The Way of the Warrior Part 1: The Fool

by Aetherschreiber

Kallus is newly accepted into the Rebellion at last. But there's no time for emotional hurts. When they get a mysterious transmission that seems to originate from the dead world of Lasan, Kallus and Zeb must risk returning to the planet in order to save some long-lost Lasat survivors. But is it a trap? And did Kallus' desperate flight from Thrawn have a cost they didn't consider?

1. Prologue

Grand Admiral Thrawn stood in the center of the stark, spartan quarters in the Imperial base in Center City that had once belonged to Agent Alexsandr Kallus. For a man who had had such a storied career in the ISB, a man who had known and seen as much as he had, Kallus didn't leave much in his wake. In fact, among the spare uniforms, the reports and files, and the other items of regulation Imperial issue for an ISB agent, there were only two objects of any particular interest.

The first was a yellow stone, some sort of meteorite it seemed. It sat on the ledge just over the room's bunk, softly glowing. It gave off a faint warmth and Thrawn guessed that it had once been brighter and warmer. It was placed right where it would have been the last thing that Kallus had looked at before going to sleep and the first thing he had seen when he woke up. It was almost as if it was put there to remind Kallus of something, as if it had been set to look down upon the sleeping man in judgement. But aside from its placement and the soft glow, there didn't seem to be anything remarkable about it.

The second object was far more complex and interesting. Sitting reverently on a stand, perched atop a shelf on the wall, sat the ancient Lasat weapon known as the bo-rifle. Kallus' skill with the weapon had been well-known for some time. He had been the only Human known to use one and he did so almost exclusively. Over the years, the man had shunned more conventional weapons usually used by members of the ISB in favor of the big, clunky, yet somehow elegant weapon that was designed for a being much larger than a Human. Kallus had been just as good with the weapon as any Lasat of the High Honor Guard that might have been the blade's original owner.

Thrawn considered the weapon for a long moment; the way Kallus had treated it, used it, made it a part of himself. This was no mere trophy of a bygone glory. This was a symbol of a moment that had shaped the man. It was a story that Thrawn had thought he knew, from reading Kallus' file. But now, in hindsight, and combined with the research he had done on Lasat culture as an offshoot of investigating the rebels, he began to see a different story wrapped up in the bo-rifle.

Behind him, Thrawn heard the door to the room open and close again. The rhythm of the footsteps gave away their owner without his needing to turn to see who had entered.

"Governor Pryce," Thrawn said, evenly, almost coldly, "what do you know of the Lasat custom known as the Boosan Keeraw?"

"I've never heard of it, actually," she replied, coming to a halt at his side, "why?"

"It's time to revisit the topic, I think," Thrawn mused, "have these quarters gone over with the utmost attention to every detail and have the contents delivered to my office aboard the Chimaera. I don't believe that I am quite finished with Kallus, just yet."

Thrawn didn't bother to look for Pryce's reaction as he smartly turned and exited the room. The business of the Empire continued. So one ground-down cog had decided to spring loose of his place in the machine. It mattered little, so long as the Empire went on.

But a little bit of revenge wouldn't halt the business of the Empire, either.