Chapter Text
“It seems that contrary to popular belief, and even though sensitivity to the Force can be passed down through bloodlines, there is no so-called ‘Force gene’. At the request of our patrons, we attempted to replicate some of our most powerful Jedi allies, to no avail: even those subjects whose genetic material matched exactly with, say, Anakin Skywalker or Obi-wan Kenobi had no success connecting to the Force. We controlled for everything, even for the standard accelerated ageing process, and fond absolutely nothing to suggest that these were anything more than failed experiments.
Upon careful enquiries to certain Force-using allies, the prevailing theory seems to be that the Force chooses who it will bless. This, of course, is patently ridiculous. That would be like saying that the force of gravity chooses to act upon planets, beings, and starships. Our own theory is that the Force is simply random, and those who can or cannot use it are no more ‘destined’ to their fate than stars are destined or otherwise to become supernovas.
It is possible, of course, that a high midi-chlorian count could be passed on through, for example, a blood transfusion; we have our own theories on this matter which we will discuss in person with our benevolent patrons. Also of note is the possibility that, despite our colleagues’ best efforts, some CT-units may randomly acquire the Force…”
- Dr Qire Mu and Dr Huni Ra, Report on the Potential for Force-Using Clones
Zeb wouldn’t have been this bothered about any other spy getting rescued – or not, as the case may be. It’s just that when it comes to Kallus – he really needs time to sort out exactly what he thinks about Kallus, and he doesn’t really have any of that. It would have been a lot more convenient if Kallus could have just come with Ezra in the first place so Zeb could talk to him face to face. Maybe hit him a few times. Maybe not hit him a few times, which is an infinitely more confusing emotion.
All in all, Zeb’s not really surprised when, while Ezra flies off to Tatooine, the Kallus dilemma starts appearing in his dreams. This time he is in a huge, echoing cave. Crystals larger than Zeb in every direction grow from the ground almost randomly: they are beautiful, glowing green and blue and purple. There’s no one else here, but if he looks carefully he sees the footprints of those who have come before picked out in the stone beneath him.
One of the crystals in front of him is not exactly the kind of crystal he was expecting. It’s yellow, and warm, and round, and looks exactly like that meteorite he gave Kallus. It hums its sweet, enticing tune, just as it had on Bahryn, and he puts his hand out, compelled to touch its faceted surface.
Zeb wonders what Kallus has been up to since he opted to stay on the Chimaera: more spy work, probably. It’s strange to think that Kallus is actually doing good now, even after all this time, but – yes, Zeb’s beginning to accept it. It’s not as alien a thought as it would have been, before. He thinks, perhaps, he’s even happy to see Kallus making an effort to help the Rebels.
Zeb knows a bit about trying to find redemption – for him, Lira San started the process, healing the shame and guilt and trauma he’d felt over the death of Lasan. For Kallus, who knows? Zeb’s not quite ready to forgive him yet for all he’s done, but he is willing to give him a second chance.
“One who has fallen so far and done so much evil does not deserve redemption,” says a woman’s voice, from behind him. She sounds upper-class, Coruscanti, Human if he’s not mistaken. “In a way, such a turning from one’s nature is cowardly, a betrayal of the self.”
Zeb rolls his eyes. “Yeah, nah, that’s bantha shit.” It was for him, anyway. He’s become better than his broken post-Lasan self could ever have imagined. And if he can claw his life back -
“Redemption is a form of spiritual collapse,” insists the voice, “a fall few recover from.”
“Kriff off.” He knows this is a dream: if he really tries, he could probably wake up right about now. “I ain’t gonna be intimidated by some hungry ghost into hating Kallus again.”
“That is not my intention,” replies the woman. “To be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best. I -”
“I said kriff off. I don’t give a shit.” He picks up the meteorite and holds it aloft in one hand. “I am the Child of Lasan. I’ll be the judge of whether he gets to be redeemed or not. And I say, give him a chance.”
“Very well,” says the voice, fading into near-silence. “It shall be done.”
Not long after that, they receive the last message from Fulcrum – from Kallus. “Thrawn knows ab-” isn’t much to go on, but it’s something: Chopper Base scrambles to evacuate. Right up into Thrawn’s fleet. Zeb watches the battle, watches Sato’s ship barrel straight into one of the imperial ships: he has to admire that kind of resolute determination. Perhaps Ezra will get out, perhaps they’ll get some reinforcements, perhaps, perhaps.
He really needs to stop focusing on what could happen and start thinking about what’s actually happening. He and Rex take to the shield generator and the base’s last defences with everything they have; out in the wilderness, he’s pretty sure Kanan is trying to summon some sort of kriffing Force god. He doesn’t think the actual Bendu deity he learned about in school is here, but stranger things have happened.
It’s easy, once Thrawn starts his ground assault, to lose himself in the thrill of battle, to keep himself and his bo-rifle on the move, to give those Imperial shitheads exactly what they deserve. It’s easy to slip into a smooth rhythm with Rex at his side: Rex reminds him of an Honour Guard he knew long ago, and perhaps Zeb reminds Rex of a long-dead clone as well. At one point, Rex makes a little, subtle gesture, and one of the troopers they’re fighting trips.
“What the -?”
Rex winks. “Can’t live as long as I ‘ave with the Jedi without picking up a few tricks,” he replies, and puts a finger to his lips. “Our little secret, yeah?”
Zeb blinks, shrugs, and buries himself in the battle once more. He’s almost forgotten about it by the time Thrawn and his men manage to surround him, Rex, Kanan, Hera, Dodonna, and AP-5, and by then it’s clear that they have other problems on their hands. Kanan turns his blind face up towards the black, thundering clouds with a strange expression that definitely means someone is about to get royally kriffed. Zeb only hopes it isn’t them.
It isn’t. Somehow, even through the chaos and the storm, they all manage to escape on the Ghost, alive with a few extra passengers from Chopper Base, and blow up the Interdictor while they’re at it with the help of the Mandalorians. And -
And Kallus. The distress call comes just before Hera is about to make the jump, and she swoops in without hesitation. Zeb hears the clank of the escape pod connecting from his gun turret: there’s no going back. Kallus is with them now. It’s time to give him that second chance.