Chapter Text
In their full phase, the dual moons of Lothal cast a brilliant light that seemed to illuminate the plain for kilometers on end in a silvery glow. Just as the stars seemed too bright their last night on Ryloth, the stars on Lothal seemed too bright as well. Hera hadn’t remembered them this way from the last time they’d traveled to the system, but then again, they hadn’t met Ryder so far away from the city.
Stretched out on the ramp next to Sabine, she looked up at the sky. Kanan sat just above them, leaning back on his palms as they all listened to the Bridger Transmission.
Or at least half listened.
“It’s a miracle they haven’t gotten themselves killed yet,” Sabine commented dryly.
“It’s a miracle they haven’t invited the Empire over for dinner to discuss how they could handle things differently,” Hera snorted. After a moment she added, “They’re good, though. For what they’re doing.”
“Yeah,” Sabine said, turning her head to look at Hera. “That’s why it’s a miracle that they haven’t gotten themselves killed. Nothing good in this galaxy lasts.”
“They’ve got Ryder to protect them,” Kanan finally chimed in, his voice distant. “They’re doing what they can to change the galaxy in their own way. Maybe what they’re doing has made more of an impact than anything we’ve done.”
Hera arched her back just enough so she could look up at him dubiously. “I get that they’re spreading hope by speaking out. But where have they made any action? The Empire isn’t just going to go away by spreading hope. People have to actually be wiling to fight, to actually do something.”
“Aren’t they, though? They helped us.”
Unconsciously, Hera’s hand came to her hip, fingertip tracing over the still-new scar over her hip. “They did,” she acknowledged quietly. “And I appreciate that. But helping random people still won’t change what the Empire is doing to the galaxy.”
Kanan looked down at her as she looked up at him. There was a fond smile on his face as he reached out to trace along tchun, “From where I’m sitting, the random person they helped made a difference in the galaxy because that person is still alive to do things her way.”
“He’s got you there,” Sabine pointed out. “Maybe there’s more of us blowing shit up than we know about.”
“You know,” Hera half-grumbled, “I don’t like it when you take his side. If you’re staying on my ship, we’re going to have to set some ground rules. The first one is that Kanan is always wrong.”
That earned a laugh from the woman, “No, he’s only wrong about fifty-five percent of the time.”
“I’m wrong never,” Kanan corrected. “It’s called being adaptable. You two should try it some time.”
There is no logic in utilizing my systems for this broadcast. I’m going to power down. Chopper warbled in an irritated tone.
“You’ll power down when I say you can. Keep broadcasting it. Maybe there’s a secret message in there somewhere or something,” Sabine said, pushing herself up off the ramp. She hopped off the side of it and started pacing through the grass. The woman was as bad about sitting still during idle time.
Hera looked back up to the sky and sighed, all too familiar with the feeling. What Ryder was doing was obviously risky and she understood the need for all the secrecy, but she found herself anxious to get on with their next job. The time she’d spent on Ryloth left her overwhelmed with emotions that she wasn’t in the mood to process; realities that she didn’t ever really want to face about what she’d done. Guilt still niggled at her for not telling her father about Lessu, for not at least asking how many survived the attack.
Pushing the thoughts away, she tried to focus on the broadcast and the feeling of Kanan’s hands gently massaging her lek. Maybe their little stunts against the Empire would get them killed and she’d never arrive at the day that she’d force herself to tell her father the truth.
Lights from a hovercraft appeared on the horizon and Hera reluctantly sat up. It was the other downfall of having to sit still for too long; it gave her just enough time to realize how exhausted she was. As the hovercraft pulled closer, the transmission came to its end with one final statement.
Remember, my friends. The simplest gesture of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope.
Kanan’s brow creased at the words. “That’s an old Jedi saying,” he said, almost to himself. “It was something my Master used to say it all the time.”
There was a degree of thoughtfulness to his tone that was unsettling to Hera. It was one of those stupid coincidences with the Force that they would have to sign off with that after the discussion that they’d just had. But it was only that – a coincidence. The fact that it had drawn such a voluntary and easy admission from Kanan scared her, though. Before she could manage to question it, Ryder pulled alongside the Ghost.
She’d have to remember to ask him about it later.
The silver-haired man stepped out of his craft and along with him, another man. This was new for Ryder and an unwelcome surprise for Hera to say the least. She eyed the man with him warily. “Ryder,” she said in a chilly greeting.
“He’s safe,” Ryder assured her, seeming to easily pick up on her discomfort.
“And he’s here why?” she asked, not mincing her words. A little warning would have been nice.
As if he were expecting her response, Ryder gave a slight chuckle. “That’s a bit of a complicated story,” he started. “Your trick with that last doonium mine got the Empire’s attention in more than one way. It’s been reported that Moff Tarkin’s Star Destroyer encountered an unfortunate hyperspace collision after its destruction. His Destroyer and all crew aboard were reported as dead.”
Hera’s eyes widened and she felt a flutter of hope course through her. Tarkin wasn’t the Empire – but if he was dead, if he was really dead, somehow it would feel like a victory.
Sabine asked the question that she couldn’t. “Is he really dead though? Or is this some sort of Imperial trick.”
The man with Ryder spoke up then, his words heavily carried on a heavy core worlds accent. “Due to his inability to protect one of the Empire’s most valuable resources, he is definitively been eliminated. The hyperspace collision is merely a cover story,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Even with only the moonlight illuminating the gathering, even if the man hadn’t spoken, Hera could have identified the posture of an Imperial a kilometer away. “You’re an informer,” she said slowly, taking note for the first time that he still wore the blacks that she knew to be associated with Imperial Securities Bureau. “Are you crazy, Ryder? He could go right back to the Empire and –“
Stepping forward, the man spoke up again. “I’m a defector, like you, Miss Syndulla,” he paused and turned to Sabine, “Miss Wren. My name is Alexandr Kallus, former ISB.”
Hera didn’t miss Sabine’s silent gaze cast in Kanan’s direction. She followed that gaze to see him give a slight nod. What the fuck was that all about?
“I apologize that I couldn’t give you any details about this prior to tonight,” Ryder continued, “but like yourselves, Kallus is a highly wanted man. He was assigned to detail with the Grand Admiral of the Seventh Fleet, which brings us to the matter at hand. That Grand Admiral made a visit to me two days ago to ask what I knew about the rebels behind the doonium mines being destroyed, stating that he made a link between the destruction of the land that I owned and the attack on Batonn. Of course, I told him that I knew nothing but I’m not entirely certain that he bought it. He’s linked your vessel, and you in particular Hera, to the attack on Batonn. I don’t know how he’s made those connections, but this Grand Admiral is dangerous. His methods are different than that of the Imperials that I’ve encountered before. Kallus is familiar with his strategies and how he works.”
“Cut to the chase, Ryder,” Hera cut him off. “That doesn’t explain why this guy is here.”
Unaffected by Hera’s blunt words, Ryder gave a nod of concession. “Because Kallus will be joining your crew.”
Epilogue
Ketsu sat silently at the holotable, her spine straight and eyes focused straight forward. Though she showed no outward signs of anxiety, she could feel beads of sweat prickling her skin beneath the binders that held her wrists beneath the table. There was no chronometer in the room, no way of telling how long she had been waiting for an Imperial officer to interrogate her for what information she had.
After that, it would be over.
Defection equaled death in the Empire. It was a fate that she’d already accepted and one that she would not argue. There was no point in fighting it and she wasn’t going to waste the precious few breaths that she had left in this life doing so.
A young man stepped into the room, with tan skin and brown hair. He wore the insignia plaque of an ensign. “Miss Onyo?” he asked. His voice was thick with a Wild Space accent that was not typically found in an Imperial officer of any rank.
“You ask like you don’t know the answer to that question,” Ketsu answered dryly.
The ensign smiled almost sheepishly. “My Commanding Officer has requested that I retrieve so that he might speak to you.”
Might. As if she weren’t going to actually speak to him, she wouldn’t have to. She could see why most of the Wild Space cadets never made it past the rank of stormtrooper. The man carried himself like an easily chastised child. Wordlessly, she stood from the holotable and walked around the corner of it.
The ensign extended a cylinder in her direction. “If you’d like, I can remove those binders.”
With a brow raised, she extended her arms. “That’s not standard Imperial procedure.”
He gave a slight chuckle as he released the binders from her wrists. “There’s a lot of things that we don’t do according to standard procedure around here. My name is Eli, by the way. Eli Vanto.”
She answered with a blank response. There was going against standard Imperial procedure and then there was this. The man was talking to her and treating her as if she wasn’t a defector, a wanted criminal of the Empire. It didn’t make sense. When the bumbling kid finally seemed to figure out that she wasn’t going to respond to his introduction, he cleared his throat and turned his back on her – another procedural deviation – and led her through the long corridors of the ship.
Despite her sense of self-preservation and the temptation to take advantage of the subpar Imperial procedures, Ketsu followed the man to his Commanding Officer’s ready room – a Grand Admiral. Obviously the ship’s higher command had been busied with other affairs for an ensign to be leading an unbound prisoner through the halls.
That would explain the lapse in procedure.
“This way,” he said, motioning for her to follow him into the room.
When she stepped inside, Ketsu couldn’t help the sharp inhale at her surroundings. She’d never seen a Commander’s ready room before, but she had spent enough time with the Empire to know that individual expression was not encouraged. The ensign’s statement about not following procedure may have been an understatement.
Various artifacts and relics seemed to spread across the room. Trophies of defeated enemies, perhaps? There was art on the walls, paintings and drawings that she’d never seen before. Art had never been her thing, but for all of the artwork that she hadn’t recognized there was one piece in particular projected on the wall at the far end of the room that she did recognize.
It was art that belonged to Sabine.
The man behind the desk had his back to her upon entry. He wore the easily recognizable crisp white uniform of a Grand Admiral. He was tall, with blue-black hair trimmed neatly. In the dim lighting of the room, Ketsu found herself believing that the bluish tint of his skin was a trick of the light until he turned to face her.
Not only was his skin blue but he had red eyes that sparkled glittered almost dauntingly. He extended a hand in the direction of a seat before the desk. “Ketsu Onyo,” he nodded, his words sounding almost hospitable. “Please do have a seat. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Grand Admiral Thrawn and you’re aboard the Chimaera of the Empire’s Seventh Fleet.”
Ketsu did as she was told, unable to help but blatantly stare at the Grand Admiral. Where an Imperial officer from Wild Space was startling in itself, an alien Grand Admiral was even more bizarre.
Either the man didn’t notice or he didn’t care. “I understand that you’ve come aboard the Chimaera by way of Moff Tarkin’s Star Destroyer,” he said thoughtfully. “It was Tarkin’s intention that they would send you to Stygeon, however I thought that unwise. Then again, Moff Tarkin seemed to be unfortunately unwise with how we best utilize the Empire’s resources.”
“Resources,” she repeated slowly before she could think better of it.
The response seemed to please the Grand Admiral, if anything. “Yes. You see, I read your files from the Imperial Academy on Mandalore. It seemed that at the time of your defection that you were quite the stellar cadet with great promise. You showed no signs of rebellious behavior or suspect activity until the day that you did not report for duty. Is my assessment correct?”
Ketsu gave a brief nod in response.
“You see, Miss Onyo, it is my belief that you were persuaded by another cadet in the academy to take your leave. I have a particular interest in that cadet as well as some associates of hers and it strikes me that while Stygeon is effective at producing results from interrogation that you might be of more service to the Empire than providing temporary answers,” he continued.
“I am willing to cooperate,” she confirmed slowly, still unsure of where the Grand Admiral was going.
“While I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Onyo, there is something else that I would like to request of you,” Thrawn said evenly. “If you would like, we can operate according to standard Imperial procedures and proceed with the interrogation and your subsequent elimination but I would like to offer you another option.”
Another option? Ten minutes ago, Ketsu was certain that she was going to be interrogated and disposed of. What other options would she have for doing something as ignorant as letting Sabine talk her out of defecting from the Empire. Her spine straightened and she met the Grand Admiral’s gaze, “And that option is?”
Thrawn’s red eyes seemed to glitter more intensely as he wordlessly retrieved a small bundle from beneath his desk and placed it in front of her.
Ketsu looked down to find herself staring at the uniform of an Imperial officer.