Warning: Graphic violence!
The sounds of screams slowly fill the world around Kallus as his ears stop ringing. His head pounds, something warm trickling across his forehead and into his hair. He tries to breathe, only to let out a pathetic wheeze.
He tries to look around him, tries to take in where he is and why so many people are on the floor. Why the smell of fire and ash is so strong.
Before he can gather any real data, a figure steps out from the smoke. A Lasat covered in deep scars and holding a bo-rifle, stops in front of the closest prone body. Without a moment's hesitation, it stabs the sharpened end of its weapon into the man's chest, cutting off one voice from the mix of many. Realization freezes Kallus into place, his senses falling only on the Lasat and the other figures who come after it.
They kill off the injured one by one, each of them unremorseful as they do it. A blaster bullet takes out an older soldier, someone Kallus looked up to during his years in training. The rebel who shoots him snickers at the sound the man made, then they move on.
The Lasat draws closer, a wide grin slowly coming across its face. It begins to stop, now, before it kills each soldier. "Screamin' for yer mommy, ey?" It laughs, then stomps down with a prehensile foot. The sound of a squelching crack echoes through the air.
Kallus's mind screams at him to move, to run far away while the Lasat is distracted with someone else. But he can't. His arms won't obey his command, his legs just as unhelpful. He simply lays there, forced to watch as the monster gets more and more playful with its kills.
It props one man up, ignoring the cry of pain it causes. The Lasat hisses in false sympathy. "You don't look too good. Want some bacta?" It holds out a bacta patch teasingly, that grin returning. "What? Can't reach? Here-" In one swift motion, the soldier's arm is ripped out of socket. The bacta patch is placed casually into the severed hand. "There ya go. All better."
The man beside Kallus is shot without so much as a glance. It leaves Kallus alone, left to be delivered the same cruel fate. He doesn't breathe as the Lasat turns away from him, that bo-rifle now twirling in the air. It's suddenly thrown directly at him, the sharp tip embedding into the ground beside his head. Kallus can't even jolt from the motion, nor can he scream as the Lasat turns back to him.
It kneels over him, giving Kallus a once over. Kallus's heart beats harder and harder until it may rip apart, his chest aching with the constant dread that washes over him. He doesn't move when the Lasat picks up the bo-rifle again, nor can he do anything but stare as that sharp tip hovers just above his face.
Droplets of blood land against Kallus's cheek, a mixture of cold and warm as it rolls down his skin. He meets the Lasat's eyes and insanity stares back.
Kallus begins to shake and a whimper escapes his trembling lips.
"You wish you were dead yet?" The Lasat tilts its head. When Kallus doesn't answer, its ears flick in irritation. "Fine. Have it your way." It stands, the bo-rifle moving away from his face. Then, the Lasat walks back into the smoke, a rail of blood following each step.
Kallus doesn't move until the next morning when the Empire finds him still laying there in shock.
Large, padded fingertips pull Kallus from the ruined escape pod. He struggles, the pain in his leg getting worse with each desperate kick, but it's pointless in the end. He's dumped to the ice-cold floor, freezing air immediately biting at his exposed skin, and then seeping into his clothes.
Kallus grabs his leg with a hiss, hot pain shooting up and down the nerves erratically. The sound of movement above him captures all his attention in the next second, however. The Lasat rebel stands over him, those sharp teeth bared as he inches closer and closer, his bo-rifle pointed directly at Kallus.
"Y'know how easy I could crush your head?"
For a moment, he sees another Lasat. The snarl may be less mocking and the smell of blood may not be attacking his senses, but it's still the same. The sound of those feet crunching against the hard ground, the look of pure anger-
Garazeb's eyes soften and the bo-rifle lifts. A sigh, then he backs away a step. "But, I'd rather wait f'you to heal. Finish our fight fair 'n square."
This time, as the bo-rifle is pointed down at him again, Kallus feels no fear. Well, perhaps less fear. He's still very aware of the chance Garazeb could change his mind and shoot him anyway. Unlikely, but not impossible.
Even as the weapon lowers properly and the Lasat finds a small meteorite for them to warm themselves with, that day on Onderon still fills his memory. It makes him shiver, the cold only adding to the spasm of his muscles. When Kallus finds himself actually speaking about it, and to his nemesis of all people, he finds his chest...lightening. No, not quite. He isn't relieved of the pain, doesn't let go of his own hatred for the Lasat species, but it gets easier to think about. To accept that, maybe, Garazeb is right. Perhaps not all Lasats are how he's seen thus far.
That discovery is what stops Kallus from taking Garazeb's life. It's why he allows himself to be helped to a small cave, safe from the rushing winds of the moon's blizzard. It's why, when Kallus returns to his own room within his Star Destroyer, he finds himself clinging to that glowing stone.
He will never look at Onderon the same, nor will he view Saw Gerrera as more than a bloodthirsty extremist, but he now sees they aren't all that way. That his need for revenge on Lasan was unjustified, wrong even.
If Zeb can save his life, after knowing all that Kallus has done to hurt both his home and the family he's grown to love, then perhaps Kallus has more of a debt than he first thought.