Written for Artemis1000 in the 2018 Maythe4th Exchange

"I think I broke you. Forgive me, if you can."

Zeb turned his head to stare. His worst enemy-turned-sort-of-friend stood next to him in the mess hall as they filled their plates with dinner. They weren't alone, but amid the dull roar of everyone else having their own conversations, it was as good as solitude.

"I'm still a little fuzzy about human customs now and then, but don't most people say 'Hello?'" He expected a laugh in return, as he always got when he pulled out variations on this one, but Kallus watched him without cracking a smile. "You all right?"

"I could ask you the same." He led the way to the end of one table, a small pocket of quiet away from the rest of the crowd. Zeb followed out of curiosity, setting his tray down and finding a seat on one of the hard benches. The mess was set up to accommodate humans and near-humans, though after the first few stiff days, Zeb had noticed they were just as uncomfortable as he was, banging knees and elbows as often as he did.

Kallus settled in to his own seat, only bumping his own arm once as he took a bite of the bland food. For a moment, he didn't look at Zeb, and Zeb figured he was just in a mood. They were all worried these days, and moody too. Lothal was free, but the rest of the galaxy still squirmed under the Imperial boot, and the Rebellion had lost more battles than they'd won. Same old story.

He noticed Kallus had stopped eating. "You better hurry up. We've got a mission briefing after this."

Kallus took a bite, then folded his hands. "I figured out why you're not sad."

Zeb blinked, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"Everyone else on your team is grieving the loss of your friends. They're working through it, but you can see it if you look. Staring off into space for a moment, changing a sentence halfway through to keep from saying someone's name. It's common behavior." He took another bite, and Zeb thought back, and yeah, he'd noticed that. Even Kallus did it.

"But not you. And that's my fault. I'm part of the reason you lost everyone you cared about the first time. You don't have room left for grief now. I'm sorry."

Zeb stared at him.

"What?"

"I broke you." He sounded so sincere, or at least he sounded like what Zeb always thought 'sincere' sounded like in his species. He'd spent the last six years surrounded by humans and he still didn't understand all their peculiarities.

"You didn't break me, Kallus. Trust me." He took several large bites of his dinner, mindful of the time.

"Then why aren't you sad?"

And there it was, another thing he'd learned about humans: a weird half-breath, like the words were getting stuck inside his mouth on the way out and blocking his air. He knew how to read that one. Kallus wasn't really asking about Zeb at all. He was sad and he didn't know how to handle it.

Zeb rubbed his head, looking around the mess. Nobody was paying them any attention.

"Come on," he said, leaving his tray. When Kallus didn't join him, he put his hand on the man's shoulder and lifted him halfway out of his seat.

"Where are we going?" His own tray abandoned, he had a churlish note in his voice that reminded Zeb of the bad old days when they used to try to kill each other.

"Out."

"We have a mission briefing."

"Yeah, and those take a while to get started, and the only good parts are at the end. We'll ask someone later."

Kallus huffed, but he didn't turn around, instead following Zeb out of the old temple they were using as their base and into the humid evening. On the horizon, the planet hung red in the sky, peering evilly over this small moon. Zeb made a half-hearted sign with two fingers against it.

Then he stared at his own hand and he smiled.

"Look up." Kallus followed his gaze, now away from the glowing planet and out towards the stars. "When I was a pup, the oldsters told us stories about the stars. Every one is a soul, they said."

Kallus shrugged. "My planet had a similar superstition. Then we were bombed by the Separatists, and when my grandparents and I fled the planet as refugees, I found out the stars were just balls of gas." He didn't talk about his past much. Zeb had never asked.

"They can be both."

Kallus gave him a look full of meaning, and most of that meaning was his declining to call Zeb an idiot.

Zeb made a circle with his fingers. "What's this?"

"What?" Zeb gestured with his hands until Kallus looked. "It's a circle."

He moved his hands again. "And this?"

"It would be a square except your fingers are curved. Your point?"

"They're also just my fingers." He broke the shapes and wriggled the digits. "Nobody ever really is gone. Your body's not moving any more, sure, but the part of you that's you goes to meet the Ashla. If you've been a bad person, the Bogan eats you, but if you lived a good life, the Ashla sets you among the stars." He turned his head until he found the one he wanted, and pointed. "That one's Kanan. It's got a green tint to it, like that shirt he wore."

Kallus folded his arms. "First, that star was there long before he died. Second, it's clearly a planet."

"Nah. It's in the sky and it glows." He ignored Kallus's scoffing laugh and turned. "That one's my mum. I could see my dad from Atollon, but he's out of sight here."

"Zeb."

"Yeah?"

"All of these stars were formed billions of years ago. You have to know they're not your loved ones."

"A circle and a square and fingers, remember?" He looked around them. "There are billions of stars out there, and a billion billion galaxies with more. Plenty of room for everyone." He nudged Kallus's arm. "I like the look of that one. I think it'll be mine."

Kallus looked at him. "You're not dead."

"Not yet. When I do die, I hope the Ashla's in my corner because I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of." Zeb rubbed his head. He'd made peace with the amount of damage he caused the Imperials, he'd thought, but there were sleepless nights when he wondered. "Anyway, like I said, there are plenty of stars to choose from. May as well pick mine now." He could shine close to his mother, and keep looking out for his friends in the Rebellion. Seemed like a good thing to do.

"What did you say the other one does?"

"The Bogan?" Kallus nodded. "It eats you over a million years. No hanging out in the sky to watch your friends, and no shining at them when they need you to remind them that everything is going to be all right." The greenish star stayed bright, and Zeb gave him a companiable nod. Maybe it was a planet, teeming with life or bubbling with surging lakes of methane. Didn't much matter.

"That's worrisome." Zeb noticed the thickness in his voice.

"Hey, don't worry about it. You're trying to do the right thing now. The Ashla knows you're trying."

"Is that enough?"

"I guess we'll all find out. Do you want to pick your star?"

"You don't think that's a bit morbid?"

"No."

They looked at each other across an expanse of lifetimes, until Kallus looked away and up at the stars. "I can't choose."

"Then pick that one." Zeb pointed.

"That's yours. You said so."

"Well, yeah, but there's no rule we can't share. We can keep an eye on everyone together until all the stars burn out."

"You want to share our afterlife?" His face went weird again.

"Sure. People do sometimes." Some of the old honor guards were for certain shining together from the same pinprick of light, as happy together now as they'd been in life. Zeb hadn't given much thought back then to sharing a star with anyone. But now? "Can't think of anyone I'd like to share my star with more."

The weird look wasn't going away. "I think I'd like that." He paused. "What happens when they burn out? Stars do die, you know." He was worried again.

"Then we'll all go to the next place, and since we're on the same star, we can go there together. You've got a lot of questions for someone who thinks a star is a planet."

"It is a planet, Garazeb."

"It's not only a planet, Alexsandr."

Kallus quirked his mouth. There had been times in their past where Zeb had wanted to punch that smirk off his face. This wasn't one of them. "You know, I don't think you've ever said my name before."

Zeb shrugged. "It doesn't suit you. I always pegged you for a Tom or a Gallius or something."

"Gallius Kallus? That's awful." He stopped. "How long were you trying to figure out my name?"

"Don't know. A while. Since Geonosis maybe." Truth be told, he'd spent a lot of time thinking about this human after they'd been rescued from that icy moon. This moon was humid and sticky even with the night breeze, and they weren't enemies any longer. Everything was different here, from the creaking of insects calling out to find mates, to the open smile growing on Kallus's face.

"We should get back," Kallus said. "We've got that mission briefing."

"Yeah."

"After the briefing, could we come back out here? You could show me more stars."

"Even if some of them are planets?"

"It's important to you. I'd," he coughed, clearing his throat, "I'd like to learn more. About Lasat culture. About you." Even in the low light, Zeb could see his face turning red. This was hard for him.

Zeb took his hand and squeezed. They could catch up on the briefing in the morning. He took their joined hands and pointed up together. "That one over there is my sister. Mum always missed her a lot, so that's why they're so close now. Do you want to pick stars for your parents?"

"That sounds... Yes. Let's."

Above their heads, the stars spun slowly, watching the pair and shining down on them with an infinite, perfect kindness.

end