Authors' Note: This fanfiction is the result of a collaboration between me (n00btmntfan) and fellow fanficcer tpt player 5701. We've been wanting to do a Star Wars Rebels fic together for quite some time now, and here it finally is! While we both had a hand in everything—including outlining the plot—the scenes from Zeb's POV are predominantly written by n00btmntfan and the scenes from Kallus' perspective are largely written by tpt player 5701. Thank you so much for reading, and we hope you enjoy this story!
Another note! This story is unfinished because tpt player 5701 was unable to finish working on it with me. Maybe someday we'll finish it up, but for now it's done. You may still enjoy reading it.
My apologies for this. Life has been crazy for both of us.
Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels, all related characters, and all derived works are the intellectual property of Disney XD, Disney, and Luscasfilm. This story is for entertainment purposes and not for monetary gain. In no way should this story be taken to be anything other than a fan-based expansion of and commentary on the source material. n00btmntfan and tpt player 5701 are in no way associated with the makers of Star Wars Rebels.
Garazeb Orrelios stood in the palace briefing room, his shoulder muscles tight with stress. It had always struck Zeb as ironic that life on Lasan after the Clone Wars was more difficult than during.
Queen Rassala Eladarren looked over at the holographic display of Lasan City, her eyes falling on the outline of the Imperial Compound. "We must deal with this as soon as possible. The word is that the demonstrations are to take place at sunset. These discontents cannot be allowed to jeopardize our already tenuous relationship with the Empire. I have ordered that the military suppress these demonstrations in all key cities." She looked across the display table at the young Lasat in royal military regalia. "Well, Trazel, you have been begging me for a proper military assignment for a month now."
"So I have," Prince Trazel said, folding his arms. He frowned.
"Then I trust you will carry it out with all due diligence?"
The Prince immediately snapped to attention, clapping his fist against his palm and bowing. "I will not let you down, Mother."
The Queen smiled gently. "Good. Captain Orrelios will accompany you to provide additional security—under your full command, of course."
Zeb saluted. "Yes, your Majesty."
Frowning slightly, the Prince glanced at Zeb. "I have Lahlin and Artik." He motioned to the two members of the Honor Guard who flanked him. "You needn't worry for my safety. And I have Lieutenant Seck. I don't need Captain Orrelios on this mission."
"He will accompany you. Understood?"
"Understood." The Prince clapped his left fist against his right palm again and bowed. "I shall depart at once." He signaled Lahlin and Artik, and the three of them strode from the room together.
Zeb bowed to the Queen, then turned to follow the Prince.
"Captain Orrelios, a word?" the Queen said.
Zeb stopped immediately and turned around. "Yes, your Majesty?"
"Trazel is young and brash. I trust you will keep him in check for me?"
A smile crept onto Zeb's lips. "Of course. It'll be my pleasure. It'll be just like the old days."
"He will be unsure of himself. He will need your guidance."
"And I'll do my best to give it."
"Thank you, Captain Orrelios. There is no one I trust with this more than you."
Zeb clapped his fist to his palm and bowed deeply. "Your trust honors me, your majesty." He stood tall again.
The Queen gave him a wave of dismissal.
With another bow, Zeb turned and hurried from the briefing room into the main hall. The Prince was barking orders to Lieutenant Seck, who saluted and ran from the hall. In all of Zeb's memory, the Prince had never looked so pale or so nervous, not even a month ago, when he was appointed into the military at the age of eighteen.
The Prince motioned to Zeb. "Ready to go, old man?"
Readier than you are, I reckon, Zeb thought, suppressing a small smile. "At your word, Highness."
"My lieutenant is readying a hundred men. We'll depart as soon as the personnel transports are loaded up."
Zeb raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
A hundred men seemed excessive, but it would be a substantial show of force. It was also a substantial show of the Prince's insecurity on the matter. However, it was hardly Zeb's place to question the Prince on this point. "Nothing, Highness."
The Prince shook his head. "My first military assignment, and my mother decides I need a babysitter."
"Not a babysitter. An escort. For your safety, Highness."
"Yes, and I'm sure my mother said nothing to you about keeping an eye on me when she held you back just now."
"With all due respect, what her Majesty says to her own Honor Guard isn't your concern."
The Prince opened his mouth, but Seck ran into the hall, interrupting him.
"We are ready to depart, your Highness," Seck said.
"Good." The Prince turned back toward Zeb. "Well, Captain Orrelios, I'm sure you won't forget who is in command on this mission, then."
"Of course I won't."
"Good." The Prince signaled to Seck. "Move out."
The men proceeded into the heavy personnel transports, packing in as tightly as possible. Seck hopped up into the transport behind the royal transport.
Zeb fell in step behind the Prince as they went, clambering into the royal transport after he did. The other two Guardsmen assigned to the Prince followed after them. Lahlin winked at Zeb, who winked back with a little grin.
As the transports engaged the anti-grav drive and sped off toward the Imperial Compound, the Prince gave Zeb a sideways glance, and opened his mouth as if to say something. He closed his mouth and shook his head.
"Is something wrong, Highness?" Zeb said.
"It's just—this would be a lot easier if I didn't agree with them so much."
"With the dissidents?"
"Yes. Look at what the Empire has done to Lasan, Captain Orrelios. For centuries, our people have been free to bear arms, and now the Empire demands that only the military be permitted to do so?"
Zeb bit his lip for a moment. "The Queen says that the Empire insists it's for a safer public."
The Prince scoffed. "That's the problem. They come in without knowing a thing about our culture, and they change not just our laws but our identity, and tell us it's for our own good. As if we're children, too stupid to handle responsibility. It's insulting. It's worse than insulting."
"He's right," Lahlin said, scowling. "Blasted Imperials have no respect for us. Probably only a matter of time before they disarm the military, too."
"Watch yourself, Lahlin," Zeb said. "You're talking out of turn again. Just 'cause we're friends doesn't mean I won't put you on suspension."
"Sorry, Sir." Lahlin grinned. "Won't happen again."
Zeb tried not to smile. "Yeah, that's what you said last time, too, after I put you on suspension."
"Well," the Prince said, "he's not far off, I'm guessing. And now it's my job to go tell these people that no, they need to give up their blasters, heirlooms and all? I might even have to use force against them. It doesn't seem right."
Zeb scratched his chin for a moment. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit—and had he been talking with Lahlin about this over a couple of pints of ale, he would have much harsher things to say on the topic. "I agree with you, Highness. Really, I do. But the Queen says we have to think of the overall welfare of Lasan. What's worse for us—the people losing their blasters, or bringing the Empire's fist down on us all?"
"I never figured you as the type to roll over and follow the Empire's orders blindly, Captain Orrelios."
A surge of anger shot through Zeb. "I don't follow the Empire's orders." He clenched his fists. "I obey the Queen of Lasan, and if she tells me to bend over backward and lick the Emperor's backside, I will! You'll obey her too, if you know what's good for you."
The Prince's mouth fell open. "You have no right to talk to me that way."
"And you've no right questioning my loyalties. You think you can get away with insulting me like that, just 'cause you're the Prince?"
"I wasn't—"
"You were insulting me. I've been in the Honor Guard longer than you've been alive, Trazel. My loyalties are with Lasan to the end. You ever question that again, and we'll be having more than just words."
"I am the Crown Prince. I could have you hanged for that kind of disrespect."
Zeb laughed aloud. "Your mother'd never sign off on it, and you know it."
The Prince stared Zeb down for one moment, then let out a chuckle. "No, no she wouldn't." He shook his head. "Forgive me for what I said. I'm just—so tense about this mission. It's—well, it's my first, you know, and there's so much riding on it…"
Zeb gave the Prince an evaluating glance. Still, he thought, that's no reason for you to be a little snot rag.
"Please, Zeb," the Prince said. "I'm sorry."
A little smile crept onto Zeb's face. When was the last time the Prince had even called him that? It must have been over eight years ago, before Zeb was promoted to the Captaincy—when he had been in the same place as Lahlin and Artik. Half personal guard, half babysitter, it had been one of the more challenging roles in the Honor Guard. It was watching over Trazel that gave Zeb a taste of what fatherhood might be like—though it turned out that some children took more energy than others.
Lahlin elbowed Zeb, snapping him back into the moment.
"Consider it forgotten, Highness," Zeb said, bowing slightly. "Tell you what—I don't tell the Queen what you said about me, and you won't tell her that I disrespected you. Fair deal?"
The Prince grinned widely. "Our old deal is always a fair one, Captain Orrelios."
"It's done, then. As I said, I agree with you. But Lasan's overall welfare is a priority."
"Do you really believe this is in Lasan's best interest?"
"What we believe doesn't matter. What matters is we have orders."
The Prince leaned in toward Zeb. "How do you do it?" he whispered. "How do you enforce an order you doubt?"
"It's never easy," Zeb said, placing his hand on the Prince's shoulder. "But you have to stand tall and give the order like it's your own. Trust the Queen. Trust her wisdom and years of experience."
The Prince nodded. He looked at Lahlin and the other guardsman. "Lahlin, Artik—you'll tell no one of my doubts?"
Artik saluted. "No one, Highness."
"What doubts?" Lahlin said. "I didn't hear you say a thing."
The Prince smiled. "I'm fortunate to have you three at my side this day."
The pilot of the transport glanced over his shoulder. "We're coming up on the Imperial Compound, your Highness."
"Very good," the Prince said. He picked up his comlink. "Lieutenant, prepare the troops for deployment. We don't use force unless we have to. Wait for my orders."
"Copy that sir," Seck responded.
A few moments later, the transport came to a stop.
"Your Highness?" said the pilot. His voice was shaky. "I think we're too late."
"What do you mean?" The Prince ran to the hatch and slammed the button. The second the door was open, he ran outside and stopped short.
Zeb followed, only to find himself frozen in his tracks. The scene hit him like a punch to the gut. Hundreds of bodies littered the street in front of the Imperial Compound, every single one Lasat. Survivors crawled in between them; some of them shook the lifeless forms, while others simply wailed or sat as still as mirrors of death. Nearest to them, a woman cradled a dead boy, no older than five, and sobbed out his name over and over.
"There weren't this many demonstrators," Lahlin said. "They blasted bystanders, too." He put his hand over his mouth, as if by doing so he could contain his shock.
Zeb looked over at Lieutenant Seck, who had emerged from the transport behind them, as well as the first platoon of men. They too stared at the scene, their expressions ranging from horror to disgust to rage.
The Prince stood frozen for several moments before he made a retching noise.
Zeb nudged Lahlin and gave Artik a significant glance, jerking his head toward the Prince. The three of them moved to block the Prince from the men's view—and just in time. Zeb respectfully averted his gaze until the Prince stood tall again.
"Those filthy Imperials are going to pay for this!" Seck roared, raising his weapon.
The men clamored their agreement, each of them bringing their blasters up to the ready.
"You'll stand down!" Zeb barked. "No order has been given. You await orders. Am I understood?"
"Sir, yes sir!" Seck snapped to attention and saluted, then lowered his blaster. The men followed his example, but a current of whispers still slithered throughout the ranks like an angry snake.
Zeb growled. "And silence!"
The men fell into a silence more broiling with rage than their whispers had been.
Zeb drew a deep breath, trying to quell his own nausea and anger. He moved in front of the Prince. "Highness, we're awaiting your orders."
The Prince shook his head. "They—they killed them."
"They did, Highness. Do you want me to find out what happened?"
With a slow blink, the Prince finally looked at Zeb. "Yes…yes. Find out what happened. I mean, no. I'll find out what happened." His gaze shifted back to the sea of dead bodies.
After several seconds of waiting, Zeb gestured toward Seck. "They will have holos at the Imperial Compound, Highness. Would you like the lieutenant to check for you?"
Something like determination entered the Prince's mien. "Lieutenant Seck! Go to the compound and demand that they show you the security holos. Double time!"
Seck nodded, gestured for two men to follow him, and started toward the compound at a run.
"In the meantime, I'm going to ask that woman what happened here. Captain Orrelios, with me. Lahlin, Artik—wait here." The Prince strode over to the grieving woman. His face grew pale as he stepped around the bodies on the street.
Following closely behind, Zeb feared that the Prince would be sick again—but Trazel managed to hold himself together. It was only a few moments before they reached the woman and her dead child. Zeb forced his eyes to the woman's face, finding it nearly impossible to look closer at the boy. Her light violet face was streaked with tears. Her ears drooped. A burn mark stretched across her arm, suggesting that she had been grazed by a blaster.
"Citizen," the Prince said. "What happened here?"
Sobbing, the woman looked up. "He's dead. He's dead!"
The Prince opened his mouth as if to speak, but could not find the words. He looked at Zeb, his expression begging for help.
Zeb knelt down beside the woman and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What was his name?"
"Gart," the woman sobbed. "He was only four! He was only four, and they blasted him!"
"Who shot him?"
"The stormtroopers. They—they just—blasted everyone—everyone they could hit." She let out a wail. "Why couldn't it have been me? Why him?"
Zeb suppressed a shiver. He tried to imagine what it might be like to lose his own son, but to survive when he should have been the one who died. It would be more than he could bear, that much was certain. "What's your name?"
"Sera."
"Sera, I need you to help me. Help me so we can get justice for Gart. Can you do that?"
Sniffing, Sera nodded.
"I need to know what happened here."
"We came to watch the demonstrators. My husband and I agreed with them, so we…I don't know where he is right now. They probably shot him too…" She started to sob again.
"Shh. It's going to be all right. We'll get justice for him too. So you came to watch the demonstration. What happened then?"
Sera steadied her breathing. "The demonstrators were chanting protests. A lot of the stormtroopers were on the steps of the compound, watching them, blasters at the ready. Like they wanted an excuse. The march moved forward toward the compound…I'm not sure what happened then. We heard a blast. Just one. I don't know if it was one of the protesters or one of the stormtroopers, but the next minute…"
"The stormtroopers blasted everyone."
Sera nodded. "Only the demonstrators brought weapons, but they were the first ones down. After that…they…the stormtroopers…just kept shooting. My husband told me to go, that he was going to stay and help. So I took Gart and we—we ran—but I was hit and fell. And when I got up…I—he—they—" She grabbed Zeb and buried her face in his chest and sobbed.
Zeb gently patted her on the back and let her cry for a moment before pushing her back. "Sera, take a deep breath. Can you do that?"
Sera took several gasping breaths before she was finally able to stop sobbing. "By the time I…I…Gart was dead. They blasted him too." She pounded her fists on the pavement. "They blasted a four-year-old!"
"Karabast," Zeb muttered.
Gritting her teeth, Sera grabbed Gart's lifeless body and stood up. "I want them to suffer. Every last one."
"I assure you, Sera," the Prince said, clenching his fists. "There will be justice. I swear it by my mother's crown."
"I'm going to look for my husband now," Sera said shakily.
"No," Zeb said. "It's not safe here. Let us deal with this. You'll be contacted, I promise. You should take your son to the coroner. It will help with confirming this with the investigators."
A tear rolled down Sera's cheek. Weakly, she nodded. She faced the Prince and bowed, then unsteadily walked away.
"We're going to need the holos from the compound for confirmation of her story, Highness," Zeb said, turning toward the Prince. "And we should ask as many witnesses as possible until Seck comes back."
The Prince nodded. The paleness of his face was now colored with rage. "I'll send some men to do that. Come with me." The two of them headed back to the personnel transports, where the men waited with anxious expressions on their faces.
While the Prince shouted orders, Zeb came over to Lahlin and Artik.
"Well?" Lahlin asked.
"Looks like someone got trigger jumpy and the Imps mowed everyone down." Zeb shook his head. "They shot a little boy."
"Karabast! Are you serious?"
"Does the Empire have no honor?" Artik snarled.
"I could've already told you they don't." Zeb let out a growl. "But I never thought they'd stoop this low. I'm half tempted to go over there and return the favor. Blast every one of them to the ground."
Lahlin scowled. "Only half?"
"Captain Orrelios!" the Prince called.
Zeb turned around and marched double-time to the Prince's side. "Yes, Highness?"
The Prince lowered his voice. "What do I do now? Should I contact my mother?"
"Wait 'til we've got the whole story. Once Seck has convinced the Imperials to turn over the holos—"
The Prince's eyes drifted to something behind Zeb. "I don't think he did."
Zeb looked over his shoulder. Lieutenant Seck stormed toward them, men in tow. He looked angrier than Zeb had ever seen him.
"Filthy rotten Imps won't give up the footage. Told us we ought to control our people better, that they shouldn't have to do our jobs for us."
The Prince let out a vile swear word. "These protests were scheduled to happen in cities with Imperial Compounds all across the planet, not just Lasan City. Do you suppose that this kind of bloodshed happened everywhere?"
"Your Highness?" said one of the men, saluting as he approached. "The old man I spoke with said that someone fired a blast, and then the stormtroopers started shooting until no one was left standing."
"Who fired the first blast?"
"He said he didn't know. It happened too fast."
Another one of the soldiers ran up. "I talked to a kid who said the same thing." He saluted. "Your Highness."
"What did he say, exactly?" the Prince said.
"He thought he heard a blaster go off, and then the stormtroopers opened fire. Didn't know who fired the first shot, though."
"This corroborates Sera's story," Zeb said.
"I'm calling the Queen," the Prince said. He grabbed his comlink.
"The holo-transmitter in the transport is operational," Zeb said in a low voice. "It will give you more privacy."
"Right. Come with me." The Prince turned toward Seck. "Lieutenant, I want you to call the investigation squad. Let's get it over quick as we can, so we can lay these people to rest properly. I'll be in the transport."
As he followed the Prince to the transport, the stress in Zeb's shoulders reasserted itself, only now, it competed with grief. He longed to be at home, where he could find comfort and support and could forget his troubles for just a little while. He wanted to forget grieving Sera and poor, lifeless Gart. He wanted to forget the hundreds of dead bodies in the street.
But he was Captain of the Honor Guard, and he could not afford such luxuries at a time like this. Not when his people were in danger. Not when there was injustice.
Not when the Empire was slowly turning Lasan into a waking nightmare.
Have an opinion about the story? We would love to hear it. Leave us any thoughts or comments in the reviews