Time had a strange way of passing on the Ghost. The days blurred together, punctuated by missions, repairs, and the occasional skirmish with the Empire. Kallus found himself adapting to life among the crew, though the adjustment wasn't always smooth. He had grown closer to them—more than he had expected. Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was always a gap, a lingering suspicion that kept them on edge around him.
It bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Ezra and Sabine had warmed up to him in their own way, though there was still an air of caution. Hera treated him with the same calm respect she had from the beginning, her faith in his potential to change never wavering. Kanan was careful, always watching, but no longer with outright distrust. And Zeb... well, Zeb was something else entirely.
Their relationship had shifted dramatically since that day in the supply depot. They shared an unspoken respect now—two soldiers, once enemies, now something resembling allies. Yet, even with that bond, there was a weight between them that neither had addressed.
One afternoon, Kallus sat quietly in his bunk, a rare moment of peace aboard the ship. He had been deep in thought lately, coming to terms with the truth he had been avoiding for so long: there was no going back to the Empire. The things he had seen, the lies that had been exposed—it had shattered his loyalty to the point where he could no longer pretend to serve a cause he didn't believe in. He had made his choice, though he still struggled with the consequences of it.
As Kallus turned these thoughts over in his mind, he noticed movement in the hallway. Zeb passed by, his gait slower than usual, his shoulders hunched as if under some invisible burden. His usual energy was missing, replaced by something... somber.
Kallus frowned, sensing that something was wrong. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should speak up. After all, it wasn't his place to pry. But something about Zeb's expression tugged at him. Without thinking too much, he rose from his bunk and stepped out into the hallway.
"Zeb," Kallus called quietly.
Zeb stopped, but didn't turn around immediately. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his face unusually distant. "What do you want, Kallus?" His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual gruff edge.
Kallus hesitated. He wasn't used to seeing Zeb like this, and the concern in his chest grew. "Are you alright?"
For a moment, Zeb said nothing. Then, with a sigh, he leaned against the wall, staring off into the distance. "Today's the day," he said softly. "The day I lost everything."
Kallus felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He didn't need to ask what Zeb meant. The weight of the words hung heavy between them, as heavy as the silence that followed. Lasan. The massacre.
Kallus' heart clenched with a mixture of guilt and shame, the memories of that day flooding back in painful detail. He had been there. He had led the charge, following orders, convinced that the Lasat were a threat to the Empire. But it had turned into something far worse than he had ever anticipated.
"I didn't realize," Zeb said quietly, his voice thick with pain. "Didn't realize it was the anniversary, did you?"
Kallus lowered his gaze, guilt settling deep in his chest. "No," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't."
The silence between them was heavy, and Kallus struggled to find the right words. What could he say? What right did he have to speak about Lasan when it had been his hand—his command—that had set the massacre in motion? He had been loyal to the Empire then, blindly following orders. But that day had haunted him ever since.
"I didn't know it was going to be a massacre," Kallus said, his voice shaking slightly. "I thought we were subduing a rebellion. By the time I realized what it had become, it was too late. I... I tried to stop it. But..." His voice trailed off, the weight of his own failure crushing him.
Zeb was silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on some distant point, as if he were seeing Lasan in his mind. The pain in his expression was raw, and Kallus felt his own heart twist in response. Millions had died that day. Zeb's people. And Kallus had been part of it.
"It was wrong," Kallus said quietly, his throat tight with emotion. "I should have known. I should have seen what the Empire was doing. I was too late, but that doesn't change what happened. I... I'm sorry."
Zeb finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Kallus thought Zeb might lash out—might finally unleash the fury he had every right to feel. But instead, Zeb studied him, his eyes filled with something Kallus couldn't quite place. Understanding? Sadness? Forgiveness?
"You think I don't know that?" Zeb's voice was rough but quiet. "You think I don't know you didn't plan the massacre? I hated you for it, Kallus. I hated you for a long time."
Kallus flinched, the weight of Zeb's words cutting deep.
"But now..." Zeb shook his head, looking away again. "Now, I think maybe I hated you because I didn't know how else to deal with it. Didn't know who else to blame."
Kallus swallowed hard, guilt and sorrow swirling within him. "You have every right to hate me. I—"
"No," Zeb interrupted, his voice surprisingly soft. "No, I don't. You didn't do it alone. It was the Empire. It was all of them. We were both soldiers, Kallus. Both following orders."
Kallus blinked, unsure of what to say. He hadn't expected Zeb to say something like that. Of all the crew, Zeb had the most reason to hate him. And yet, here he was, offering something Kallus had never thought possible—understanding.
"I lost my home, my people," Zeb continued, his voice thick with emotion. "But you... you lost something too, didn't you? Your faith in the Empire. You're not that same person anymore."
Kallus' throat tightened, the words catching in his chest. He nodded, barely able to speak. "No," he whispered. "I'm not."
Zeb was quiet for a moment before he turned to face Kallus fully. "I won't pretend it's easy, or that it'll ever be okay. But... I think I can forgive you."
Kallus stared at him, stunned. He hadn't been expecting that. Forgiveness? From Zeb, of all people? He didn't deserve it. Not after what had happened. And yet, the sincerity in Zeb's voice was undeniable.
"You... you forgive me?" Kallus asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Zeb nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think I do."
The weight in Kallus' chest lifted, just slightly. It wasn't a full release—it never would be. The trauma of Lasan, the guilt he carried, would always be there. But in that moment, Zeb's forgiveness offered something Kallus hadn't realized he needed. Not redemption, but understanding. A bridge between them that hadn't existed before.
"Thank you," Kallus whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Zeb nodded, his expression softening just a bit. "We're not enemies anymore, Kallus. We're both fighting the Empire now."
For the first time in a long while, Kallus felt something other than guilt—something closer to hope.
As the two stood there in the quiet hallway, an unspoken understanding passed between them. They would never forget what had happened on Lasan. But maybe, just maybe, they could move forward. Together.
Zeb gave him a nod and walked away, leaving Kallus standing alone, his heart heavy but a little lighter than before. For the first time, Kallus allowed himself to believe that perhaps he truly could be part of something greater than the Empire. Perhaps, here with the Ghost crew, he had found something he never thought he would—a second chance.
