Chapter Text
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
Kallus looked over at Hera, standing nearby with her flight helmet already tucked under her arm, ready to go, and nodded. “Of course, what can I do?”
“Don’t agree yet. It’s…big.” Hera sighed, casting her gaze towards her little boy, who was playing with his favorite toy X-wing a few yards away. “It’s Jacen. I need someone to look after him while I’m gone.”
Kallus paused, not because he wanted to say ‘no’, but because he wanted to be going, too. Rex and Sabine were going to be on the ground, fighting planetside—or moonside, as it were—while Hera, Zeb, and Chopper manned the Ghost. Kallus, still not medically cleared for open battle after their last adventure on Lothal, would be staying behind on Home One. At least, if he was watching Jacen, he’d be doing something useful.
“Of course I can look after him.”
“And…if I don’t make it back,” Hera added, “I need someone to take him to our family on Ryloth.”
Kallus considered assuring her she’d make it, but Hera was a realist, and offering useless comfort like that wouldn’t mean much to her. So instead he just nodded, and repeated, “Of course.”
Hera smiled, and pulled Kallus into a one-armed hug.
Kallus returned the embrace, offering an only slightly awkward pat on the back. “Kick some Imperial ass for me.”
“Always.” Hera stepped back, and nodded upwards, glancing at something over Kallus’ shoulder. “Now go on, someone else wants to talk to you.”
Kallus turned around, and there was Zeb, waiting at the entrance to the hangar. Kallus smiled, and headed towards him, and no sooner was he within Zeb’s reach than Zeb had wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him into a firm embrace. Kallus let out a quiet ‘ oof ’ as he collided with Zeb’s chest, but quickly threw his arms around his neck, and held on tight.
“You take care of yourself,” Zeb said.
“Don’t worry about me,” Kallus replied, holding on tighter. “Just come back.”
Zeb kissed the side of his head. “I love you.”
Kallus bit his lip, hard, not at all missing the fact that Zeb didn’t say ‘I will’. “I love you, Garazeb Orrelios.”
Zeb pulled back just far enough to take Kallus’ face in his hands and just look at him, like he was trying to memorize every freckle and line on his face. Kallus traced his gaze over Zeb’s face as well, desperate to hold him and look at him as long as he could. He couldn’t lose him. That would break him, and he would never be able to put himself back together.
Zeb closed his eyes, and pressed their foreheads together. “I know this ain’t what you want to hear, but if this goes south—”
Kallus shook his head, hard. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”
“Alex—”
“I won’t hear it,” Kallus said firmly. “You’re going to make it through, and you’re going to come back to me.”
Zeb sighed heavily, and tilted his head up to kiss Kallus’ forehead. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will, as long as you do the same.”
He met Kallus’ eyes again, and smiled wanly before pulling him back into a tight hug. Kallus buried his face in Zeb’s neck, hanging on as tight as he could, inhaling the Lasat’s scent—trying to commit every bit of him to memory, before all troops were ordered to their stations, and he pulled away.
“I love you, Alexsandr.”
“I love you, Zeb, so much.”
Zeb kissed him firmly on the lips, and Kallus kissed back, holding on until the last possible second. Eventually, though, Zeb had to go. He pulled away, out of Kallus’ arms, leaving Kallus feeling unbearably cold and empty as he made his way towards the Ghost, past Hera and Jacen.
“Stay with Uncle Kallus,” Hera told the little boy, brushing her hand over his hair and bringing it around to cup his cheek. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mama.”
She kissed his forehead, and hugged him tightly, before pushing him towards Kallus. “Go on, then. I love you.”
Kallus held his hand out to take the child’s, though his attention was still mostly elsewhere.
“Garazeb.”
Zeb’s ears instantly flicked towards Kallus. His gaze followed only moments later, as he turned to look over his shoulder.
“For once in your life,” Kallus begged, “don’t be a hero.”
Zeb’s shoulders dropped, and his ears fell back against his skull. “You know I can’t do that, kaluusan .”
Of course, Kallus had no argument, so he just watched as Zeb headed for the airlock, holding Jacen’s hand and hoping they weren’t both about to lose the most important people in their lives.
“All groups assume attack coordinates.”
Zeb had spent many an hour in the Ghost’s dorsal blaster cannon turret. This time was no different, he told himself. He and Hera were good at this—no, great at this. There was no reason to get nervous and blow this mission.
You know, the mission. The one that was either going to put an end to the Empire, or to the Rebellion.
No pressure.
“You ready for this, General?” he asked Hera over the comm.
“Ready as I’ve ever been,” Hera replied.
From the admiral, over the long-range comm, “All craft, prepare to jump to hyperspace on my mark.”
“Hang tight,” Hera said, “here we go.”
Zeb watched, steeling himself for battle as the stars began to blur around them, before giving way to the mottled blue of hyperspace. It was a fairly quick jump from Sullust to Endor; they had to be ready. They were ready. But would it be enough?
“‘Ey, Spectre-3,” Zeb spoke into his comm. “Spectre-3, come in.”
“ Wop wop wahh ,” came the answer from Chopper.
“Right,” Zeb said. “Look, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re terrible.”
“ Waap waa ,” Chopper scoffed.
Zeb chuckled, “Thanks. Back atcha,” with absolutely no idea what the droid had said in the first place.
“Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Zeb,” Hera’s voice came through the coms. “You’ll make me think you’ve lost your confidence.”
“Why can’t I be sentimental, and have confidence?”
Hera chuckled. “Whatever you say, Captain. Ready to engage?”
“ Ha . Ready as I’ve ever been.”
The Ghost, along with the rest of the fleet, dropped out of hyperspace, coming face to face with Endor and the Death Star, minimally guarded as they had hoped. “All wings report in,” called General Calrissian over the comms.
Hera responded first. “Phoenix Leader standing by.”
“Red Leader standing by.”
“Grey Leader standing by.”
“Green Leader standing by.”
“Lock S-foils in attack positions.”
“May the Force be with us,” said the Admiral from back on Home One.
“There’s no way this base is completely unguarded,” Hera said through the Ghost’s internal comm, just to Zeb and Chopper. “And I can’t get a reading on the shields, either.”
Zeb frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t get a reading?”
“The signal’s jammed. They were expecting us.”
“Ah, karabast ,” Zeb growled, just as General Calrissian’s voice came through the comm.
“Break off the attack! The shield is still up!”
“I get no reading,” Wedge—Red Leader—replied. “You sure?”
“Pull up! All craft pull up!”
Zeb gripped the turret controls tight as the Ghost pitched up and spun around, away from the Death Star. Admiral Ackbar was calling out instructions to the various groups of starfighters, but before he even reached Phoenix squadron, the Imperial fleet materialized in front of them. The trap was sprung.
“Why do we keep doing this??” Zeb complained to no one in particular.
“TIE fighters, incoming!” Hera called over the coms, “Phoenix squadron, move to engage!”
“There’s too many of them!” came a reply, too muffled now by battle for Zeb to hear clearly who was speaking.
“Accelerate to attack speed,” Calrissian ordered. “Draw their fire away from the cruisers.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hera muttered, already two steps ahead. And of course she was; her son was on one of those cruisers. Jacen and Kallus were both on that cruiser.
Hera fired up the thrusters, heading into the thick of battle. Chopper let out an ungodly screech, firing away on the aft cannon as TIE fighters surrounded them. They were severely outnumbered, and they’d been caught by surprise—both marks in the Empire’s favor—but if there was one thing Zeb had learned during his years with the Rebellion, it was to never underestimate those with something to fight for. Zeb spun in the turret, aiming and taking out TIEs in all directions. The damn things were like insects—small, but numerous, not to mention annoying . Hera piloted them through the storm of TIEs like the ace she was, rolling and spinning to avoid fire, angling them so Zeb and Chopper could get clearer shots. Zeb wasn’t entirely convinced that she didn’t magically become Force sensitive every time she entered a cockpit. But even Force sensitive pilots weren’t perfect.
Zeb felt rather than saw a blast glance off the Ghost’s starboard side, knocking her out of alignment with an ominous, mechanical sizzle. “Well, that can’t be good.”
“Spectre-4,” Hera called through the comm, “you alright back there?”
“Oh, I’m great, Spectre-2. How about you?”
“Thank the Force. Internal comm’s still working, but the long range comm is shot. We’re cut off.”
A TIE approaching fast from their port side caught Zeb’s eye, and he swiveled to blast it before responding. “Well, that’s just great. That’s exactly what we…” He trailed off, eyes widening in horror as a green burst of light emanated from the Death Star itself.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t operational. Not yet.
“Hera,” Zeb began shakily, “tell me you’re not seeing what I’m seeing.”
“Oh, gods …” Hera murmured in horror as the beam cut through the sky, and the rebel cruiser it targeted erupted into the biggest explosion Zeb had ever seen. For a few seconds, he could do nothing but stare in horror.
This…changed everything.
“Hera?”
“Yeah, Zeb?”
“…S’been an honor.”
“It has.”
Zeb swallowed hard, adjusting his grip on the turret controls as a new wave of determination passed over him. “Let’s take this fuckin’ Empire down with us.”
“Watch yourself, Wedge. Three from above.”
“Red Three, Red Two, pull in.”
“Got it. Three of them coming in, twenty-degrees.”
A dozen or more people stood around Home One’s comm center, listening to the chatter as it came in. Kallus stood near the back of the room, balancing Jacen on his hip. The boy was fast asleep, drooling on Kallus’ shoulder. Kallus bounced absently back and forth, half to soothe the sleeping child, and half to work out all his pent up, anxious energy. They hadn’t heard anything from the Ghost in a couple of minutes, and it felt like a lifetime.
Jacen hummed in his sleep, and Kallus muttered, “They’re fine, they’re just busy, they’ll check in.”
Of course, the one he needed to convince was himself, not the sleeping child. Not being out there, fighting beside them, was hard enough. Not knowing where they were, if they were okay, was absolute torture. Every time a voice came through the comm that wasn’t Hera’s, or Zeb’s, or even Chopper’s, it felt like a knife twisting in Kallus’ gut.
There was a gentle tap on his free shoulder, and Kallus turned to find a woman he had seen around, whose name he did not know, holding a pillow and a blanket. She nodded towards Jacen.
Kallus smiled, but shook his head. “I’ll hang onto him,” he said quietly.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked. “Even children get heavy after a while.”
If she thought she was going to get this baby out of his arms for even a second —
He shook his head again. “His mother‘s leading Phoenix Squadron.”
“The twi’lek general, yes? I have seen them together.”
There was a twinge of desperation in the woman’s voice—one Kallus unfortunately understood. She wanted to be helpful. She wanted to talk. She wanted a distraction . She must have had someone out there, as well. Kallus was more than willing to accommodate—he was pretty desperate for distraction himself.
“Yes,” he confirmed, “General Syndulla.” He shifted the baby on his hip. “This is Jacen.”
The woman smiled softly at him. “Are you his father?”
Horror bolted through Kallus—he couldn’t imagine Hera being with anyone but Kanan, and himself with anyone but Zeb, let alone the two of them together —and he shook his head quickly. “Just a family friend.”
“I see.” The grave tone her voice had taken on suggested that she really did see.
Kallus turned to look at Jacen, still sound asleep on his shoulder. He was a spirited child, so like his mother. Ever since he’d learned to speak, his favorite word had been ‘why’, save for a brief ‘no’ phase that had nearly driven Hera to drink. A smart child, as well, curious and clever for his age. A heavily Force-sensitive child who would be in grave danger should the Rebellion fail today. And he stood to become an orphan. No matter what happened, Kallus had promised Hera he would be protected, and so he would be. Even if Kallus had to do it alone. Gods, he prayed he wouldn’t have to do it alone. His heart shattered at the thought of having to tell the sweet boy that his mother wasn’t coming back. Jacen wasn’t even old enough to properly understand why. What they were all fighting for. He would understand someday, though. Win or lose, he would learn what heroes both his parents were. And that thought brought a small smile to Kallus’ face.
“Home One, this is Gold Leader,” Calrissian’s voice came through the comm, suddenly clipped and concerned, and his shift in tone drew the silent attention of everyone in the room.
“We saw it,” replied the Admiral, equally urgent. “All craft prepare to retreat.”
A hushed murmur broke out. Retreat? Why? What’s happening out there?
“You won’t get another chance at this, Admiral.”
“We have no choice, General Calrissian. Our cruisers can’t repel firepower of that magnitude!”
“What’s happened?” Kallus asked, pushing into the crowd of people around the comm center.
“I don’t know,” a man replied, “but it doesn’t sound good.”
There was what felt like an agonizingly long pause, and then the Admiral spoke again. “Attention all craft,” he said. “The Death Star is operational. I repeat, the Death Star is operational. Be careful out there.”
Horror washed through Kallus again, but this time much more visceral and terrifying.
It’s operational.
Zeb’s out there.