His energy near spent, Kallus gave what struggle he had left, but the effort only earned him a beating from the Death Troopers before they unceremoniously seized him and cuffed his wrists to an overhead bar. Thrawn gave no notice of the scuffle, his attention diverted solely to the transmitter. Even through his beating, Kallus saw enough to know the Chiss was plotting–that he was preparing a new torment for his prisoner.
Time slipped by. No one spoke. No one moved. Kallus thought of tempting the fates and calling out some snide remark, but he held back. It had been fine to put on a brave face earlier, act as if he would dutifully take his death in stride, but as the time grew ever closer, his courage faltered.
He didn't want to die. He wouldn't betray the Rebels. He wouldn't give in to Thrawn, but he was scared. The inescapable fear crept through him and sickened him. How many times, Kallus wondered, had he caused that same fear in others.
Kallus shrugged. That was why he hadn't gone back with Ezra when the boy had come to extract him. Perhaps now he had the heart of a Rebel, but that hadn't always been the case. He'd done too much to be forgiven for. This…this ending was better for him. He deserved this. A shiver ran up his spine. What was Thrawn waiting for?
As if to answer Kallus' mental anguish, Thrawn began to quietly pace about the room. Halting for a moment, he used the tower's aged systems to pull up a star map. The hologram flickered a few times before the blue orbs floating about remained in focus.
"You may have transmitted your warning, Agent," Thrawn said, starting into a conversation as if they hadn't waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity, "but, in doing so, you've given me the last piece of the puzzle. Now this is the trajectory of General Dodonna's fleet," Thrawn paused to point out the path on the star map. "And this is the trajectory of your transmission. Taken separately, they mean nothing, but together…"
Kallus fought down his growing dread. Internally, he reeled with the thought that he'd put the Rebel base in danger, but he knew how to play this game. The Empire had taught him how to hide emotions well.
"Nothing," Kallus replied, "There's no planet there. The Rebels are smarter than you give them credit for."
Thrawn smiled, his gaze fixed on the map where the two trajectories met. "A pity you do not study art, Agent Kallus. There is much it can show you, if you know where to look. Such as a system which does not appear on Imperial charts but is represented in the art of the ancient people of this sector. I believe they call this Atollon – now the home of your Rebel base."
As the planet Atollon appeared on the star map, Kallus felt his breath catch. He had doomed them all. Through his shock, he barely made out what Thrawn said next.
"Admiral Konstantine, deploy the fleet to these coordinates. We will join you shortly."
And then, everything went dark. By the time Kallus' senses started to return, two Death Troopers were dragging him down a long corridor. Judging from the layout, they were most likely on a Star Destroyer. Glancing up, Kallus could just make out the image of Thrawn walking ahead of them.
Why am I still alive?
"On your feet, traitor!" One of the Death Troopers barked. "It's about time you woke up."
Head throbbing, Kallus somehow managed to get his feet under him. He could only guess that one of the troopers had given him a blow to the back of the head in the tower. To keep upright, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Gingerly, he tested the binders restraining his hands behind his back. It was nice to know that even beaten and unconscious, he was still considered enough of a threat to use binders.
By the time they arrived at the bridge, Kallus was stumbling, unable to keep up with the swift pace that had been set. Then, Thrawn abruptly came to a halt, and one of the Death Troopers pushed Kallus down to his knees. Pain seared up through his right leg, but Kallus kept his grimace in check, refusing to give Thrawn the satisfaction of seeing him in any further pain.
On the screen before them, the blur of hyperspace stilled and Atollon appeared. Noting the fleet of Star Destroyers and a Rebel ship tilting listlessly, already heavily damaged, Kallus felt a new wave of dread sweep over him.
Governor Pryce appeared beside Thrawn. "What of Governor Tarkin's prisoners?" She asked.
Thrawn kept his gaze on the flaming Rebel ship. "General Dodonna is known for his courage. He wouldn't be aboard the first vessel to flee. Its crew is therefore irrelevant."
Kallus stared, watching the wounded ship split in two with a further explosion. How many Rebels were aboard? How many were dying this very moment? Part of him raged against Thrawn's apathy, but another part reminded him of how, not long ago, he too would have called those dying aboard the ship irrelevant. How could he have been that uncaring? How had he not seen the wrong in that?
"Open communications with the Rebel fleet," Thrawn commanded. "I'm sure they'll be interested in what I have to say." He paused, stepping forward as holograms of Dodonna, Sato and Hera appeared. "General Dodonna, Commander Sato, Captain Syndulla, at last we meet in this theater of war, however briefly."
Each met Thrawn's greeting with a deep scowl, and, even though he knew she couldn't see him, Kallus relaxed a little at having seen Hera's image. At least she was still alive, for now.
"There is no escape," Thrawn continued, "and your forces are badly outnumbered. This rebellion ends today."
"We'll never surrender to you, Thrawn," Hera spat.
The Captain's defiance, the pure spite in her voice, had Kallus smiling to himself. He'd been so sure his own errors had doomed the base on Atollon, Kallus had forgotten one very important element. Rebels have a way of turning the tables. No matter how foolproof a plan may be, the Rebels can find a way to make it backfire.
"You misunderstand, Captain." Thrawn replied, "I'm not accepting surrenders at this time. I want you to know failure, utter defeat, and that it is I who delivers it, crushing down upon you. Now, let us proceed."
The transmission ended, and the holograms blinked off.
Thrawn's speech had given Kallus some small insight. Now, he understood why he was still alive. He'd been cuffed and led around like a prized tauntaun so Thrawn could be sure he'd been properly defeated. But, why? Why was this so important to Thrawn? Because he had the heart of a Rebel?
Kallus kept pondering that question as he remained on the bridge. He wondered and waited and kept hoping for the moment the Rebels would turn the battle. What insane plan had they cooked up to escape this inescapable scenario? There had to be one…there had to be...something…
Kallus watched as one Rebel ship after another began to fall. Each loss weighed heavily on Kallus' mind, but he kept his emotions in check. He wouldn't let Thrawn see that he was breaking.
Then, Konstantine's Destroyer broke formation. The honor of a taking down a Rebel ship had the Admiral blinded. Even Thrawn's direct order could not deter the man.
Kallus held his breath, waiting with anticipation. The Rebels had something planned, he knew it, but he couldn't figure out what. The Rebel ship made a swift turn, course set in line with Konstantine's Destroyer. Disbelief and horror settled upon Kallus as he watched the ships collide.
The Rebels had to be desperate. They were not ones to waste life. They would not have chosen to sacrifice a ship without a cause.
Someone reported to Thrawn that a single ship had made it through the blockade. Kallus frowned. Was that why the Rebels had made such a sacrifice? For one ship?
The Rebel fleet turned, retreating back to the planet. Kallus frowned. He knew what came next.
With a ground bombardment, Thrawn could easily wipe the Rebel base off the planet, but, Kallus reasoned, if Governor Tarkin wanted prisoners, Thrawn would try and take the base with ground forces. A well timed bombardment would simply weaken and dispirit the enemy before the troopers moved in.
Governor Pryce gave Thrawn an update, stating that the Rebels were taking cover under a localized shield.
"Very well," Thrawn drawled, "let's test their mettle. Commence the attack."
Below, the planet's surface erupted in explosions. Kallus watched the strikes, waiting impatiently for the ceasefire to be called. Shifting nervously, he glanced up at Thrawn. The Chiss was letting the attack go on longer than Kallus had assumed he would. The Rebels' shield wouldn't be able to withhold much more.
"They've had enough. Cease fire."
At Thrawn's words, Kallus let out a ragged sigh of relief. For a brief moment, he had feared Thrawn had decided to end the base for good, to forgo taking prisoners. Now, the Chiss stood before the screen, seemingly admiring his work on Atollon. His tall, lanky silhouette so poised, the very picture of Imperial perfection.
Eventually, Thrawn turned and started to stride by Kallus as he headed for the bridge door. Though the Chiss kept a calm demeanor, Kallus could tell Thrawn was eager to get to the surface and crush the Rebels. He'd called out to Pryce, saying that he was leaving her in command. A foolish choice, Kallus mused. Pryce was too jumpy, too unreliable in the heat of the moment. Kallus smiled to himself. Pryce would be another weakness for the Rebels to exploit in their escape. He could see it all unfolding now. That single lone ship that had broken through the blockade was sent to gather reinforcements. Who? Kallus hadn't a clue, but he did know they would find Pryce a much easier target in the Destroyers than Thrawn.
Kallus let out a low, full laugh. The Rebels would win. He hadn't cost them everything. The Atollon base, yes, that was lost, but they would survive.
Hearing the laughter, Thrawn halted and turned back to face his prisoner. "The plight of your friends amuses you?"
"I've been in your position before," Kallus answered, "only to have these Rebels pull a victory from certain defeat."
"You and I are not the same, Kallus, as these Rebels are about to learn." With that, Thrawn turned and exited the bridge.
He'd hoped to shake Thrawn's resolve. As foolish as the notion had been, he'd tried, but Kallus only managed to open himself back up to doubt. How did the Rebels keep going against such odds when hope was so ever fleeting?
And yet…
He eyed Pryce. To the untrained eye, she was the pinnacle of confidence, but he knew her tells. Kallus noted how her gaze darted quickly to any shuttle movement on the screen. Currently, it was all transports taking troopers to the surface, but that didn't ease her scrutiny. With her focus so completely set on the planet, an attack from the rear would certainly take her off guard.
Kallus risked a glance at the troopers standing guard beside him. The Death Troopers had left with Thrawn, and Storm Troopers had taken their place. As soon as Thrawn had left, Kallus had realized that escape might be possible. It would be long shot, but with a little patience and a lot of luck, he had a chance.
Adrenaline pumped through him, and he fought to keep his appearance calm, stoic. He had to wait. He had to find that perfect timing. Unfortunately, the wait proved longer than he would have liked. The hours were punishment on his sore leg, but finally his patience was rewarded.
He only wished he'd had a better view of Pryce's face when she heard the report. Rebels were on the hull, attacking the Interdictor. Kallus smiled. It was just as he thought. Rebel reinforcements were attacking from behind.
Explosions sounded from somewhere in the fleet. Pryce clenched her fists at the sound, yelling at the first person who reported a problem.
"Just fix it," she snapped, offering no guidance, taking no leadership.
Yes, Kallus thought, this would almost be too easy.
"Thrawn's not going to like you making a mess of his fleet," Kallus chided. He knew it wouldn't take much to make Pryce snap at this point.
"Throw this traitor out the airlock," she growled to the Storm Troopers guarding Kallus.
There was no hesitation from the troopers, and Kallus gave no struggle. He allowed them to gruffly guide him away from the bridge, toward the lift. Pryce was a fool, easily pushed to rash decisions in her anger. He gave her one last glance. Her seething glare was still on him.
Then, the lift doors closed and Kallus sprang to action. Normally, dispatching the troopers wouldn't have been that difficult, but with the binders and injuries, Kallus found the skirmish a little more challenging. Still, by the time the lift came to a stop, both troopers were knocked out and Kallus had gotten his binders off.
Exiting the lift, he made his way down the corridor. The throbbing in his leg continued, but it was numbed slightly by his new found rush of adrenaline. His thoughts were on one goal: get to an escape pod. Luckily, few troopers were left stationed in the corridors, and, after knocking out one last trooper, Kallus found a functioning escape pod.
Scrambling into the pod, launching it, sending the distress call, Kallus did all this on autopilot. Only after the call had been sent, after he sat back, waiting to see how his fate would play out, did Kallus consider how unlikely it was that the Rebels would retrieve him. After the attack on Atollon, would they still trust him? How did they know he hadn't betrayed them? Was it really worth risking their lives to save him after they had just been through so much?
Kallus was so busy grappling with his doubt that he gave a start as the Ghost's magnetic lock took hold of the pod.
They came for me.
He almost couldn't believe it. Relief flooded him. He'd made it. He had escaped.
Then, something else quickly settled into the pit of his stomach, driving the relief away. Guilt, grief, shame slowly bubbled up. He shifted in his seat, as he tried unsuccessfully to bury the emotions away. If he was honest with himself, he didn't think he deserved a rescue. He didn't deserve to be taken in by the Rebels. How could they see him as an ally after everything he'd done in the past? How could he face them? How could he possibly try and act as if he hadn't caused them so much pain? How could he explain that his error had caused Atollon to fall? Thrawn knew the base's location because of him.
This, Kallus reasoned, was all that blasted Garazeb Orrelios' fault. One night stranded on a moon and the Lasat had made Kallus question more about the Empire than he'd had his entire life. Worst still, Garazeb had started the train of internal self-evaluation that had Kallus exploring truths about himself he wasn't so sure he could live with. And if one night with a single Rebel had shredded Kallus' image of himself so badly, what would a life amongst the Rebel Army do? Could he handle this?
Plus, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. Even his name was tainted now. Rebels would still see him as "Agent" Kallus and Imperials would see him as a traitor.
Kallus took in a slow, deep breath and then slowly released it. "I owe the Rebels my life," he said quietly to himself. "I will repay them for that." He couldn't deny that there would be more hard truths to come, but he'd felt what it was the Rebels fought for. Garazeb had helped him see that. He had Garazeb to thank for that.
With a sudden clatter, the pod door opened.
"You alive in here?" Rex called out, peering into the pod. As his gaze settled on Kallus, Rex's features softened and he looked as if he regretted his choice of words. "Karabast, you look like hell."
"I'm sure it looks worse than it is," Kallus replied, gingerly getting to his feet.
Rex gave a nod, though he looked unconvinced. "I'm heading to the bridge. You're welcome to join me."
Not waiting for a reply, Rex turned and set off, and, since Kallus really was at a loss for what else to do, he followed.
The old clone was surprisingly spry, and Kallus found himself maneuvering a bit faster than his aching body would've liked, but he'd taken notice of the sideways glances the various Rebels aboard the Ghost gave him as he hurried past. He could see their confusion, their grief, their distrust. Few would have even known he had been Fulcrum. Deciding it was best not to test the waters, Kallus was certain continuing to follow Rex was his best option at the moment.
General Dodonna appeared ahead of them, obviously heading the same direction. He entered the bridge only a moment before Rex and Kallus. With a quick scan, Kallus found Hera, Garazeb and Kanan seated near the controls.
Then, the Ghost made its jump to hyperspace, leaving Atollon behind.
Hera let out a tired sigh of relief.
"Ain't that a beautiful thing," Garazeb quipped, a halfhearted grin slinking across his face as he stared at the blur of space on the screen.
"Made it out by the skin of our teeth that time, we did," Rex added. "Don't think I'd like to be cutting it that close any time soon."
Hera groaned. "How about we never cut it that close again."
"Agreed." Kanan's voice was a soft huff.
After taking in a deep breath, as if steeling her resolve, Hera stood up. Slowly she glanced around the room, her gaze settling on each Rebel before moving to the next. Kallus met that gaze for only a second before looking away. He hadn't meant to, but those searching green eyes held a flicker of concern as they fixed upon him. He wasn't sure how to react.
"I know," Hera started softly, her voice warm, welcoming and yet full of grief, "we have lost so much, and we are tired, but it isn't the time for rest just yet. We have so much to do. I know it is a lot to ask, but we need to set an example for the others to follow. They will look to us."
There was a moment of contemplative silence. Kallus marveled at the stillness, the command Hera held even in her pauses.
"Kanan," she continued, "I want you, Ezra and Zeb to see to the Rebels aboard. Tend to the wounded as best you can, help those find any comfort they may during this trying time, see if we have enough rations to get at least one decent meal out."
"Of course," Kanan answered, "I'll let Ezra know." The Jedi was up and moving toward the cargo bay.
"I'll check the med supplies," Garazeb called out to Kanan as he followed after the Jedi.
Hera turned to Rex. "I need you to start plotting our course to Yavin IV. We cannot afford to be tracked. I'll send AP-5 and Chopper up to assist you."
"Understood," the Clone replied and settled into the seat Kannan had vacated.
"General Dodonna," Hera said, stepping closer to the man. "We have," here she paused, sucking in a sharp breath, "so much to do."
"I know," Dodonna sighed. "We must take inventory of the fleet, see how many we lost, and we must speak with the Mandalorians. We owe them so much."
Hera nodded. "We'll use the common room as a meeting room for now. I'll send for Sabine and the others."
Feeling more like an intruder than a guest, Kallus made a slow turn for the door.
"Kallus."
He froze. He hadn't expected Hera to notice his departure. He turned back to find her giving him a soft, tired smile.
"Stay close," she said.
He felt a slight frown pull at his mouth. Blast it! How could he let that slip? Hera must have noticed. Her own smile faltered for a moment.
"I'm sure we'll need your advice," she added.
Kallus shrugged. "Of course. I'd be happy to assist with whatever I can."
Eager to move away from the attention, Kallus turned and headed into the corridor, Hera and Dodonna following close behind. Not knowing where to go once he was off the bridge, Kallus stepped aside, letting the Captain and Commander pass by as they moved toward the common room.
"Thank you, Kallus." Hera offered as she passed by. "For everything you've done for us."
He tried to feign a smile, but it didn't matter, Hera was gone. That was probably for the best, otherwise she might have noted the misery her gratitude produced. Leaning against the cold, steel wall, Kallus closed his eyes. Soon he would have to tell them that it had been his failure that cost them so much. He wouldn't hide his mistake. If he was going to set a new path for himself, a better path, he couldn't start out with lies. Hera would surely call him in for information on the Empire, and, when she did, he would tell her what had happened on Lothal.
"You okay?"
Kallus straightened and looked up at the purple face looming before him. On pure reaction, Kallus grinned at the Lasat. It actually felt nice to have a comrade to talk with.
"I'm fine," Kallus offered, noting that look of skepticism that crossed Garazeb's face. He was really starting to wonder how bad he truly looked. "I'm just tired, but I guess everyone probably is."
"Yeah," Garazeb answered.
It took a moment, but Kallus finally realized the Lasat was starting at his right leg. Only then did Kallus realize he'd been favoring his left, keeping his weight shifted from the right.
He felt a wave of heat flash across his face. Of course Garazeb would notice that injury.
"It's fine," Kallus offered.
The Lasat scowled back at him.
Kallus sighed. "I'll live."
Slowly, Garazeb's scowl faded and he gave a slight nod. "We don't have enough med supplies to go around, what with all the wounded. If we did, I'd…"
Kallus cut him off. "I've been through worse. Like I said, I'll live."
Again Garazeb nodded. "If you see Ezra, tell him I'm looking for him. Blasted kid made himself scarce right after someone sicked-up in the cargo hold. Had to clean the mess up myself." With one final wave, the Lasat strode off.
That short conversation left Kallus feeling all the more isolated. That brief joy of familiarity only highlighted how alone he felt.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall. Slowly he tried shifting some weight onto his right leg. It protested, but the ache was still dull, bearable. Curious about the rest of his injuries, Kallus gave a slow twist of his torso, stopping abruptly as a sharp shock ran up his left side. He'd thought he'd felt the familiar pain of cracked ribs during his fight with Thrawn. Of course, that work over the Death Troopers had given him probably hadn't helped.
He didn't bother reaching up to feel the lump on the back of his head. The queasiness in his stomach and the slight blurring of his peripheral vision, along with that lovely slow throbbing in the back of his skull, were hint enough of a concussion. Even without medical attention, it was all manageable. Uncomfortable, yes, but certainly manageable.
Unwilling to sit and block the passageway, Kallus remained standing. Hours passed, and he found himself starting to drift off. He fought the sleep off, but wondered how much longer he could last. When was the last time he'd slept? Honestly, he wasn't sure he could remember.
Hearing the common room door open, Kallus' attention was drawn to the blind Jedi coming down the hall.
"Kanan, thank you," Kallus paused, "for taking me in." The words weren't enough. Kallus was sure of that, but he had felt the need to say them anyway.
"Thank you," Kanan replied, his hand settling gently on Kallus' shoulder, "for risking everything."
Kallus couldn't tell if it was in the touch or the words, or just in the force itself, but he could feel the Jedi's gratitude, and Kannan wasn't grateful for Kallus' actions. No, his focus lay on what the ex-agent had been willing to give up for the cause.
In those few seconds, Kallus felt a flash of memories. Foremost was the knowledge that his death was at hand when Thrawn had discovered him. That memory was so terrible and yet…he could see something in himself to be proud of. He had risked everything for what he believed in.
Snapping out of the memory, Kallus eyed the Jedi carefully, but those milky eyes gave little hint back as to what the Jedi knew. Still, Kallus felt calmer, more at ease.
Removing his hand from Kallus' shoulder, the Jedi turned and continued down the hall.
For a man who made it his life to gather intel, Kallus thought, I still have an awful lot to learn, don't I?
Okay, that was covering Zero Hour part I and II. I'm playing around with exploring where this story goes next! Stay tuned.
