The Ghost hummed quietly as it descended toward the surface of the planet, a remote outpost where the crew often resupplied. They were low on food and fuel, and it was supposed to be a quick stop—routine. Kallus had seen the crew go through this process countless times over the last few weeks, watching from the shadows as they went about their business. He wasn't one of them, not truly, but he had gotten used to their rhythm, their routines. It almost felt... comfortable.
As the ship touched down, Hera turned to the crew. "Ezra, Sabine, you handle the food. Zeb, fuel. Kanan and I will stay with the ship to monitor for any activity."
Ezra grinned, standing up. "No problem."
Kallus lingered near the back, observing but staying silent. But today, something felt different. A tension in the air, something unsettling.
As the crew dispersed, Kallus stayed behind, glancing toward the exit. I could leave, he thought, the idea creeping into his mind. He had been recovering for weeks now, and while the Ghost crew treated him better than any Imperial ever had, he still wasn't one of them. He didn't belong here.
He caught sight of one of Ezra's blasters, carelessly left on a crate by the entry ramp. His heart raced. This was his chance.
Without fully understanding why, Kallus grabbed the blaster and tucked it under his jacket, glancing around to make sure no one saw him. The ramp lowered, and he slipped outside, moving quickly. He wasn't sure where he was headed—he just knew he needed to leave. His loyalty to the Empire tugged at him again, even after everything he had seen. This is what I'm supposed to do, he told himself. I have to go back.
But as he took a few steps away from the ship, something felt off. His instincts kicked in, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The air was too still, the environment too quiet.
And then it hit.
A blaster shot rang out, followed by the unmistakable hum of Imperial TIE fighters overhead. The Empire had ambushed them.
Panic gripped him, but Kallus forced himself to remain calm, slipping into the shadows as chaos erupted around him. Stormtroopers stormed the supply depot, their white armor gleaming under the harsh light as they fired at anything that moved. The Ghost crew was under attack.
This was his chance. He could slip away unnoticed in the confusion. He could go back to the Empire, report that he had been undercover, bring vital intelligence with him. He should leave.
But then, something stopped him.
From the corner of his eye, Kallus saw Zeb fighting off three stormtroopers with nothing but his fists and sheer determination. The Lasat was doing well, for now—but as Kallus watched, an Imperial officer aimed a blaster at Zeb's back, ready to fire.
Time seemed to slow.
Kallus gripped the blaster he had stolen from Ezra, his heart pounding. He could walk away, let the officer do his job. Zeb was a Rebel, after all. His enemy. Kallus should be loyal to the Empire. This was what he had been trained to do. But the longer he stood there, the harder it became to rationalize letting it happen.
His finger hovered over the trigger, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.
Then, without thinking, he squeezed.
The blaster shot echoed through the air, striking the Imperial officer square in the chest. The man collapsed, lifeless, before he could take his shot at Zeb.
Kallus stood frozen, staring at the body of the officer he had just killed. An Imperial. His own. His blaster still trembled in his hand, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. He had just shot one of his own, and the realization hit him like a speeder crash.
Zeb, unaware of who had saved him, finished off the remaining stormtroopers and turned around, his eyes widening when he saw Kallus standing there, blaster in hand, staring at the fallen officer.
"Kallus?" Zeb's voice was thick with confusion. "What the—?"
Kallus didn't respond. His body felt numb, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. He had been ready to flee, to return to the Empire, but now... he wasn't sure of anything anymore.
Blaster fire erupted nearby, breaking through his daze. Zeb grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along. "Come on, you idiot! We need to move!"
Kallus stumbled, still disoriented, but he followed Zeb, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He had just betrayed the Empire. But he had saved a Rebel. He didn't know what to feel—loyalty, regret, or something else entirely.
They ran through the chaos, dodging blaster bolts and explosions, Kallus barely keeping up as Zeb led the way back to the ship. The rest of the Ghost crew were already retreating, taking cover as stormtroopers closed in from all sides. Kanan covered their retreat with his lightsaber, deflecting blaster shots as Hera fired up the engines.
"Get on board!" Hera shouted from the cockpit, her voice filled with urgency.
Zeb practically shoved Kallus up the ramp, the two of them stumbling aboard as the ship began to lift off. Sabine and Ezra covered them, blasting away at the troopers as the ramp closed.
Kallus collapsed onto the floor of the cargo bay, breathing heavily, his mind still spinning. He looked down at the blaster in his hands, his reflection in the polished metal surface. He had made his choice.
The Ghost rattled as it took off into the sky, narrowly dodging the incoming TIE fighters. They had barely made it out alive.
Hera's voice crackled over the intercom. "Everyone alright?"
Zeb panted, leaning against the wall. "We're fine... just had a little Imperial trouble."
Kanan, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at Kallus, noticing the stolen blaster. "I see you decided to stick with us."
Kallus didn't reply. He wasn't sure what to say. He felt torn apart inside, unsure of where he stood anymore. The Empire, the Rebels... nothing seemed as clear as it had before.
Ezra, breathing heavily from the fight, glanced at Kallus, a mixture of confusion and surprise on his face. "What happened... with you and Zeb back there?"
Kallus swallowed, his throat dry. "I—"
Kallus stared at Zeb, unable to speak. His mind kept replaying the moment he had pulled the trigger, the officer falling. He had acted on impulse, and now... now he wasn't sure who he was anymore.
As the Ghost shot into hyperspace, the crew scattered to their posts, readying themselves for the next step. Kallus remained in the cargo bay, still clutching the blaster.
For the first time in his life, he had taken a step against the Empire.
And now, there was no turning back.
