(This is not congruent with season 2 or "Legacy")

"Sir, I have spotted the Rebel ship. It has landed in a field and does not seem to be active. Do I engage?"

Stromtrooper #5556's voice crackled into Agent Kallus's comm, sending a jolt of excitement through him. He nearly spilled the lukewarm caff he'd been neglecting to drink. He sat up in his seat, pushing away the datapad he had been reading prison reports from.

It was the one prison-and a small one- that hadn't been attacked by the blasted Lothal rebels yet. Kallus had plans to expand the prison, and prepare rooms for more... important prisoners. Kallus yawned, stretching to wake himself up. It was always a long night, and it was longer since those traitorous rebel fools crept up like weeds.

"Send the coordinates. I will gather a battalion and meet you there. We will infiltrate the ship and arrest these Rebels when they least expect it. I will request a promotion for you, Trooper #5556." Kallus smirked. Promotions never failed to be a good impetus for a foolish trooper.

"Yes Sir. I mean thank you Sir. Sending the coordinates." His datapad pinged, and the coordinates appeared on screen.

The Rebels would be apprehended and shipped off to the new prison, the Jedi would be tortured again until his brain shorted out and he died with the rest of the crew, the Padawan would be shipped off to Darth Vader, and Kallus would be paid in a promotion and enough money to buy a small planet.

The Rebels would be decimated, killed for their wrongdoings and for killing the peace.

All for the Glory of the Empire.

Zeb twirled the fork in his hand, reveling in the scent of syrup and spacewaffles. There was nothing wrong with a late dinner of breakfast. Fulcrum didn't have any missions for them, so they all took a much needed break. Even Hera had retired to her…er… Kanan's bed, tiredly telling Zeb to keep his dirty mouth shut or he'd be cleaning the engine room for days. Zeb had simply chuckled.

But some nights, he had trouble sleeping. Ezra reminded him too much of some of the Lasat kits he had known. Too bright, too sarcastic.

And he'd left them behind just the same, pleading and crying, begging for their lives. It had been several months since the Kid had joined, but the look of betrayal on his face was still too familiar. And Zeb didn't like to think on it.

Nights like tonight, spacewaffles were always the answer. Everyone had nights like these, and everyone had their remedies. Kanan had meditation, Zeb had his waffles.

Chopper rolled by, clucking distastefully when the turned his sensor toward Zeb. "Keep moving, droid. You know Ezra'll help me dismantle ya if you wake him up from 'is beauty sleep."

Chopper clucked something that must have been a curse in binary and moved on. Zeb shrugged, chewing on a mouthful of sticky, sweet syrupy waffles.

Something felt wrong. He heard… something. At first he'd been too distracted to notice it, too busy mulling over his thoughts.

Zeb dropped his fork with a clang. What...what was that? His pointed ears flicked as he strained to hear again. He thought he'd heard something like a speeder. If the Jedi had such heightened senses, Zeb wondered how they stayed sane- though sometimes he wondered if Kanan really had lost his mind.

Zeb sat up, stuffing a final mouthful into his maw and making his way to the dorsal turret, where he could look out on the Lothal night.

Not for pleasure, no. Zeb wasn't for that poetic stargazing Bantha poodoo. He wanted to see what was out there. He could see and hear better than anyone on the Crew, so if something was out there, he'd know.

Zeb leaned on the back of the chair, his eyes adjusting to night vision as he stared out to the dark fields, where the grass swayed under the light of the half-moons and the stars, and Capitol City could be seen as jagged shadows on the horizon.

The grass ruffled as if something were moving through it and Zeb focused his gaze on the movement. It was far too big to be an animal, and the long grass was being shifted in the opposite direction of the wind.

"Karabast," He whispered.

There were several of them, lined up in perfect battle formation. They were gray, moving through the grass dutifully as if parting a crowd.

Zeb straightened, a stunned sort of silence settling over him like battle chills. The Empire had found them.

Ezra new this vision was real. He didn't know how, but something tickled in his spine and told him to get up.

Ezra shoved off his blankets, waving his hand to turn on the lights. The Force flowed through him, put a familiar jump in his step that came to him when he needed to move. On the streets, he'd had to be able to wake up and be on the move before he could wipe the crust form his eyes.

They're here. The Force had whispered it in his ear, painted a picture that chilled him even in his sleep. They were here to take them like his parents.

And he also knew that his parents would be in the same place they took them.

"Zeb! Zeb wake-" Zeb wasn't in his bed. The sheets were surprisingly neatly made, as if he hadn't even been there at all. Sometimes, he stayed up late into the night doing who knows what. He'd probably seen the transports by now.

Ezra ran out of the room. Kanan was opening his door down the hall. He dragged Hera with him, rubbing her eyes. Ezra decided not to comment as Hera pushed past them to run to Sabine's cabin.

"You saw it too?" Kanan asked. He was strapping on his armor with militant ease. He must have done this every day for years.

Ezra nodded, blinking owlishly. "They have my-" Ezra froze. He couldn't tell him the admittedly hair-brained plan he was forming. Step one: get captured. Step eighty: Save his parents and stick it to the Empire.

Ezra didn't know the other seventy-eight steps, but he knew Hera would never allow him to go through with them, not after his last gamble. Ezra pursed his lips. "Where's Zeb?"

Kanan waved a hand to the galley. "Said he couldn't sleep."

Hera jogged past. "Got Sabine up. I'll get this bird flying." Kanan nodded.

Kanan turned to Ezra again, and something in his eyes scared him almost as much as the Empire. Ezra cracked his knuckles nervously, picking a loose thread on his sleepshirt.

"You saw something else, didn't you?"

Ezra bit his lip. "My parents… they're alive." No use lying, Kanan had called him out for smaller lies. Nothing got past him.

Kanan's eyes drifted. He ran a hand through his hair. It hung down around his neck, tangled in spots. This was the first time Ezra had ever seen it down. It looked a lot like his own.

Kanan looked at the hand he ran through his hair as if it had betrayed him and tucked it behind his back. He finally met Ezra's eyes. "I know."

Ezra clenched his fists. He could feel the floor of the Ghost humming underneath him, getting ready to take off. And if they took off, they would be free, but his parents wouldn't be.

And he'd forever be shackled to the notion.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ezra shut his eyes, breathing deeply, counting down form ten. He couldn't lash out. Kanan cared about him, and he probably had a good reason.

"Ezra, look at me. If we told you what we knew it would only hurt you. We needed time to come up with a plan. We can't go rushing in or we'll all be caught and the Empire will have more prisoners."

Ezra set his jaw. "We can escape! We've done it before!" Ezra knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he couldn't help it. These were his parents, and they didn't care if the battle they fought had been a losing one. It was only right that he fought for them.

Kanan shook his head. "At what cost? We almost lost you!" Kanan pursed his lips. "Imagine how hard it would be for the fleet to rescue seven prisoners and a droid."

Ezra bit his tongue. Kanan was right, of course. Just rescuing Kanan was a close call. Ezra knew he cared about him, but if he cared, shouldn't he understand why he had to do this?

Kanan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly, just like his father used to. At least, he thought this was how a father should hold his son. He couldn't remember- only the ghost of hands that weren't nearly as calloused as Kanan's, and a whiff of cologne.

Ezra held Kanan tighter.

"Promise me you'll stay with me?" Kanan's voice came from above his head, and his breath ruffled Ezra's hair. Kanan pulled away and looked him in the eye, steady and pleading. "Ezra?"

Ezra winced. When he was six, he had promised his parents not to grow up too fast. Some promises were made to be broken. "I promise."

Ezra wasn't sure if he meant it or not.