Archive of Our Own

Imperial hallways were always a tad too cold, though after spending a day or so on an ice moon, Alexsandr Kallus didn’t even notice.

That wasn’t the only reason he failed to notice the usual irritant, however.

The likely reason was his leg, the bone in the wrong place, and aching as he limped through the hall. It was what he wanted to blame his rampant thoughts on.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the reason, either.

Garazeb Orrelios was a rebel. More than that, he was a vandal, a thief, a terrorist. He and his friends had killed stormtroopers or pilots that Kallus once sat with in the mess hall. They hurt, and they were throwing the galaxy into disarray.

Yet, he couldn’t get their interactions out of his head.

He hadn’t been dense enough to assume that every rebel would be a coldhearted person trying to cause chaos. No, that would make destroying them easy, and nothing could ever be easy. 

They had both tried to kill each other originally, so Kallus had no qualms about that. Even their agreement was only for survival, and all bets were off once they got off the planet. They may have talked slightly about their separate causes, but that didn’t change anything.

It was what Kallus had seen right as Zeb finally left that wouldn’t leave his mind.

Zeb offering to let him go with him, onto the terrorist ship that he had tried to kill so many times, was ludicrous. It was out of blind trust, one that he built far too quickly-- one that Kallus had also felt, far out of his nature. Yet, he had offered out of nothing but kindness, even suggesting that his friends would offer the same kindness by treating him fairly. 

And then he’d watched a reunion happen. Not even a full cycle had passed, yet they had been so blindingly worried for their friend, and just as excited when they found him. They all admitted it, practically cheering as they walked out. Zeb reassured them with such comfortable ease that Kallus nearly found himself jealous of it. Even the young Jedi had joked with him, worry fading away that quickly.

Kallus hated that if the Empire had shown up instead, Zeb would be killed or tortured. 

He hated that he had already known that before he saw the gravely heartwarming reunion, and it had sowed doubt in him quickly. It had to be some sort of rebel recruiting trick, perhaps some sort of Jedi trick that Zeb had been taught.

He knew it didn’t work that way.

And he knew he’d already been feeling guilt for Lasan and pushing questions of those orders he obeyed that dark day out of his mind for years.

His first thought as he sat in his bunk-- his empty, lifeless bunk. The Ghost was likely the pure opposite-- was that he needed to leave. Abandon his military post, abandon the Empire and the family who had paid to send him to such a fine imperial academy, just because of one day stranded on a moon with a rebel?

It was pure insanity.

He couldn’t just leave.

It was a drastic decision made off of a temporary emotion, and he wouldn’t fall for it. He knew that the Empire had flaws, any major government did. No one could be perfect, and sometimes brutality was necessary to quell the chaos of such a large galaxy. 

There had to be a line, though. A line that he knew, and certainly had known that the Empire had been crossing for a very long time. Zeb and his rebel friends knew it too, and they had done something about it.

He mentally cursed himself. Such a train of thought was foolish and dangerous, and he had to keep himself in check. He’d wait a few days and hope that it passed, like an illness or cough.

First, he had to get his leg taken care of, which meant walking to the medbay.

He got his leg healed, and continued his duties. He let five days pass, waiting for the feeling of discontent to pass so that he didn’t feel regret with every job he did. He was helping prevent anarchy in the galaxy with his work. They created order, and that had been the single goal of his entire career. It was good work within the Empire, and it was for a good cause.

He desperately wanted to believe that. He desperately wanted to stop himself from throwing away his life with a drastic decision all because of one short encounter. However, the length of an encounter didn’t matter. It was the effects and learnings from the encounter that made it worth anything, and this one was going to cost him his life.

Imperials didn’t get leave time. They joined the Empire for life, leaving family and homeworlds and free time behind. Their family became the Empire, and nothing else mattered. 

Yet, Kallus could leave temporarily of his own volition. It would be put onto his record permanently as a demerit, something that would hinder his progression forward and be frowned upon. Although, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to progress through an Empire that hindered only evil anymore.

That was why he submitted his request for two weeks of absence. 

It was how he ended up on the streets of Lothal in civvies, a duffle bag on his shoulder and a large number of credits in his pocket. He wasn’t deserting. If he did that, he wouldn’t have submitted a request. 

He couldn’t desert and make himself an enemy of the Empire, not when he was also an enemy in all but one rebel’s eyes. He couldn’t be wanted by both sides. He had to play this smart.

A task which he was mostly failing at.

As an imperial, he didn’t get much time to appreciate Lothal. Before, he saw the planet as rebel-supporting and nothing but trouble. Now, as he stepped through the streets and hoped no civilians would recognize him, he saw it differently. 

Sabine Wren’s art was on several walls that he passed, and more than a few people were seen looking at it as if seeking reassurance in the symbol of the rebellion. There were posters for meetings at restaurants or other local areas, all under different guises though likely serving the same cause. 

Everywhere he looked he saw signs of the rebellion. That fact hadn’t changed, though a week prior he’d seen it in guilty expressions or weapons put away too fast. Now he noticed it in the life of the Lothalians, scattered everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It got past so many of their eyes, and Kallus was more impressed than he should have been.

He made his way to the imperial transports, boarding it among others. He saw the way most made an effort to look away from the stormtroopers, but he also saw how a few glared pointedly at them. 

Kallus thought that there were imperial sympathizers. Perhaps it was just Lothal-- or it was only the rich that Kallus had grown up around who sympathized with the Empire benefiting them.

He’d find his answer at his next stop. He set his duffle bag on his lap, pulling out a brand new datapad. It had been purchased under a false name and logged in to systems that didn’t align with his in any way, even the credits he used had been unmarked. It didn’t take long to ensure it was encrypted and private, and then he started his search.

When he first boarded the bus, he hadn’t known where he was going. After spending a few hours and a few circles on the bus looking through rebel servers and finding common locations for their notices to come from, he left the bus and boarded a shuttle headed to other planets.

A nap and a hyperspace trip later, he was stepping onto Mygeeto.

The Empire had a presence there, which meant if his travels were tracked it wouldn’t be suspicious. It also had a very small reputation in the outer rim for its beautiful mountains and sometimes its cantina’s. Unfortunately, that had no bearings as Kallus’ excuse considering he was from the core, and any core world dweller would look down on that reputation instantly. Even so, he forged several messages and excuses on his personal datapad, that of which usually sat in his room untouched though was certainly monitored by the Empire.

He had to be smart, he reminded himself for the thousandth time as he counted his credits privately and walked to the first tech store he saw. 

While many could openly find a rebel contact and join it from there, he didn’t have the luxury. His refusal to walk away from the Empire would make this difficult, but the more he thought it over, the more he could see it working out. An imperial spy feeding information to the rebellion would be helpful.

It was also a huge step and would cement his betrayal and the future path of his life. He wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t terrified, but no one else needed to know it. He couldn’t remain complacent in an Empire that was never intended to protect people.

Becoming a rebel was a bit of a large step. He still wasn’t sure if he was willing to go the full way by betraying everyone he knew, but something had to change, one way or another. 

The store he found wasn’t crowded, and it looked more like a place for bounty hunters to get gear than civilians. He supposed that was probably the truth, considering Mygeeto’s crime levels. It had been rampant with war during the Clone War, leaving it a less than desirable place to be. He supposed that was why it would make a good place for rebels to go to.

He carefully glanced around the shop for imperials, finding none with great relief-- and wondering just how bad of a decision this was if he was relieved not to see his people. Imperials weren’t always friendly with each other, especially in different units, but they were all imperial. Seeing them around should fill him with pride, just as it once did.

It didn’t take long to find several communication devices, a holo projector and a recorder. He grabbed some other things, including multiple tough decryption devices. He had a very large amount of his credits on hand, but they were waning quickly with his expensive purchases. He hadn’t even gotten a room to stay in yet, and he had to account for traveling back to Lothal. 

He wasn’t deserting the Empire. No, he was doing something much worse.

Leaving would be treasonous, enough to end up with him dead or in a prison for life. Yet, feeding information to the rebels? It was sickening, and he’d be tortured before they killed him. His family would lose all honor and respect. 

His life as he knew it would be gone.

He’d given himself five days for the treasonous thoughts to go away already, but instead they’d only grown. He no longer felt guilty for every moment of regret about the Empire as he mentally went through situations where time and time again innocents were hurt for nearly nothing. Nothing reaped but reputation or political benefit, sometimes for meager materials that would be sent to another classified project which would only continue the vicious cycle of hurt.

It took longer than he would have liked to find a hotel that wasn’t awfully expensive though still fit his standards. He could mentally scoff at those standards; if he got caught he’d be in the worst of the worst places, yet he was worried about how nice his hotel was as he committed treason and ruined his life.

He was ruining his life.

He spent a long time staring out of his window at the meager sight outside. It was nothing to look at, but it wasn’t as if he was actually seeing it.

Lasan. Onderon. Every other assignment he’d ever had to put down rebel insurgencies. Those people were only fighting for their home after strict enforcements were placed upon them.

The curfews, always pushed earlier and earlier to isolate the people and stop them from communicating or gathering after work. The increased hours for miners on Lothal, though never with breaks or wage increases. The way that everything was blamed on insurgents and rebels, but entire populations weren’t rebels. The only reason the rebel threat had become such a threat was because the Empire continued to hurt people and stir discontent. 

The more he thought about it, the more sick it made him. 

He had once read a report of a rebel informant. There were little details, but after hours into the late night searching for it, he found a single symbol in the furthest corner of the holonet.

Fulcrum.

He couldn’t throw away his life yet. Not entirely. He couldn’t bring shame to his family in one fell swoop and leave everything he’d ever known. Yet, he couldn’t continue to blindly serve a corrupt government anymore. 

There was a very small gray area, that in reality was just as bold as flying himself to a rebel base right now. He could pretend it wasn’t as drastic, but it didn’t mean anything.

Even so, there certainly weren’t many cowardice people too afraid to leave the Empire yet too aware to serve it. The rebellion could use an imperial informant, especially on Lothal.

He began tinkering the devices he bought. In the back of his mind, he heard the voices of the Ghost crew as they reunited. He’d been chasing them for over a year, looking for everything about them that he could exploit or use to find them. He had been so determined that he’d catch them eventually and bring justice and order with their capture.

Somehow, it’d just come down to him joining them.

He had Zeb to thank, really. Or to be angry at, if he chose. He hated the part of himself that almost wished he hadn’t woken up from his blind imperial trance, wished that he could continue on the life path that he had worked so hard to create.

To continue would be only to hurt and destroy more than the Empire already had. 

He wanted to say that the idea of destroying the entire Empire was impossible, but he’d seen what the rebels were capable of. It would take years and much more growth for them to do any actual Empire toppling damage, but they were already making dents. Nearly all of Lothal was sympathetic to the rebel cause, and the Ghost crew of six beings had done that. What could entire fleets do? Harbingers of hope, preaching for the downfall of an Empire and risking their lives for it every moment.

He could call it ridiculous, or foolish. When he wore all of the cruel words that had always been at the tip of his tongue away, however, it was admirable. Doing good only out of the good of their hearts, all because they saw the oppressive government. Kallus was a true fool not to have seen it before, and so were all of the other imperials that he had never been actual friends with.

He worked tirelessly until the sun came up. At that point it was well beyond his sleep cycle, but he fell asleep anyways. When he awoke, he was right back to work, browsing rebel channels in between ensuring the contraption was fully untraceable.

When he finished, all of the components he’d bought had been made into one device that he connected to his spare commlink. He clicked on the holoprojector, that of which he’d split in half, leaving the whole contraption small enough to be hidden. Now, he just needed to find out where to send the signal.

The device projected a symbol. He didn’t know if the previous Fulcrum informant had used this, but he knew it was connected to them. The symbol was unique, though likely came from a marking of some sort. It would clear any human from suspicion, even if no one had any reason to suspect him-- yet.

He moved his hand through the projection, watching as it distorted. It was the symbol that’d change his future, and maybe others, too. He wanted to do good for once.

He tested the voice modulation aspect, sending a quick message talking to himself to the newer datapad. It distorted his voice perfectly, although his speaking mannerisms still showed through if he looked for them. It was a drastic measure to try to speak differently in any future transmissions, but everything about this inane idea was drastic. 

With a few last checks of the devices, he found a secure hiding spot in his room that only someone really searching would find. With that aspect finished, he had a week and a half to find someone to transmit it to. 

The smartest idea would be to give it to someone on Lothal and pray they didn’t recognize him. He worked out of Lothal-- although, if his lack of motivation to commit what should be crimes kept up, he may find himself demoted and pushed offworld-- so he’d find his information there. Unfortunately, walking into a room of Lothalian politically aware rebel sympathizers with his face wasn’t the best idea.

It occurred to him as he walked to a cantina which was growing in popularity-- that of which was just outside of the typical stormtrooper patrol route-- that he’d have to hope none of the people inside kept up with Lothal imperials. He was multiple systems away, but the sudden thought made him severely more conscious. He tried to relax himself, let down his consistently raised military posture and loosen up his expression. Body language could make or break an interaction, and in a room full of Empire-haters Kallus would certainly find that vital. Unfortunately, he had drilled proper posture and stance into his instinctual actions, and the habit wasn’t going to break anytime soon.

It wasn’t as if he wanted it to, considering that he was still in the Empire. It was almost funny how quickly his mindset was shifting to one of a rebel, the people that he used to, and possibly still would hunt. With a bit of forewarning to the rebels, he would never get far in that task. He was quickly realizing how much patience this new dangerous plan was going to require.

Several other people were heading into the cantina before him, and he listened as music and voices flooded his ears. It wasn’t overwhelmingly crowded, but there were enough people that a newcomer didn’t turn heads. He didn’t fail to notice how many of them were nonhuman, nor the complete lack of imperials or imperial insignias. There wasn’t even a curfew poster up, even though there was most certainly a curfew on the planet. It was a wonder how the place was still functioning.

He did as others did, ordering a drink at the bar and sitting on a stool. The only problem, then, was that he had no idea where to go next.

Speaking to strangers about unofficial topics had never been the easiest task for Kallus. It was why he did well within the Empire; there was no need for talking about anything other than the current ongoing. Sometimes he could complain here or there, usually about rebels or civilians, but there was nothing more than that. If there was a goal in mind, he could work his way through it socially just fine. While there was certainly a goal here, it was a completely unfamiliar environment, and part of his goal included looking like he was just trying to socialize.

Kallus had never been in a bar on an outer rim world, let alone one full of rebel sympathizers. He hadn’t grown up entirely around people who believed the Empire was the savior of the galaxy, but everyone had favored and supported it for their own benefit. That was enough to leave him completely in the dark here.

“You’re new here?”

He nearly jumped at the new voice, looking up from where he’d been staring into the drink that he had foolishly wasted credits on. Beside him was a male sullustan, a near empty drink in his hand.

“Is it that obvious?” Kallus let his sheepishness into his voice, surrendering all of his natural imperial command.

“You’re sitting alone, and you’re definitely not waiting for anyone.”

Kallus chuckled slightly, hoping it didn’t sound as tense as he felt. Making a machine to transmit imperial information was one thing, but actually speaking to a likely rebel sympathizer and starting this thing was another thing. Before, he could have abandoned it all. He mentally cursed Garazeb Orellios.

“You are also sitting alone, it seems,” he said.

“I always sit alone. Better to see everything that way.”

His eyes widened before he could stop it, and he turned to actually face the man. 

“This does seem like a good place to find people,” he said carefully, keeping his words ambiguous and hoping he had hit his target right.

The sullustan shrugged, “Are you new to town?”

Dodging the question, it seemed. Kallus figured he may have begun saying things too fast, before he even knew the man before him.

“Yes, although I’m here temporarily. I needed a break from everything, and this happened to be where the shuttle came. It did hit at least one of my requirements for a temporary living situation, however.”

That was technically a lie. He’d never made it a requirement to live somewhere with rebel supporters, though if he ever got around to living somewhere normal, it’d probably become a necessity. Thinking about the future was going to give him a headache.

“It’s an all right place. I’ve been here for about two years, and I’ll probably leave again when work gets too slow. Where are you from?”

Kallus considered an answer, but panic shot through his mind as he realized he couldn’t wait too long. This could be his way in, and he couldn’t seem suspicious. 

“Lothal, at the moment.”

He cursed himself the moment it came out. If the man did any searching into Lothal and its imperials he’d see Kallus’ face pretty quickly. Yet, it also had a high rebel insurgency rate, and would make him look like a rebel sympathizer-- which, he supposed, he was.

He breathed sharply, “I don’t blame you for wanting to get away. I’ve heard restrictions there just keep getting stricter and stricter.”

His first thought was that it was because of the rebel activity, before he remembered where he was and the type of person he seemed to be talking to. How long was it going to take before he could get his thoughts straight to one side?

“You have no idea. May I ask your name?”

“Het Torl, your’s?”

Luckily, he’d already thought of making a story and a false name for himself to use. His accent was obviously that of a core world, and that was something he couldn’t hide, so the name and story was fitting to that. 

“Alex Reglaa.”

“Nice to meet you, pal. I do usually sit alone here, but my watching means I know a lot of people. Want to meet some?”

“That’d be great,” he smiled genuinely for the first time since the Geonosian moon.

He’d made it past the first step, and Het took him to a table of five. They were all different species, with one human among them who stared at Kallus for an awfully long time.

He stayed there until curfew, learning their names and listening as the conversation switched from guarded to loose. It wasn’t long before they began complaining about current imperial protocols, to which Kallus took his opening and joined the conversation.

For hours he had spoken of the wrongs of the Empire on Lothal specifically. He called out several of his own actions, watching as the table scoffed and compared it to other worlds. Somehow, he had even convinced himself of a few new things with his words, not realizing them until they came out aloud.

He spent the next few days doing the same, watching as new beings joined the table and old ones switched to other ones. The entire cantina was full of rebel sympathizers, and there was only a little bit of doubt when new people joined, but it was never long before they made their intentions clear. Kallus was surprised at how quick they began to trust others.

It didn’t take long for him to learn just why that was.

While everyone who dwelled in the cantina was against the Empire, they weren’t all rebels. Most of them weren’t. They had families and work to do, they couldn’t go and join a rebellion. Kallus hadn’t even realized that aspect yet, though he realized that was how he certainly appeared to others.

The human who always stared at newcomers for a long time and listened more than she spoke was a rebel. They kept it quiet, but he heard it in the way Het and a few select others spoke. She was supposedly only on the planet in short lapses, and Kallus could assume she was an informant of some sort. He supposed that a lot of information on different worlds was said in the cantina, it couldn’t be too bad.

It meant that she was his opening. He grabbed the merged holoprojector and comm device connected to his own personal communicator one evening, tucking it into his pocket carefully.

The night went as usual, and Kallus was actually beginning to enjoy it. He was careful with his words, not saying too much about actual imperial regulations. Het was a nice guy, and he seemed to know everyone. Kallus was enjoying meeting everyone and seeing how the mind of a rebel actually worked. He was happier than he should have been to see that everyone else’s seemed to match his own thoughts from the past few days.

When the rebel woman, whom he had learned was named Ciervess, got up early he hastily followed. He saw the looks the others threw at him and knew that they would think less of him for chasing after a woman as she tried to leave, but he knew his true intentions and that was enough. She was gone almost instantly, and he picked the direction that less patrols went on. Sure enough, he saw her far off silhouette walking quickly down the sidewalk far ahead.

“Ciervess!”

He’d never even spoken to her, and her expression matched it. As he jogged to catch up with her he almost thought she was going to turn back around and continue walking away, but she turned to face him entirely and stood blandly.

“Yes?”

He’d heard her speak before, but in the silence around them he actually noticed the peculiar accent. It was one of a core world, perhaps Alderaan. He hadn’t expected that.

He lowered his voice, looking around cautiously, “You have contact with the rebellion, right?”

Her eyes narrowed visibly even in the dark, but she nodded.

He pulled the comm link out, holding it out despite the relatively large distance between them. She made no move to grab it, clearly requiring more information. 

“You’ve heard of Fulcrum?”

That definitely caught her attention. 

She straightened, stepped slightly closer, “I heard the current one was inactive after converging with Commander Sato near Lothal.”

Multiple Fulcrums? He made clear not to move an inch, leaving his surprise hopefully internal as he thanked the moons for his luck. That would make things even easier later on.

Unfortunately, her face hardened, “You didn’t know there were multiple, did you, Agent Kallus?”

Things were not easier.

He considered running, before letting himself basically wilt instead. This could be the end. If he couldn’t be in the rebellion but couldn’t will himself to serve the Empire, he wasn’t sure what that left for him.

She continued, “Alexsandr Kallus, from Coruscant, attended the Coruscant imperial academy, ISB agent who’s been hunting the Spectre rebel group for over a year. I find it hard to believe you’d have a change of heart.”

He supposed it had been foolish to hope that the intelligence agent of the rebellion wouldn’t find out who he was after he’d said where he was from. Hell, she might have found out anyway. He’d underestimated the rebels again, even when he was trying to be on their side this time.

He grappled to find words, “Quite frankly, I’m having a hard time believing it either. Believe me, I have regrets, but I can’t serve the Empire anymore.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“I have the datapad and supplies I bought, and the two week's resignation demerit I’ve received.”

“That could all be just for this exact situation. Why would you hypothetically have this change of heart?”

He noticed that her hand was about to unsheath her blaster, something that he hadn’t even noticed before. It was underneath her coat, but she was prepared to pull it out. 

“I hopped in an escape pod chasing the rebel Garazeb Orellios. We crashed on a Geonosian moon and were stuck there for about a day. I know it’s unbelievable to have such a mindset change in a day, but… Well. I see the Empire’s flaws now.”

She stared at him, walking to the side slightly, “I know. I heard you talking about them the past week. So, either you actually had a change of heart after a lifetime of loving the Empire and how it brings order,”-- she really read up on him, he realized-- “or you’re just a monster who can see it all and doesn’t care.”

“I think that I was before, or I just didn’t see it. Please listen to me when I say that I see our flaws now, and you’ve all been showing me even more reasons for me to destroy my entire life.”

“This commlink is connected to you, yes?” she asked, her dark tone unchanged.

“Yes. I was planning to feed information to the rebellion and stage as a second Fulcrum. I assume that there is only one, and that piece of information was meant to confuse me and the Empire when you presumed I’d tell it back to them.”

She cocked her head, answering his question easily enough. He figured that his assumption was correct; she wouldn’t just hand over that information to an imperial. Doubt still lingered in his mind, multiple Fulcrum’s did made a lot of sense, but he couldn’t truly know.

“Well, I’ll take it, then. I won’t be handing it over to anyone anytime soon, though. When are you returning to the Empire?”

“In five days.”

“I’m only taking this because finding informants is once in a blue moon, but don’t bet on it getting passed on, especially if you’re really plotting something for the Empire. You can tell your superiors you duped me and get your reward, it doesn’t mean anything to me. And, maybe you should leave now. If you really get a demerit then there isn’t much information you can give us from lower positions. I don’t care to see whatever acts you put up in the next five days to act as anti-imperial as you can, whether or not your story is true. I’m out of here tomorrow, and you won’t be finding anything from the others.”

Her words felt like a reprimand, but it was the truth. Kallus was thankful that she took it at all, and he really hoped that she would pass it on eventually. He had a feeling that half of the information she’d offered up was a lie, such as her conveniently leaving  tomorrow or him not discovering other information. There were probably a dozen other things she’d suggested to confuse him, and he was content with that. He didn’t need to know rebel secrets, he just wanted to assist them for now. He couldn’t keep serving the Empire. 

“Thank you, truly.”

“By the light of Lothal’s moons.”

“What?”

“You need a code phrase. That one connects to other rebellion… Things. I know it, so I can confirm it's you.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thank you, again, for all of this.”

She nodded, turning back around and continuing her quick paced walk. It was only as he was heading back to the cantina that he realized she’d grabbed her blaster, holding it ready to be used as she walked out of sight. 

He supposed that was what it was like to be a rebel. As large as they seemed, their numbers were nothing compared to the Empire yet. He was sure that one of the few truths in her words was the difficulty to get rebel informants, and it was the only reason she was even considering his commlink. 

The cantina was loud as he walked back in, but he slid back into his previous seat. A few of them looked at him with irritated eyes, but he ignored it.

“Really, Alex?”

“I wanted to ask something. Rebel business.”

He didn’t think they believed him, but that was okay. An hour later he was back in his room booking a shuttle ticket on his own datapad. He didn’t get much sleep, considering his detour to throw the new datapad and other technology he hadn’t used into a junk pile. It was all crushed and destroyed first, completely wiped and gone. He was content that the credits weren’t wasted, despite the wasted tech.

The next morning he was in his imperial uniform and on the way back to Lothal, everyone else on the shuttle a few seats away from him. He hated the way the uniform made him appear, though he knew it was also how Ciervess had seen him. The perception wasn’t entirely wrong.

Week's passed. He continued doing his work with a guilty conscience, watching as his superiors glared at him for his failures. He began going out to local cantinas at night, giving his superiors a reason for his behavior so that they wouldn’t suspect anything. It was light, and he was still begrudgingly doing enough to retain his rank, but the changes were there.

He made his transmissions, wondering if Ciervess had thrown the commlink away yet. 

Two months passed.

He sent out a usual piece of information about their next lead on a construction site. So far, the transmissions that could so easily ruin his career had shown no results of being seen by the Lothal insurgents.

He hadn’t even been at the scene where it happened, but the Ghost crew had been there at the perfect time, completely destroying it and succeeding to show results. Kallus couldn’t believe his eyes as he read the report, and he was thankful that he hadn’t been there. It was near impossible to contain the smile that grew on his face.

He was finally doing something good. Something that wouldn’t hurt or kill others. It felt better than he’d imagined, and for the first time he couldn’t wait to send his next risky transmission. The excitement didn’t destroy his caution, but he still felt better about it all knowing that he wasn’t risking everything just to send transmissions to a comm in a trash compactor.

Then, the Ghost crew disappeared. The Ghost made its appearances , operating off of his information, but they were never on the ground like before. His information was still functioning well and helping, but not like it could be. He didn’t understand. 

Ezra Bridger was there sometimes, and only intense analysis of the reports and his actions showed the sudden violence he was inhibiting. Their crew wasn’t working together, and it was nothing like the heartwarming reunion Kallus had witnessed on that damned ice moon; the interaction which had changed everything for him.

It lasted like that for six months.

Then, they were back as if nothing changed.

He found out information about some rebels at Skystrike academy and transmitted it. That information had been difficult to clarify, and he’d scrapped it from a single worry mentioned by an instructor and expanded upon it in rebel servers that Het had shown him all those months prior. It had been near impossible to come by, and he hadn't even known if there would be enough crew to do anything about it. 

Somehow, there was. They wrecked a lot, made a disaster and set everyone on edge, but that was what they did best. It was satisfying to see.

Things continued. Grand Admiral Thrawn showed up, which made things a lot more risky for Kallus as he operated as a spy under his watchful eye, but he continued nevertheless. Things got more serious, and it began feeling like an actual war.

The strain finally began to wear on him.

He began to want to leave.

He was no longer scared to change his entire life path. He’d already done it, the moment he called out for those two weeks. He saw nothing but cruelty in his coworkers words. He knew they were people, something many rebels probably didn’t, but that didn’t change what they were doing. He knew the mindset, thinking they were helping, but they didn’t consider anything else.

It wasn’t a fair point. Kallus hadn’t seen the wrongs they were committing for a long time either, and it was only Zeb who showed him anything new-- he wondered far too often if Zeb even remembered him. Yet, he couldn’t convince every imperial, and he couldn’t deny how cruel they were. They took pride in that cruelty, just as he had.

It was a double edged sword, but he had to focus on himself and his task. It was important for the rebellion.

At Skystrike he helped Sabine Wren, referencing Zeb and their time on the moon. He didn’t know if Zeb told his friends, but he didn’t need to know to save them. Eventually, he assisted Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger, too. 

He also told them he was Fulcrum.

That hadn’t been part of his plan. 

He hadn’t even intended to run into them, but he saw the improper heights and stances of the stormtroopers during a crisis while two rebels were there. Most of all, he’d seen the droid. He hunted them for long enough to recognize that old model, even disguised in imperial colors. 

The only way to get them out would be to assist them directly, so revealing his secret was the only option. He didn’t want to admit that he was tired of keeping the secret only to himself, but it was the truth. He was surrounded by people he was betraying everyday, and it was becoming overwhelming.

Seeing their faces, the faces that he’d personally ordered to be put on wanted signs, up close as they removed their helmets was a shock. In some weird way, it was comforting. 

They definitely weren’t fans of him, but they believed him. That was enough for now.

He knew when Thrawn began to get suspicious. A few chide comments about how the rebels knew when to attack were all it took, and he’d likely been suspicious even before then. Kallus had long since learned how to keep any reaction to himself entirely, it was essential in what he was doing. 

It wasn’t a surprise when Thrawn pressed the issue of a spy, though it was worrying. He’d have to leave soon; and he was almost thankful, despite the heavily disappointing lack of information they’d be getting. It’d be a large disadvantage, and his tiring of being in the Empire meant nothing in the long run.

Framing Lieutenant Lyst felt wrong, but it was his best option. Lyst was easily convincible, and he’d proved time and time again that he didn’t care if the Empire was doing bad things. He believed in the system, and it was enough for Kallus to frame him.

Ezra Bridger showing up was shocking. Hearing that Kallus could leave, and that they wanted him to, was almost relieving. He had only access to public and therefore heavily restricted rebellion information, and none of that was ever about Lothal. If they actually wanted to remove him, then it was for the best.

They wanted to remove him from the Empire because he was close to being caught. It was that rebel sympathy that he had once been convinced would cause them to lose, but he once again realized it was one of their strengths. In the opposite situation, the Empire would leave him to die. It was likely largely because of the imperial secrets that he knew, but protocols weren’t worth enough for the trouble of removing him completely.

He stayed.

He didn’t stay for much longer.

He’d always known it could end badly. It was the most likely situation. He had thrown away the life he worked so hard for just because he’d gained a moral compass, and he didn’t regret it. He was no longer halfheartedly considering committing treason, he had done it now, and he believed in that completely. The Empire was doing bad things, and he wasn’t standing by.

He just never considered what could happen when he actually got away from the Empire. He’d never dared to think that far ahead.

The answer was that he’d stand in the cockpit of the ship he once denied an invitation to board as it fled the base he’d wondered about for so many months.

They headed to a different rebel base.

He was in the rebellion. Free of the Empire.

And Yavin IV was beautiful.

He didn’t even know where to start. It was like that cantina on Mygeeto, except a thousand times larger. It was full of people like the Ghost crew and Ciervess. 

He stood outside of the medbay after being discharged. His injuries still hurt and would for a while; the rebellion didn’t have unlimited bacta. He supposed that was his new lifestyle, and he’d have to get used to it.

“Looking a little pale there, Agent.”

Zeb.

Kallus had spent roughly a year recalling that experience on the ice moon, wondering if Zeb even remembered it. He tried not to think about Zeb that much; he’d killed too many lasat to ever consider being his friend-- or more--in anything but a life or death situation. Yet, as he turned to him and saw his expression, all of those thoughts vanished.

“Do I?”

Zeb laughed, “You still don’t have a sense of humor, huh?”

“I suppose not. Is that a rebel requirement?”

“Only requirement is hating the Empire, and you seem to have that down.”

Kallus chuckled, falling into step beside him.

Zeb spoke again, “Base is huge, Atollon wasn’t like this. It’s great, so many of us.”

“I’m beginning to wish I got to spend time on Atollon to adjust slower.”

“You’ll get the hang of it. And, you’ll be surprised how many other imperial defects there are here.”

Kallus glanced downwards, “And how many were so loyal they served for years blindly?”

“Probably more than you think. Those guys don’t really advertise it, I’d guess.”

It made him feel slightly better, but he still didn't think he fit in. He didn't have the same ruthlessly good nature that the other rebels did.

There were people repairing the starships. Fleets of the ships went on for what must have been kilometers. Larger ships like the Ghost were scattered around, just like their pilots. Generals and commanders rushed around, accounting for the new rebels from Atollon-- there seemed to be a lot, but not enough. The base had been large, and it was a significant loss.

Zeb turned around abruptly, raising an arm. Kallus followed his gaze, seeing Captain Syndulla and Sabine Wren walking towards them. He wanted to crouch and run away; he’d hunted the Ghost crew for too long to talk to them on their own base so casually.

He didn’t run away.

“Zeb!” Wren shouted, giving the lasat a hug for a reason Kallus didn’t understand. He recalled that she’d shown up late to the battle over Atollon, but he didn’t know the reason for that.

Syndulla smiled at Zeb before looking at Kallus, “Welcome to Yavin, Kallus. You’re settling in all right?”

“All right enough. Thank you once again for picking me up.”

“Thank you for all of your transmissions. They helped us more times than you know.”

It was similar to what Kanan Jarrus had said to him. These rebels were just too kind.

It wasn’t long before Syndulla had to run off to some Captain's duty, but Kallus spoke with Zeb and Wren for a while. They looked around the base together, though Kallus and Wren were stiff in conversation. 

Time continued to pass.

Kallus got used to the base. He no longer got lost in the dark when he got up at night, and he was no longer uncomfortable everywhere he went. He’d never lose his military posture or formal way of speaking, but he was able to get settled well enough. He even began talking to rebels, often about the busyness of the base or recent missions.

He worked intelligence, finding secrets and missions. It was on the surface the same job as before, but everything was different. 

It suited him. He’d never have imagined a woodland planet on a base crammed with far too many beings and ships would suit him, but it did somehow.

A war was beginning, and he was happy to be a part of the correct side.

It wasn’t always easy, but he managed. Zeb was often there to help him manage through it, but he made other friends. He once saw Ciervess on the base, and though it was in the midst of a squadron landing that left everything busy and chaotic, she still gave him a smile. It was odd to see that she was just another rebel among hundreds, but that was how it was. The Ghost crew was in the same boat, only he was sure that they were special. The way that they worked together and meshed was unlike most others that he saw.

That lasted even when Kanan Jarrus died and Ezra Bridger vanished.

Kallus returned to Yavin once Lothal was free, though everything felt changed. They lost two good Jedi, though General Syndulla-- Hera was assured they’d get Ezra back eventually. Unfortunately, it became evident she had much more on her hands to worry about, and that wasn’t just the rebellion.

Kallus remained in the rebellion as the war officially started, and as the death toll rose into the billions.

He was no longer imperial. He’d found his way to the rebellion.

He was finally doing good work, and he had the experience on the Geonosian moon to thank for it.