• Ladies in Hating by Alexandra Vasti
• Post Captain by Patrick O'Brian
• The State of Israel vs. the Jews by Sylvain Cypel
• Notes From Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
• The Scarlet Gospels by Clive Barker
• Whisper by Tal Bauer

• The Game of Courts by Victoria Goddard
• Persuasion by Jane Austen
• His Heart's Obsession by Alex Beecroft
• Culture Creep: Notes on the Pop Apocalypse by Alice Bolin
• Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian
• All of Us Murderers by KJ Charles

• PROLOGUE
• CHAPTER 01
• CHAPTER 02
• CHAPTER 03

Kallus stripped down to his undershirt and shorts, and stretched out next to Garazeb in their shared bunk. He gave silent thanks that Ezra was still off doing whatever it was he was doing on Mandalore and not heckling them from the top bunk as was his habit the few times Kallus had spent nights on the Ghost. They laid on their sides facing each other, the bunk barely wide enough to accommodate their large bodies.

“Vanto’s feelings for Thrawn are going to be a problem,” Kallus said. He just wanted to lose himself in Garazeb’s large yellow eyes for a few hours, but their conversation with Vanto weighed too heavily on his mind.

“A problem for the Alliance or a problem for you?” Garazeb asked gently, running a finger along the scars on Kallus’s arm that were a permanent reminder of Thrawn’s handiwork.

Kallus huffed in reply. Garazeb was, as usual, able to read him better than anyone else, and he hated it as much as he loved it. “Both, possibly. What would possess someone to care for a person like Thrawn? He’s responsible for so much death.”

Garazeb raised an eyebrow at him. Awful, unspoken things stretched out in the silence between them, and Kallus felt his heart sink. He flopped onto his back, knocking shoulders with Garazeb because the bunk wasn’t nearly big enough for the two of them. “I deserved that,” he sighed.

Garazeb propped himself up on one elbow and glowered down at Kallus. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” Kallus focused his gaze intently on the durasteel frame above them. Sometimes being petulant was easier than acknowledging the truth, which in this case was that he had participated in an unforgivable atrocity committed against the person who currently chose to share his bed. 

“Kal…” Garazeb said in that soft voice that made Kallus’s stomach flutter. He reached out to push a strand of hair from Kallus’s face. He was always fascinated by Kallus’s hair. 

Kallus pushed Garazeb’s hand away and sat up, turning his back to the lasat and nearly smacking his head on the durasteel in the process. “Stop it.”

Garazeb snorted and rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “We’ve had a good few weeks, you know. Just enjoyin’ each other’s company. Not over-thinkin’ things.” 

Kallus looked over his shoulder at Garazeb. “That is an untenable longterm strategy for a whole host of reasons, and you know it.”

Garazeb raised that eyebrow again. “You lookin’ for something longterm here?”

“I don’t have any right to ask that of you,” Kallus answered truthfully, hating how broken his voice sounded. He focused intently on the cabin floor. 

There was a long stretch of silence in which Kallus didn’t dare look back at Garazeb. He thought about just leaving and bunking in the galley — the bench was, in his experience, comfortable enough — but his legs wouldn’t move. 

“No, you don’t,” Garazeb finally spoke, “hey, come here, look at me.” He gently tugged at Kallus’s arm, the slight catch of his claws sending a shiver up Kallus’s body.

Kallus allowed himself to be coaxed back onto the bed, once again on his side facing Garazeb. He tentatively ran a hand through the soft fur on Garazeb’s bare chest.

“I know this doesn’t make sense,” Garazeb whispered into the small space between them. “Sometimes I really don’t want to feel this way about you, but I do. Let’s just leave it at that for now, yeah?” 

Kallus didn’t trust himself to speak on it so he just nodded. The honesty of Garazeb’s words stung and comforted all at once. 

Garazeb placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then to the edge of his jaw, then his neck. Kallus’s entire world shrank down to that sensitive spot just behind his ear as Garazeb gently flicked his rough tongue over it. 

Kallus rolled onto his back, pulling Garazeb on top the way he preferred. He didn’t waste any time digging his fingers into Garazeb’s hips and grinding up into them. If he couldn’t have all of Garazeb, he could at least have this, which was enjoyable enough.

***

It was easy enough for Zeb to distract Kallus — and himself — with a few well-placed kisses. Humans had a weak spot right behind their ear that made them sigh and melt into him.  

There were conversations they still needed to have and this was the closest they’d ever gotten, but Zeb wasn’t in the mood for Kallus’s useless self-loathing. Not when they finally had privacy — or at least what passed for privacy on the Ghost — and an extended period of down time. He could get his hands on Kallus the way he wanted to. 

Kallus was big for a human, tall and broad shouldered with powerful muscles. Zeb didn’t need to hold back the way he had with previous human lovers. It made for a fun time if he could push down the memories of their history, of what Kallus had done. 

Zeb let Kallus position them the way he liked with Zeb laying on top of him. He wanted to be overwhelmed and Zeb was more than happy to give him that. He buried his face in Kallus’s shoulder, nipping at the sensitive skin there and relishing each whimper he drew from the human. They pushed and pulled each other’s clothes off, nothing graceful about it, until they were naked.\

Zeb pushed up on one elbow so he could rake his barely extended claws through Kallus’ chest fur. Another thing he enjoyed about this human in particular. Humans were generally smooth-skinned but Kallus was blessed with ample body fur, and it felt so good to let his claws catch in it the way he would with another lasat. Kal arched up into the touch, rolling his hips at the same time, grinding up into Zeb’s now-unsheathed cock. 

“Garazeb, please,” he whined. 

Zeb grabbed Kallus’ wrists and pinned them above his head as he gave Kallus the punishing grind he knew he wanted. He buried his face in Kal’s neck to muffle his own cry at the intense sensation. 

***

Eli stared pointedly at the ceiling, trying with every fiber of his being to ignore the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh.punctuated by occasional shouts in a language he didn’t recognize. 

Why did they put him next to Kallus and Orrelios’ bunk? 

He had drifted into restless sleep and once again dreamed about Thrawn. His mind had been hellbent on playing a highlight reel of their years together starting with that first meeting on the Strikefast when Thrawn said “You hold my words in your hands” and Eli had known deep in his gut that he was so screwed. No one had ever treated him like he was important, but there was this tall, proud chiss — straight out of his home world’s legends — admitting plainly that he needed Eli. 

The dream had skipped forward to their first kiss, playing it out in slow motion: a tentative brush of hands as Eli leaned in to point out something on a datapad, the barely audible hitch in Thrawn’s breath, gazes held too long until they leaned in, those intense red eyes focused on his lips. It was like something out of a trashy holonovel. 

Then the racket from next door woke him up, so here he was willing his ears to shut off and failing miserably. 

He finally gave up and climbed out of bed, throwing on his Defense Fleet tunic but not bothering to button it up as he exited his cabin. No one said he was confined to quarters and there had to be somewhere on this small ship where he couldn’t hear Orrelios and Kallus going at it like a couple of mynocks in heat.

He’d been too exhausted and overwhelmed to properly get his bearings earlier, which meant he of course took a wrong turn right into the cockpit.

The first thing he noticed was General Syndulla curled up in the pilot’s chair asleep, a holo-pad communicator clutched in one hand. That angry little astromech of hers was blessedly powered down in its recharge station. 

The next thing he noticed, unfortunately too late, was the very much awake man in the co-pilot’s seat glowering at him. He was bald and stocky with a bushy white beard and sharp eyes that looked disturbingly familiar for reasons Eli couldn’t place. He wore pieces of Clone Wars-era Republic armor.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. 

Eli found himself stammering like a first year cadet. “Sorry, I uh, needed to stretch my legs and I must’ve, uh, got lost.”

The man shook his head. “You’re the one who’s supposed to help us take down Thrawn and you can’t even find your way around a tiny ship? Vanto, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Eli said, trying not to rankle visibly at having his competency questioned. “And you are?”

“Name’s Rex. I’m Hera’s acting second in command.” 

An awkward silence fell between them, filled with Hera’s soft snores. Eli kept his gaze focused on the stars, their familiar configuration comforting. The Ghost would pass close by Lysatra on its current trajectory.

It had been over ten years since he last saw his parents, only slightly less time since he last spoke with them over the holonet. That conversation had not gone well, his parents disapproving of his new career track, as if any of it had been his choice in the beginning. He wished he could see his parents now and tell them everything. Hey mom, dad, I fell in love with my alien commanding officer and committed treason for him. That would have definitely gone well.

“Is it true you spent time with Thrawn’s people?” Rex said, finally breaking the silence and causing Eli to startle. 

“Yeah…they’re called the Chiss.”

“Are they all like him?”

Eli snorted despite himself. “No, thank the gods.” 

Rex laughed heartily, disturbing General Syndulla out of her sleep. She blinked a couple of times, sat up straight in her seat, then leveled a glare at Eli that made him want to crawl right into the bulkhead. “What are you doing up here?” she demanded. 

Eli shifted uncomfortably. Before he could speak up, Rex started talking. “Kid’s just stretching his legs, boss. Can’t expect him to sleep sharing a bulkhead with Zeb and Kallus.” 

“I don’t know when my ship turned into a shelter for Imperial strays,” the General said, rolling her eyes. She leveled her gaze at Eli. “Do you know how to fly a ship?”

“Wouldn’t even know what buttons to push, ma’am” he said truthfully but still garnished it shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile to hopefully put her at ease. 

“Then I guess you can stay up here,” she said while raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. 

Another, even more awkward silence descended on the cockpit. Eli thought about returning to his temporary quarters before General Syndulla asked the question that was obviously on her mind. 

“Were the rumors about you and Thrawn…” she started. Too late.

“Yeah,” Eli said, staring resolutely at the stars while he wondered how many times he would have to answer that question, “all the rumors were true.” 

Rex let out an impressed whistle, but had the good grace to look apologetic when General Syndulla glared at him. The look she gave Eli, though, was sad; it reminded him of the way his mother would look at him when he’d gotten himself into trouble and she couldn’t help him. 

“Thrawn wasn’t always like…well, like how he’s been lately. He was a kind, fair commanding officer and we…never mind.”

“Your kind, fair commanding officer killed a lot of good people,” the General said in a matter of fact tone that made Eli wish she’d just yelled at him.

Rex reached up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Kid, if you’d seen what he did to us on Atollon you wouldn’t be so quick to defend him."

“I know!” Eli said, his voice cracking, too loud, like he couldn’t control the volume anymore. He took a deep, calming breath and straightened his posture. “I’m sorry, General, Captain. I really want to help. This is just…harder than I expected it to be.”

“Just wait until we hand you over to General Draven, kid,” Rex said. Eli didn’t know who that was but a chill ran down his spine nonetheless.

• PROLOGUE
• CHAPTER 01

He would die out here if the Rebels didn’t come to investigate. And really, why would they bother? Admiral Thrawn’s aide resurfaces two years after deserting the Imperial Navy, offering intel to the Rebellion. He wouldn’t believe it if he were them.

Enough time had passed that the reality of what he did settled uncomfortably on Eli.

Absconding with a small shuttle and limited supplies had been surprisingly easy thanks to his status as Ar’alani’s favorite. He had left a time-delayed message for Admiral Ar’alani explaining himself — he owed her that much after betraying her trust and abusing the position she herself had elevated him to.

He chose Thrawn over his loyalty to the Empire the day he went over the Ascendancy, and now he was betraying his oath to the Ascendancy, also for Thrawn, albeit in a twisted way. If his gamble didn’t work out, he would have nowhere to go. But what other choice did he have? The Empire was no longer simply bringing order to the galaxy; they were subjugating whole systems, terrorizing civilians, stealing resources from vulnerable outer rim worlds, including his own home Lysatra. Thrawn’s role in all of it made Eli’s heart ache.

He sunk deeper into the cockpit seat and drew his knees up to this chest in an effort to conserve body heat. His Defense Fleet uniform did little to keep him warm now that everything except the most basic life support was shut off. If the Rebels never showed up, at least hypothermia would be a relatively pleasant way to go. He nodded off, dreaming of all the stolen moments with Thrawn that never amounted to what either one of them wished for.

Thrawn picked Eli up like he weighed nothing, and Eli discovered he enjoyed that. He wrapped his legs around Thrawn’s waist as Thrawn pressed him against the bulkhead. They had once again dodged a court martial and were both feeling a little reckless as a result. An empty service corridor seemed like a good place to get reacquainted.

“I thought…” Eli gasped as Thrawn’s mouth found a sensitive spot on his neck. “…I thought we weren’t doing this anymore.”

“Do you wish to stop?” Thrawn rasped against his ear.

“I didn’t say that.” Eli twisted his fingers in Thrawn’s hair and pulled hard, tipping Thrawn’s head back so he could gaze into those glowing red eyes. “It’s just that I thought we agreed last time was, well, the last time.”

“I find your presence far too...necessary,” Thrawn said. He sounded wrecked, his expression vulnerable in a way he only ever allowed Eli to see. Necessary. He had called Eli necessary. It was practically a declaration of love coming from Thrawn.

Eli crushed their mouths together in a bruising, graceless kiss. There was a desperate edge to the way Thrawn returned the kiss that made Eli feel like his entire body was on fire.

Thrawn — who was much better at multitasking — continued to hold Eli up with one arm while he slid his other hand between them, deftly working Eli’s uniform trousers open. Eli buried a moan in Thrawn’s shoulder as those cool fingers wrapped around his cock.

He tried to buck his hips, but Thrawn had him thoroughly pinned against the bulkhead, so he just gave himself over to sensation, letting Thrawn squeeze him to the point of pain, the way Thrawn knew he loved it.

“Come on, get yourself out, wanna make you feel good too,” Eli said as he reached for Thrawn’s belt with a shaking hand. Thrawn growled and let go of Eli’s cock to swat his hand away. Eli made an embarrassing noise at the sudden loss of sensation when he was so close to the edge.

Thrawn growled something in a language Eli didn’t recognize, pressing Eli even harder into the bulkhead until Eli struggled to breathe. He got his hand around Eli’s cock again, setting an aggressive pace. Everything became a white hot blur, and then Thrawn captured Eli’s lips in another punishing kiss as he came.

Afterwards, Thrawn eased a still-shuddering Eli back onto his feet and gently put him back to rights before tending to his own disheveled appearance. Despite their best efforts, Eli knew it would just feed the already existing rumors about them if they were seen together.

“We should return to our ship separately,” Thrawn said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Eli said softly, reaching up to smooth Thrawn’s hair back into place. Thrawn’s eyes briefly slid shut and he leaned into the touch. Once again Eli found himself wishing for more than these rushed encounters whenever their resolve to end this aspect of their relationship broke yet again. He had so many questions, and there was never enough time to ask them.

“Before we go back there’s something you should know….I also, uh, find your presence necessary.”

Thrawn’s eyes widened ever so slightly — anyone else would have read his expression as blank, detatched— but he didn’t say a word. He simply landed forward, gently pressing his forehead against Eli’s. The cool temperature of Thrawn’s skin, the alien texture of his forehead ridges grounded Eli.

“Ghost to shuttlecraft, this is Spectre Two, come in shuttlecraft.”

Eli bolted awake and scrambled to activate the shuttle’s short range radio. He had visual on the ship — much larger than his shuttle but still relatively small for a starship — hailing him. He raced through his mental catalog of rebel ships, counting the Ghost among the ones he’d come across during hours of listening to Imperial transmissions. They used Spectre callsigns.

He fumbled with the communications controls, his hands stiff from the cold. “Spectre Two, this is Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto. I take it you received my message?”

“Loud and clear, Lieutenant Commander. Prepare for docking.” The ship was now close enough that he could see Spectre Two through the transparisteel: a green-skinned Twi’lek woman. That must be General Hera Syndulla, a star player in most of Thrawn’s transmissions — from what Eli had gathered she had evaded and outsmarted Thrawn for the better part of a standard galactic year and Thrawn was more fixated on capturing her than he’d ever been about Nightswan; if the Alliance had sent her to collect Eli then he was in good hands. Beside the General was an old astromech waving its arms.

The Ghost quickly maneuvered overhead, blotting out everything else in Eli’s field of view. A metallic thunk let him know docking was complete. He climbed out of the top hatch into what looked like a small cargo bay and scrambled to his feet, wincing at how much his joints hurt after being cramped in a small shuttle for so many days. In the back of his head, out of pure habit, he catalogued the various “hidden” compartments used for smuggling, the wear and tear all over the durasteel bulkheads, the unlabeled cargo containers.

Eli found himself staring up at an annoyed looking…lasat? He thought all the lasats had died out during that unfortunate incident on their home world. Those large yellow eyes regarded him with derision.

A polite cough brought his attention to the human at the lasat’s side, a handsome man with shaggy blond hair and neatly groomed muttonchops who was nearly as tall as the lasat. Eli barely came up to his chest. “I’m Captain Kallus,” he said in a polished Coruscanti accent, “this is Captain Orrelios.”

“We’re here to take you back to the Alliance for questioning,” said Orrelios. His tone was gruff and impatient. “I hope your intelligence is worth us coming all the way out here.”

Eli nodded slowly. The only “questioning” he had any frame of reference for was what ISB agents did and he had never been comfortable with their methods. There was a reason the rest of the Imperial Navy feared them. The concern must have been visible on his face, because Kallus clapped him on the shoulder and said, “the Alliance will treat you fairly.”

Orrelios made a rumbling sound. Eli wasn’t sure if he was seconding Kallus’s words or disagreeing, but his expression towards Kallus looked almost…fond?

“Come on, Lieutenant Commander,” Orrelios said, laying sarcasm thick on Eli’s rank, “let’s get you something to eat and a bunk. It’s a long haul back to base. You picked a hell of a place to rendezvous.”

Eli found his words then, feeling indignant. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain Orrelios. I needed to find a rendezvous point close enough to reach in a small shuttle and it also needed to be outside of major shipping lanes so I could avoid pirates since I had to remove all weapons to avoid detection.”

Captain Orrelios made that rumbling sound again. Kallus bit his lip and looked sideways at Orrelios with a barely contained smirk. Orrelios rolled his eyes and gestured for Eli to follow him.

They made their way up to what appeared to be the main deck of the ship and into a cramped galley where a curved bench around an old dejarik table which appeared to serve as a dining-slash-meeting area. It reminded Eli of his family’s cargo ships, he realized with a pang of sadness. He wondered how his mother and father were doing under the stricter Imperial policies or if he’d be allowed to contact them.

Sitting at the far edge of the bench was General Hera Syndulla herself. She was dressed in civilian pilot gear. Her green skin was even more striking up close, with lighter green markings down her lekku. Like all twi’lek women, she was stunningly beautiful. Her stature was small, but there was something sharp in her eyes that immediately confirmed every piece of intel Eli had on her from listening to Thrawn’s transmissions. He didn’t want to be on the wrong side of someone who could outwit Thrawn.

Her astromech was parked close to her knee; as soon as it saw Eli it shouted in binary and charged him, bumping his shins hard enough to topple him into the bulkhead.

“Chopper!,” General Syndulla admonished, although she sounded more amused than anything. “He doesn’t like new people.”

Chopper beeped and honked in agreement, giving Eli another enthusiastic shove.

“He doesn’t like people he knows either,” Orrelios said, laughing at Eli’s attempt to right himself against the bulkhead.

The astromech, Chopper, ushered Eli to a seat on the other side of the dejarik table before he could protest further. Kallus and Orrelios piled onto the bench next to General Syndulla, sitting shoulder to shoulder with each other in a way that suggested long established familiarity.

“I’m Hera, but I get the idea you already know that,” the General said, “Kallus and I had to push our superiors to let us come find you. I hope your intel is worth the trouble.”

Getting right down to business, no nonsense. Eli appreciated that. “I promise you it is,” he said.

“You’re not the first Imperial we’ve taken in,” Hera said, looking meaningfully at Kallus, “but you’ll have to be vetted before we can share anything more with you. It’s up to our superiors how you’ll fit into the Alliance’s plans. For now, you’ll be given fresh clothes, food, and a bunk on my ship. It’s a four-day journey back to our base. Zeb and Kallus will make sure you’re comfortable. I’m headed back up to the cockpit to get us out of here.”

She stood up gracefully and exited the galley with Chopper close on her heels. “Give me a shout if you have any problems with him, boys,” she called without looking back.

Eli felt separated from his own body, not quite believing that he had done this. Now he was on his way to a Rebel base, possibly a wanted man by two powerful militaries, and all he could do was hope that this was the right path.

***

Kallus watched the man seated across from him, taking in every detail with eyes honed from years of ISB training.

Eli Vanto looked more world-weary than his dossier images. He was still young-looking but that irrepressible grin from the holos was gone. His eyes looked sad and far away, his brown skin washed out from too much time in space. His cheeks were sunken in under a close-cropped beard. Kallus had no doubt appeared in much the same condition when the Ghost’s crew brought him aboard after Atollon. How fascinating to be on the other side this time.

The choices made in service to the Empire started to weigh on a person once they learned the truth. Kallus could see that realization beginning in Vanto’s eyes, but he didn’t have the heart to tell him it would never go away. Vanto would always carry the burden of the things he did and the things he allowed to happen.

Garazeb was rifling around in the refrigerator, making a terrible racket. He never did anything quietly. Kallus’s thoughts drifted to a stolen moment behind a stack of crates in the hangar bay shortly before their departure to retrieve Vanto. General Syndulla had torn into them for that but it had been worth it to feel Garazeb’s great big hands around his waist, lifting him up as if he weight nothing.

Kallus didn’t realize he was gazing fondly at Garazeb until a polite cough from Vanto broke the spell. He brought his eyes forward to see Vanto regarding him with a peculiar expression.

“Found it!” Garazeb proclaimed to no one in particular, standing up with three small containers in his enormous hand. “Meiloorun jelly. Good stuff! The Boss always keeps it stocked.”

Kallus chuckled. “It’s a bit too sweet for my taste but you might like it,” he said to Vanto.

Vanto responded with a sad smile. “My dad used to pick up a case of this stuff whenever we made cargo runs to Lothal.”

Garazeb tossed the containers and three spoons on the dejarik table then squeezed back onto the bench, stretching his arm out to rest along the back of it behind Kallus’s shoulders. Kallus instinctively leaned into Garazeb’s side as had become habit since they began whatever this thing was between them. Kallus was nearly two meters tall, but the lasat’s greater height made him feel small and protected. A small rumble started in Garazeb’s chest at the physical contact. Kallus didn’t care what Vanto thought of the display.

Vanto stared at them, his eyes wide and his mouth set in a grim line. “The…the rebels permit interspecies relationships?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I hope that’s not a problem for you,” Garazeb said in a threatening tone as he handed one of the meiloorun cups to Kallus. Kallus placed his hand on Garazeb’s arm to calm him, feeling his thick fur bristle.

“That’s not why Lieutenant Commander Vanto asked the question, dearest,” Kallus said, watching for Vanto’s reaction.

“No…no, it’s not,” Vanto said softly, staring at the meiloorun cup in his hands. “And it’s not a problem. Not to me. Just a surprise. The Empire doesn’t allow interspecies relationships. I can’t imagine life’s been easy for y’all.”

Kallus wanted to laugh bitterly. If only this man knew the half of it. Instead he looked up at Garazeb who inclined his head as if to say carry on, and decided to keep poking at what he had already partially uncovered.

“ISB was particularly strict about it,” he said.

Vanto cocked his head to the side in a way that was eerily similar to Thrawn when an information puzzle piece slotted into place. It stirred up unpleasant memories in Kallus’s head.

“You were ISB?” Vanto asked.

Kallus nodded. The all too familiar look of fear on Vanto’s face cut straight through him, making regret not for the first time the decision to be honest about his past.

“And you defected because of him?” Vanto gestured at Garazeb with his meiloorun cup.

Kallus looked at Garazeb, his expression softening. Less than twenty-four hours on that gods forsaken ice moon had drastically changed the course of both their lives. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Vanto opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it just as quickly. His frown deepened and he looked off to the side with a sad expression. “You’re lucky you can be together,” he said after a long pause.

Kallus continued to push. “So the rumors about you and Grand Admiral Thrawn were true?,” he asked, already knowing the answer. Vanto’s reaction was what he expected, but it still hurt to witness.

Vanto threw back his head and laughed bitterly. “Well played, Captain. The rumors sure were true, but not in the way you probably think,” he said, vowels lengthening in a pronounced Wild Space drawl. “On and off since we were at Royal Imperial. I guess it’s good to get it out in the open since apparently everyone knew, and well, I am here to share information about Thrawn.”

“ISB did have an open file on you both, but the investigation never bore fruit, so I was told. After all, rumors are not the same as confirmation,” Kallus said.

“Gods, you sound like him,” Vanto shot back.

Kallus felt a surge of anger at the comparison, but he quickly tamped it down. Garazeb gently squeezed his arm right over the worst of the scars. He wanted to roll his sleeves up, show Vanto what his beloved grand admiral had done., but this was neither the time nor place.

“Sorry,” Vanto said, clearly noticing Kallus’s reaction. “Did you know I deserted the Empire because he asked me to? He said I’d be a valuable asset to his people. And now he’s gone off the fucking deep end. I know y’all’ve had some run-ins with him already.” — he paused again, brow knitting in thought as he chose his words.

“See, the thing is: the Chiss military’s long range sensors are top notch, better than the Empire will develop in our lifetime. I’ve seen what he’s done since I left. I’ve seen everything the Empire’s done these past two years. That’s not the Empire I signed on to serve” — Vanto ran his hand through his hair and sighed loudly — “Hell, maybe it is and I just didn’t see it till now. What I’m trying to say is I know how he thinks better than anyone. I can help you get one up on him. That’s why I threw everything away to come here. Y’all better make it worthwhile.”

Sometimes all it took to get information was to catch your asset when they were sleep-deprived and emotionally fragile.

“We will make it worthwhile,” Kallus assured him. Vanto was, in fact, a grateful boon to the rebel cause, their shot at finally taking down the Grand Admiral and avenging fallen comrades, and more selfishly, he was Kallus’s one shot at proving his loyalty to those who doubted him. But Vanto obviously still had feelings for Thrawn and that was a liability.

“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.”