The Ghost crew was used to enemies chasing them. Agent Kallus of the Imperial Security Bureau had been one of their most persistent foes, hunting them across the galaxy, always one step behind. But today, things were different.
The Ghost crew had just completed a successful supply run to a remote planet. As they were preparing to leave, they picked up a distress signal on the edge of the system. Hera Syndulla frowned as she looked at the coordinates.
"It's coming from an Imperial ship," she said, turning to the rest of the crew. "But something's off—it's barely functional, and the signal's weak."
Ezra bridged the gap between caution and curiosity. "Could be a trap."
"Could be someone in real trouble," added Kanan.
After a quick debate, they decided to investigate.
When the Ghost arrived at the source of the signal, they found a small Imperial shuttle floating in space, heavily damaged. Sabine's scans picked up a single lifeform onboard. Kanan and Ezra went in to retrieve whoever was inside. They were shocked to find none other than Agent Kallus, gravely injured and unconscious.
"Are we really doing this?" Zeb grumbled as they hauled Kallus onto the Ghost's medbay. "He's been trying to kill us for years."
"People change," Kanan said, his voice calm but firm. "And he won't survive if we leave him out there."
Hera guided the ship away from the Imperial wreckage, glancing over her shoulder. "We'll help him. But we need answers once he's awake."
**
Kallus awoke slowly, pain shooting through his body as he tried to move. His head spun, and he forced his eyes open, only to realize he wasn't in a medbay he recognized. He blinked, the sterile white of an Imperial facility replaced by the warm, utilitarian setting of a Rebel ship. His heart pounded.
"Where... where am I?" His voice was rough, but he managed to keep it steady.
Hera was the first to notice he was awake. She exchanged a glance with Kanan before stepping closer, her voice calm but firm. "You're aboard the Ghost. We found you drifting after your shuttle was sabotaged."
Kallus' eyes widened briefly, but he quickly masked his fear. His training kicked in, forcing him to sit straighter, despite the pain. He glanced around the room—Ezra and Sabine stood at the back, Zeb leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glaring. Kanan, ever watchful, observed him silently.
His thoughts raced. Captured. By rebels. He felt a rush of panic, but he swallowed it down, forcing himself to stay composed. "You've made a mistake," he said coldly. "I am an officer of the Empire. You can't keep me here."
Zeb's scowl deepened. "You'd be dead if we hadn't pulled you out of that wreckage."
"Then you should've left me there." Kallus' voice was sharp, though his body trembled slightly under the strain of his injuries. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of them. I'm loyal to the Empire, he reminded himself. I won't betray them. Not even now.
Ezra stepped forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and sympathy. "Why were you out there? The Empire doesn't usually abandon their own."
Kallus stiffened. He didn't want to admit what had happened—how the Empire he had served so faithfully had left him to die. His mind replayed the moment when his shuttle was sabotaged, how he had tried to send a distress signal, but no Imperial ship had come. His own people had turned their backs on him.
But he couldn't let the Rebels see that. They couldn't know how fragile his position had become. He forced a smirk, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't know anything about the Empire. They'll come for me."
Sabine raised an eyebrow. "Sure they will. That's why they left you out there alone, right?"
Her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. He clenched his jaw, willing himself not to react. He had to believe the Empire hadn't abandoned him. That it was just a mistake, a misunderstanding. They would send someone.
Wouldn't they?
Kanan approached, his calm demeanor unsettling. "We didn't bring you here as a prisoner, Kallus. We saved you because leaving someone to die isn't who we are."
Kallus shot him a look, his pride keeping him on edge. "I don't need your charity. The Empire will find me."
"You sure about that?" Zeb cut in, glaring. "Because it looks like you've already been thrown to the wolves."
Kallus' hands tightened into fists under the thin blanket. He hated that Zeb was right. Hated the doubt creeping into his mind. But he couldn't let them see it. Not the fear, not the uncertainty.
"They won't forget me," he said, though his voice was quieter now, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. "They... can't."
Hera sighed, her voice softening. "Maybe they already have."
That struck a nerve. Kallus turned his head away, unable to face them. His mind raced with thoughts of betrayal, of everything he had done in service of the Empire—only to be discarded when it was convenient. He felt a surge of anger, but underneath it was something far worse: the creeping terror that he was truly alone.
But he couldn't let them see that. He wouldn't let them win.
"I'm loyal to the Empire," Kallus whispered, more to himself than to them. "I always have been."
Kanan knelt beside him, his gaze piercing but not unkind. "Sometimes, loyalty is misplaced."
Kallus said nothing, his breath shaky as he struggled to keep his composure. He was scared—terrified, really—but he wouldn't let them see it. All he had left was his resolve. But as the silence stretched on, he wondered how much longer that would hold.
