Saga Ghosts (complete!): Agent Kallus, Gov. Pryce; Kallus backstory; late S2/early S3 spoilers

Title: Ghosts

Author: Kaitan ISB-021
Timeframe: SW Rebels TV series, set after "An Inside Man” and before “Warhead” [note: Season 2 & 3/thru Jan ‘17 spoilers, but written & posted prior to “Through Imperial Eyes”]
Characters: Agent Kallus, Governor Arihnda Pryce, Grand Admiral Thrawn, reference to female OCs, reference to Zeb and Ghost crew, reference to Swain (Star Wars Rebels magazine story), minor reference to Jovan (Star Wars Rebels magazine story).
Characterization: inter-episode backstory/headcanon, new-canon-compliant
Genre: short fiction (drama, angst, some romance); can stand alone, but part of series that includes “Truth,” to which it makes brief reference.
Chapters: 3 (complete, in three posts on thread)
Audience: T. Appropriate for older children. No explicit violence or other content warnings; reference to previous series canon violence and canon-consistent violence (i.e., Onderon killings, Lasan massacre, Imperial deaths).
Summary: After he has secretly helped the rebels escape the factory on Lothal, Agent Kallus receives unwelcome attention of an entirely unexpected sort from Governor Pryce. Their meetings evoke powerful memories from his past -- and concern for his future.



Chapter 1

Governor Pryce followed a few steps behind Agent Kallus as they were dismissed from Thrawn’s briefing room gallery, but as the agent left the room, the Chiss placed a hand firmly on Pryce’s arm.

“Stay, Governor, if you would.”

He walked through the gallery of rebel images, stopped to examine the graffito of the Phoenix Squadron once again, and then turned to face her.

“Governor. I have a special…job for you. For the Empire.”

“At your service, Grand Admiral.”

* * * * *

Agent Kallus stared blankly at the datapad on his desk, letting his mind drift for the thousandth time that rotation. His recent escapade with Jarrus and his padawan Bridger had ended well enough for the rebels, but he knew that their escape had put him on Thrawn’s all-too-sensitive radar. He was certain that Thrawn suspected him of treason, but for some reason, he had not yet pursued his suspicions directly. Kallus rubbed his hand over his face. It had been several rotations since the uncomfortable meeting with Thrawn, but since then—for the time being, anyway—the Admiral had left him alone to do his work. He had tried to take refuge in the banalities of his job: datapads and paperwork. But even those couldn’t distract him, either from his self-appointed task for the rebels or from the threat that loomed large over him. His body was like a taut thread, and he felt ready to snap.

It was no surprise, then, that when his office door com buzzed, Kallus practically fell out of his chair. He scrambled to grab his datapad to keep it from clattering to the floor. Then he breathed deeply, steadied himself, and responded with what he hoped was an entirely unremarkable “enter.”

The door slid open, and, much to his surprise, a smiling Governor Pryce entered his office, dressed not in her standard uniform tunic but in a blue-green iridescent one. He rose and nodded curtly.

“Governor Pryce.”

“Agent Kallus. You are working rather late, aren’t you?” She paused, awaiting his reply with a smile that, on another person, might have passed for friendly. On her, however, it only registered as smug.

After what he hoped was an uncomfortably long silence, he returned a thin smile. “Not particularly, no.”

Another pause hung in the air, and Pryce looked distinctly uneasy. He didn’t, at the moment, have any inclination to relieve her discomfort. He willed her to leave, wishing he shared the Jedi ability to influence the weak-minded. But then she seemed to remember why she had come.

“Well, at any rate, one has to eat, does one not? I thought perhaps you’d like to join me at Fari, the new restaurant around the corner from the Imperial Academy. Rumor has it that their chef—Human, of course—specializes in Coruscanti dishes. That is your home world, is it not? And you seem to me to be a man of”—she waggled her eyebrows—“discriminating tastes.”

Kallus’s eyes widened. It took him a moment to process the information before him. The attempt at friendliness. The non-military clothing. The invitation to dinner. The awkward eyebrow movements. Was she attempting to….flirt with him?

He watched her tilt her head demurely. Yes: this was a terribly clumsy attempt at flirtation, but flirtation nonetheless. It was puzzling. And disturbing. Horrifying, even. He could, in fact, at that moment imagine few things that would be less pleasant to him than an evening with the Governor. An art gallery opening with Thrawn, perhaps, or sabre practice with Lord Vader? When they weren’t openly hostile toward one another, he tolerated Pryce’s presence—and he always imagined that the feeling, or lack thereof, was mutual. Now she was fluttering her eyelashes at him in a most unseemly manner.

He realized that something was amiss. Her behavior felt entirely forced; there must be some reason for it, and he needed to know what was behind it. And, of course, in his current position, he could not afford to alienate her. He couldn’t afford the enemies he had, much less any new ones. He straightened, took a deep breath, and managed to shoot her his most debonair smile.

“I’d be honored, Governor.”

She looked positively gleeful at his response. “Excellent, Agent Kallus. I suspect you’d like to change into your civilian clothes? I’ll meet you at the street level entrance in 20 minutes.”

“Certainly, Governor.”

She turned on her heel, temporarily forgetting her flirtatious act, and marched out of his office.

Heading to his quarters to trade his military tunic for plain black shirt, Kallus realized he had lost his appetite. Entirely.


Mav Edit: Changed thread prefix to Saga since this is a Rebels story which is in the Saga. Please see the Welcome New Users thread in Resource for the correct prefix tag system. If this change is incorrect, please contact me (mavjade).

 

AzureAngel2 -- tagging you as requested-- here's the first chapter of a freestanding 3-ch. story that continues "Truth." I didn't make it a "chapter" of it because I think both work alone. Enjoy!

 

He's right to be suspicious! So Tarkin is using Pryce as a honeytrap to find out if Kallus is a traitor? He should have found someone more innocuous, he knows enough about Pryce to run in the other direction.

Kallus, you'd better have a sandwich before you head to the restaurant. And keep your eye on your drink at all times!

 

Governor Pryce being a determined flirt makes me nervous, too.

For a brief moment I had to think about a character from a favourite Jane Austen novel of mine that loves uniforms, but then I dropped that notion immediately. She plans something or is somebodies tool in a much greater plot to get at Callus.

Thanks for tagging me. These days I am so busy during the week, that I might not react before the weekend. Just that you know.

 

Chapter 2
[Ch 2/ 3. Rated: K+/T for angst, canon-typical violence.
Notes: Season 02/03 spoilers. Pre-"Warhead"; written and posted before "Through Imperial Eyes."]


The walk to the restaurant had been as uncomfortable as Kallus expected. He was not accustomed to making small talk, and neither, apparently, was the Governor. Somehow they had survived the trek—two city blocks had never felt so very long—and now he appeared to be stuck here for the duration.

When he found himself overwhelmed by the choices on the menu, Governor Pryce confidently took over the ordering. Now he was absentmindedly pushing a piece of Coruscanti game fowl around his dish and trying to find something interesting to say. The choice was actually a fine one on her part: the bird was exquisitely prepared, as was the spicy ahrisa side dish that accompanied the main course. Both brought back warm memories of special childhood meals with his family. But he nonetheless found it difficult to eat them. He was disgusted by the experience of being in this restaurant at all, surrounded by Imperial officers and highly-placed business people, being waited on hand and foot by local citizens. Every time he took a sip of his fine Renan wine, the waiters scurried to top it off. It was all so…excessive. Unnecessary. Wasteful. Even when he was a loyal Imperial, this sort of place turned his stomach. He generally lived on liquid rations or on mess-hall meals like his fellow soldiers; it kept him connected to his subordinates, and it kept him focused on his larger purpose. Knowing that even his ascetic rations would be a feast to most of the citizens of Lothal made the experience of trying to eat this luxurious meal even more challenging.

Kallus smiled weakly, nodding at the Governor and mumbling the occasional “mmm” and “indeed” at what he hoped were the appropriate places. So far, she had spoken at length about food—though they clearly had very different senses of the purpose of it—and, after seemingly exhausting that topic, she had been attempting to discuss sports. Kallus was never a fan of podracing or grav-ball or any of the other of the galaxy’s most popular sports; his own interests were focused on practical training. And her own “interest” in sports was clearly forced, as if she had studied the most recent contests and events in order to pass a test. So far, she seemed to have been avoiding the few things they had in common: the Empire and the rebels. Her avoidance was clearly deliberate. Ironically, it heightened his sense that the purpose of this dinner was anything but pleasure, although she was clearly trying desperately to maintain that illusion.

After yet another awkward pause, the Governor changed her approach. “So,” she asked, “I understand that you did quite a bit of teaching before...the rebel threat intensified on Lothal.” He could tell by her face that she regretted bringing the latter into the conversation at all, but she pushed on. “Do you enjoy teaching cadets, Kallus?” He noticed that she had dropped the “Agent.”

Although he wondered where she hoped to take this conversation, Kallus had been a good teacher, and part of him warmed to the subject for the first time that evening. “I do enjoy teaching, actually. I miss it.”

“What did you enjoy most about it?” she prodded.

He thought for a moment, then responded honestly. “I found it both challenging and satisfying to shape young minds and direct them toward a higher purpose. I enjoyed encouraging and challenging those who may have doubted their abilities when I could see they had it in them to do better, to become a better version of themselves. It was especially gratifying on the occasions when I found a particularly promising student and could help them develop their talents and then recommend them for the ISB.”

As he spoke, an image came unbidden into his mind: his most promising cadet, Swain. She had been much like him—ambitious, clever, and hard-working—and she in turn had almost idolized him. At the time, he was proud of her and certain that she would become a top-notch ISB agent. But then….she had defected. When he caught up with her, she had told him that she had become disillusioned by the treatment of the locals on Lothal; she was amazed that he could continue to serve the Empire after what he too had seen. And he had been the one to capture her, interrogate her, and turn her over to the Empire. Thankfully, he had not had to use any of the Empire’s less savory interrogation techniques on her. But she was probably dead now, he realized, or rotting in an Imperial prison. Because of him. He struggled to regain his composure and smiled at the Governor.

She didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “Ah, yes. The power of holding someone’s future in your hands is intoxicating.”

He resisted the temptation to point out that this was not exactly what he’d meant.

“Who was your greatest inspiration, Kallus?” she continued, clearly pleased she’d found a topic that would take the weight of the conversation off of her. Her obvious relief at this fact made Kallus almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

He thought honestly about her question. It had never been the Emperor, or any other major figure in the Empire. No: it had been his fellow soldiers, most of whom he had trained with at the Academy, especially those with whom he had been deployed on Onderon. As he had told the Lasat, Zeb, while they were marooned on Bahryn, they had gone there to bring peace and security to a troubled world. His comrades had died; he had lived. Somehow. Their commitment to their purpose and to each other had inspired him. And their deaths had inspired him even more. They still did, but in different ways now. The complicated emotions that still swirled around their deaths threatened to engulf him.

“My fellow soldiers, especially those who lost their lives for the Empire,” he replied simply.

She cocked her head, seemingly surprised by his response, and the look on her face spoke of both respect and, perhaps, a hint of sympathy. He decided to turn the conversation back to her, since apparently there were few questions about his past that didn’t trigger some deep emotion, and he needed to keep himself under control. Thankfully, for the most part, Pryce didn’t appear to be terribly observant.

“I was fortunate to fight with many of my former classmates,” he continued, “who were the best of the best. Am I correct that you were also a student at the Royal Imperial Academy on Coruscant?” He delicately avoided the fact that she had finished there almost a decade before he had begun.

“Ah, yes. I am from Lothal”—she said this with a wince, as if being from an Outer Rim planet were an embarrassing fact to reveal—“but after my first year in Lothal Academy, I was transferred to the main Academy and continued there,” she continued proudly. “They were some of the most enjoyable years of my life, I must admit,” she added.

“Ah. Do tell me about them,” Kallus encouraged. He was rewarded with a genuine smile.

As Pryce recalled her glory days in the Academy—she had, not surprisingly, been a very ambitious and successful student, but also apparently more socially adept than he had been for most of his time there—he tried to imagine what she must have been like as an eager and idealistic young woman.

And although there was no real resemblance between them at all, only the superficialities of eye and hair color and height, he was reminded suddenly of another woman. A very different woman. He tried to concentrate on making the right responses to the Governor, but for the third time that evening, he was overwhelmed by a ghost from his past.

Lusa.

Kallus wiped his eyes and shook his head unconsciously to rid himself of the thought of her. He tried to focus on the Governor’s chatter. The similarities between the two women dimmed, and he was briefly awash with relief. He continued to nod along with the Governor’s stories. But now Lusa’s face rose even more clearly before him, smiling, eyes sparkling mischievously as they did when she teased him about one of his pompous speeches about the Empire. Then her eyes changed, softer this time, as they were when she tried to cheer him out of one of his frequent periods of crippling self-doubt.

Her eyes… they never held any secrets. From their first meeting, his second year at the Academy, he knew that Lusa was honest, forthright, and her eyes were the confirmation of that. He had been an awkward and guarded young man, but he trusted her immediately. They relaxed into an easy friendship. And he was rewarded by eyes that shone with trust, mirth, affection—and then, eventually, with love. A love he returned. A love that was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He struggled to keep his face neutral as another memory rushed back. Lusa had tried to be tender with him after his return from Onderon. He remembered the care and concern in her eyes as she attempted, fruitlessly, to get him to talk with her about the massacre of his fellow soldiers, about his feelings at watching and not being able to help, about his guilt at surviving. But he shut her out. The pain had been too great, and he couldn’t burden her with the devastating weight of his guilt. He remembered the hurt in those eyes, the hurt at being closed off from the man she loved. He thought he had done the right thing in sparing her.

Then later she had come to him, eyes flitting nervously about as she tried to share with him her concerns about the Empire. They had both been recommended for officer training, and had planned on attending together, but she was no longer certain of their purpose, of the goals of the Emperor. She had heard things, she said. She seemed scared. She tried to get him to listen, but he had again shut her out, his guilt now transformed into hostility. How could she think of stepping away from their shared future? And how could the one person he loved not understand why he was even more committed to the Empire after his friends had died their awful deaths at the hands of the extremists? To question was to dishonor the memory of the boys and their sacrifice.

Or so he thought then.

He told her he needed some time to think. She agreed, though the depth of her sadness was palpable. He remembered her walking away from him, folded in on herself, looking impossibly small and vulnerable. He felt awful, but he thought it was for the best.

And he remembered the night, just a week later, that two of his former classmates came to visit him.

He didn’t know them well; except for Lusa, most of his friends had died on Onderon, and since then he had once again kept himself aloof from other people, cocooned in remorse, anger, and self-pity. When they stood at his door and awkwardly relayed the news of Lusa’s death at the hands of rebels on Lothal, he gritted his teeth, thanked them for the news, and all but closed the door in their faces. And then he collapsed.

“Kallus? Are you quite well? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

Pryce’s voice brought him sharply back to the present, and his eyes once again focused on the person in front of him. The similarities between Pryce and Lusa were entirely superficial. But then, a horrifying possibility began to dawn on him.

Could it be that Thrawn had begun to search Kallus’s past, digging through it for places of vulnerability that he could exploit? Could it be that Thrawn had seen the similarity, too? Thrawn was a meticulous pattern-finder. His understanding of human behavior was cold and calculating. Governor Pryce may have appeared physically similar enough to Lusa; he wouldn’t have known anything about Lusa, really, or indeed about how human affection and love truly worked. His clinical review of the details would simply have concluded that one pawn looked enough like another to be used on his chessboard.

Anger gripped Kallus’s throat. But he forced a smile.

“I’m sorry, Governor. This soldier is not used to quite such a plentiful supply of wine. I’m rather afraid it has gone to my head.”

“Oh, please, Kallus. Let’s not be so very formal. Do call me Arihnda, at least here. And while we’re at it, is there something you prefer to be called?”

He paused for a moment. A few months ago, he had seen his youngest sister again, and she had called him by his given name, Kal. He explained then that he had changed his name from Kal to Kallus, first because it was required of ISB agents to take new names, but also for him to have something to live up to. She had assumed that he meant that he needed to be callous to do his job, and she wasn’t wrong.

But he didn’t tell her, didn’t tell anyone, that “Kallus” was something else: it was the closest he could come to uniting his name and his future to Lusa.

“No. I prefer…Kallus.”

Something in his face must have made Pryce uncomfortable; she looked away.

He forced himself to lay his hand on hers. “Arihnda,” he continued, “this evening has been a rare pleasure. But I fear that, between the wine and a long day of paperwork, I haven’t been the best company. Would you be willing to join me again in a day or two? I promise to be a better companion then.”

She looked relieved and pleased. “Of course, Kallus. It would be a delight.”

As he rose to pull out her chair for her, he considered what he knew and what he suspected. He suspected that the longer he kept up this charade, the longer he was likely to survive. Thrawn was using him and the Governor for his own purposes. Kallus would play along, bide his time, and try to discover what those purposes were. He knew, of course, that at some point Thrawn would come for him.

And he had some work to do before that happened.

 

AzureAngel2 Mistress_Renata

 

I think he is quite right to be suspicious. I wonder why Thrawn would send Pryce to do this? Or maybe she isn't an agent of Thrawn and is working her own angle? Hmmm... And what exactly had Lusa heard about the Empire that gave her second thoughts? Double hmmmm....

Just FYI; you can post subsequent chapters in the same thread as the original story you started, and you might want to do that from here on in. People poking through the boards looking for a story can read it all in one place, rather than trying to figure out where the next section is.

 

Thank you: I'm such a noob! How does one do that? Just in the thread, like a regular message? (All the fanfic boards are so different and I'm not used to any of them yet!)

 

Mod post: Hey there and welcome to the boards! Yes, if you want to add another chapter to a story, simply reply to the thread with the next chapter. For ease of navigation, I have already merged the two threads you had going for this story.

 

Thank you for your help!

 

Chapter 3

"The only thing I know about Geonosis is that the population is gone. I never asked questions."
"Well, maybe you should start. Or are you afraid of the answers you'll get? Afraid you'll learn the Geonosians were wiped out by your precious Empire?"
"And why would we do that? What could possibly be the point?"
"Ah, good questions. Chase the answers, and maybe you'll learn the truth."


Kallus lay awake, staring up at the ceiling of his quarters and allowing his thoughts and memories freely to wash over him now that he was alone. The yellow glow of the meteorite flickered across the wall. He allowed his gaze to follow the changing light as he thought back over the past few months.

On Bahryn, Garazeb Orrelios had challenged him to chase the answers about Geonosis. And Kallus could rarely turn down a challenge.

It wasn’t just the challenge, however, that had set things into motion. Zeb’s words, which at first had sounded to him both cynical and paranoid, had come from his own experiences in the Empire’s grip. Yet, somehow, Zeb had chosen to bring Kallus to safety, risking his life more than once, showing unnecessary, even foolhardy generosity to him, an Imperial who had tried to kill him on numerous occasions and, more importantly, who had been instrumental in destroying his home world. Kallus’s chest tightened at the memory of the cruel Lasat mercenary on Onderon, and then in turn at his own cruelty on Lasan, memories so at odds with his experience of the Lasat soldier on the Geonosian moon. He had slowly begun to trust Zeb, even to appreciate him—not simply as an instrument of his possible survival, but as a fellow soldier with a gruff exterior that hid a gentle soul. And in the morning, when they discovered that Zeb was in fact right to trust that his friends would return, watching Zeb welcomed warmly by his friends brought back memories of his own friends from Onderon, those about whom he too had worried, those for whom he too had been willing to die.

He was left surprisingly dejected after Zeb’s departure, a feeling that only increased as he waited in vain for rescue, finally to be picked up by a random trading vessel and returned eventually to the Relentless. He had limped down the hallways of his ship with only the barest of acknowledgment by a scattered few of his colleagues. His cold return to the indifferent arms of the Empire stood in stark contrast not only to Zeb’s reception, but Zeb’s inexplicable care for him. When they were not in battle, Zeb had chosen to treat Kallus with both kindness and respect, as a person with innate value and dignity. Kallus remembered back, far back, to a time when he, too, assumed that every sentient being had value and dignity. Back to a time before the Empire and his own personal losses had warped his worldview and made him view the galaxy and its occupants as objects to be controlled, managed, and pressed into a single, narrow idea of order.

So he took Zeb’s challenge. He began to chase the answers.

His knowledge of Imperial computer systems was extensive and his technical skill impeccable, but he soon found that the answers were hidden away. Careful exploration led Kallus to discover that this information was simply not available in the main Imperial network; it was stored in the Imperial archive on Scarif, where he would never reach it without an actual visit approved by Imperial High Command.

But that alone was enough to make him question his allegiances. If the absence of life on Geonosis had been an accident, or the result of evacuation or disease, he knew that the information would be readily available on the main system. The fact that the information was housed on Scarif meant, by definition, that it was part of an Imperial plan. It was no accident.

After this, Kallus had begun to look more carefully at everything that came across his desk. Questions arose for him that had never arisen before, about priorities, about strategy, about ethics. As the questions arose, his confidence in his earlier opinion of the rebels—their misguidedness, their foolishness—had faded quickly.

As he began to question, he began to think back to his own part in the Empire, and to reconsider things about which he had been so certain. He wondered, for instance, whether Swain had allowed herself to see the truth where he had chosen to avert his eyes. He realized that he had been unwilling to listen to Swain because she had had her epiphany about the Empire and its tactics while on Lothal. And Lothal was where the rebels had killed Lusa. His decision to join the ISB, his brutal pursuit of the Lothal rebels, his inflexibility about disloyalty…all of this was, at heart, because of Lusa.

If he were going to reconsider his role in the Empire, he had decided, he would have to know more about Lusa’s death. And in so doing, he would have to come to terms with her death at the hands of the rebels, even to face the possibility that Zeb and his friends may have had some connection to it.

As a high-ranking ISB agent, he had full access to personnel files, and, years ago, when he had first received that access, he had almost immediately retrieved Lusa’s Academy files. He had pored over them eagerly, hoping to be reminded of their days together, of happier times. Instead, he found himself overcome with a sense of loss so profound and devastating that he could barely breathe. The next day, the anguish had not lessened, and he found that he couldn’t face the thought of interacting with another living creature. He had called in sick for the first and last time in his career. It was also the last time he had accessed her files or, indeed, the files of anyone who had left his life, no matter the cause.

Until now.

Kallus had approached the personnel files carefully. When he had retrieved those Academy files early in his career, he hadn’t cared whether anyone had known; he was within his rights to examine any personnel file, and he imagined that his inquiry would not have looked suspicious if anyone had bothered to notice, even if it might have been criticized as sentimental had anyone known why. This time, however, he took every caution to keep his digital footprint light and to mask his steps. And this time, he did not go to Lusa’s Academy files, but her later personnel data, up to and including the time of her death.

He knew that this would be an emotionally punishing task. But he also knew that had to look. Since returning from Geonosis, there was a persistent itch at the back of his mind…something that told him that he had to look again, and face whatever he found there.

He winced to see her picture again, ached to read the personnel entries, the reviews, the minor events in her career. He was prepared for this pain.

But when her final file entry came onto the screen, Kallus at first couldn’t process what he saw.

He had expected to see a notation about Lusa’s death at the hands of the rebels, perhaps some information therein that would either condemn or clear the Ghost crew and their friends.

What he found instead were two simple letters in Aurebesh, notations he himself had placed on other files in the past.

D/T.

D. The same notation he had placed on Swain’s file. On that of his Academy friend Joval and others like them. D…for Defected.

And T. Terminated.

The room reeled, and as the full realization of what those two simple letters meant fully penetrated his consciousness, he fought back the urge to scream. He could not prevent a low, animal groan from escaping him as the edges of his vision blurred.

Lusa had been killed by the Empire.

His career, his achievements, everything he had worked for. It had all been built on a lie.

He had relentlessly pursed disloyalty to the Empire. Because of a lie.

He had tried to snuff out the spark of rebellion against injustice. Because of a lie.

He had killed—no, murdered—Minister Maketh Tua. Her, and others like her. He had slaughtered the Lasats with horrible, inhumane weapons. All because of a lie.

He had piled dead bodies high on top of a lie, and now the whole structure of his world was crumbling under his feet, the weight of those deaths threatening to suffocate him.

It further dawned on him that this was not just a lie. It was a lie perpetuated on him specifically to keep him loyal, to motivate him to do the Empire’s dirty work. And it was a lie that had clearly come from within the ISB, his very own service branch of the Empire.

He had gripped the edge of his desk hard, fighting the powerful dual impulses that threatened to overwhelm him: to crumple to the floor and never get up again; and to walk down the hallways of the Imperial Headquarters blasting everyone in sight.

He had, of course, done neither. Eventually—though how much later, he wasn’t sure—he had regained at least superficial control over his emotions and forced himself to continue with the quotidian business of the Empire.

But his way was now clear: he would make it his first priority to destroy the Empire from within. That was when he had made a connection to Commander Sato and began to share information with the rebellion. When his information had consistently checked out, he was promoted to a new position: he became Fulcrum.

And he now knew that he would do everything he could to redeem himself, even if that meant that the structure he destroyed brought him down with it. At least if he died now, he could die with some semblance of honor.

As the memories finally dimmed and exhaustion began to overtake him, Kallus closed his eyes, curled into a ball, and fell into a shallow sleep—one filled, as it had been almost every night since he’d learned the truth about Lusa, with ghosts.


* * * * *


Kallus had made a point the very next day of visiting Governor Pryce’s office and asking her to have a caf with him, and then arranged for dinner later in the week. They continued to meet regularly, making his work for the rebels challenging—he had just learned of a new class of infiltrator droids that Thrawn was dispatching to several planets, and he had had to carve out time to relay that information securely—but he knew that it was essential for his own success that he find out Thrawn’s plan for him and Pryce.

Each time he and Pryce met, he directed the conversation back to the past—a safe and pleasant ground for her, even though it was a minefield for him. His reasons were twofold: to put her at ease so that their meetings were less agonizing; but also, more importantly, to discover what, if anything, she already knew of his past. If Pryce were aware at all that Thrawn was using her because of her superficial similarity to Lusa, he wasn’t sure he could keep from pushing her in front of a fast-moving speeder bike. But it became clear to him that she didn’t know why she specifically had been chosen. She had simply been sent to cozy up to him. He still, however, didn’t know the reason.

The reason became clear on their fifth “date.”

After another gossipy story about a teacher whom she and Kallus had shared—this time, a severe and demanding Strategic Operations teacher named General Lythor—the Governor’s expression became eagerly conspiratorial.

“Ah, Kallus. When the Lothcat was away, the mice played, am I right? Was Lythor ever called away into service mid-semester when you were at the Academy?”

“I believe so. Once or twice.”

“Well, I don’t know if your friends ever took advantage of the break, but we certainly did. And I think there will be such an opportunity soon here.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Rumor has it that Grand Admiral Thrawn will be leaving to go to Coruscant in three days. I imagine the mice can play in his absence for a day or two.”

Kallus raised an eyebrow. “And what sort of playing do you imagine the mice will do?”

Governor Pryce blushed deeply. He realized at once that she had misunderstood him—but with her blush, his creeping suspicion over the last few days was confirmed.

Pryce was genuinely attracted to him. Perhaps she always had been. Perhaps Thrawn had seen it where he had not, since he hadn’t been looking. Realizing that she might be expecting him to take their relationship to a new level in Thrawn’s absence, he fought the urge to shudder at the thought of a goodnight kiss. But part of him wanted to find and punch Thrawn for taking advantage of Pryce’s emotions. He still didn’t like Pryce, but the thought of Thrawn manipulating her feelings nauseated him almost as much as the knowledge that Thrawn was attempting to manipulate Kallus’s own.

He tried to smooth over the miscommunication. “I wonder, in other words, whether there is any reason to assume anyone knows of his plans other than us? It seems essential that we keep this information very quiet, lest the rebels should hear of his absence and choose that moment to strike.”

Now Governor Pryce looked distinctly uneasy as she flicked her eyes away from him. He watched her face closely, and could see two contradictory feelings warring within her. He was increasingly certain by her behavior that she was attracted to him and that she hoped it was reciprocated.

But she had just fed him information that he was meant to pass to the rebels.

As he fought another wave of disgust, this time at her willingness to betray someone she was attracted to, he brought himself up short. How much better was he, really, than she was? He had been ambitious. He had been a tool of the Empire. And he was playing a game, too. But they were both pawns. Both could as easily be tossed away when they were no longer essential to the Empire’s game.

“Who else knows?” he continued, his face as unreadable as he could make it. “Because, of course, were anything to happen, the blame for the leak would fall on those who knew.” He made a mental note to contact the rebellion to ensure that absolutely no missions, however small, were attempted in the near future on Lothal.

“Oh. Well. I don’t imagine…. I mean, I overheard Thrawn. On a comlink. Yes,” she sputtered. Blast, thought Kallus, but she’s an awful actor. And he repressed a smile, realizing that he had found his exit strategy from Thrawn’s current game.

“Arihnda, with the Grand Admiral so worried about a traitor in our midst, I would recommend that you do your best to avoid eavesdropping, no matter how accidental. It would be horrible if he were to have any reason to suspect you.” He attempted to look worried.

“Oh, he’d nev….” She looked flustered. “Ah. Yes. Of course. I suppose that’s good advice, Kallus. Of course.”

Kallus maintained his look of concern, and placed his hand over hers on the table. Her blush deepened. “Arihnda, that does bring something to mind. Not that I’d ever suspect you, of course—clearly—but given the Grand Admiral’s concern, it has occurred to me that, as much as I’ve enjoyed our time together, perhaps we should reconsider our….new relationship? It would certainly be unfortunate were the Grand Admiral to have concerns about either of us simply because we’ve been enjoying an unusually large amount of time together outside of the office.” He paused for effect. “Of course, I would hate most of all for any suspicion to fall on you. Especially now. Now that we… know each other.”

She looked at him in confusion. This was clearly not what she had expected at all.

“It is, of course, a terrible sacrifice for me. Getting to know you has been such a pleasure.” He tried to look forlorn. “But perhaps it would be the best for both of us if we went back to our previous professional relationship. At least until this traitor is found and exposed.”

Pryce sat for a moment, then rose, clearly flustered. Much to his surprise, she appeared to be near tears. Were they tears of frustration at having failed at her mission? Or could there be something else there? Disappointment? He watched her swallow down whatever emotions were fighting within her as she turned away. Then she turned back to him with the impassive face of an Imperial administrator.

“Of course, Agent Kallus. Very wise.”

He stood and offered her his arm, but she shook her head and gave him a tight smile.

“No, quite right. I should leave alone. It would be less likely to raise any questions. Thank you again for the evening.” She turned abruptly and left the restaurant at a military clip.

As Kallus watched her leave, a small pang of regret rose in his chest. He realized he was tired of hurting people. He wanted this all to be over.

He paid the tab, slipped on his coat, and walked slowly to the door.

So, this little game of Thrawn’s was over. Checkmate, or stalemate? He didn’t know.

But he knew that the endgame was in sight. Come what may, it would all soon be over.

And then he could finally lay his ghosts to rest.

Perhaps, he thought with a wry smile, flipping up his collar and stepping into the cool Lothal night, he might even join them.



[end]

 

I like that you Kaitan ISB021 made Agent Callus a teacher who enjoys the benefits of teaching, as mentioned in Chapter 2:

He thought for a moment, then responded honestly. “I found it both challenging and satisfying to shape young minds and direct them toward a higher purpose. I enjoyed encouraging and challenging those who may have doubted their abilities when I could see they had it in them to do better, to become a better version of themselves. It was especially gratifying on the occasions when I found a particularly promising student and could help them develop their talents and then recommend them for the ISB.”

You also managed to give him an interesting past, one that many servants of the Empire share. A love turned bitter and twisted by duty. And then, worst of all, a love that also had been feed lies. Lies constructed by the Empire, who does not support romance or family bonds as the book "Lost Stars" by Claudia Gray clearly shows us.

I hope this fic here has a prequel...

 

I love that he spotted the trap she was laying out for him and was able to turn it around, rather than being drawn in. I don't think this is checkmate or stalemate, maybe just check. I'm curious for her tears as well. I don't see her as the sort to weep over a mission, but I'm not entirely sure she's truly attracted to him.

And wow, when he read Lusa's file and realized the true reason for her death and how his own ideals had been betrayed. Wow. If anyone can figure out how to tread the fine line, though; I think it would be an ISB officer. Thrawn may be a fanboy favorite, but I think the Kallus you've interpreted is more than a match for him. Look forward to the endgame!

We all start out as noobs, but it's pretty easy to figure it all out and get up to speed. Come hang out with the rest of us in the main resource board, too, especially in the Cat Cantina! (We have a hypoallergenic seating area if you can't do dander

 

Thanks! I want to let the game play out on Rebels....I was very squirmy once we learned Thrawn might know he was Fulcrum, so I did want to prepare myself and the reader for the possibility that he was willing to, and even expecting to, die for his sins, so to speak.

As for Pryce's tears: she's actually very similar to Kallus: tough, ruthless, socially awkward. I do think she was at least warming to what she perceived as the camaraderie that the Empire fails to provide. I wanted to write her as less observant than Kallus, though, which did put her off her game. Still, tough women can get emotional, just like tough guys (i.e., Kallus)! I haven't liked her in the series but I did want to make her a bit sympathetic at the end. If you're invested in Pryce as a tough-gal, that might not resonate emotionally. But I actually identify with her a little: I can be a total badass but still tear up at failure and/or rejection. Let's just call them unbidden tears of frustration. Note: those tears don't fall! If it weren't Kallus looking hard for them, no one would know.

 

That was a brilliant move for yours, @Kaitan. Since your fanfic I start to like Pryce, too.

 

Thank you! I'm flattered!