(A/N)- So this plot bunny has been tormenting me since "Through Imperial Eyes" aired and put me through all that needless stress. Apparently my brain decided it needed to make everything worse.
And so here we are.
Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Rebels and related Star Wars properties are owned by Disney.
Caught
He had to hurry.
Lyste's stolen data cylinder burning a hole in his front pocket, Kallus beelined for the secure cell where they had taken Ezra. The quicker the boy was out of his hair and restored to his crew, the better. Kallus had no intention of leaving with the young rebel—and if the plan he'd set in motion panned out, he wouldn't have to. But it required careful speed and precision.
He was almost to the right corridor. If that junior officer hadn't waylaid him in the hall earlier he could have been here ten minutes ago. Every second counted in operations like this, and he sped to make up the lost time.
Kallus was in such a rush he breezed right past Chopper and AP-5, hovering just shy of the corner.
AP-5 raised a hand. "I wouldn't—" he tried to warn the agent.
Kallus rounded the corner and then immediately had to lunge back behind it, biting down an internal scream of frustration.
Thrawn and Pryce and three Stormtroopers were right outside Ezra's cell.
No no no! Kallus groaned. Why is he here now?!
If Thrawn made Ezra—and there was no way he wouldn't—it was all over. He'd be exposed. Unless he managed some very clever deflection, came up with some kind of explanation or excuse for why he hadn't recognized and reported Bridger's presence.
They were already opening up the cell. He had no time to think up a plan for distracting them. What he wouldn't give for one of Sabine Wren's explosive devices!
"What the—" the foremost trooper exclaimed.
Kallus peered closer, morbidly interested. Had the boy already escaped?
But Pryce had her blaster out now and was leaning into the doorway, checking the corners. Kallus saw her jerk it up and fire a stun bolt.
He heard a yelp from Ezra and then a loud, painful-sounding CRUNCH! as the boy dropped, presumably from the ceiling. Kallus grimaced at the impact, which shook the walls even where he stood.
Two of the troopers moved into the cell, as Thrawn gave an approving nod to Pryce.
"Excellent instincts, Governor, " he complimented. "A paltry trick like that might have fooled a lesser officer."
"Thank you, Grand Admiral," said Pryce, beaming at his praise. Her voice and expression took on its usual ice as she turned. "Now, let's see about our shuttle thief."
He couldn't watch this. He wanted to run, to flee the scene. But his feet wouldn't obey. They stayed rooted, the rest of him transfixed in mute horror. Kallus could do nothing but watch as the two troopers dragged Ezra up the stairs to present him to Thrawn. He hung limp in their hands, unconscious from the stun blast.
Thrawn stirred in interest, reaching down to grab Ezra's chin and turn his cheek, studying the distinctive twin scars intently.
"Well, well..." he said, red eyes lighting up. "This is a turn of events..."
"The Bridger child!" Pryce hissed, her hands clenching. "What is he doing here?!"
Kallus moaned softly, palming his face in his hands. No no no no. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted them to extract him!
"This will require my personal attention," he heard Thrawn saying. Kallus looked up from his hands to see the Grand Admiral calmly gesturing to his troopers. "Bring him," he ordered.
They followed after the admiral as he turned to go, carrying Ezra between them. Kallus watched them disappear down the opposite end. He waited until they were out of earshot, before whipping around and slamming his fist into the wall with a primal scream.
The heretofore quiet Chopper let loose with a string of harsh beeps.
"It is not my fault, I was thinking of how to get the clearance codes!" AP-5 protested hotly. "We would never have been able to get off the ship even if we had freed Bridger first!"
"That won't do us any good now!" Kallus snapped. "They know who he is, they'll be expecting a rescue!" He stopped, forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. Getting agitated wouldn't help Bridger. He needed to think.
He rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
"Who was on the retrieval team? Who was coming to get us?" he asked.
Chopper responded promptly with a series of warbles.
"Contact them. Tell Jarrus and Commander Rex to divert course, they are not to retrieve us," Kallus emphasized. "They are not to exit hyperspace until I've come up with a plan."
"What plan would that be?" asked AP-5 with withering cynicism.
"I don't know!" Kallus said, throwing up his hands as he headed back the way he'd come. "I'll improvise!"
"No wonder you defected to the Rebellion," AP-5 snarked at his receding back. "You fit right in. They never have a concrete plan either."
Kallus ignored the remark. If he encountered that junior offer that had held him up he was just going to strangle him.
It was time to make himself very scarce.
-SWR-
Ezra's head was still throbbing from the stun blast, but he was clear-minded enough to think, This is not good.
His breath had hitched when the cell door opened to reveal not a Stormtrooper guard, not even Kallus, but the Chiss Grand Admiral Thrawn himself, with Governor Pryce beside him. Ezra had held his breath, clinging to the ceiling, not daring to move a muscle. But Pryce had spotted him and shot him off the ceiling—which was probably why the whole back of his skull and spine felt bruised.
And now he was under armed guard being escorted to Thrawn's office.
Not good, not good!
They passed through the doors into a narrow antechamber. It and the room beyond was set up like an art gallery, and Ezra spotted something familiar, displayed prominently on a pedestal to the right.
Hera's kalikori! He paused a little too long looking at it; the troopers gave a hard shove to his shoulder to push him forward. Ezra was sat down in a chair opposite the Grand Admiral's imposing-looking desk.
The doors hissed shut and latched behind them.
"Ezra Bridger."
Ezra gave an involuntary shiver. He hated the way his name sounded dropping from the man's lips. Like a cold, clinical slither. Thrawn came around, not to stand behind his desk but next to it, uncomfortably casual. The faint hint of an amused smile ghosted his mouth.
"We didn't get a chance to be formally introduced back on Ryloth. I am—"
"I know who you are," Ezra interrupted, glaring at the Chiss.
"Then we are on the same page," Thrawn replied without missing a beat or showing any sign of irritation at him. "Your reputation precedes you, Ezra." Once again, Ezra shuddered at how Thrawn said it. The Grand Admiral angled towards him, hands folded calmly behind his back. "Disguising yourself as a mercenary to infiltrate an Imperial starship was your idea, wasn't it?"
"Maybe it wasn't," Ezra shot back.
"Unlikely," Thrawn dismissed. "Your over-fondness for orange hues suggest you picked out the armor yourself."
He's guessing, thought Ezra, even as his pulse pricked up. He can't really know that.
"You don't know anything about me," he said, brows dark and narrow over his eyes.
Thrawn said nothing, regarding him with an expressionless mask. Wordlessly, he stepped around his desk and pressed a series of keys on the console.
Dozens of holographic images sprang up, filling the air above the desk as Thrawn projected what looked like an entirely library of information for him to see.
Ezra's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. It was... everything. Transcripts of some of his parents' broadcasts. His forged cadet profile from the Imperial Academy. Incident reports from local garrisons on Lothal. Arrest records, from his time on the streets. Grainy still frames from security cameras showing some of the Ghost's past missions. Schematics for his tower. Even pictures of some of the graffiti he'd tagged on walls with Sabine. His whole life, exposed and laid bare for Imperial eyes.
There was a gleam of triumph in Thrawn's eerie red eyes. "I know everything about you, my dear boy," he said calmly. He began to stalk back around the desk, slowly, like a circling predator. "Where you come from, who your parents were, where and how they died." Ezra flinched at that, biting down the swell of guilt that coursed through him. Thrawn seemed to take a perverse enjoyment in that, in how his words were affecting the young rebel. "How you grew up on the streets, scrounging to survive. How you fell in with a crew that became like a second family to you, even," he continued, "about your special connection to the energy field you call 'The Force'."
Thrawn closed in, coming to stand in front of Ezra.
"In fact, the only thing I'm curious to know..." he said. He leaned in, looming over Ezra as he placed a hand on the corner of the chair, looking the boy right in the face. "...is just how long it will take—" His red eyes narrowed. "—to break you."
Ezra swallowed nervously, pinned under Thrawn's probing stare and looking up at him in fear.
-SWR-
Ezra was hyperventilating, his breaths quick and shallow, watching wide-eyed as Pryce and another Imperial worked the restraints holding him to the interrogation table.
"Can't these restraints pull any tighter?" Pryce complained, yanking on the metal band in aggravation.
"Sorry Governor," the Stormtrooper apologized. "We're doing our best. He's just a little too small for them."
"Well find a way to make do!" Pryce snapped, stepping back from the table. She turned an icily sweet smile on Ezra. "We don't want our guest leaving prematurely," she crooned.
If Ezra could have burned her with his glare, he would have. He was rapidly beginning to despise the woman, who'd seemed to take an almost gleeful satisfaction in hitting and slapping him when he'd refused to answer Thrawn's questions. His cheek still stung from one of her blows.
She assumed a calm, professional stance, smirking at the brief look he darted at the Stormtroopers pinning him down. "There's still time for you to avoid this," she told him. Her voice was deceptively soothing. "Tell us the location of the rebel base, and you'll be treated well," she offered.
Yeah right.
Ezra's glare remained firmly in place. "I'd rather kiss an inventory droid," he snarked.
"Suit yourself." Pryce reached back to take the datapad an aide handed her. She scrolled through the information, her eyes keening at something. "Ah, allergic to symoxin are we?" When she glanced back up at him her expression held an unsettling gleam of excitement. "That will be interesting to play with."
Ezra held back a scream. How?! He hadn't even told the medics at Chopper Base yet, he just tried to avoid getting hurt enough to have to see them! He hadn't had a reaction since—
Thrawn must have gotten hold of his childhood medical records. Ezra squirmed uncomfortably. Was nothing of his private anymore? The thought of Thrawn's extensive file on him, of the Grand Admiral scrutinizing his intimate details, studying him, like he was some kind of lab specimen...
Ezra felt sick. The technicians and guards buzzed around the room and his pulse started racing watching them. His lungs felt like they were tightening. Fear rippled through him.
Kanan had taught him how to resist mind probes, how to use the Force to block out pain, but this? he thought, as he took in the tray-fulls of needles and syringes, the electro prods and sharp metal instruments. This was on a whole different level.
They couldn't break him. He couldn't let them. For everyone's sake—for the base, for Phoenix Squadron, for Kallus—he had to keep his mouth shut.
Kallus, Ezra thought nervously, looking up towards the observation window, where Thrawn overlooked the room, reminding Ezra of a large, patient spider. If you're really on our side, now would be a great time to prove it.
But he was beginning to think even Kallus couldn't get him out of this one.
-SWR-
Thrawn watched through the window as Pryce directed preparations.
The boy had held up under the initial round of questioning... remarkably well. He had feigned ignorance at first, tried to pretend he didn't know anything. When that had inevitably failed, he had assumed a defiant silence. All of Thrawn's probing questions—and a few nasty hits from Pryce—had yielded only the occasional smart remark.
He was actually a bit impressed that a teenager—normally so volatile and easy to read—had been able to hide his emotions so well. Thrawn had even shown him the map, to gauge his reaction, pick up from his expression some final clue to narrow down the location of the Rebel base, and Ezra had kept the stoic mask up, his face betraying nothing. The Jedi rogue must have taught him a few tricks.
No matter. He'd have the planet's coordinates soon enough. Extracting them from the boy might prove difficult, given his stubborn nature, and the rebels would undoubtedly attempt some sort of rescue for him. But Thrawn had ideas on how to deal with that as well. Assuming, of course, the boy survived more... extensive interrogation.
Either way, Thrawn would have what he wanted. One way or another, Ezra Bridger would be of use to him.
There was another matter he needed to see to presently. Thrawn addressed one of the troopers in the room with him.
"SL-7514, if you would... please send for Agent Kallus."
-SWR-
He had been ducking patrols and avoiding people in the hallway for at least an hour. The only person he'd spoken to had been Lieutenant Lyste, who had been all too eager to come find him after tailing Pryce to Bridger's cell to brag about "his" catch. It was only by pure luck that Kallus and Lyste hadn't run into each other when they had all converged on that brig hallway—though Lyste was probably trusting enough that he wouldn't think anything unusual about Kallus skulking around and hiding. Kallus congratulated the man, certain chagrin was showing through the cracks in his expression, but had hung on to Lyste's data cylinder. It might still help him. If he could only shake its owner off.
"He looks so different now, it's amazing we didn't recognize him sooner!" Lyste was babbling excitedly.
"Indeed," Kallus said flatly, awkwardly looking for an escape. Chopper had updated him a few minutes ago, rolling by and warbling out the news, unnoticed by Lyste. Kanan and Rex were holding steady in a remote system, close enough to hop onto the hyperspace lane and reach Lothal in minutes, but far enough that the Empire wouldn't be looking for them there.
Kallus was still working on ideas for how to extract Ezra. Each plan he came up with sounded flimsier than the last. He was beginning to feel desperate. Short of requesting an all-out attack on Thrawn's Star Destroyer by Phoenix Squadron, he had no clue how to get Imperial attention off the boy long enough to snatch him. And he couldn't ask the Rebels to do that, not for him, not even for Ezra, though he knew they wouldn't hesitate to risk it for them.
He couldn't lead them into that kind of danger.
Stealing a shuttle was looking more and more like the best option for escaping the Chimaera. Once again though, how to get Ezra out with it.
"Agent Kallus! Sir!"
Kallus almost jumped out of his skin. "What?" he blurted a little too quickly, turning to face the speaker.
"The Grand Admiral wants to see you on Level Six, sir," the Stormtrooper reported.
Oh hell.
Dread pooled in his stomach and it took all of his ingrained self-control not to let it show.
His voice was still a little more strained than normal as he replied, "Ah... yes. Yes of course, I—Right away. Thank you, trooper."
He avoided Lyste's eyes—avoided looking at anyone really—as he reluctantly began to head down.
Nothing for it but to go straight into the rancor's den. Running now was futile. Refusing the Grand Admiral's summons would only confirm Thrawn's suspicions. If he had any chance of scraping through this undiscovered he had to just go in, learn the extent of what Thrawn actually knew, and then bluff his ass off and hope it would be enough.
This stress was going to murder him.
With effort, he managed to compose himself by the time he reached the interrogation room.
Thrawn was standing at the window, observing with a pensive hand to his chin. Red eyes flicked to him briefly.
"Agent Kallus," said Thrawn. "I thought you'd be interested to know the shuttle thief Lieutenant Lyste apprehended turned out to be a much bigger catch. One you're quite familiar with."
The man was unreadable. Heart thumping, Kallus cautiously stepped into the room and came over to stand next to him. Thrawn turned his head toward the window, to indicate.
"The young Lothal rebel Ezra Bridger."
Kallus bit his tongue, forcing his features to remain still, as he looked down into the chamber, where they had Ezra awkwardly secured to an interrogation table and were finishing up final preparations. The boy looked terrified, nervously watching the IT-O droid floating from side to side.
"He's... taller than I remember from the last time I encountered him," Kallus commented awkwardly.
"And cropped his hair, likely why he felt confident enough to return," Thrawn added in a clinical monotone. "He assumed he wouldn't be recognized."
Was there a hint of accusation in there? Kallus couldn't tell. He was straining for signs from Thrawn, for a look, for an inflection in his voice, something. The Grand Admiral was as impassive as a droid—worse than a droid, Kallus corrected, remembering Chopper and AP-5 and their respective colorful personalities—and it was killing him.
Stay calm, he told himself. Getting nervous will tip him off.
To distract himself, he studied the tray of bottles and syringes Pryce had set up next to her.
He stiffened, recognizing several of the drugs and the particular cocktail they mixed. They can't be... The Brisney-Favvin Method?
"Is there something wrong, Agent?" Thrawn asked, with a eerie stare.
His heart was having trouble keeping up with his anxiety. Kallus phrased his words very carefully as he met the man's eyes, feeling his extremities prickling.
"With... all due respect, Grand Admiral," he pointed out, "that table and that procedure are usually used on adults, surely—"
"Ezra Bridger is an enemy of the Empire," Thrawn interrupted emotionlessly. His eyes turned down towards the chamber. "His age is irrelevant."
"Of... of course, Grand Admiral..." Kallus replied meekly, hidden nausea churning through his guts.
He had witnessed dozens of interrogations. Overseen a few himself. But he would have never stood for something like this, even if he hadn't already defected. The Brisney-Favvin could break a full-grown Trandoshan. And they were using it on a teenager. Even Colonol Yularen would find it distasteful.
Which was probably why he wasn't there, thought Kallus ruefully. Thrawn hadn't invited him. He didn't want anyone's conscience pricked enough to pose objections.
It was the kind of thing Kallus couldn't help notice now that his eyes were open.
He hated how blind he'd been before.
Pryce was holding up the first syringe. Skirtopanol—a common truth serum, Kallus identified—and a concentrated dose. With a gesture from her, the IT-O droid bobbed forward, robot pincer coming out and clamping on Ezra's chin harshly, pulling down, forcing his jaw open. Pryce stepped forward, also pinching his face with her free hand as she shoved the tube of truth serum directly into his mouth, probably the most uncomfortable place she could inject it.
"Aah..." Ezra whimpered, feeling a sharp pinprick of pain as the needle pierced his gums at the base of his molars.
Kallus winced in sympathy. Pryce stepped back, waiting a few moments for the drug to begin taking effect. Then she called up to the window.
"We're ready to begin, Grand Admiral," came her voice through the speakers.
Thrawn leaned forward, pressing the call button. "Proceed," he told them. "Set voltage to eight milliamperes and duration for ten seconds."
The technicians complied, and Kallus felt his fists tightening, his nails digging into his palms. Wanting very much to be anywhere but there.
Hold on, Ezra, he prayed.
The head tech threw the switch.
The electrodes on either side of the table sparked to life, arcing across metal and flesh. Ezra convulsed, curling into himself, his face squeezing tight... but his mouth firmly, valiantly, remained shut. All they got out of him were a few pained grunts.
When the ten seconds were up and the electricity ceased, Ezra gasped as if coming up for air—he'd held his breath, Kallus observed—and panted hard, recovering from the shock.
Both figurative and literal in his case.
"Interesting," Thrawn commented, leaning on the call button again. "Increase voltage to thirty milliamperes and set duration to fifteen seconds."
Kallus looked at him in alarm. Down in the chamber the technicians complied and Ezra had only a few seconds to close his eyes, his face growing serene, focusing—no doubt—on the Force to brace—
The electricity arced again and this time a scream tore from him, shrill and high-pitched. Kallus felt it like a slap to his ears, and it twisted a knife in his gut.
Ezra shrieked until the switch was thrown and the current turned off. He slackened in his restraints, head hanging, eyes on the floor, breathing hard.
"S... Sithspit..." Kallus heard him breathe weakly.
Thrawn gave a cold smile of satisfaction. "I believe you have your sweet spot, Governor," he told Pryce. "Continue with the interrogation."
Pryce's smirk almost cracked her face as she motioned for the techs to shock Ezra again. The boy's head and back jerked up, slammed against the metal table as his body thrashed involuntarily.
Kallus's face was ashen. The nausea was churning full throttle in his stomach now. Once again his feet had taken root, refusing to budge no matter how much his insides clawed for action.
He was petrified, a prisoner in his own body, helpless to stop Ezra's torment.
The boy looked up through the window right at him, blue eyes desperate, pleading. Telegraphing a terrified, Help me!
Kallus's eyes pinched, his features twisting hopelessly. I can't.
He was suddenly aware of Thrawn's eyes on him, and swallowed, trying to rearrange his expression. His neutral facade felt flat, unconvincing.
He knew immediately that Thrawn could see right through him.
"It's fascinating, really," the Grand Admiral was commenting lightly. "Just how far these Rebels will go for their mission. What risks they will take for their friends."
Kallus felt his heartrate spike and sputter.
"The boy did not return to Lothal to steal a shuttle. He came to retrieve something. Or rather... someone."
Dread congealed in his gullet and Kallus closed his eyes.
He knows.
Thrawn regarded him with an icy look of disdain, frowning, brows low over his eyes. "A pity that he met with failure." He straightened, rigid and imposing. "Troopers, take Agent Kallus into custody," he ordered.
As the troopers came forward, Kallus numbly accepted defeat. Ezra's screaming continued down in the chamber, his agony beating on Kallus's eardrums like a merciless sledgehammer.
I'm sorry, Ezra, thought Kallus, as the binders clicked around his wrists. I'm sorry.
That was all he could think as the troopers led him away. Just those two words, over and over.
I'm sorry.
(A/N)- Chapter notes!
1. Symoxin, according to Legends canon, is a common painkiller. According to Wookiepedia concentrated doses can be used as a knockout substance. So basically Ezra is allergic to the equivalent of aspirin or penicillin.
2. Commander Brisney and Barrisk Favvin are both New Canon members of ISB.
3. In addition to being a truth serum, skirtopanol also increases sensitivity to pain.
4. The average human body can withstand electric currents up to 60 mA (depending on fat and muscle structure and not without some damage if the shock is prolonged) before serious chances of death start.
We're not quite done wringing the angst out of this AU, so stay tuned for the next chapter! And leave a review if you liked it. :)