the holoprojector kicked on. A holoimage of a ringed planet floated above the datapad, a small moon hovering in front of it with a Z & K carved into its face.

A low tone sounded once…

Twice…

three times…

“Kal?”

Kallus’ heart nearly left out of his chest “Zeb?!”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Kallus cupped a hand over his mouth, letting out a choked sob mixed with incredulous laughter. “Zeb...how?”

“It's so good to hear your voice,” Zeb said with a breathless laugh. “I was so worried this wasn't going to work.”

His laugh. I heard him laugh. It is perfect. His voice is perfect.

“Is this safe? Can we really do this?”

“Yeah, the stick you have has one frequency on it, and it can’t be traced so long as it's plugged directly into the datapad. It’s a one-shot call, but it’s something right?”

“It’s everything,” Kallus felt the tears pour from his eyes. He could not stop them if he tried. “I needed this, Zeb. I needed you…”

“I need you too, Kal. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you. I...I can’t…” Kal could not stop his sobs even if he wanted.

But he was done hiding, he was done “keeping it in”. The dam containing all his sorrow, doubts and loneliness was crumbling and Kallus was tired of holding it together.

“It's okay,” Zeb’s voice gentle and deep. “Let it out.”

His anguish came out in quiet conclusive sobs, his anger in gritted teeth, his helplessness in a soft tremble.

All the while Zeb talked to him. Soothed him with that deep, gravelly tone, soft velvet he wanted to wrap himself in.

“It’ll be okay, Kal...let it all out...I’m here…”

To finally be able to release everything like this felt better than Kal could have imagined. There were times in the past weeks he was afraid to let go so completely, fearing he may never stop crying. But there was an end to it, there was solace in Zeb’s reassuring voice.

And after several minutes, Kal quieted down, taking deep breaths to collect himself.

“I am so sorry I could not leave.”

Zeb was silent for a moment, and Kal thought he could hear a soft sniffle, covered up by a louder clearing of the lasat’s throat. “You got nothing to apologize for. I know why you stayed.”

“Care to explain it to me?” Kal sighed, dryly.

“You’re the Little Miracles everyone’s been buzzing about around here.”

Kal said nothing.

“I knew it was you, ya know. I mean, I didn’t have proof, but I knew you weren’t just gonna sit there and do nothin’. Even without Fulcrum access you managed to save a lot of lives, Kal. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Pride is far from what I am feeling now,” Kal said, anxiety flitting faster and faster within his core. “I just rejected my only hope for escape from the Empire. I will not get another chance. Now I am here and to do what? To perform more clerical mishaps? Very noble. Very brave,” Kallus spat.

“‘ Bee’s don’t know what gardens they grow… ’” Zeb mumbled.

“What?”

“One sec? I got somethin’ for ya,” Zeb said, “I think I have…”

Kallus could hear rustling.

“Okay, Kal? You there?”

“I am here.”

“Okay, listen to this. I hope it helps.”

There was a chirp of feedback for a moment before a staticked recording played through the speaker.

“I am Ohai Asty, freelance journalist and full-time Rebel, reporting another story for our Tales of A New Hope Documentary. I’m here with the Ora’tau family, one of many families and resistance groups who have had unusually good luck these past few weeks when encountering the Empire. Many are wondering, are we receiving outside help or is the Empire just that unlucky? Kea and Fzrik, as I understand you were hiding stolen Imperial caches in your basem*nt scheduled to be picked up by Lieutenant Antilles?”

“That’s right,” Kea said in a heavy Rodian accent.

“Can you tell the viewers what happened the night before Lieutenant Antilles was scheduled to meet you?

Kea and her husband, Fzrik, recounted their story.

Kallus did not know much about the family. He had seen the Rodian family of four in a staticky holoimage in the digital dossier and knew their children were four and ten years old. It did not take much to alter a few details in their file; they were important details, but truly Kal did not comprehend what an impact his small acts made.

Fzrik recalled the terror they felt when seeing the Imperial tanks roll towards their farm. Kea talked of their confusion when the tanks kept rolling past them. The eldest child, Nuul, talked of their panic as they sped away into the night, hearing shouting and smashing in the distance as the troopers ransacked their neighbors’ home. The three of them all spoke of their relief when they arrived on the Rebel base with the stolen supplies, safe and sound.

“That is an incredible story,” the reporter said. “As I understand it was your littlest one that came up with a name for the recent phenomenons?”

“Yes, that was our Mia!” Kea exclaimed, then in a softer voice she said. “Go ahead, Mia, what do you call them?”

Kallus put a hand over his face, fresh tears welling in his eyes as he heard a voice, small and fragile, musical like thin glass in a wind chime: “I...call them...um...they are Little Miracles.”

“And why do you call them that?” asked Asty.

“Because…” The girl’s voice perked up a little. “They are so small you can’t see them! But they chase away the bad men and when they are around they watch over us.”

“Are they angels?” Asty asked.

“Yeah…” murmured the little girl, her shyness returning.

“Tiny, little invisible angels?”

The girl giggled. “Yeah…”

“What do you want to say to them right now?”

“To...keep looking over us and...thank you for saving my family and the rebels.”

There was a click as the soundbyte came to an end.

Kal and Zeb sat in silence for a moment.

“You okay?” Zeb asked.

“Yes…” Was all Kallus could say, wiping his eyes, but truly he was okay. He was better than okay. Though the heavy chains of responsibility weighed Kallus down, they did not feel as heavy as they once did. He was making a difference. He was the Little Miracles. That was all he needed to know.

“Take your time.”

“I’m alright. Thank you, Zeb, for sharing that with me.”

“I’m glad I could. You should be proud of yourself, Kal, you’re a hero here.”

Hero…

“I would not go so far as to say that.”

Kallus’ mind drifted back to Lyste.

“Tell them, Kallus!” Lyste’s eyes are wide and fearful. “Kallus!”

“I framed an innocent man today, Zeb. They believed he was Fulcrum, and right now he is in a detention cell because of me.”

“Who was it?”

“His name is Yogar Lyste.”

“Lyste...he’s a lieutenant, right? I know of him. Ezra and Kanan met him on Lothal a while back. To be honest, didn’t seem like much of a threat, just worried about protecting the princess and her ships the whole time.”

“He is a good officer, a good man, in fact. Just...very trusting. He did not deserve what I did to him.” Kal suddenly felt a prickle of defensiveness rise up in him, anticipating Zeb may try to convince him that Lyste was the enemy.

Technically Lyste was the enemy, but the lieutenant had also been someone who was kind to him, someone who noticed when Kallus was distressed. And he was the only person in the Empire that had ever actively reached out to him to ask if he was alright.

To Kallus’ surprise, Zeb only said: “I’m so sorry, Kal. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“It is...complicated,” Kal sighed. “I have tried to convince myself that Lyste was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it is just an excuse. The simple fact was: I needed to cover my tracks, and he was the most convenient means to that end.”

“So that means you’re safe, right?”

“For the time being, yes.”

Zeb let out a relieved breath. “Good. Look, I know not everything is so black and white and decisions like that aren’t ever easy. I know it’s not really helpful, but you really didn’t have a choice.”

“I suppose. With any luck and insufficient evidence of previous traitorous activity, perhaps the high command will merely exile him. They could send him off to some remote planet on the Outer Rim. I will do all I can to ensure he does not get the death penalty, in any case.”

“You're a good man, Kal.”

“I am really not.”

“Yeah, well, you’re good-looking man, at least.”

The laugh that burst forth from Kallus was sudden and a bit loud. It caught both he and Zeb off-guard, but soon the pregnant silence dissolved into a series of giggles from both them both.

Kallus felt his ears burn as he heard Zeb’s deep, rumbling “hehehehe” through the speaker.

“I love your laugh,” Kallus confessed, with a shy half-smile.

“Yeah? Well yours ain’t half bad either.”

“I am not well-practiced at it.”

“Unless you’re laughing at me falling off pillars in ice caves.”

Kallus grinned. “That was entertaining.”

Kallus drew in a deep breath, held it a moment, then slowly exhaled. As the breath left him, he found himself finally beginning to relax.

“Thank you for listening to me, Zeb. It feels good to get these things off my chest.”
“‘Course, I like listening to you.”

“I enjoy your voice as well.”

“Yeah?” He could hear the smile in Zeb’s voice as it dropped to a purr.

“How long can we talk for?” Kallus said, a sudden panic prickling at his nerves.

“As long as you can. I’m assuming you’re going to work in a couple of hours?”

Kallus looked at the clock and realized his shift started in five hours.

Barely enough time to get some sleep before starting the day anew. And he was far from ready to let Zeb go.

“Considering I am the hero of the day within the Empire, I believe I have earned a small reprieve. I doubt Konstantine would object.”

“Great!” Zeb chirped. “Then we can just talk until we pass out.”

“Excellent!”

Their conversation started off a bit awkward. It was entirely different talking casually to each other through a comm than being able to dictate more precisely through text.

They had communicated over text for nearly a year and yet this was something altogether new. Kallus found himself discovering so many more things about Zeb that he would never know in text.

His laugh was Kallus’ favorite and he made an effort to sling his driest humor at the lasat just to get him to chuckle. And then there was his accent, something almost akin to the Imperial accent Kallus had grown up with, but with an Outer Rim twang that Kal found positively endearing. He also noticed that when he was uncomfortable he made a “tch” sound. Kallus wondered if his ears bowed or flicked when he made such noises.

Perhaps one day I will find out...

They talked for hours.

Zeb chided Kallus for not cooking these last few weeks. Kal teased Zeb for not working on anything except one small wooden stick for Kallus. Their conversation bloomed from there. Kal discussed what he planned on cooking next. He thought of working on his baking skills since it was more technical and precise than the entrees he had been creating before. Zeb talked about working on more portrait reliefs rather than scenery. He had always wanted to master complex three dimensional faces like gamorreans or ugnaughts.

They talked of Kal’s hardships since they last communicated. They exchanged their heartaches and what they did to distract from the heartache.

They confessed their need for normalcy when everything was so far from normal.

As the hours wore on, weariness began to slowly eat away at Kallus’ consciousness. He had been awake for...he was not sure how long. Twenty-four? Thirty-six hours? A full shift and the events with Fulcrum coupled with the emotional reuniting of Zeb began to shut his senses down.

Kallus felt his eyelids grow heavier.

“I do not want to sleep.”

“I know,” Zeb’s voice came out thick and muffled as if stifling a yawn. “I don’t either.”

“I wish this call would never end.”

“I’ll find a way to contact you again.”

“You truly believe you can?”

“I managed to get you your mercy root and a fancy necklace, I bet we can figure out a way to get you another lil’ wooden stick.”

Kallus’ fingered the necklace in his hand, his heart skipping a little.

“Zeb...before we end this call, there’s something I have to tell you...concerning the necklace.”

If I can remember all the words in Lasan. I believe I do...

“Kal, don’t.” Zeb said, almost sharply.

Kallus blinked. “What?”

“Don’t tell me. Not yet. Just...tell me in person, alright?”

“But we do not know when that will happen or if-”

“It will, Kal. It has to. Besides, it’ll give us somethin’ to look forward to.”

“It could be years,” Kallus protested.

“Then I'll wait years.”

“Zeb, I cannot ask you-”

“You ain’t asking me. I’m telling you. I’m waiting for you, Kallus. What we got is something I don’t want with anyone else. When you see me, when we are standing in front of each other, then you can say whatever it is you want to say. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

The confidence in Zeb’s tone, the resolution in his words, was hard to argue with and so Kal did not. Besides, part of him swelled at the notion that perhaps Zeb was right: One day they would be together, face-to-face.

“I will be practically fluent in Lasan, by then,” Kal mumbled.

“Good, then you can tell me in Lasan and confuse my crewmates, hehehe.”

Kal chuckled. “No more confusing than seeing us embrace for the first time.”

“Ah, they actually know about us.”

“All of them?”

“Pretty much.”

Kal rubbed his neck. “Thrawn...sort of knows about us too.”

“Whaddya mean?” Zeb asked, panic flaring in his tone.

“It is harmless,” Kallus assured him. “You had messaged me in front of him.”

“The first time the line wasn’t secure, huh?”

“Yes. He concluded that I had a ‘beau’. A fellow officer I did not wish to discuss. He wishes you well, by the way.”

“Grand Admiral Thrawn is wishing me well, huh? Well that’s not somethin’ ya hear every day.”

“He gave some surprisingly sound advice about our long distance as well. It...is not quite helpful in our case, but I appreciated it nonetheless.”

“Hey, wait a minute. ‘Beau’ huh?”

A smile split Kallus’ face. “Oh no, no, I am not allowed to discuss such things until we are face-to-face, remember?”

Zeb chuckled. “Fine, ya got me there. What a tease.”

Kal’s heart fluttered.

Their conversation lasted another hour before it began to lull again.

“Kal?”

Kal snapped awake, not realizing he had been drifting. “Huh? Yes?”

“Promise me somethin’, before you fall asleep, alright?” Zeb said.

“Anything…” Kal replied stifling a yawn.

“First sign of trouble, you bolt. Don’t think, don’t try to cover your tracks or talk your way outta it. You just bolt and leave it behind.”

“Zeb…”

“I’m serious, Kal. You got lucky with Lyste, but you can’t push that kinda luck twice. They start lookin’ at you funny and you get out and find us.”

“And where would I go?”

“I already talked to Ezra and Sato about it. You’ll go to Lothal. There’s an abandoned comm tower straight North of the Monad Outpost. There’s a Fulcrum transmitter there, a strong one. Contact us and we...no... I will come and get you, no matter where I am.”

Kallus exhaled. “I promise.”

“In the meantime, I’ll figure out a way to get another comm-stick for you.”

The anxiety of the call winding to a close was somehow lessened by Zeb’s words. “I know you will…I will be waiting.”

“Careful, Kal, that sounds like you’re actually hopeful.”

Kal smirked, sleepily, easing back into the pillow. “Me? Relying on hope? Perhaps I’m rebel scum after all.”

Zeb’s chuckle was relaxed and soothing...Kal would hold onto that gentle sound for as long as they were apart.

“G’night Kal.”

Kal closed his eyes, a smile sustained on his lips. It felt good to smile like this again. “Good night, Zeb. I will talk to you soon…”

-----

“Begin,” Thrawn ordered.

The word signaled all three assassin droids to attack at once.

When dealing with more than two of these droids, the trick was not to resist, but to use the sheer strength of the droids against each other. Thrawn darted in and out of the droids’ reach, positioning himself in front of one droid, only to roll away and let another thrust its powerful arm into a third droid’s chest.

Thrawn spun the twin batons in his hand fluently, planting his feet as he waited for the first droid to recover from his “friendly fire”. Refocusing on the chiss, the droid came at him, arms swinging furiously.

Blocking the first strike was easy, and the second one came in predictably from the left. Yet, as Thrawn brought his baton up to deflect the attack, his muscles along his torso tightened painfully. He grimaced and hesitated a second too long.

The droid’s arm came crashing down on his shoulder, knocking him painfully to his knees.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the agony singing through his still-recovering body and leapt to his feet, shoving the plastoid baton into the droid’s torso, disrupting its circuits.

Pushing the heap of metal away, Thrawn had no time to recover before the final droid was on him, shoving both metal palms against the chiss’ chest. Thrawn was hurled backwards, slamming hard against the wall, knocking the wind from him.

He fell into a heap, throbbing arms and legs unwilling to hold him as he struggled to stand.

The droid loomed over him now.

“Override Code: Karrde!” Shouted a voice from the doorway.

The droid stiffened and immediately shut down with an arpeggio whirr.

Thrawn slumped back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath.

“That was...unnecessary,” Thrawn panted.

General Veers marched into the room, and shoved the pacified droid away, which obediently returned to its station against the wall. “What is unnecessary is your insistence on battling three assassin droids without fully recovering from your assassination attempt a mere rotation ago.”

Thrawn’s scarlet eyes narrowed. “An assassination attempt that was unsuccessful. I assure you I am recovered enough to continue training-”

“This is not ‘training’,” Veers countered. “You can fool Yularen or Pryce, but do not presume I do not know why you are in here.”

Thrawn did not respond, watching the general’s austere face soften with concern.

Veers extended his hand to Thrawn. “This is about Agent Kallus, is it not?”

Thrawn grasped Veers’ forearm and allowed the man to pull him to his feet. “It is,“ Thrawn said. It was a simple admission. He had no reason to deny it, not to Veers, in any case.

“You could not have known he was the traitor, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“I did know,” Thrawn grabbed the towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. “To some degree, I knew, but I did not act quickly enough on my suspicions. My hesitation allowed him to do more damage than was necessary.”

Veers’ hazel eyes studied Thrawn as closely as the chiss examined him, a trait Thrawn found rarely in humans and welcome in his partner. “You are not one to give into regret, Thrawn,” Veers’ tone was gentle, but firm. “So what is truly bothering you?”

Thrawn paused a moment to consider the question. “Perhaps it is the lack of motive.” Thrawn said. The moment he said the words, it felt more valid. “Agent Kallus had no motive to betray the Empire he spent a lifetime serving. What I do know is the change came some time after he was retrieved from the ice planet. He seemed...more reserved than usual. My suspicions were dashed when he started a romance with a fellow officer and-”

“What?” Veers blinked.

“I said he pursued a romance with a fellow officer.”

“Agent Kallus?” Veers asked, his eyebrows arching in apparent disbelief.

“Is this news surprising?”

“It is,” Veers frowning in thought. “Even as a young man in the Academy, he had difficulties interacting with the other cadets. Yularen and I have had discussions at length regarding him as he was my student before his. ‘A most dedicated recluse’ was how Yularen described him.’ Who is this other officer?”

Thrawn frowned. “He did not say. He seemed adamant in keeping the relationship hidden. I suspected a fellow officer, perhaps one of higher rank.”

Veers scratched his chin. “No, not Kallus. He is too strict in his beliefs to break a code-of-conduct like this. And he is certainly not one to fraternize with a stormtrooper.”

Thrawn slowly stretched his hands, testing the tendons and watching his knuckles take on a deep purple hue as bruises began to blossom.

Veers tenderly took those blue hands in his. “Nothing appears broken.” He murmured.

Thrawn absently let Veers take gauze from the first aid kit and wrap his raw and swollen knuckles. “Tell me, Max, has Kallus ever shown interest in humans before? Even on shore leave? Friendship or otherwise.”

“To my knowledge? Never. In fact, the Herd often joked he’d rather spend his time with literally any other race in the galaxy than his own.”

“...Even those hailing from Lasan?” Thrawn pondered. At once the pieces began to fall into place.

Veers seemed to notice the glimmer in his partner’s red eyes. “It seems you have found your traitor’s motive.”

“Yes,” Thrawn replied. “I believe I have. His motive and his catalyst.”

Chapter 13: No Matter the Distance...

Chapter Text

>[Profile: Agent Kallus ISB-021...

>Enter Password:

Grand Admiral Thrawn took no pleasure in this.

Neither did Colonel Yularen when he granted Thrawn the ability to pull Kallus’ deleted files from his datapad remotely like this.

Thrawn would have prefered a confession, something more intimate. Sneaking was not his style, but time was short. His investigations of Senator Mon Mothma led the grand admiral to believe a full-scale Rebel attack was imminent, and their sights were set for the new TIE Defender Factory on Lothal. If Fulcrum had any further information on this attack, Thrawn needed them now.

And Thrawn could not deny his curiosity on just how a rebel lasat managed to lure the dutiful ISB Agent away from the Empire.

>Password: ISBAdmin_Access_WY1111

>Accessing…

Following Yularen’s instructions closely, Thrawn pulled up all correspondence from non-Imperial frequencies. As it turned out, Kallus had very few personal correspondents at all and those who did reach out to him seldom received more than a few words in response.

Veers was right, Kallus lacked any desire to interact with fellow Imperials socially.

But with a lasat, he would open up effortlessly?

[A. Kallus]: Why are you contacting me? What do you want?

[1.22.845]: I just wanted to make sure you were okay, okay?

[A. Kallus]: I am fine.

[1.22.845]: How’s the leg?

[A. Kallus]: A bit stiff.

[A. Kallus]: It would have been a lot worse had you not been there.

Thrawn could sense the tension and the tentative kindness in the few words Kallus spoke. So they had met on the Ice Moon of Geonosis. Garazeb had taken care of him, saved his life. He felt he owed the lasat? A debt of honor then?

Thrawn kept scrolling…

[A. Kallus]: If we do manage to find these impossible items, perhaps we can meet on our ice moon to trade.

[5.15.943]: OUR ice moon?

[A. Kallus]: I suppose it is not our moon yet. The Empire has no need for it as of yet and therefore it has gone unclaimed.

[5.15.943]: Oh. I misunderstood

Thrawn frowned and scrolled back to Kallus’ description of the Mercy root.

So Garazeb found a way to deliver the Mercy root to Kallus. And it happened right under our noses.

Kallus had done a masterful job at hiding his emotions, Thrawn had no qualms admitting this to himself. To be unable to see the one he cared for must have been difficult. There would be little solace to take from a fragile herb and a dying meteorite.

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I did not know about the ambush on Yost.

[5.15.943]: If you did, would you have told me?”

[A. Kallus]: I honestly don’t know, Zeb

It somehow soothed Thrawn’s conscious to see Kallus struggle like this.

Though, in the end, does that truly matter? Thrawn asked himself as he kept scrolling.

[A. Kallus]: Why are you talking to me? What could you possibly get out of this?

[5.15.943]: I had to.

[A. Kallus]: Why?

[5.15.943]: After I left the ice moon I just needed to know you were okay. Then after that I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you were still okay. I want to know you’re okay every day, I guess. I can’t explain it.

[5.15.943]: Eventually we are going to have to face each other again.

[A. Kallus]: I know.

[5.15.943]: I won’t fight you.

[A. Kallus]: You may not have a choice, Garazeb.

[5.15.943]: Karabast. There is always a choice.

[A. Kallus]: Not for me

And still, none of this made sense to the grand admiral. Aside from an apparent starvation for social contact, Kallus still seemed to be loyal to his Empire.

What turned you away from your duties?

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, what are we doing? What is this?

[5.15.943]: I really don’t know. I just know I don’t want to stop talking to you.

[A. Kallus]: Neither do I.

Thrawn stopped scrolling through the texts for a moment.

Having doubts in the Empire’s questionable morals was something many officers had experienced at one time or another. Yet, to betray the Empire entirely...it was something Thrawn did not believe Kallus capable of doing.

At least, not from conversations with Garazeb Orrelios alone.

Thrawn realized the answers may not be within the growing emotional connection between the traitorous agent and the rebel lasat. Kallus was a man of logic, much like himself, and one of the best ISB Agents in the galaxy.

If he was having doubts in the Empire’s methods, he would do what he did best: conduct a thorough investigation.

>Deleted_Search_History:

>Clearance Code Required: ISBAdmin_Access_WY1111

>Accessing…

Despite not knowing what to expect, the answer became clear as Thrawn spent several minutes pouring through a plethora of searched topics.

[File 88-2517: Operation: Queen’s Egg. Please Enter Security Clearance Code]

Thrawn leaned back in his chair, cupping his chin in his hand.

Kallus’ clearance code would give the agent a redacted copy of Tarkin’s official statement on the new weaponized battle station. Even Thrawn was not privy to much information regarding the “Death Star”. In fact, he would not know of its existence at all had he not done his own investigation and confronted the Emperor about it. The answers he received were not ones he would consider “closure” on the matter.

He imagined Kallus had many of the same questions Thrawn did.

Kallus also had to bear the weight of being known as “The Butcher of Lasan”, a title he bore solely because he was misinformed at just how much damage the weapons were capable of. And then, as if to pour salt on the wound, Kallus was stranded on the ice moon with the last of the species he had all but destroyed.

What was that final straw, Kallus? Thrawn wondered. When was that moment when you finally decided to cross the line?

And there it was. A flicker of defiance in the agent’s tone. A hint of doubt.

[8.55.133]: Is this line secure?

[A. Kallus]: Zeb, I can’t do this.

[8.55.133]: Did you tell them we were on Serenno?

[A. Kallus]: Pryce had a lead on it already. We are heading to Serenno now.

[8.55.133]: Did you tell them we aren’t there anymore?

[A. Kallus]: No.

Thrawn furrowed his brow. Kallus had shifted from inaction towards acts of betrayal.

The attack on Serenno…

The death of one Chef Arond’to...

Thrawn leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

It seems I was the one who pushed him over that line.

Thrawn thought back to that day in the Imperial kitchen.

“Chef Arond’to was executed this morning,” Thrawn says to Kallus. “He has a daughter that is quite a vocal rebel sympathizer and he refused to give up the whereabouts of her and her rebel friends. In addition, we found several green ‘heads’ and ‘tails’ of charbote root in a bag next to the food stores. We have reason to believe he was intending on poisoning our supplies.”

Kallus does not blink. He is very still. “A wise decision, sir.”

“A shame,” Thrawn says, eyeing the agent. “As I understand he was quite a skilled chef.”

“One of the best,” Kallus admits, though his tone is still even. “I look forward to my shipment, sir.”

Kallus had succeeded in hiding his emotions when Thrawn delivered the news of the chef’s death. And yet coupled with these chat logs, Thrawn realized just how devastating the news must have been to the aspiring chef who held other cultures with such reverence.

Thrawn scrolled through the rest of the chats, respectfully ignoring the more tender conversations and the attachments that he assumed were pictures of each other. He had no interest in snooping through. His search was for something very specific.

[9.98.375]: By the light of Lothal’s moons.

[A. Kallus]: What does that mean?

[9.98.375]: It means you are now officially a secret agent of the Rebellion, Fulcrum. Just say that code whenever you run into rebels and they’ll know you’re one of ours.

And there it was: the Fulcrum code phrase.

Closing the remote access, Thrawn stroked his chin.

Kallus had an opportunity to leave with the Rebels when Ezra Bridger came to the Chimera. The very fact he is still here means he intends on continuing his work, confident we will not discover Lieutenant Lyste’s innocence.

He needed to choose his next steps carefully.

Thrawn flicked on the holoprojector built into his desk and keyed in the frequency for Admiral Konstantine.

Soon a small hologram of the mustachioed admiral appeared.

“Konstantine, are you on Lothal?”

“Yes, grand admiral. At the TIE Defender Factory, as you requested. Though I hardly-”

“And Pryce is there as well?”

Konstantine furrowed his brow. “I just left her office, sir.”

“Good. Return to her office. I have something very important to say to you both.”

A few minutes later, Pryce and Konstantine’s holograms both appeared on Thrawn’s desk.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Pryce greeted formally. “How can I be of service.”

Konstantine cast a sour look at Pryce, which Thrawn ignored.

“Listen to me very carefully, both of you. What I am about to ask you to do must go exactly as planned.”

“Of course, grand admiral,” Pryce said without hesitation.

Konstantine gave a short nod.

“I will be arriving in Lothal in one hour. When my shuttle lands I require that both of you are waiting for me on the platform. Make sure it is known around the base that you two are to meet with me personally. Is Agent Kallus on the base as well?”

“He is,” Konstantine said. “Shall I invite…”

“I want you, Konstantine, to casually mention my arrival and the following meeting. However, I do not want you to disclose the meeting’s time nor location.”

Pryce eyed the grand admiral curiously, but did not question the order.

Konstantine nodded. “Yes, sir? But I do not see why-”

“Do as I say,” Thrawn said sharply. “All will become clear in due time.”

Konstantine sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“Governor,” Thrawn asked turning his attention to Pryce. “Are there many mouse droids on the base?”

“We have twenty-two on staff here.”

Thrawn thought for a moment. “Have their paths altered so that there is at least one mouse droid in the hangar bay at all times.”

“An easy adjustment,” Pryce said, nodding.

“Thank you. Our meeting shall be with Grand Moff Tarkin, until then I cannot disclose anything further. Thank you for your cooperation. You are dismissed.”

Thrawn disconnected the call and let out a slow breath.

The pieces have been put into position.

Every move will need to be made perfectly for utter success…

...and the utter annihilation of the Rebel fleet.

-----

“Admiral Konstantine,” Kallus greeted absently in the hallway of Lothal’s TIE Factory.

“Not now, agent, I have to get to the main hangar.”

Kallus blinked, surprised he got anything more than a dismissive grunt from the officer. “Anyone of import coming in today?”

Konstantine snorted. “I’m sure Grand Admiral Thrawn thinks himself very important.”

“The grand admiral is coming here?” Kallus turned and began to walk with Konstantine.

“Hmm?” Konstantine was suddenly looking at his datapad. “Oh yes, he is.”

“Was no one going to tell me?”

“I am telling you now,” Konstantine said, in a clipped tone. “You need not concern yourself, he is here for a meeting with Pryce and myself. I am sure you can schedule something with him soon if you must.”

Kallus frowned and halted. “Yes, of course. I will not keep you then.”

Konstantine hummed absently and continued to walk towards the hangar bay. Kallus scratched his bearded jaw in thought.

Something strange is happening. Thrawn would not leave me out of a meeting with Pryce and Konstantine unless he does not want the ISB to know his plans.

Kallus felt a chill.

Or he does not want me to know his plans...

Kallus slipped into a side door and headed up the stairs leading to the balcony overlooking the hangar bay.

Sure enough Pryce and Konstantine were standing together as Thrawn’s shuttle arrived.

Thrawn walked down the ramp, a pair of death troopers following close behind.

The grand admiral said a few words to Pryce and Konstantine before walking towards the main entrance to the conference area.

I suppose it is too much to hope for a mouse droid to be in the hangar bay, Kallus lamented.

As if on cue, Kallus spotted a mouse droid zip into the hangar right in front of the three imperials.

Although a mouse droid’s primary function involved simple repairs, escorting guests, and other menial tasks around Imperial facilities, the ISB had their own clandestine uses for them as well. Mouse droids were the real eyes and ears of the Empire’s Intelligence Security Bureau and at any given point an agent could tap into their system and listen in on conversations within ten meters of the droid.

Kallus pulled out a small remote device and clicked it twice. The mouse droid responded to his commands, following Thrawn and the two officers covertly through a “mouse hole” parallel to their path.

Kallus quickly hurried to a nearby maintenance closet. Locking himself in, he turned on the comm link connected to the mouse droid’s hidden transmitter and waited.

He heard Konstantine’s nasally voice first. “Is all this secrecy necessary?”

“We still have a traitor in our midsts,” Thrawn replied. “We need to be highly cautious about what we discuss and where we speak. And what I’m about to say cannot fall into the rebels’ hands.”

Kallus’ heart sank.

Yet, this should not have been a surprise.

Lyste was practically tied up in a neat little bow marked “Traitor” for Thrawn and Yularen. Still, Kallus had hoped investigating the lieutenant would buy him more time to spy on the Empire.

Apparently not as much time as I had hoped.

With a small chill of shame, Kal recalled the last time he passed Yularen in the hall and was met with a curt nod rather than his usual warm smile.

A quiet whirl sounded through the commlink snapping Kal away from his shame. “Thrawn, I trust the information you have for me was worth the wait.”

Kallus blinked in surprise, recognizing the regal, yet profoundly bitter voice of Grand Moff Tarkin.

Thrawn replied unapologetically, ignoring Tarkin’s annoyance. “The rebels of the so-called ‘Phoenix Squadron’ are about to launch a major military strike against the Empire.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Tarkin balked.

“Oh, believe me they would,” Tarkin assured him. “Everything leading up to this moment has been rehearsal. The real performance is about to begin, I’m counting on it.”

“You have my attention,” Tarkin replied. “What target will the rebels attack?”

Kallus struggled to stay focused as Thrawn revealed the Rebellions plans to attack on the TIE Defender Factory on Lothal.

His mind scrambled to figure out how he was going to intervene. They still did not know he was the traitor and that would give him an edge.

Yet, I still need to contact the Rebellion somehow without giving myself away.

“A coordinated attack by multiple rebel cells is unprecedented,” Kallus could hear Pryce say.

“And it's exactly this moment I’ve been waiting for to wipe them out.”

Kallus’ eyes widened, panic sparking his nerves.

I need to act and I need to act now. Think, Kallus...Think...The comm tower! I can send a Fulcrum message there…

And with a slight flutter in his chest Kallus realized a perk to using the comm tower.

My cover would be blown if I left now, which means I could hide there and wait for Zeb to retrieve me.

Kallus’ heart twisted in a peculiar way. He had already worked so hard to steel himself to stay with the Empire as long as he could, to finish his work until the very end.

But what other choice do I have?

Kallus allowed himself to feel the excitement he had been denying himself for so long. Perhaps now I can really be free...

-----

The moment Kallus saw the collection of trooper helmets in the cramped makeshift living quarters atop the comm tower, he knew Ezra Bridger had lived here.

Galactic travel advertisem*nts and tattered Republic fliers were the only decoration on the walls, all coated in a thick layer of dust from the dry Lothal climate. The air was thick with the tang of metal.

A lonely existence, Kallus pondered, looking over at the small mattress. Perhaps he and I have a bit more in common than I initially thought.

Kallus found the Fulcrum transmitter on a small table, the one thing not covered in brown dust.

The prospect of not having to spend another night under the enemy’s thumb sent flutters of excitement through Kallus’ gut.

He sat down and with a few flicks the Fulcrum symbol flickered above the projector.

My last Fulcrum message, Kallus realized. It feels appropriate this should be the last.

“This is Fulcrum with an urgent message. Thrawn knows ab-”

The Fulcrum symbol flared for a moment then went red.

A blocked signal? How? From where?

Kallus turned a dial. Nothing.

An icy chill washed over him.

“By the light of Lothal’s moons,” hissed a familiar voice.

I was so close...

Kallus could practically hear the smugness in Thrawn’s smile before turning to face the chiss standing in the doorway.

“That is your code phrase isn’t it, Agent Kallus? Or would you prefer I address you as Fulcrum?”

Kallus’ heart thundered in his ears. Everything he had feared would come to pass was happening and there was little he could do to stop it. It was over for him. And there was no escape.

Thrawn produced a remote comm-scrambler. The screen wiggled frantically as it jammed the signal from the tower. “I’m afraid your rebel friends won’t receive your warning.”

No...it cannot end like this...not after everything...Not after risking my life, not after pushing aside my own grief, rejecting my wants. I will not be denied this last chance to save them...to save Zeb...

With a frustrated roar, Kallus lunged himself at Thrawn.

Kallus knew better than to underestimate Thrawn’s combat skills, but he also knew that unlike Thrawn, Kallus had field experience.

He was a warrior.

This grand admiral was not.

Still, his offensive stance quickly turned defensive as Thrawn matched him blow-for-blow. Unable to gain the upperhand quickly, Kallus jumped back, shifting tactics mentally as he kept a distance between the two of them.

“Your technique is good,” Thrawn admitted, “but limited to your training in the Imperial Academy. Predictable…”

Kallus snarled and grabbed a stormtrooper helmet.

Let us see who is the more predictable one.

Kallus launched the helmet at Thrawn and…

...as he hoped, Thrawn caught the helmet with an overconfident sneer.

Kallus smiled back, and slid across the floor, shoving his heels hard into Thrawn’s shins. Caught by surprise, the chiss went down hard, the remote flying out of his hand towards Kallus.

Scrambling to his feet, Kallus reached the comm-scrambler and crushed it beneath his boot.

The Fulcrum symbol ceased flickering and returned to white as his fractured message was transmitted.

Kallus turned to Thrawn. “You talk too much,” Kallus growled, raising his fists.

That infuriatingly cool confidence never wavered in Thrawn’s eyes.

Why is he smiling? Kallus thought, panic rising in his gut. What does he know that I do not?

The answer became clear too quickly with that first punch - a punch Thrawn blocked effortlessly.

The second and third punches glanced harmlessly off the chiss as well.

Every offensive attack Kallus executed was expertly matched and the counterattacks came hard, each more devastating than the last.

Every move Thrawn made was precise, connecting perfectly. A blow to the solar plexus, a kick in the chest, a punch in the eye.

Thrawn’s words echoed in Kallus’ head. “Predictable…”

I have to change techniques. I have to-

His thoughts were cut off by blinding pain. The edge of Thrawn’s boot kicked his shin, exactly where Kallus had broken it on the Geonosian Ice Moon…

Kallus fell hard to his knees.

Kallus’ thoughts came sluggish to him. No...get up...fight back.

As if in slow motion he saw Thrawn spin, the boot colliding with his cheek, and he was sent flying. He slammed into the railing just outside of the comm tower, hitting his head hard against it.

Through the ringing in his head, Kallus was dimly aware of the two stormtroopers approaching, yanking him to his feet. He hung heavily, legs useless beneath him, eye and jaw throbbing as they began to swell.

And still Kallus managed to summon the strength to shoot a defiant glare at the grand admiral.

Thrawn glowered down at him.

“You have the heart of a rebel.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kallus spat.

Thrawn expression darkened, but did not indulge Kallus with a reply. Quietly, the grand admiral walked back inside the comm tower, and the troopers dragged Kallus close behind.

“Cuff him to that joist and leave us, please.” Thrawn commanded, nodding to the lowest of the metal beams reinforcing the rusted ceiling.

“Traitorous scum,” one of the troopers spat, slamming the butt of his blaster rifle into Kallus’ gut before leaving. Ignoring the agony in his legs, Kallus raised his boot and kicked the trooper hard, sending him sprawling backwards. The second trooper raised his rifle aimed at Kallus’ head.

“That’s enough,” Thrawn snapped. “Leave us, now.”

The trooper held his stance a moment, then lowered his weapon, grabbing the arm of his dazed comrade and leaving Thrawn and his prisoner alone.

Thrawn did not acknowledge Kallus for a long while, busying himself with reactivating a small projector in the center of the room.

The chiss worked quietly, taking the transmitter, popping it apart, and connecting some of the many wires within to the table itself.

A loading screen appeared above the table along with a chaotic mess of star charts, cave art, and scrollings of a language Kallus did not recognize.

Kallus was less interested in the screens themselves than he was with Thrawn, whose scarlet eyes flicked back and forth, as if capturing everything the nonsensical images provided him.

It is not nonsensical. But what does he see? Kallus wondered.

“You are wrong about me,” Thrawn said suddenly, not pulling his eye away from the scrolling images.

“And what exactly am I wrong about?”

“Everything you think you know,” Thrawn said, simply.

“Really?” Kallus laughed mirthlessly. “So you are not just another one of the Emperor’s lapdogs? Or am I just misinformed about your involvement at Batonn?”

Thrawn’s eyes snapped to Kallus, a shadow falling over the chiss’ face. It was not of anger, nor did it seem defensive. But the words stung the chiss somehow. Kallus had seen that look in the mirror too many times.

Guilt...

The agent held his breath.

“The events that transpired at Batonn are not what you believe them to be, Kallus,” Thrawn said, calmly. “Tell me, does history show an accurate account of what you did at Lasan? Does it recall that you did not expect the kind of devastation brought by those T-7 ion disruptors?”

The question struck Kallus like a blow to the gut. “That is not the same thing,” he said, weakly.

Thrawn frowned and returned his gaze to the star charts. “You may not believe this, Kallus, but I had considered you a friend. If only circ*mstances were different. It is a shame Garazeb Orrelios lured you to the wrong side so completely.”

Kallus lunged forward, shoulders screaming in pain as the cuffs held him in place. “I did not do this for him.”

Thrawn was unfazed. “He was the flame that lit this fuse, was he not?”

Kallus did not answer.

Thrawn continued. “Of course, you did not do this for him. You did this for the late Chef Arond’to. You did this to make up for your actions at Lasan. Perhaps as vengeance for what you believe happened on Geonosis.”

“What I believe?” Kallus balked. “For all your brilliance, Thrawn, you are an idiot if you do not see the Empire wiped out the Geonosians to silence them-”

“And hide their contribution to Operation: Queen’s Egg,” Thrawn finished. “I am aware of its existence. And you misunderstand me, Kallus. I am very much aware of what the Emperor is planning, for I also had my suspicions.”

“Then why do you support it?”

“I do not,” Thrawn said. “I have told the Emperor as much.”

Kallus blinked at him. “Then why do you stay?”

Thrawn flicked off the projector and walked over to Kallus, bending down so that they were eye-to-eye.

“I stay because I have a job to do. I stay because I believe in this Empire’s ability to do what it needs to keep order in the galaxy. I stay because with their alliance I can assure my people have protection against their own enemies in the Unknown Regions.”

Kallus did not blink. “If you think you can protect your people or anyone in the galaxy through the Empire as it stands today then you are as delusional as I once was.”

“Let us say your rebellion succeeds,” Thrawn countered, his voice low, quiet, anger bubbling beneath the calm. “What then? Will the ensuing chaos be worth it? Will you find me so delusional when the small collection of rogue Senators find themselves unable to hold together the galaxy that has fallen to anarchy?”

“We will be giving the galaxy freedom,” Kallus snarled. “A freedom from fear and oppression, both they will never hope to gain under the Empire’s flag.”

“Ah, ‘hope’,” Thrawn smirked. “A pity the Rebellion will not survive long enough to show you the error in your ways.”

Kallus grinded his teeth “You have not found them yet and they are most likely listening to the message from Fulcrum as we speak.”

“True.”

Kallus frowned at those calm, scarlet eyes, finding Thrawn’s agreement unsettling.

“Allow me to explain,” Thrawn said, rising to walk towards the projection table. “You may have transmitted your warning, Agent, but in doing so, you’ve given me the last piece of the puzzle. Now,” he pulled up a standard Imperial star map, “this is the trajectory of General Dodonna’s Fleet, and this,” Thrawn pulled up a second star chart, “is the trajectory of your Fulcrum transmission. Taken separately they mean nothing, but together-”

“Nothing.” Kallus finished. “There’s no planet there. The rebels are smarter than you give them credit for.”

“A pity you do not study art, Agent Kallus. There is much it can show you, if you know where to look. Such as...“ Thrawn slid a data card into the projector and a holoimage of a stylized star chart appeared translucent over the other two star maps. The new chart was covered in crude drawings of stars and animalistic constellations. “...a system which does not appear on Imperial charts, but is represented in the art of the ancient people of this sector. I believe they call this ‘Atollon,’ now the home of your rebel base.”

Ice flooded Kallus’ veins. He just doomed the Rebellion to this battle and he could not take part in any of it.

Thrawn picked up the commlink. “Admiral Konstantine deploy the fleet to these coordinates. We will join you shortly.”

Kallus lowered his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

Zeb...I am so sorry...I failed you. I am so sorry I failed everyone.

-----

Kallus was shoved into the holding cell, stumbling down the steps before landing hard on his knees. With a low growl he shot a venomous look at the stormtrooper.

“TK-844, you are relieved from guarding this cell,” Thrawn ordered. “I believe the agent has had quite enough of your tantrums.”

“Sir…”

“TK-845, please guard the agent’s cell. I will retrieve him once we finish our preparations to jump to hyperspace.”

“Yes, sir.”

The emotionless skull-faced helmet of TK-844 looked at Kallus, but Kal could feel the hatred through the visor. Wordlessly he left TK-845 to guard the prisoner’s cell.

The door hissed closed, heavy locks creaked into place, leaving Kallus alone.

Wrists still cuffed behind him, Kallus carefully tried to shift his legs so he could stand. The agony in his shin made it nearly impossible and after a few failed attempts he resigned himself to remain on his knees.

He was exhausted. Sweat dripped down his temples, his head throbbed, his eye swelled painfully, and the cut on his lip burned.

There was no escaping his fate now.

There was no daring rescue coming, there was no happy ending for Kallus.

Please...let there be one for Zeb at least.

“Zeb,” he whispered, eyes blurred with tears. “I wish I could see your face one more time.”

The cell door slid open. Kallus raised his head, blinking away the moisture as he looked to the figure standing in the door. For a single, desperate moment Kallus thought it was Ezra disguised as an Imperial, ready to attempt another rescue.

It was not.

“...Lieutenant? They released you,” Kallus said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Lieutenant Lyste walked down the steps, hands tucked behind his back, peering down his nose at the agent.

“Yes, once it was known you had been arrested, they saw fit to free me so that I may resume my duties.”

Lyste crouched down, his gaze level with Kallus. Those large doe-eyes no longer held the warm friendliness he once had for the agent.

It pained Kallus to see Lyste like this. He had never truly appreciated the friendship Lyste had offered him so many times and now it was something Kal most desperately needed.

But it is undeserved. I am a traitor in his eyes. I am the enemy.

“Yogar, I am so sorry. I should not-”

“Save your apologies. What’s done is done,” Lyste said, bitterness coating his voice. “In any case-” Lyste stopped himself and frowned. “What is that around your neck?”

Stars...no...please no…

But there was no where for Kallus to go. He stiffened as Lyste reached up and gently tugged on the leather cord until the pendant emerged from beneath his uniform.

“What is this?”

Kallus said nothing, not trusting his voice to do anything besides beg Lyste to let him keep it.

Please...please do not take the one thing I have left of Zeb away from me. Please...let me die wearing my necklace…

“It’s from him isn’t it. That lasat creature.”

Kallus bristled. “His name is Garazeb Orrelios. He is not some creature.”

Lyste said nothing. With a soft clearing of his throat, he returned to examining the necklace, turning it over in his fingers.

“Thrawn would want this in his collection.” Lyste said, almost thoughtfully.

“Yogar, please...”

But all Kallus could do was watch helplessly as Lyste broke the leather cord and freed the necklace from Kallus’ neck.

“Lyste! Please, listen to me-” Kallus paused, blinking in surprise as Lyste leaned down, tugging at the side pocket of Kallus’ trousers. “What are you…”

“The guards have already searched you,” Lyste murmured tucking the pendant into his pocket. “They won’t pat you down again.” He smoothed out the velcro over the pocket and patted it reassuringly.

Grateful tears welled in Kallus’ eyes. “Why? Why would you do this?”

Ignoring the question, Lyste slid his arms around Kallus’ waist and with a grunt, lifted the man up just enough for Kal to find his balance. Guiding him with a gentle, but firm hold, Lyste eased Kallus onto the bench.

The screaming muscles and joints in Kallus’ legs finally seemed to quiet and the agent slumped backwards, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Thank you,” Kallus panted. “Thank you so much. And Yogar, again I am sorry for getting you into all of this.”

“You are not the one who should be apologizing to me, Kallus.” Lyste said, taking a seat next to Kallus. “I was stuck in that cell for weeks, you know. No one cared to inform me of what my role was in all this. I did not know if, or when, I was going to die. It was torture, Kallus, being left there where no one believed me and I could have been executed at any moment.”

Lyste threaded his fingers together, but Kallus could see they were shaking.

“And then Thrawn was there standing over me,” Lyste continued. “He informed me I was released. He told me you were the traitor and that I was a necessary decoy in order to capture you. He said I served the Empire well.”

Lyste’s fists clenched.

“I was a decoy, Kallus. After a lifetime of dedication to this Empire, I was ripped away from my station, branded a traitor and left to die without so much as an explanation. And he had the audacity to tell me I served the Empire well.”

“Yogar…” Kallus said, wishing he could put a comforting hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder. “I cannot imagine what that was like.”

Lyste chuckled. “I think you do. Actually, I think you are one of the few people who do, the uncertainty of it all, I mean. Never knowing what the next day would bring. I honestly can’t believe you managed to keep yourself hidden for so long. There must have been days when you thought we knew.”

“Nearly every day,” Kallus admitted. “Especially Thrawn.”

“It is...impressive.” Lyste conceded.

Kallus licked his lips. “Yogar,” he said, carefully. “Will you help me?”

Lyste looked at him sadly. “I wish I could, Kallus. You were always so kind to me.”

Kallus felt a stabbing pain of guilt at the compliment, he wished it truly was the case.

“The truth is,” Lyste continued, “the Empire always wins. And they would never let us leave. They would hunt us down and find us. I just am not brave enough to try and leave.”

Kallus felt the hope slip away, but he knew it was a longshot. A strange calm cooled his center.

“In that case, may I ask a favor.”

Lyste eyed him. “You may ask…”

“In my quarters aboard the Lawbringer there are three items that are very important to me. The first is my bo-rifle. I wish you to give it to Colonel Yularen. He was my mentor and my...my hero. The bo-rifle was given to me by a great warrior; it deserves to be in the hands of someone who will give it the respect it deserves.”

Lyste nodded. “I can do that. And the other items?”

Kallus exhaled in relief. “The second item I want you to have, Yogar. It is a rock, a meteor actually. It once kept me warm on the ice moon where Zeb saved my life. It has gone cold, but...it would bring me peace if I knew it was with you and not in the trash compactor all alone.”

Lyste tilted his head curiously, but nodded again. “I will take very good care of it. I do enjoy geology as a matter of fact. And the last item?”

“The Mercy Root plant. Please give it to Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

Lyste blinked. “You are giving a plant to Thrawn?”

Kallus shifted on the bench uncomfortably. “I am.”

At this, the lieutenant snorted. “I...am a bit surprised. It was him who gave you these bruises, was it not?”

“Thrawn and I…” Kallus sighed. “We are both fish out of water when it comes to dealing with...humans of the Empire and have made egregious mistakes that ended in the loss of many lives. However misguided I see him, I believe he was correct in thinking we could have been friends if circ*mstances were different.” Kallus glanced at Lyste who gazed at him, dumbfounded. “In any case, he expressed an interest in cooking and I know he will put the root to good use. Please, just give it to him.”

Lyste nodded a third time. “I give you my word, Kallus.”

“Thank you, Yogar.”

The cell walls began to shake as the Chimera prepared to jump to hyperspace. “The grand admiral should be returning shortly,” Lyste said, rising to his feet. “Kallus, it was an honor knowing you.”

Kallus forced out a smile. “Thank you for everything, Yogar.”

Lyste’s smile was etched in sadness, his crystal blue eyes shining with the threat of tears.

“Stars guide you,” He said, before hurrying out of the cell.

Kallus drew in deep breaths, exhaling slowly.

He closed his eyes and felt the comforting presence of the pendant pressing against his thigh.

His pendant would be with him until the end.

His pendant and the image of Zeb’s smile forever etched in his mind.

That was all he could ask for.

-----

Zeb had promised Kal he would have a few reliefs done by the time they figured out a way to speak again.

In turn, Zeb made Kal promise him he’d keep up with his cooking and report of any new dishes he mastered.

Zeb was finding it difficult keeping his part of the bargain.

Their time apart was rough, rougher without the comfort of daily texts.

He wished he’d had more frequencies and equipment to create a hundred more comm sticks. Instead, all he had was a pile of loose wires, and a surplus of wood that remained untouched by his tools.

Today, Zeb sat on a crate just outside the Rebel compound on Atollon, whittling mindlessly on a block of wood. He tried not to think of Kallus. He tried not to think about their distance or the uncertainty of talking to each other again.

He tried to enjoy the light breeze, the fresh scent of rich soil and the lack of gigantic spiders around the base.

Zeb raised the carving knife again...and paused.

The rough shape of a loth-cat stared back at him.

The lasat swallowed hard.

Part of him didn’t want to drift back to the hours of conversation they had weeks ago. A stronger part of him wanted to try and recount every word...

“You’ve never had a pet? Ever?”

“Of course not. The Empire frowns on ‘pets’, Zeb.”

Zeb grins. “Want me to send you a loth-cat?”

“Hmm…” Kallus says, thoughtfully.

It’s such a common sound, but when Kal does it, it sounds so...smart.

“Yes, I could use Konstantine’s hat as a litter box.”

Zeb chuckles. “He probably won’t notice.”

“Ugh, I fear you are right.”

They laugh together. And Zeb can practically imagine those rich brown eyes sparkling. Sparkling and looking right at him.

“Maybe we can get one some day,” Kal says, his voice is soft and it sounds more like a hopeful question than a suggestion.

The word “we” hits Zeb hard. The flutter in his chest feels like a mynock hyped on sugar cubes. “Yeah, uh, yeah I’d love that.”

Zeb turned the roughly shaped loth-cat over in his hands, contemplating if it would help or hurt him to continue working on it.

Before he could decide, a siren blared from within the rebel base.

Zeb frowned. He was the one in charge of drills.

So if I didn’t set this up…

“Karabast,” Zeb growled, hopping off the crate, and slipping the loth-cat in his pack.

The overhead announcement echoed throughout the base. “All personnel. Code K-One-Zero. Evacuate immediately.”

Rex was already running towards him as Zeb started for the base.

“What’s going on, Rex?”

“Empire,” Rex panted, wiping the sweat from his bald head. “They found out about Atollon and are on their way now.”

“How’s that possible? We’ve been careful.”

“Dunno, but if Fulcrum says we’re in trouble, then I’m not questioning it.”

Zeb grabbed Rex by the arms. “Fulcrum? We got a message from Fulcrum?”

Rex blinked. “Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

“What’d he say? Is he alright?”

“Fulcrum? I’m guessin’ so if he’s sending us messages again. I just heard from Wedge, who heard from Vander, that we got a warning from Fulcrum. Kanan went off into the desert for reinforcements, I guess, and Ezra’s off to get the rest of the fleet. All I know is the Empire’s comin’ and it’s all hands on deck to get as many ships outta here as possible.”

Zeb burst into a wide grin and gave Rex a playful punch on the arm. “Well, what are we waitin’ for?” He hurried towards the Ghost, Rex jogging close behind. “Let’s go be a couple of heroes!”

Kal! My Kal… Zeb’s heart tumbled excitedly around his chest as he raced towards the co*ckpit. He did it! He left the Empire!

He imagined Kal sitting on Ezra’s old mattress.

His heart ached a little at the thought of him curled up, waiting for someone to get him.

Just hang in there, Kal. Zeb thought, strapping himself in. We’re gonna blast these Imperial sleemos outta the atmo and then I’m comin’ for ya.

Zeb glanced around the co*ckpit, making sure he was alone. Slowly, he pulled out the pendant from beneath his jumpsuit and gave it a soft kiss.

“No matter the distance, Kal,” he intoned, “we walk together.”

Chapter 14: ...We Walk Together

Chapter Text

Kallus was running out of time.

The Chimera was preparing to jump to hyperspace.

In a matter of moments they would be at Atollon, arriving at the final showdown with the fledgling Rebellion.

Now a prisoner of the Empire, there was nothing he could do for the Rebellion...save for one final act: crash the Chimera while it traveled through hyperspace.

Blasters dug into his back as he was lead down the hallway towards the bridge.

Once they boarded the bridge he would most likely get a shove from already ornery TK-844 who seemed to be looking for a reason to abuse the prisoner. If and when that happened, Kallus would use the momentum to rush forward towards the panel controlling the hyperspace coordinates.

He would not need to be precise.

He would just need to slam into the controls hard enough to shift the coordinates.

The odds of not colliding into a celestial object outside of the planned coordinates was very low. A random jumble of numbers would kill them in a matter of minutes.

One final act as Fulcrum.

He had to make it count.

As Kallus stood at the door leading to the bridge, he felt strangely calm. It was not like fear was going to be useful to him at this point. Execution awaited him in the Empire, if a stormtrooper or an angry fellow officer did not take him down first. If he was going to die, he might as well use his death to help others…

...to help Zeb.

Zeb, he thought, closing his eyes, finding his center. I hope you will understand…I do this for you.

The door hissed open.

And as he hoped, TK-844 slammed the butt of his blaster rifle against Kallus’ back.

Kallus was propelled forward, his eyes set on the control panel…

And was immediately caught by Grand Admiral Thrawn. In two quick movements, Thrawn pulled Kallus forward overbalancing him, then kicked him in the back of the legs, forcing him hard to his knees.

“I think it best we keep our rebel spy off his feet while we traverse through hyperspace.”

“He is cuffed, sir,” TK-844 argued. “There isn’t much he could do.”

“A traitor facing his inevitable end can do all manner of desperate things in a few seconds, trooper,” Thrawn responded cooly. “Would you not agree, agent?”

Kallus shot a venomous look at the grand admiral who merely turned towards the viewport.

And with that, Kallus’ window of opportunity was forever closed to him.

Space stretched and warped around them as the Chimera traveled faster than light towards Atollon.

By the time they reached their destination, the battle had already begun.

A Rebel escort frigate attempted to jump to hyperspace and immediately failed, being yanked back by the interdictor cruisers’ gravity wells. The moment the frigate reappeared it was met with a barrage of cannon fire, blossoms of explosions lit up the darkness of space until there was nothing left but smoke and a skeletal frame.

Pryce frowned at the fiery wreckage. “What of Governor Tarkin’s prisoners?”

Thrawn regarded the frigate for a moment. “General Dodonna is known for his courage. He wouldn’t be aboard the first vessel to flee. Its crew is therefore irrelevant.”

Kallus scoured the skies, but could only see large rebel vessels, and a smattering of x-wings and y-wings.

The Ghost was not there...not yet…

“Grand admiral, we have their frequency.”

“Excellent,” Thrawn said, walking to a small holoprojector. “Patch us through.”

The images of the rebel leaders flickered to life around the admiral. Kallus struggled to stand, but the stormtroopers grabbed his shoulders and held him in place.

“General Dodonna, Commander Sato, Captain Syndulla,” Thrawn greeted. “At last we meet in this theater of war, however briefly. There is no escape and your forces are badly outnumbered. This rebellion ends today.”

“We will never surrender to you Thrawn,” Kallus could hear Captain Syndulla say.

“You misunderstand, captain. I'm not accepting surrenders at this time. I want you to know failure, utter defeat, and that it is I who delivers it crashing down upon you. Now, let us proceed.”

The screen shutters off.

Thrawn looked back at Kallus, gazing thoughtfully at him.

“You must be enjoying this,” Kallus spat bitterly, pulling hard against his bindings. “Making me watch you carry out your victory.”

“I do not,” Thrawn said, simply.

“Then why am I here?”

Thrawn tilted his head. “Would you prefer it in your cell, Kallus? Would it be better to sit in isolation, only to hear the battle outside and not know who has fallen, who survived, who surrendered? I would think this to be preferable.”

Kallus said nothing. As much as he hated to admit it, it was preferable to be out here. At least on the bridge he could watch for the Ghost, and perhaps see their escape.

“You may return to your cell anytime you wish,” Thrawn offered.

“No,” Kallus said, his focus returning to the viewport. “I shall remain here.”

Thrawn nodded and returned his attention to the battle. “Then let us begin.”

------

Zeb was feeling good.

Better than good.

There was a strange sort of excitement crackling through him like a bunch of little fire poppers all being set off at once.

The Empire was here and they outnumbered the Rebellion.

But Zeb had learned from experience that numbers weren’t everything.

The Rebels had jedi on their side, they had skilled pilots, they had one lasat warrior hungry for a fight.

And more than anything else, they had hope. A scruffy-looking intelligence officer once told Zeb that Rebellions were built on hope.

Zeb agreed, but he also knew it was built on luck too, and the Rebels were blessed with a whole heap of that.

Zeb strapped himself into the gunner seat of the Ghost, grabbing the joysticks and testing their resistance. He could hear Rex plop into the seat at the other turret.

“Still glad you got mixed up in this rebellion, Rex?” Zeb called over the intercom.

“Ah, it beats slingin’ for joopas,” Rex replied.

“Does it? They sure do taste good.”

“Ah,” Rex sighed wistfully. “They do, don’t they?”

It felt good going out on a mission with the grizzled war vet. They had a lot in common, despite the age difference.

Zeb was no war veteran like Rex, but they both knew what it was like to lose everything in one fell swoop. Order 66 destroyed his fellow clones, took away their free will, made them wipe out the jedi to extinction. In a way Rex lost his comrades to the Empire as surely as Zeb had lost his people. Even if Zeb’s experience was vastly different from Rex’s, they both knew what it was like to feel helpless.

They also both knew what it was like to carry on afterwards.

Rex and Zeb didn’t talk much, especially not about feelings, but there was a powerful bond between them.

Every now and then Rex would get a bit soft-eyed and say, “I like ya, Zeb. Ya…‘get it’, ya know?” and give him a hard punch in the arm.

Zeb would grunt and punch him back with a grin. “Yeah. I know.”

That was all there was to it.

No talking, no feelings, just...getting it.

“So uh…” Rex hesitated. “You and um...Fulcrum?”

Zeb shifted in his seat. “Yeah?”

“You guys are…ya know...”

“Yeah, I mean as much as we can be?”

“And...he’s the same guy who tried ta’ kill us on Seelos when we first met, right?”

Zeb winched. “Yeah...yeah, that’d be him.”

“Huh…Alright, fair enough,”

The silence between them felt a bit awkward. He could practically hear the questions collecting in Rex’s brain.

“Ya know,” Rex said, suddenly. “There was this twi’lek girl who fancied me back when I first became captain. Woulda traded my best verp to spend just a day with her. But I’m a clone, genetically engineered to be a captain, ya know? Plus aging at twice the speed of a normal human, my destiny didn’t leave a lot of room for family. I told her not to wait. After Order 66, it was tempting to go back and find her, but asking her to live as a fugitive with a rapidly aging clone didn’t seem fair to her. I think about her sometimes. I wonder if she ever got married. I’d like to think she did, has a bunch of lil darlin’s runnin’ around. She deserves that.”

Zeb smiled. There was no life lesson there. No free advice. Rex was clunky with emotions, but his message was clear.

“You uhh...two talkin’ about family?”

Zeb coughed and cleared his throat. “Maybe...a loth-cat?”

Rex chuckled. “Well, it’ll have your ears and his bite, eh?”

Zeb laughed. “And we’re gonna definitely name’ it Rex.”

Rex let out a belly laugh. “I always knew you were sweet on me, Zeb.”

“Ah, can’t help it, ya heartbreaker!”

“Alright, boys, we’re ready to fly,” Hera called over the intercom.

“Roger that,” Rex replied.

“Ready n’ waitin’,” Zeb called out.

As the Ghost rose in the air, Zeb imagined Kallus sitting there in Ezra’s hideout in that comm tower on Lothal waiting for Zeb to come for him.

His heart ached, but it was a good ache.

They were going to win today, Zeb could feel it in his bones. They were going to win and he was going to go get his Kallus.

Zeb pulled out his necklace and kissed it softly.

“Be there soon, Kal. I promise.”

-----

Thrawn’s plan was perfect.

The position of each star destroyer was placed perfectly to form a flawless blockade. The gravity wells kept all rebel ships from jumping to hyperspace. The TIE fighters soared through and cut down fighter after fighter with deadly precision.

Kallus felt hope slipping away.

A large rebel frigate moved forward, placing itself between the bulk of the Rebel fleet and the Imperial blockade. Y-Wing fighters poured from the porous bulkhead like angry bees shaken from its hive, swarming the destroyers.

“Sato is employing a Denon tactic,” Thrawn mused calmly. “Bold, but I’d expect no less from the best commander to ever come out of the Mykapo system. Reinforce our center and send in the fighters.”

Thrawn activated the nearby holoprojector and Konstantine’s face hovered above the console.

“Yes, Grand Admiral?”

“Konstantine, keep your interdictor cruiser back until I order otherwise.”

Konstantine grimaced. “Why not just attack now with overwhelming force? I could-”

“Because I know these rebels. I’ve studied them. They will no doubt defy convention and attempt something unexpected. We will be prepared for it. As long as you do exactly as I say.”

Konstantine’s jaw clenched visibly. “As you wish.” And disconnected.

Kallus smirked. “Fighting over glory?”

Thrawn did not turn completely “I do not require glory, only results for my Emperor.”

“Funny, your ego dictates otherwise,” Kallus snickered. “I seem to recall you posturing in front of Captain Syndulla not that long ago. Something about wanting her to ‘know complete and utter defeat?’”

“My posturing, as you say, was meant to twist the knife on their already dire situation. A necessary performance as these rebels are...enthusiastic, but they lack control over such emotions. They will fight desperately, they will take risks, and ultimately they will make mistakes. A passionate engagement can lead to simple, and often times, critical mistakes. Observe...”

As if on cue, four Y-Wing fighters came swooping in towards the Chimera.

“Hold your fire,” Thrawn ordered the ensign. “Allow these rebels to draw first blood.”

“Yes, sir.” the ensign said, relaying Thrawn’s order to the gunners.

The star destroyer rumbled as all four y-wings made their hits. A few meaningless panels flew away from the Chimera’s bow.”

“They are emboldened now,” Thrawn explained. “When they make a second pass they will most likely not break formation. They are eager to destroy more of the Chimera rather than pulling back, regrouping and trying again at a later time, when it would be more opportune. Their hastiness will be their doom.”

The Y-Wings soared overhead, turning around for another attack. As predicted, they never broke formation.

“Ensign, fire at will.”

A deadly green storm of cannon fire burst forth.

One y-wing was blown away instantly. A hammerhead corvette joined their position suddenly.

“And now,” Thrawn narrated, “we have a corvette making an impulsive decision to provide cover fire for this squadron. However, the corvette will not be able to provide accurate cover at this angle. Likewise, the y-wings are now fleeing and leaving the hammerhead unguarded.” He turned to the ensign once again. “Signal our TIEs to take out the corvette as well.”

Kallus could not take his eyes away from the carnage even if he wanted to.

In moments, the corvette and two more fighters were obliterated with ease.

Kallus sat back on his heels. He wanted to look away. He wanted to go back to his cell. He wanted to curl up and wait for it all to be over.

But before the TIEs could take out the remaining Y-Wings another ship burst into view.

Kallus rose up only to be shoved back to down by the stormtroopers.

The Ghost took out three of the TIE fighters, just enough to allow the rest of the Y-Wings to retreat safely away from the Chimera’s cannons.

Every TIE that tried to target the small ship was met with a barrage of fire. Kallus’ heart flipped and lurched as he watched the pair of turrets. One was shooting wildly in all directions, taking out TIEs seemingly at random, while the other calmly picked off the enemy fighters one-by-one with deadly accuracy.

Kallus zeroed in on the wild shooter.

That is my Zeb, he thought, fear and excitement electrifying his nerves. My Zeb...

Suddenly, Sato’s frigate was on the move again. The TIE and Rebel fighters all scattered to make way for the sudden move.

“Capital ships, hold your position,” Thrawn reminded the blockade. “Their cruisers will have to come to us.”

Sato’s cruiser drew closer. Dangerously close.

And then it stopped, positioning itself near the capital ships, but not in range of any their canons.

What is Sato doing? Kallus thought.

Then it became clear.

Kallus’ heart sank.

Sato had made himself the perfect bait...but only if a cruiser broke the blockade to take the kill shot.

Konstantine fell for it. The interdictor broke formation and headed directly towards Sato’s ship.

“Konstantine,” Thrawn snapped. “Return to your assigned coordinates, immediately.”

“I’ve had enough of your games, ‘Grand’ Admiral,” Konstantine sneered over the comm.

Kallus watched the events play out in slow motion.

Konstantine’s ship shifted to a position to fire.

Sato’s vessel responded with a sharp turn. Engines flared as it charged towards the interdictor.

“Sato…”

Kallus’ thoughts fled back to his first meeting with the commander.

Up until then, Zeb had been Kallus’ only friend, the only one he could fully trust and know it was reciprocated. And that was after they had almost killed each other first on the Ice Moon.

When he spoke to Sato it was different. He gave Kallus something no one ever had before: benefit of the doubt. He never demanded an explanation of why Kallus wanted to leave the Empire, nor forced him to prove his new loyalty to the Rebellion through extreme measures.

Sato knew Zeb trusted him and that was enough.

“You will find yourself in compromising positions at times, Sato once said to him, and the urge to act will be stronger now that you are part of our cause...All of us would live and die for the Rebellion, and we know our Fulcrum agents’ lives are more precious than that. If you feel alone, if you feel isolated, please remember that we - all of us - thank you for your brave service to our cause.”

The Chimera trembled from the concussion of the blast as Sato and Konstantine’s ships collided and erupted into flame.

In a matter of moments both ships were annihilated.

The galaxy felt a little emptier.

“Sir,” the ensign reported, “one rebel ship escaped the blockade.”

Thrawn fumed, but his voice held steady. “Konstantine was careless. Let’s hope he did not undermine my efforts. Press the attack. Force them to ground.”

Kallus struggled against the stormtroopers grasp, desperate to see if it was the Ghost that had escaped. His heart sank moments later as he spotted the Ghost fly past the viewport, chased by several TIE fighters as it fled back to Atollon. The TIEs broke away the moment the Ghost hit the atmosphere and disappeared into the distance.

As the last of the ships fled planetside, Thrawn’s lips turned further upward into a satisfied smile. With a flare of anger Kallus realized the last time he had seen that smile on the chiss was when they had dined together as “friends”, taking that first bite of me’montri.

Kallus shot a look at Pryce expecting the same sort of sneer on her face. The governor, however, was not looking at the viewport. Her thoughts seemed elsewhere.

He looked back at the wreckage of the interdictor. He sighed.

Konstantine...

“Arihnda, I am sorry for your loss.”

Pryce shot a murderous look at Kallus, azure infernos burning within her bulbous eyes. Tucking her hands behind her back she walked towards Kallus and loomed over him.

“Lift him,” she commanded the troopers.

As the troopers yanked Kallus to his feet, Pryce stepped in close, glowering at him.

“You should be sorry for all the losses the Empire suffered today.”

Kallus could see the sadness within Pryce’s gaze despite her words. He should have just stayed silent. Maybe he should have felt some satisfaction at her pain. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stay silent.

Still...

“I only mean to say…I know how close you and Kass-”

The slap Kallus received stung his resolve more than his already throbbing face.

“You are not worthy to say Kassius’ name,” Pryce snarled. Kallus noticed Thrawn’s head had turned ever so slightly, listening in on the exchange. “He was a fool and that cost him his life, but he was loyal and honest, which is more than what I can say about you.”

Kallus felt a lump form in his throat. He wished he could say that he was sorry for how things turned out. He wished he could explain why he betrayed the Empire in a way she would understand. And honestly, he wished he could adequately express that he was truly sorry Pryce had lost one of the few close friends she had in the Empire.

“I know...I am sorry, Arihnda.”

Pryce’s hand twitched as if she was contemplating issuing a second slap.

“Governor Pryce,” Thrawn interrupted. “What is the status of the blockade?”

Pryce shot a final scathing look at Kallus before walking away and pulling out her datapad.

“The blockade is secure.” Pryce confirmed.

“And the status of the rebel fleet?”

“The remaining vessels have fled back to the surface and are taking shelter under a localized shield.”

Thrawn thought for a moment. “Very good. Let’s test their mettle. Commence the attack.”

For a moment Kallus almost wished he was still on his knees. From this view he could see too much. While the wreckage of Sato’s cruiser and Konstantine’s interdictor floated ominously by, Kallus could see the remaining ships making a desperate run to Atollon’s surface. Too frequently small pops of explosions came from ships cut off by TIE fighters.

Kallus could also see the readouts Thrawn laid out before him, including the rebel base’s shield strength. Currently, it was at one hundred percent.

The whirr of the Chimera’s cannons warming up reverberated on the bridge. Through the viewport, Kallus could see turrets rise out of each star destroyer, all aimed at the shield on the planet’s surface.

“Fire.”

Green streaks of cannon fire rained down on the planet’s surface.

In a matter of minutes, the shield’s capacity was reduced to eight-five percent.

In another few moments, it was down to seventy.

Kallus watched helplessly as the fleet unleashed a relentless barrage on the singular shield; a shield that was all that stood between the death from above and his Zeb.

Forty-five percent...

Even if Kallus could charge at Thrawn, even if he could somehow slam into the trajectory panel, it would do little good. At best he could take out a few of the canons on the other star destroyers, but at a stand-still Kallus had no hope in destroying the Chimera, nor could he take any other ships down with him.

Thirty-two percent.

There was nothing he could do.

Zeb had once told him of the Ashla and the Bogan, the light and the dark sides of the Force. Zeb had said that even though he abandoned his faith after Lasan’s fall, there were times when he found himself looking to Ashla for guidance.

Twenty-three percent...
Ashla, Kallus shut his eyes. If you can hear me, please, protect Garazeb Orrelios. If I have to sacrifice my life for his I give it up willingly. He is everything to me. Please, just let him be safe.

“They’ve had enough,” Thrawn said, suddenly. “Cease fire.”

Kallus’ eyes shot open.

Twelve percent...and holding.

The cannons quieted.

All fell still.

“Governor Pryce,” Thrawn said, walking calmly across the bridge, “you’re in command of the fleet while I lead the ground assault.”

A peculiar thought came to Kallus as he watched Thrawn pass by. It was an image of himself storming down a hallway towards his shuttle, donning his helmet, armed with his bo-rifle, a confident smirk across his face. He was a man preparing to win the day.

That image was followed by another: Kallus returning from his shuttle, bo-rifle in hand, helmet at his side, a scowl on his face. He was a man suffering the sting of defeat.

That scenario had occurred so many times.

Kallus laughed aloud, too exhausted to hold back, too tired to care about the consequences.

Thrawn paused. “The plight of your friends amuses you?”

“I’ve been in your position before,” Kallus replied, “only to have these rebels pull a victory from certain defeat.”

Thrawn bristled. “You and I are not the same, Kallus, as these rebels are about to learn.”

A knot formed in Kallus’ gut.

True, Thrawn was not Kallus. Then again, this did not negate the fact that the Rebels had an uncanny amount of luck when it came to hopeless situations.

Zeb had taught him when all was lost, hope was something to cling to.

Right now it was all Kallus had left.

-----

*Kalunk bop, Kalunk bop, Kalunk bop*

The rhythmic sound of the AT-DP walkers were heard long before Zeb and Rex could see them.

“I hope this plan of yours works,” Zeb said, as the walkers drew closer to the hidden explosives lining the valley.

“Yeah, me too,” Rex sighed, looking through the macrobinoculars.

“Here they come,” Zeb warned.

Rex clicked the detonator and one-by-one the little walkers’ feet were blasted from beneath them.

One walker, however, managed to push through the shield’s barrier.

“Left one for ya,” Rex said.

Zeb grinned.

There was a special sort of glee Zeb felt at using the grenade lobber function of Matilda, his bo-rifle. Matilda was a part of Zeb, had been for a long time. It felt good to use every bit of her power in the field like this.

Let’s show ‘em how it's done, girl, he thought, planting his feet and swinging Matilda onto his shoulder.

The grenade soared through the air with a satisfying whistle. He could feel the explosion rumble within his chest as the little AT-DP burst into flames.

Zeb felt his heart flutter suddenly, wondering if Kallus would have been impressed with the way he handled the launcher. He couldn’t wait to show Kal all the neat weaponry the rebellion had for them. Maybe they could go out and test a few of them one day.

Kal and Matilda would get along, Zeb decided. And he’d look good with her on his shoulder.

A familiar sound echoed through the narrow valley in the distance.

Zeb’s ears flicked nervously.

“I know that sound,” Rex frowned.

“Yeah, and I hate that sound,” Zeb replied.

“Lousy four-leggers,” Rex growled when the first of the AT-AT Imperial walkers lumbered into view.

“Hit ‘em with the detonators,” Zeb suggested.

The detonators did nothing. All they could do was watch the monstrous mechanical beasts push through the energy shield with ease.

Zeb snarled. “We need Sabine to invent a shield they can’t walk through.”

“Let’s hope we get the chance to tell her.”

Rex and Zeb ran towards the base, scarlet red blaster fire searing the ground around them. His heart thundered in his ears, blaster bolts sizzled by his head.

He looked to Rex who was grinning wildly. “Your boyfriend better not be the one shootin’ at us, Zeb.”

Zeb laughed. “I promise he ain’t this time.”

TIE and Rebel fighters screamed overhead, only adding to the chaos. The AT-ATs began to turn their attention away from Zeb and Rex towards the base itself.

Zeb skidded to a halt first, and Rex followed suit. Flipping Matilda back into rifle mode he began to blast away at the underside of the AT-AT’s massive head.

The blaster did little more than score the plastoid armor, but Zeb knew there was a sweet spot or two near the neck if he could just...get there…

The AT-ATs suddenly shifted their cannons down at the annoyance beneath them.

Zeb exchanged a quick look with Rex before they both dove for cover. Heavy scarlet fire surrounded them once again. Chunks of rock crumbled around them. If Zeb moved now he’d be blasted for sure, but if he stayed, it wouldn’t be long before there was no cover at all to protect him.

He blew out a steadying breath and imagined the holoimage of Kallus he kept saved on his datapad. Kal kneeling on the bed, hands in his lap, posture perfect and posh, smiling shyly at the camera. That image was going to get him through the day. That image was going to keep Zeb alive.

Suddenly the hum of a lightsaber cut through the noisy clanking from the walkers.

Zeb peeked from around the battered rock wall to see Kanan fly through the air, landing on the back leg of one walker and slice through it like a hot knife through butter. Another acrobatic feat and a second swish of the light blade on the front leg and the lead imperial walkers fell hard to the ground.

“Kanan!” Zeb exclaimed. “Glad you could join us. Hera said you’re bringing help?”

“Maybe!” Kanan panted as he ran by. “Maybe not!”

A storm crackled in the distance.

A storm? Zeb wondered. In all the time he had been on Atollon, they had never seen a storm unless it was made of dust. This felt different...electrical...otherworldly.

Kanan, Rex and Zeb ran through the maze of tunnels through the base, stormtroopers pouring out of every hallway as they ran by.

Zeb kept his head down and his mind focused on Kal’s smile.

They just had to get to the Ghost. Just a farther...

Ezra, you better be bringing a whole army with ya, kid. We’re gonna need one to get outta this mess.

-----

“Governor, we have ships approaching,” piped a petty officer.

“Rebel reinforcements?” Pryce frowned.

Kallus’ heart leapt.

“Mandalorian by the look of them,” the officer replied.

“Sabine Wren…” Pryce’s lip curled. “Send fighters to intercept, and move our capital ships to reinforce them.”

Kallus brightened as he saw the mandalorian cruisers soar by, dodging the TIE fighters with ease. There were not many of them, but if the legends were true, mandalorians were never one to be intimidated from being outnumbered.

Several small figures spewed from one of the ships, landing on the interdictor and moving towards the gravity wells.

Kallus grinned.

There it was, that ubiquitous wildcard that always seemed to come out of nowhere that allowed the rebels to limp to victory every time.

Whether it was Ashla, the Light Side, or just dumb luck, something was looking out for the Rebellion.

If the interdictor went down, then the fleet could jump to hyperspace and escape.

Kallus eyed Pryce for a moment. Her attention was laser-focused on the events unfolding before her, beyond her control.

Thrawn was gone...which meant there was no one on the bridge to predict his moves. Pryce was certainly no mastermind. Proud and willful, absolutely, but observant? Not in the slightest.

The wheels in Kallus’ throbbing head began to turn.

He saw his window of opportunity beginning to open.

But for now, he would wait...

-----

Ezra came through alright.

He and the mandalorians were taking down the gravity wells up in the sky which meant Zeb and his crew still had a chance to get off the damn dustball planet before the Empire blasted them apart.

Or before the storm blows us away, Zeb thought, warily glancing at the clouds rolling towards them.

“Looks like the family’s together again,” Kanan quipped as they ran towards the hangar.

“Let’s try to keep it that way,” Hera replied.

And we’ll be adding a new member soon, Zeb thought with a grin.

A crackle of electricity erupted from the shield. With a thunderous boom the blue blanket of energy surrounding the base melted into nothing.

“There goes our shield,” Zeb growled.

Things began to unravel quickly after that.

A transport burst into flames after taking a direct hit from an approaching AT-AT, TIE fighters swarmed like angry wasps to pick off small groups of rebels and fighters in the sky, and then…

...then there was Thrawn.

Emerging from the smoke and ash of the fallen transport like a demon clad in white.

Zeb gripped his bo-rifle tightly as the grand admiral approached.

“And now, Captain Syndulla,” Thrawn purred. “I will accept your formal surrender, or you will watch your friends perish one-by-one, beginning with the jedi.”

Kanans’ lightsaber hummed to life.

Hera stood firm.

Zeb bared his teeth. “Over my dead body,” he growled.

Thrawn looked over at Zeb and arched an eyebrow. “So this is Garazeb Orrelios.”

Zeb stiffened. “What of it?”

“It was you who coaxed our esteemed Agent Kallus over to the Rebellion, is it not?”

Zeb rose to his full height, towering over the grand admiral. “Yeah. Yeah, it was me.”

Thrawn tilted his head. “I am sorry his defection did not work out the way you intended.”

“It ain’t over yet,” Zeb bristled.

“Ah, I am afraid it is. However, I am not without compassion. If you have any last words for him, I will be sure to deliver them personally.”

Zeb blinked. “What do you mean you’ll deliver them?”

“He is detained aboard my ship. Safe for now, and shall be awaiting trial once we return to Coruscant.”

Zeb’s whole world shifted. He stared dumbfounded at Thrawn for several heartbeats.

Kal was caught delivering that message. This whole time he was aboard the Chimera. This whole time...

Rage surged through Zeb, molten fury filling his core. “You tell Kal that I’m comin’ for him. That no matter where he is, no matter how many ships stand between me n’ him, I’ll take you all down to save him.”

“A very noble thought” Thrawn said, mildly and shifted his attention back to Hera. “I require an answer.”

“You already know my answer,” Hera snapped.

Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder boomed in the distance. Kanan flinched.

Thrawn eyed him curiously. “Do you fear the storm, master jedi?”

“Yeah,” Kanan said, frankly, “and you should too.”

The winds picked up. Lightning struck the ground around the base in rapid succession.

“Hang on to something,” Kanan yelled.

Thrawn turned to the storm, backing up, his scarlet eyes widening. “What jedi devilry is this?”

“I am the Bendu.” Boomed an unseen voice overhead.

“What is that?” Zeb asked, hesitantly bringing his bo-rifle up to the sky.

“I bring death!”

The Bendu…

Zeb recognized the name, the brother to the Ashla and the Bogan, but of all the stories he had heard, he had never known The One in the Middle to be a deathbringer.

“Leave this place! I am the light, I am the dark, I am the Bendu.”

Lightning was being cast in all directions. AT-ATs crumpled after the first few strikes, the next ones took out a few fighters. Thrawn and his troopers were distracted and that’s all the rebels needed to make their escape.

“You heard him!” Kanan shouted. “Make for the ship!”

Zeb ran after his crew and General Dodonna into the Ghost, securing everyone in their seats before strapping himself in.

The ride was intense.

Zeb should have been scared.

And, in truth, he was, but not for himself.

This whole time, Zeb thought, another lightning strike hitting close to the Ghost’s wing. Kal has been with Thrawn. Did they hurt him? Is he being tortured as we speak? Am I going to be too late? Zeb gritted his teeth. No, this is not how it ends for him. Once we’re in orbit...as soon as I see the Chimera I’m going to get him back.

He hoped no one would try and stop him.

Rex might…He could picture the big burly bloke try to block him and convince him it was a suicide run.

It was a suicide run.

That didn’t matter.

Zeb and Kal were going to make it out of the Chimera together...or neither would.

Either way, they were going to be together.

----

“Governor, the enemy fighters have deployed a strike team on the hull of our interdictor.”

“Well repel them,” Pryce snapped. “We will not lose to this rabble!”

Glee snaked its way into Kallus’ belly at Pryce’s frustration. Like annoying little insects, the mandalorians zipped and flew around the gravity wells, firing at them mercilessly while dodging enemy fire from fighters and canons alike. Kallus blinked in surprise to see a long green stream of light emerge from one of the little “insects.”

It looked like a lightsaber blade.

Ezra? Ezra was in that small ship that escaped. Kal smiled. Well done…

Blue and purple energy sparks exploded around the interdictor as a chain reaction broke apart the entire hull.

It reminded Kallus of the day Zeb had exploded a star destroyer full of infiltrator droids. That was a good day. This, too, could still be a good day...Kallus just had to plan his moves carefully.

The mandalorians and Ezra scurried back to their ships just in time before the last of the interdictor was completely annihilated.

The rebels could jump to hyperspace at any time.

“Governor! We have a problem,” said the ensign.

“I don’t want to hear it! Just...stop them! Nothing gets through!”

There! That is my cue. If ever there was a chance, it would be now.

Kallus grinned. “Thrawn is not going to be happy that you’re making a mess of his fleet.”

As predicted Pryce bristled furiously. “Throw this traitor out the airlock.”

Kallus gave Pryce the satisfaction of looking alarmed as the troopers dragged him off the bridge, ignoring the excitement crackling within him.

As the troopers shoved him into the main elevator, Kal’s warning to Thrawn surfaced in his head.

“I’ve been in your position before only to have these rebels pull a victory from certain defeat.”

As the doors of the elevator began to close, a smile crept on Kallus’ face.

There was one thing Thrawn and the rest of the Empire failed to recognize.

Kal was a rebel now.

And he was far from defeated.

-----

Zeb entered the Ghost’s co*ckpit and strapped himself into the chair behind Hera.

Ezra hailed them. “Hera, we took out the interdictor, you’re all clear.”

Hera sighed in relief. “That’s the first good news I’ve gotten today.”

“Meet me at Point 87,” Ezra replied. “We’ll lead the way.”

“Copy that.”

Zeb looked over Hera’s shoulder at the readout displays. He saw a small bar for the Phantom’s fuel gauge.

It was half-full, but ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice.

Just enough fuel to get to the Chimera, Zeb thought, exhaling a slow breath. We’ll have to steal another ship once I get Kal. No problem. No problem at all...

A few moments later, the Chimera was in view, looming over the battle like a great raptor.

I have to go now. I’ll never get another chance.

Zeb was about to press the release on his seatbelt.

“We got an incoming transmission,” Hera said, puzzled.

The Fulcrum signal burst to life.

“It’s Kallus!” Zeb exclaimed. Numbers scrolled across the bottom of the display. “He’s sending coordinates!”

Hera searched the scanners. “There’s an escape pod on my scope.”

Relief and terror were a maelstrom within Zeb’s gut. Ships exploded around them, cannon fire came from all sides, and there in the distance was a single escape pod, unguarded, unprotected, thrusters sputtering pitifully.

Zeb didn’t blink.

He didn’t breathe.

Kal...hang in there. We’re almost there...

-----

Kallus had to be realistic.

Too many things could still go wrong.

He had taken out the guards in the elevator at the Chimera.

He had found an escape pod and jettisoned into space.

He had managed to pull up his Fulcrum frequency and relay it it to the Ghost.

That is far too much good luck in one small timeframe, Kal.

Of all people in the galaxy, Kallus was not one that deserved this sort of good luck.

And so Kallus gazed out into open space, watching rebel ships disappear one-by-one as they made the jump to hyperspace.

Streaks of green energy bolts flew past him. One hit to his small pod and it would be over. One hit and that would be the end of it.

A strange calmness came over him. If I die now it would be alright. The Rebellion will still live on. Zeb will still live on. Everything will be alright.

Even when the Ghost burst into view, Kallus did not dare celebrate...not yet. He still half-expected it to zip out of sight. The signal he sent was faint. They may not have heard it.

And still it would be alright…

Yet, the Ghost was flying closer.

Kallus did not blink.

He dared not breathe.

He shut his eyes.

The whole cabin jolted as the magnetic clamps took hold of the escape pod and suddenly Kallus watched Atollon, the battle, and the Empire drift further and further away.

The galaxy owes me nothing, Kallus thought, his heart lurching as he heard the hatch of the escape pod open. This can’t be real. I do not deserve-

The escape pod swung open and for a single wonderful moment the silhouette of the man standing before him looked almost like a lasat…

It was not, though.

Kallus froze.

The face that looked at him was the face of the enemy since before Kallus had graduated the Imperial academy.

Except this face did not contain the cold-killer stoicism of those wanted posters. This face was smiling at him. A snowy white beard framed that warm smile, and wrinkles gathered around glittering blue eyes.

“So you are Fulcrum?” General Dodonna said, his voice weathered and tired. “The Rebellion’s Little Miracles?”

Kallus’ heart panged at the title.

It felt odd to claim an honorary title he did not feel was deserved. “I suppose I am?”

Dodonna held out his hand. “Then allow me be the first to welcome to the Rebellion, Kallus.”

Kallus did not realize just how hard he was shaking until he took Dodonna’s hand.

The Rebellion. I’m here. I made it.

A spark of panic shot through him.

“Where is Garazeb Orrelios? Is he here? Is he safe?”

The General blinked. “Zeb? Ah, yes I believe so. We are not out of the woods yet, we should probably get to the co*ckpit, then I can introduce you to the whole Spectre crew if you like.”

Kallus opened his mouth to clarify, but nodded. There was no time. “Of course.”

They hurried to the co*ckpit of the Ghost.

Dodonna burst into the co*ckpit first, Kallus close behind. From the back of the small room Kal could only see the back of a bald armored rebel and a viewport filled with nothing but empty space.

There was no star destroyers, no TIEs, no Empire.

Just...freedom.

The stars stretched across the darkness of space, and the nightmares of the Empire were light years away from him at last.

“Alright, everyone,” Hera announced as the Ghost flew towards the rendezvous. “We aren’t done yet. Let’s get the injured to the med bay, count our numbers and record our losses. We’re safe for now. Great work, everyone.”

The armored bald man in front of Kallus turned around and another enemy of the Empire was staring him in the face. An enemy Kallus had almost killed the first time he met him: the infamous Captain Rex.

“Well, if it ain’t Fulcrum himself!”

A crash sounded in the co*ckpit.

Everyone jumped.

A pair of pointed purple ears appeared from behind Dodonna.

“Zeb?!” Kallus gasped the same time he heard. “Kal?!”

Dodonna practically leapt to the side as Zeb pushed through. Kallus choked out a laugh and a sob, throwing his arms around Zeb’s neck and was practically lifted in the air as Zeb wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tight. Kal buried his face in Zeb’s shoulder. Tears filled his eyes. Every part of him trembled.

“Zeb… Zeb…” No other words came to him. He felt Zeb stroke the back of his head, hold him tight around his waist.

“I got you, Kal.” Zeb purred softly. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

Home…

He felt home. Not in the Ghost, not in the co*ckpit, but here in the warm embrace of Garazeb Orrelios. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he did not bother to hold them back. He needed to feel everything. He had the freedom to feel everything. At last he could let go and be the man he always wanted to be.

An honest man, a good man, and now a free man.

Kallus barely noticed the Ghost crew quietly exit the co*ckpit. He heard General Dodonna, “Did I miss someth-”

The door hissed shut. They were alone.

Zeb loosened his embrace just enough to bring a velvety finger under Kallus’ chin, drawing his eyes to the lasat’s face. Kal could not remember seeing anything as beautiful as those green emerald orbs gazing at him. Zeb’s skin was the color of fresh lilacs, his gray stripes swooping around his face like brushstrokes of a careful artist, the tender smile on those full lips broke as he looked over Kallus’ face.

“Kal…” Zeb rumbled softly, his fingers barely touching Kal’s jaw. “What did they do to you?”

Kallus was sure he must have looked a mess. It was painful to keep his left eye open and his lip and forehead burned where it was cut. He felt bruising on his cheeks and that was not counting the bruises and sprains on the rest of him.

He didn't care about any of it.

He smiled softly. “I am alright. It is over now.”

Zeb’s ears wilted. “I didn’t know they had you. I thought you were safe on Lothal after you sent us that message. If I had known...”

“If you had known you would have planned some sort of insane rescue that may have failed. I am here. None of it matters now.”

A glassiness came over Zeb’s eyes and he blinked the moisture away. “Karabast,” he swore, “I really didn't want to cry in front of you.”

Kal laughed, his cheeks still cold from the tracts of his tears. “Well I made no so such promise and here I am all weepy.”

Still, Zeb dropped his eyes. “Am I…okay?”

Kal blinked “what?”

Zeb’s embrace loosened a bit. “Holding you. Being here like this. I just...I was so happy to-”

Kal reached up and touched Zeb’s cheeks. The skin was soft, the edge of his beard was thick and silky. It felt surreal to be touching him like this, and yet it felt so natural. The sound of his voice, the way he talked, it all was so familiar and comfortable. Seeing him now, being able to touch him and see him like this, in a new light.

“You are perfect. Please, just hold me. I have been dreaming of this moment for so long.”

Zeb held him close again. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

Kal laid his head on his shoulder. “Neither can I. This feels like a dream. I am afraid I will wake up and be back in that cell again.” He shivered. “I cannot go back, Zeb.”

Zeb’s embrace tightened, one hand rubbed his shoulder softly. “I will tear down every last stormtrooper, walker, a kriffin’ star destroyer with my bear hands to keep you safe, Kal.”

Kal smiled. “Your bo-rifle might serve us better.”

Zeb chuckled. “Yeah, but I sound tougher sayin’ I’ll use my hands.”

Kal shared in the soft laughter, his tension beginning to ease.

He could hear voices in the next room. Sabine Wren asked “Where's Zeb?”

Zeb’s body tensed for a moment. With an ache in his chest Kal said, “You should go to them.”

“No.”

Kal looked up and saw the desperation in Zeb’s eyes as if Kal was going to fly away if he did not hold on.

“I will be here waiting for you, but you still have duties in the Rebellion. We have plenty more time to be together.”

Zeb growled. “Fine...I’ll be back. Anyway, you should get to the medical droid and get looked over.”

“I am fine.”

Zeb narrowed his gaze. “Kal… Please?”

Kal sighed. “As you wish.” He supposed he would not mind them examining his ribs and the pain in his bad leg.

They held each other for a while longer. Kal drank in every detail of Zeb’s face, reveled in being held in a way no one had ever held him before, enjoying a moment of peace between them.

And best of all: he finally saw Zeb’s smile he had only seen in holoimages.

He loved Zeb’s smile so very much.

“We should go,” Kallus said, ignoring the blush rising in his face. “Show me where the…” he wrinkled his nose. “Medical droid lurks.”

Zeb laughed and took his hand. “Come on.”

They found Sabine Wren with Hera and a handful of rebels in a common area. They stood around a Dejarik table that also doubled as a secret holoprojector for Rebel frequencies. A few symbols Kallus did not recognize hovered over the table.

“Hey Zeb!” Sabine waved.

Her arm paused mid-wave as she saw Kallus, but then she seemed to force herself to complete the gesture. “Hi...Kallus.”

Everyone in the common area turned to him.

Everyone.

Kallus forced himself to not shrink away and raised a hand. “Hello, Sabine.”

Hera nodded to the both of them, but before she could say anymore, the Dejarik table projected a new transmission. The image of a mandalorian woman popped up on the table. She gave Zeb a small nod which he returned.

“It’s just through that door. I’ll be on the other side if you need me.” Zeb said, squeezing Kallus’ hand. “You gonna be okay?”

Kal nodded. “Of course, I will see you when you are finished.”

Zeb smiled. “I can’t wait.”

The moment Zeb released his hand Kallus felt...adrift. Floating in a sea surrounded by Rebels. Rebels who recognized him and Rebels he recognized in return, some by reputation, others because he had hunted them, arrested them, or interrogated personally.

Lowering his gaze, he walked through the door Zeb had indicated, only to find more rebels lining a short hallway where a medical droid attended them. They all stopped to look up.

No one said a word.

Clenching and unclenching his fists a few times, he walked through the hall finding a small corner out of everyone’s way. He folded his arms and kept his eyes downcast, trying to ignore the occasional looks cast his way.

When the door opened again, Kallus’ heart panged unexpectedly. It was Kanan Jarrus, walking through the hall, gait calm and face pensive.

Somehow the jedi’s presence was a comfort. Not exactly a friendly face considering their history, but the jedi had risked his life to help rescue Kallus, that meant something…that meant everything to the ex-imperial.

“Kanan,” Kallus called out.

The jedi paused and turned his sightless eyes towards the agent.

“Thank you,” Kallus said, wilting a little, “for taking me in.”

He braced himself for Kanan to tell him the jedi had no choice, that perhaps it was a mistake, or maybe a curt “you’re welcome” and move on.

Instead Kanan put a hand on Kallus’ shoulder. “Thank you for risking everything.”

A warmth spread across Kallus as Kanan walked away. Kallus would always feel at home with Zeb, but now Kallus realized perhaps there was a home for him in the Rebellion too.

“Are you Fulcrum?” Someone asked.

Kallus turned to see a pair of pilots, a woman with her arm in a sling, and a younger man with a bandage around his chest, both looking at him.

“I am,” he said to the woman.

“But you’re also Agent Kallus,” the man pressed.

Kallus nodded.

The two rebels exchanged a furtive glance before the woman stepped forward.

Kallus tried not to flinch as she held out her uninjured hand. “Thank you...for all you’ve done for us.”

“Y-you are welcome,” he replied, clasping her hand.

“It is an honor,” the man said, offering his hand as well.

As Kallus shook the man’s hand, the medical droid approached.

“I will see you now,” the droid intoned.

Kallus frowned. “I only just arrived here, there are others to attend to.”

“They asked I see to you first.”

Kallus looked over at the rebels who all smiled tiredly and waved at him.

“Th-thank you so very much.”

Kallus had a sprain on his wrist and a hairline fracture on his rib and some minor cuts and scrapes. Miraculously he did not break his leg again during his fight with Thrawn, but the medical droid insisted he not do any running for a while.

“Can I have him back now, Doc?”

Kallus’ heart leapt at seeing Zeb smiling at him from the doorway. Then he looked back hopefully at the droid. “May I go?”

The medical droid shrunk his tri-pupils for a moment. “Yes, just stay off that leg as much as you can. Check back with me in a few days so I can keep an eye on those ribs too.”

Kallus nodded. “Thank you for looking me over.” He then turned to the others in the hallway. “Thank you as well.”

The three injured Rebels nodded to him and took turns shaking his hand as he passed.

“You okay?” Zeb asked with a soft smile.

Kallus managed a small nod. “This is a lot to take in, but I am doing well.”

“Do ya want to get out of here for a little bit?” Zeb’s ears flicked anxiously. “I can show you your quarters.”

A quiet thrill came over Kallus at the prospect of finally being alone with Zeb. “Yes, I would love that.” Kallus squeezed Zeb hand. “Lead the way.”

The moment they walked through the common area Hera Syndulla perked up her head.

“Kallus,” she called.

“Karabast,” Zeb mumbled and then glanced at Kallus. “Ah, sorry, I know this is kind of your day.”

“My day?”

“I mean, everyone is gonna want to meet you.”

Kallus looked at him blankly. “Zeb, many of these people surrounding me are people I have personally hunted throughout my career. There is no way they want to meet me now.”

Zeb gave a small shrug as Kallus turned to Hera. “Yes, Captain Syndulla?”

Not only did Hera approach him, but Sabine and another tall, strapping Mandalorian followed her, as did General Dodonna, Dutch Vander, Wedge Antilles, and a slew of ragtag rebels.

They all surrounded him.

Hera held out her hand, “I just want to say on behalf of the Rebellion: thank you. I admit I had more than a few reservations about your alliance with us, but time and again you have proven to be an ally we can truly count on. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in your position, risking your life every day within the belly of the beast. Just know that we are all eternally grateful for what you've done for us. Welcome to the Rebellion, Captain Kallus.”

Kallus’ eyes widened. “Captain?!”

Hera grinned and turn to the Rebellion, “Here's to Captain Kallus!”

Everyone cheered. “Captain Kallus!”

Kallus looked at all of the smiling faces, overwhelmed by the positive energy flowing through the room. When he agreed to become Fulcrum, he convinced himself that doing a good job was enough. He was content in knowing he made a difference and no thanks was truly needed. Yet, in his heart, he always secretly hoped that one day someone would cheer his name, that someone would be happy to have him on their side. Not to be another mindless follower, not to be used as a tool, not be a scapegoat, but instead be a part of something good and honest and decent.

And now he was.

He truly was home.

Hera glanced down at Kallus’ hand. He had not realized just how tightly he was clutching Zeb’s hand until that moment. Hera gave them both a soft smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she announced. “Let's let our new captain get settled in. We still have work to do.”

As the crowd dispersed, Zeb and Kallus made their escape down a small hallway towards a room that looked like it had lost a vicious battle to a rainbow.

“It is…colorful.”

And truly it was. Neon greens, hot pinks, and so many other colors Kallus did not have a name for were spattered all over the quarters. There were stencil art of stormtrooper helmets covered in red x’s, tags of mandalorian words over stark green backgrounds, and one wall held several meticulously painted works of art made with a small brush. Kallus scanned the wall, fascinated by the detail in the images: Hera and Kanan together as a couple, a colorful image of the C1 unit known as Chopper and there was a third image...

“Zeb? Is that…”

“Haha, yeah, that’s us.”

Kallus could not believe his eyes. He walked over to the pair of wide grinning faces on the wall. A bright purple Zeb pressed his cheek against a brightly smiling cartoon image of himself. “She drew me,” Kal said, baffled. “She drew us.”

“Yeah, she did it right after you saved her life and I told her about us being on the Ice Moon together.”

“No one’s ever drawn me before. No one’s ever been this kind to me before…” A surge of emotion swelled in Kallus’ chest. “I can’t...why…” He shut his mouth tight knowing his words would never be enough to express how he felt.

“Well, get used to it,” Zeb said, softly, standing behind Kallus and sliding his arms around his waist. “You’re one of us now. And we take care of our own. Hey...you’re shaking again. You wanna sit?”

“I am fine,” Kallus said, automatically.

“Kal…” Zeb turned Kallus around and stroked his good cheek. “Seriously, take a load off.”

“I do not…‘take a load off’.”

“Maybe not in the Empire, but you’re here now and you gotta rest.” He tapped gently on Kallus’ breastplate. “At least take the armor off? I promise no one’s gonna shoot ya here.”

Kallus looked down at his armor and frowned. It was so perfectly formed to Kallus’ body that sometimes he forgot he was wearing it at all. It would be strange to not wear it any longer. But then...it was time for many changes in Kallus’ life, he supposed removing his Imperial armor was a start.

He unclipped the shoulder straps and eased the cuirass over his head, feeling his bruised muscles along his ribs strain and groan as he stretched. With a grimace he set the armor on a small shelf.

“We can chuck it out the airlock later.” Zeb snorted.

“Actually, I would prefer to keep it. It has saved my life more than once. I am still rather fond of it despite its origin.”

Zeb nodded thoughtfully. “Sure, yeah that makes sense. If ya want, Sabine can paint it up for you. Make it your own.”

“Would she?” Kallus wondered looking over at the armor’s bland surface. “I would not mind a Fulcrum symbol in place of the rank squares.”

Zeb’s ears flicked excitedly. “Yeah! That’d look great!”

Kallus unbuckled his belt and worked himself out of the stiff tunic. He breathed a relieved sigh as if the uniform’s very material was an oppressive blanket of which he was finally free. His dog tags jingled as he slowly pulled them out from under his gray tank shirt. He pulled them off and draped the uniform and tags over the breastplate.

Zeb’s ears wilted as he looked over Kallus’ form. “Kal…?”

Kallus’ heart lurched. “Wait! No! Hold on, I have it here!” Quickly he unbuttoned the side pocket of his pants and pulled out the leather string and pendant.

“Karabast,” Zeb swore softly. “I thought maybe Thrawn had taken it…”

Kallus turned the pendant over in his hands. “I have no doubt he would have. It was Lyste who hid it for me.”

“They released him?”

“They did.”

“That’s great! Er...that is great, right? I mean...considering...I know you were worried for him.”

Kallus nodded. “It is...I wish I could have taken him with me.”

“Not everyone is brave enough to leave the Empire like you did, Kal. Maybe in time...maybe we can try to reach out to him.”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to at least try.” Kal unclasped the necklace and raised it to his neck.

“Wait,” Zeb chirped. “May I...can I put it on you?”

“Of course,” Kal blushed, handing the necklace over.

“Kal,” Zeb said, looking at him seriously. “Are you sure? I mean, now that you know what the necklace means...I can put it on you properly. We can...we can do this properly.”

Kallus matched his gaze. “Garazeb Orrelios, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Zeb looked down at the necklace...then back at Kallus.

Quietly, he reached around and clasped the necklace onto Kallus’ neck. The weight of it was comforting, like a piece of him had been missing until that moment. Kallus sighed softly. “You have no idea how much this necklace has kept my sanity, Zeb.” Kallus mused as his fingers ran over the rough wood. “It was all I had…”

Zeb reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out his own. Kallus reached out and touched it. It was slightly larger than his own, but aside from that it was identical in every way.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, Kal.” Zeb closed a hand over Kallus’ and pressed it to his heart. Kal could feel the lasat’s heartbeat quicken. “I promise, from now on, you never will feel alone again.”

Kallus looked up at Zeb and stepped in close. “Zeb…” He looked into those beautiful moonglow eyes, green and glassy, warm and inviting. He looked at a face that had seen so much war and death and destruction and yet was able to soften like this, to be tender and look at Kal as if he was the only one in the world that mattered.

And in truth, the only thing that mattered to Kallus was this moment, looking at Zeb, knowing that Zeb was his...and that together they had taken this first step.

And at last, Kallus could officially take that second step he yearned to take for so long.

“Garazeb,” Kallus breathed. “Ni trett wo an patr en ot, ei kah nalc dra dah oon.”

Garazeb, No matter how far apart we are, I shall always walk with you.

Zeb’s mouth hung open. His eyes brimmed with tears. “Kal…” He stepped in close and took Kal’s hands. He knelt down, looking up at him with eyes full of devotion. His voice was a low purr, his accent thickened beautifully with words that came easily off his tongue. “Ni trett dan kresti, en dra eesha.”

No matter the distance, we walk together.

Kal let out a half-choked sob and relieved laugh. “Did I say it right? I hope I did…”

Zeb grinned through the tears streaming freely down his face. “Perfectly. And that Core world accent sounds kinda amazing in lasan.”

Kallus blushed. “I suppose I should try to lose the accent then. I do not fancy myself ever sounding anything less than a-”

“Than a man who managed to escape the evil clutches of the Empire just to be with his lasat boyfriend?”

“Well...if that’s what my accent sounds like…” Kallus arched an eyebrow. “Boyfriend…”

“Partner? I dunno what you imps call relationships.”

Kallus thought a moment. “I honestly do not know. I never had a use for a relationship before you.”

“Boyfriend it is then.”

“It...sounds…” Kallus began to feel dizzy. “j-juvenile.”

Zeb laughed. “Yeah well, I’ve been called wors-Kal!”

At first Kallus was not sure why Zeb sounded alarmed. It was not until he felt Zeb’s arms wrap around his back and legs did he realize he was actually falling. “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Zeb?” Kallus blinked, feeling himself being lifted into the air. It felt nice to be off his feet. His muscles felt suddenly like lead. Even his head lolled a moment before he nestled it against Zeb’s neck.

“Yeah, okay that settles it. I’m puttin’ ya in bed. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Sleep” Kallus thought dreamily. “Hmm...the word sounds familiar, but-”

“That’s not funny.”

Kallus wrapped his arms around Zeb’s neck and held him close. “Will you stay?”

Zeb eyed the bunk, ears twitching a moment. “Yeah...yeah of course. If, uh...if the bed breaks though we’ll just have to blame it on the Bendu attack.”

“What’s a Bendu?”

“Ah, haha, I’ll tell ya later.”

Kallus marveled at the ease in which Zeb lifted him into the bunk as if he weighed little more than a sack of meiloorun fruit.

Although Kallus wanted nothing more than to sink into the bed, he paused, looking down at the perfectly fluffed pillows.

“Are you sure she will not mind me using her bunk?”

“I promise, she said it was alright,” Zeb assured him. He skipped the ladder entirely, instead using his hands and prehensile feet to grasp the railing and walls to hoist himself onto the bunk beside Kallus. “The pillows I bought myself. Try them!”

Unsure why Zeb was so excited about these particular pillows, Kallus humored him, laying on his side facing Zeb. The moment he eased his head onto the pillow his eyes widened.

“Daubird down pillows,” Kallus moaned blissfully. “How did you get these?”

“Black market sells all kinds of stuff if ya know where to look, and I was lookin’ for a pillow fit for an ex-Imperial.”

Kallus stretched like a contented loth-cat, sinking into the pillow with a luxurious purr. His own daubird down pillows were old and flat and worn. He seldom slept so he never felt the need to replace them. To lay on a fresh daubird down pillow here was a luxury he never expected. “It is perfect, thank you, Zeb.”

Zeb slid down beside him, lying on his side. He ran his finger over Kallus’ forehead, brushing back the loose strands of hair. “I just wanted it all to be perfect for you.”

“This is all perfect,” Kallus leaned into Zeb’s touch. Zeb responded by running his hands through Kallus’ hair, massaging his scalp, easing the throbbing in his head.

Kallus felt his eyes grow heavy, yet he did not want to sleep.

He wanted to continue gazing at Zeb, to memorize every line, every stripe, every fold, every soft twitch, and the perfect curve of his tender smile.

But there would be time for that later. He realized he had a whole life ahead of him to study Zeb’s perfect features.

It was strange…

Not long ago being alone, feeling lonely, were as much a part of Kallus as his blind devotion to the Empire.

Yet, lying here, holding Zeb’s hand, feeling the lasat caress his hair, Kallus could feel Agent Kallus slowly fade away.

Being with Zeb, being with the Rebellion, Kallus realized that this is what he was searching for his whole life.

As he drifted to sleep, he knew that when he woke up Zeb would be there with him.

Tomorrow would bring a fresh start for him.

He could finally say goodbye to the ruthless Agent Kallus ISB-021.

And finally he would get to know the knew him: Captain Kallus of the Rebel Alliance.

“It’s still hard to believe you’re finally here,” Zeb breathed, his hand coming down to stroke Kallus’ cheek. “I never gave up hope, but…”

“...but still, being here with you felt like a distant dream.”

“Yeah, it really did,” Zeb sighed, settling in deeper, drawing Kallus close in a tight embrace.

Kallus slid his arms around Zeb, nestling against the lasat’s chest, allowing his eyes close. “Will you be here when I wake up, Zeb?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Kal.”

“Promise me,” Kal whispered, his thoughts slowly drifting as sleep began to take him. “Promise me, we will never be apart again.”

“I swear to you, Kal, we’ll never be apart again. I promise we will always walk together. And I promise you…” Zeb paused, pressing his lips against Kal’s forehead. “...as long as you’re with me, you’ll always feel secure.”