Chapter Four

Hyperspace never really changed. It was always dark, cold, lit only by the streaks of stars or other celestial glows observed in (very rapid) passing.

Despite having seen similar sights for more than a decade, Kallus found himself appreciating the view from the Ghost's windows regardless. It was familiar; comforting, almost, though such thoughts were more new to the ex-Imperial.

It was also an indication of safety, having left Imperial pursuers far, far behind.

Kallus shook his head to rouse himself from his thoughts and headed down the hall, where Rex stood next to the lounge's open doorway. The soldier had changed back into his armor and washed the dye from his mustache, looking far more relaxed than he had at any point during the mission. The ex-agent could empathize. He'd been far too relieved to shed his own disguise and don more normal apparel, though he had stored the armor for future use where Rex, he suspected, had spaced his uniform.

"Any change?" Kallus asked in a low voice.

Rex shook his head. "Hasn't said a word since we got out."

Kallus sighed. "I was afraid of that." He accepted the two thermoses his crewmate offered him and entered the room.

Inside, Lyste was seated alone at the small, gray table. He had been looking down at his folded hands in front of him, but looked up when Kallus entered the room, assuming the expression of prey in the speederlights. Kallus ignored the expression, seating himself across the table from Lyste and pushing one thermos across the table before taking a sip from his own. A minute later Lyste hesitantly took his thermos and warily sampled it. He relaxed when he tasted the simple broth and quickly took another swallow, the hunted look fading.

A few moments passed as both men sipped at their soup, before Lyste put his down and stared at the tabletop again. "I…" he began hesitantly.

Kallus glanced up at him.

"I punched Pryce," Lyste blurted out. He sounded bewildered, voice edged with a hint of possible hysteria and a considerable dose of bewilderment. "I didn't mean to, but I felt someone grab me and tried to break loose and she was right there, I don't – I hit a superior, how –"

"Lyste." The man winced and slumped, hearing a reprimand where Kallus had only intended to break him out of his panic. "You did what you had to survive." He couldn't quite keep the humor out of his voice as he added dryly, "I doubt you would have struck her had you known."

"Is that what happened with you?" the former lieutenant finally met his eyes. "Trying to survive?"

So they were talking about it now. Very well. "In part, but that came later. Initially I merely investigated the questions any loyal cadet is always told not to ask, and, well…"

Kallus sighed. "What do you know of Minister Tua's death?"

Lyste frowned. "She was murdered, killed in an explosion set by –" He abruptly stiffened. "This… crew…"

His former superior shook his head. "That was my initial understanding as well. Her file, however, marks her as Terminated."

"What?" Lyste stared at him, aghast. "They killed – she –"

Kallus nodded. "It seems fairly obvious, in hindsight. I was simply too blinded to look further at the time. Ultimately I found that the Empire is responsible for war crimes of far greater severity than those they accredit to Rebel forces, while the Rebellion is generally more principled than they're given credit for." He took one last sip of his broth before setting it down, looking evenly at Lyste. "Which is where we come to you."

Lyste wilted slightly. "I'm your prisoner, then?"

Kallus shook his head. "Not if we can avoid it." The younger man looked at him in surprise. "You ultimately have three options. First, you could come with us: join the Rebellion, and be able to continue in military service, albeit for a different party. This would mean fighting the Empire directly, possibly even people you know personally." He wasn't going to soften it for him; Lyste had always done best when faced with bare facts. "Second, you don't make a decision right now. This would result in you being held in the brig of one of our command ships until you do. But we aren't generally outfitted for holding prisoners, and if you choose to maintain loyalties I can't say how that would work out in the long run."

His former subordinate swallowed. "And the other option?"

Kallus met his gaze squarely, hoping his own showed his sincerity. "The third option is a bit more complicated. Provided you give your word to us that you won't fight against the Rebellion, we set you free. We can provide you with a new identity, possibly even employment. But there are other factors. The Empire will be looking for you, and for your own safety, you wouldn't be able to contact anyone from your previous life. "

The young man stared at his thermos, and Kallus took another sip from his own, giving him time to think. The thermoses had been Hera's idea. Supposedly it was to give Lyste a focal object and get a headstart on regaining the weight he'd lost during imprisonment. Given the presence of a second thermos, Kallus suspected that this was her not-so-subtle way of making sure he ate, too.

Finally, Lyste sat up straight for the first time and looked at Kallus. His blue eyes were troubled. "I still can't believe that you were the spy," Lyste confessed. He shrugged tiredly, looking haunted. "But I also can't believe that the Empire would kill someone who hadn't done anything wrong. They abandoned me, and you came back."

Kallus didn't respond, waiting.

The ex-prisoner grimaced. "I can't, in good conscience, go back to the Empire – and that's if they didn't shoot me on sight. But I will not fight for the Rebellion, and I won't stay a prisoner any longer without reason."

"I am truly sorry," Kallus told him. "I believed they would release you as soon as they had proven my involvement."

Lyste gave a short, bitter chuckle. "Maybe we both put too much faith in the Empire." He took a deep breath. Then another breath – in, then out. "I think I'd prefer to try it on my own."

Kallus nodded. "We can arrange that." He glanced toward the door, and Rex nodded and disappeared down the hall. "Captain Syndulla will know who to put you in touch with."

The younger man nodded, frowning slightly in thought. "I think I'd prefer to go…"

"Don't tell me," Kallus interrupted him, voice sharpening into command tones. "Not your name, not your destination. The less I know, the better."

In case of capture, neither said, but both heard. Lyste nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied, straightening into as close to military posture as he could presently manage and saluting. Kallus held back a wince. Lyste would need to lose that habit if he was to enter civilian life, but that would be better left up to whichever contact Hera called on. If questioned, the Ghost crew could honestly say Lyste still had his Imperial mannerisms and it would read as truth, regardless of the past tense.

Hera entered the room quietly, and Kallus held out his hand to Lyste. "I wish you luck," he offered simply.

Lyste looked at his outstretched hand for a long moment. Kallus could only imagine what Lyste saw when he looked at him. Lyste had once idolized him for his service to the Empire. Did he see a traitor? A betrayer? Or did he somehow still look up to the man who had placed him in danger in the first place? Slowly the younger man reached out his own hand and shook that of his erstwhile superior. Kallus nodded and looked him in the eye, then released his hand and stood, allowing Hera to take his place as he walked out the door.

The fourth moon of Yavin was quite unlike Rantoon – lush tree canopy, a current heavy rain, and reddish-stone monuments that may have once been pyramid-like in shape but had been worn down over time into a shape vaguely remniscient of an anthill. Many of the exterior walls were riddled with (if not held up by) encroaching vines from the surrounding jungle. Further inside, however, the walls were solid and remarkably intact, though lacking natural lighting. These had been retrofitted with the necessary wiring, electronics, and security.

The rain continued pouring down from Yavin's skies as Kallus lifted a crate from the pile and carried it off the Ghost, setting it with a splash beside the one Rex had just deposited. He supposed it was a credit to AP-5's loading skills that the stack had fit in their hold at all – the crates were piled by category in a line almost as long as the Ghost itself, already being grabbed by other Rebel members and carried off to where they'd be the most useful. His hair and sideburns were dripping with moisture and his hands were greasy from lifting a crate he suspected contained weapon components. Kallus absently wiped one hand on his trousers as he critically compared the size of the stack in front of him to the one on the Ghost. They had unloaded more than half of the shipment's contents, and he couldn't help but compare the load to those intended for Star Destroyers. It was almost pitiable in comparison.

"Kallus!" called a voice, and he turned to see a man dressed in gray with a dark cloak striding toward him, hood pulled over his graying black hair to protect him from becoming soaked. The quality of the clothing beneath, while discrete, seemed to be of a higher quality than he'd become used to seeing from Rebel forces. As the man came close enough for his face to be recognizable Kallus felt his eyebrows rise. Higher quality indeed.

"Senator Organa," he greeted the older man, shaking the hand he'd been offered and noting his lack of recoil at the state of Kallus's own. "The Empire has suspected your true allegiance for some time. I see they were correct."

"So long as they remains suspicions, I see no reason for concern," Organa returned. "I read your mission report."

Kallus felt his gaze turn wary as his hand dropped to his side. "Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you." His gaze was kind through the haze of falling rain. "It's not often I hear about someone doing the right thing, rather than the more convenient or political one."

"I couldn't leave him there," the ex-agent admitted quietly. "Not when it was because of me."

Bail Organa smiled slightly, his brown eyes warm. "I wish there were more Rebels who were willing to look beyond the uniform in the name of justice, rather than convenience. We could use more of your type – on either side of the lines." Kallus blinked at the seeming contradiction in that statement, but the senator was still speaking. "On that note, I requested the privilege of delivering this news in person." His smile became more defined. "The motion carried. You are officially off probation." Organa's expression showed understanding as Kallus's shock apparently showed on his face. "Welcome to the Rebellion, Kallus."

"Thank you, sir."

"Give your recent exploits, I look forward to seeing you in action." He was still smiling. Kallus automatically shook his hand when he extended it, feeling something hard placed in his palm. "Clear skies."

"Safe travels," Kallus returned. Senator Organa turned and walked away toward a smuggler's ship he had presumably hitched a ride aboard.

Kallus was uncertain what to think. Organa seemed to think he had made the best of a bad situation, even though his decision had ruined Lyste's plans for his life – but at least the man himself was still alive to live it. What troubled Kallus was that he couldn't say that he regretted the decision to frame him in the first place. Without that choice, hundreds of people would have died – hundreds of innocents. And yet in the process, he'd nearly sent a man equally innocent of the Empire's blame to his death. What manner of man did that make him, in the end?

"Hey." Zeb approached him, apparently unbothered by the puddles beneath his his bare feet. "Everything okay?"

"Yes."

"Well, don't keep us waiting. Cargo's not going to unload itself." Zeb started back into the Ghost's hold.

Kallus watched him go for a moment, then looked down at his hand and opened it.

A Captain's rank bar lay across his open palm.

It was night on Rantoon, a yellow moon shining over the Imperial outpost. Multiple guards stood stiffly at attention around the garrison while other personnel loaded scrap from destroyed TIEs onto hovercarts for future re-forging. Where before the post had looked makeshift, those days were over. Imperial shuttles moved grimly down the streets, the stone walls were now being painted a stark and uniform gray, and civilians were all inside under new curfew laws.

Inside her plain gray office, Governor Pryce considered it an improvement.

The black-haired woman nodded her head to the small hologram on the desk before her. "Admiral Thrawn."

"Governor Pryce," the blue-skinned man on the other end replied coolly. His eyes' red glow couldn't transmit through the emitter's blue light, but were no less piercing for it. "I take it you have news?"

Pryce's lips tightened below her bruised cheekbone. "Word of the execution was leaked as planned, and the Rebels responded with a rescue team including Kallus. He was accompanied by members of the Ghost crew – the Lasat, for one, and a Clone trooper. The Ghost itself was also present."

"I assume they are now in custody?" The man's tone was almost mild.

Gritting her teeth, Pryce shook her head. "No, sir. Unfortunately, he and the others were able to escape."

"Kallus will be dealt with in time," came the reply. Admiral Thrawn looked disapprovingly at her from the small holo on her desk. "You were unwise to attempt his apprehension yourself." Her gaze narrowed at the subtle slight as he continued, "Kallus is clever, and well aware of standard Imperial protocols and tactics. To defeat the enemy you must act in a way they do not anticipate. Our former agent has a way of thinking that is far more Rebel than Imperial."

"Yes, sir," she replied stiffly. "How do you recommend we proceed?"

"There is nothing further we can do with Lyste," came the dismissive reply. "You will announce that the execution commenced as intended and Fulcrum has been dealt with."

"And the traitor?" Pryce demanded.

"You will cease attempts to recapture him," Thrawn replied coldly. The lighting in her office seemed to dim slightly as his eyes narrowed. "I will deal with Agent Kallus… myself."

The End