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CHAPTER 01
“This is Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto, formerly of the Imperial Navy. I have information that could be vital to the Rebellion…”
Alexsandr Kallus sat up in his chair so fast he splashed caf on his shirt. Late night monitoring shifts in the Intelligence Department were usually tedious, a task relegated to fresh defectors like himself who were still earning their place among the rebels; countless hours spent listening to inane radio chatter between bored Imperial Navy officers and gulping down room temperature caf to stay awake. But every so often something interesting popped up. An understatement regarding this particular message, really. The scars on his arms itched.
Kallus captured the message on his terminal and began scanning it for coordinates. Even with his decryption skills honed from years as an ISB agent, it took much longer than expected. Vanto was clever — nearly as clever as his formidable commanding officer — hiding the coordinates under layers and layers of bespoke encryption. By the time Kallus retrieved the coordinates, it was time for morning shift to relieve him.
He rubbed at the scars, hidden by the long sleeves he always wore despite the jungle heat that permeated everything on this damn moon.
“Still stuck on monitoring duty, Agent?”
The familiar voice made Kallus clench his teeth. Cassian Andor leaned against the wall, regarding Kallus with amused disdain that, Kallus noted with concern, didn’t completely mask the haunted look in his eyes. He was back from whatever mission Draven had sent him on and he looked even more haggard than the last time Kallus saw him. He had been glad for the reprieve from Andor’s presence but seeing the dark circles under the other man’s eyes made him feel guilty for it.
“Draven doesn’t trust me with field assignments yet,” Kallus said matter of factly. “As you well know, Andor.”
There was no sense avoiding the realities of his situation. He was fortunate enough that the Massassi rebels had taken him in at all — credit for that went to Kanan and General Syndulla. He was slowly accepting that he might never repair the damage he caused while in service to the Empire. He shook the thought out of his head, returning his focus tot he task at hand. He didn’t like the way Andor watched him.
“Anyway, as delightful as it always is to see you, I must deliver some urgent intel to Command.” He didn’t wait for the other man to reply.
Kallus was halfway to Command Center — the warren of pathways in the old Massassi pyramid now familiar to him — before he remembered the caf stain on the front of his shirt. His ingrained sense of decorum won over the urgency of the situation and he made a quick detour to his quarters for a clean shirt.
He quietly slid the door open and a pang of guilt hit him as he laid eyes on the large sleeping form taking up his entire bed.
Garazeb was sprawled out on his back, snoring softly, his face relaxed. Kallus had been surprised the first night they spent together that Garazeb’s snores were soft and pleasant to his ears; for some reason he had imagined the enormous lasat would saw down a whole forest with his snoring.
Kallus temporarily forgot his objective as he watched the slow rise and fall of Garazeb’s furry chest, the soft smile on Garazeb’s face where there was normally a scowl. Kallus’ breath caught in his throat. The lasat was incredibly handsome
Garazeb’s ears twitched and his eyes fluttered open, landing on Kallus. As always Kallus felt the urge to shy away from the naked affection that crossed Garazeb’s face in these unguarded moments. Why he of all people would look at Kallus that way, it made Kallus’ heart hurt. He didn’t deserve to be looked at that way, especially not by Garazeb, but he supposed it was easy to forget things in that period between waking and full alertness.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come home when I said I would. I stumbled across an interesting transmission and I need to hand it off to Draven urgently,” he blurted out before Garazeb could say anything. “But I didn’t want to face Draven with this all over my shirt.” He gestured to the now dry caf stain, wrinkling his nose.
Garazeb pushed up onto his elbows, the bedsheet falling lower on his hips. Kallus felt his mouth go dry. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and resume their explorations from several nights prior.
This thing between them was still so new and fragile. The constant threat of death from the Empire meant that neither one of them was ready to examine the larger implications of their relationship. They had found solace in each other once between missions and planned to do so again if this damn Rebellion didn’t keep getting in the way. “Blowing off steam with someone who understands,” Garazeb had called it as he pushed Kallus against one of the Ghost’s cargo hold bulkheads. Kallus shivered at the memory of it.
“S’ok, Kal,” Garazeb rumbled, his voice sleep-hoarse. He took a deep breath and flashed a lazy smirk; no doubt he could smell Kallus’ pheromones. “I figured somethin’ came up and I didn’t want to bother you. Your bed’s more comfortable than my bunk on the Ghost anyhow.”
He reached out right as Kallus was removing his stained shirt, hooking one massive hand around Kallus’ hip, and pulled him onto the bed. “Is it really that important,” he rumbled against Kallus’ ear.
Kallus managed to squirm out of his shirt despite being half sprawled on Garazeb’s bare chest. The strong arms encircling his waist and the heady scent of Garazeb’s fur weakened his resolve. He pushed off and sat at the foot of the bed before he gave in completely.
“Yes, it’s very important, Garazeb,” he sniffed.
Garazeb laughed. “I love it when you do that.” He reached out with one claw and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Kallus’ ear. Stars, his hair was getting long.
“Do what?”
“Scrunch your face up when you think someone’s questioning your professionalism. It’s adorable.”
“Adorable? Honestly, Garazeb, we need to you get your eyes checked,” he said but caught himself smiling at the endearment. “I really must get this intel to Draven and the other generals immediately. It could turn things in the Alliance’s favor.” And, he didn’t say, finally secure his place as a trusted member of the Intelligence Department. He wasn’t sure which one was more important to him in that moment.
Garazeb’s eyes widened, suddenly very awake and interested. “That sounds serious, Kal. What is it?”
Before Kallus spoke, he did a quick mental check of whether Garazeb had clearance for this, and was relieved that he could share without consequences. “Someone close to Thrawn wants to share information with the Rebellion.”
Garazeb’s brow knitted with concern — gods his expressive face was one of Kallus’ favorite things — and he reached out to gently trace the scars on Kallus’ arm with one finger pad, following the branches of pale pink lines up to Kallus’ shoulder and across his collarbone. Kallus grabbed his large paw in both hands, holding it to his chest. Surely Garazeb could feel the increase in his heart rate.
“I’m alright, Garazeb,” Kallus assured him. Garazeb was the one who had tended to these scars when they were still fresh wounds after the Battle of Atollon. He had been there each time Kallus woke up screaming from nightmares of what Thrawn had done to him. In retrospect, that had been the start of whatever this was between them.
Garazeb made a sound that suggested he didn’t believe Kallus. “Let’s get your intel to Draven then,” he said.
Once Kallus and Garazeb — who insisted on joining him for the meeting — were in fresh clothes they gathered around the holoprojector in Command Central with General Draven and General Syndulla.
Draven regarded the holoprojector with his usual glower and General Syndulla looked cautiously intrigued as Kallus pulled up Eli Vanto’s dossier. The image of a fresh-faced young man appeared in the air, brown skin, dark hair slightly longer than Imperial regulations allowed, an irrepressible smile in his eyes. Not at all what anyone who knew Vanto’s reputation would expect. The text displayed next to the image was cobbled together from stolen ISB files and anecdotes Kallus had personally gathered. Vanto was an unassuming man who seemed content to stand in Thrawn’s shadow, although anyone who paid enough attention would discover him to be as strategic and intelligent as his commanding officer.
“A few hours ago I intercepted a transmission from this former Imperial officer, Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto, claiming he wants to share intel vital to our operation. He said someone among our ranks would recognize his name and know what that intel is.”
General Syndulla raised one slender eyebrow, nearly making him stumble over his words. “And you think you’re that someone?”
“Yes, ma’am, I believe so,” Kallus said, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with her. This was too important for him to lose his nerves. “Lieutenant Commander Vanto was personal aide and confidante to Grand Admiral Thrawn for over ten years.” — the surprised expressions on the Generals’ faces were satisfying; he had their full attention now. — “They were…close. Romantically, if rumors are to be believed. ISB suspected and there was an open investigation at one point, but Thrawn and Vanto were too circumspect to leave useable evidence. Shortly before Thrawn arrived on Lothal, Vanto went missing. This is the first known transmission from him in nearly two years.”
“How do we know this is genuine and not another one of Thrawn’s schemes?” Draven asked. He shifted uncomfortably. The Alliance fleet was still recovering from their last encounter with the Grand Admiral. Kallus knew they would be reluctant to risk engaging him again for some time.
“This isn’t how Thrawn operates,” General Syndulla said, looking directly at Kallus as she spoke, “he’d be more likely to take prisoners for interrogation or attack us directly. If he did send a spy, it wouldn’t be someone this obviously connected to him.”
Kallus smiled despite the still fresh memories her remark dredged up, causing his scars to throb with phantom pain. It was rare that General Syndulla backed him up, and her support meant more than he was willing to admit to anyone.
“Precisely,” he said, “Another reason I believe Vanto’s offer is genuine is that he’s from Lysatra, a small world in Wild Space. Recent heavy Imperial incursions into that sector could provide motivation. We have plenty of operatives here who were moved similarly to join the Rebellion.”
General Syndulla crossed her arms and regarded the information on the holoprojector for a long moment, her leaky curling up slightly at the ends in a way Kallus had learned meant she was deep in thought. “General Draven,” she finally said, “I’d like to take the Ghost out to these coordinates. See if this Eli Vanto is what he says he is.”
Draven peered at her, clearly unhappy with the request. “General Syndulla, I know you are personally more familiar with Thrawn’s tactics than myself, but this could still very well be a trap. You and your people are needed here. We cannot risk you on such a mission. Not while our numbers are still depleted from Atollon.
General Syndulla glared at Draven. “I know you are Massassi Outpost’s intelligence expert and I’m just a pilot, but it seems like intel from someone that close to Thrawn would be worth the risk. Besides, we’ve gotten out of worse traps.”
“Very well,” Draven said with a long suffering sigh. Like everyone else at Massassi Outpost, he knew that once General Syndulla decided an action was correct she would carry it out regardless of orders to the contrary. “Even if he isn’t what he says, bring him in. He could still be useful.”
Kallus suppressed a shudder. He was familiar with some of the harsher interrogation methods that Draven carried out despite opposition from the rest of Alliance leadership. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the man was former ISB like himself.
“All right, if that’s settled,” General Syndulla said, “Zeb, go get Rex. Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine aren’t due back from Mandalore for another few days and I need more hands. We’ll depart in two hours.”
“Aye, aye, Boss,” Garazeb said, still sounding sleepy.
“Permission to accompany the Ghost crew, sir,” Kallus said.
Both Draven and General Syndulla looked at him strangely. “You’re still not cleared for field work, Captain,” Draven said.
Kallus pulled himself up to his full height. “Vanto is taking a difficult step into the unknown, sir. Just as I did when I became a Fulcrum agent. It might help smooth things along to have someone present who understands his situation. Besides, what damage could I possible cause while cooped up in the Ghost for four days.”
Draven gave him a wry smile. “It would give you some uninterrupted time with Captain Orrelios, no doubt.”
Kallus felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He looked sideways at Garazeb whose ears flattened and fur rippled in the lasat equivalent of a blush.
When he dared look at General Syndulla, she met his eyes with a mixture of concern and amusement on her face. They had already talked about this in an excruciating late night encounter in the Ghost’s galley.
Kallus had slipped out of Garazeb’s bunk to find something to eat. Their first night together had been rather vigorous and he was starving. He hadn’t counted on the General also being awake, nursing a cup of caf while she studied starfighter schematics.
“I was hoping that wasn’t you I heard come back with Zeb, she said without looking up from the schematics. There was a warning in her tone.
Kallus had found himself suddenly rooted to the spot, his hunger replaced by a cold brick in his stomach. Even when they were on opposing sides, Kallus had been impressed by the slight twi’lek woman’s ability to command and intimidate through sheer force of personality. She was a brilliant strategist, a skilled pilot, and an absolute terror to anyone who hurt her family. Family that included Garazeb, and Kallus had hurt him enough for several lifetimes.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said with more bravado than he felt in that moment.
The General’s head had snapped up and she glared at him. “You are the last person Zeb should be involved with.”
Kallus had felt his entire body sag. “I know,” he had said quietly into the space between them and it had felt good to be honest for once. “Believe me, I know.”
Her expression had told him she was surprised by this admission. “Then why?” she asked.
There was so much he had wanted to say to her about being lonely, about how a warm body wasn’t enough, he needed someone who understood their awful history and would hold him anyway and for some reason that person was Garazeb. But instead he had simply said, “That, I’m afraid, I do not know.”
Kallus shook his head, bringing himself back to the task at hand. General Syndulla would never approve of his liaison with Garazeb — and Kallus could not bring himself to disagree with her — but she was perhaps making an effort to be supportive.
He was vaguely aware of Draven saying something else. Then General Syndulla clapped him on the shoulder and said, “All right, Captain Kallus, see you on board.”
