Chapter Text
“Have you ever seen anything like that?”
“Not really. The shape is quite odd for a space station.”
From their small stolen Imperial transport ship, the two rebel captains were musing over the puzzling torus-shaped station they were headed to. Zeb was pacing around the shuttle, taking his bo-rifle off his back and putting it away again repeatedly. He was nervous, and he had every reason to be. The intel Kallus had on what the Empire was doing there was limited but worrying.
Some planets had had their crumbling Jedi temples raided, and from what he’d gathered, the stolen artifacts were brought to an Imperial research facility. Kallus had diligently tracked the paperwork, hacked into a couple of under-protected networks, and even tricked a drunken officer into revealing classified information.
That last part was surprisingly easy: there was nothing officers loved to do more than complain about their peers, and all Kallus had to do was to find who had a bone to pick with who. One of the many good things about being a rebel, he’d discovered in the past three years, was that people in the rebellion tended to actually like each other. Unthinkable yet true.
“You okay there? You spaced-out for a bit.” Zeb put one of his clawed hands on Kallus’s shoulder. Kallus brought his own hand over the Lasat’s and tenderly stroked his knuckles.
“I’m alright. Just a little anxious.” Kallus felt soft lips at the crook of his neck, tenderly kissing the bruised flesh there. They had made good use of the four-hour-long trip to the station. Zeb had marked Kallus as he liked to do, burying his teeth deep in the tender flesh above Kallus’s clavicle while he had his human lover begging for more. Kallus always felt a little sore afterward, but he wore the mark with pride: ‘A Lasat loves me, and I’m the luckiest man in the galaxy for it’.
He crooked his neck to give Zeb a small peck on the cheek. “What do the scanners say?”
Zeb removed his hand and walked toward the console. “Still nothing.” He turned his head back towards the other man.“I don’t like this, Kal. Looks like a trap.”
He was right. The station appeared dead when they had dropped out of hyperspace, and no one had responded to their transmissions. After all the work Kallus had put in obtaining the correct access codes, he felt a bit irked. But the most pressing matter was the seemingly empty and oddly-shaped vessel in front of them.
“I’ll disembark and do some quick recon. Just in and out, I promise.” Kallus started putting on the black communication officer’s costume he’d used on many infiltration missions before. No one tended to pay attention to low-level officers but they could access more restricted areas than your common stormtrooper. A perfect disguise. He tied his hair in a tight ponytail, tucking it under the officers’ cap he’d just put on. He turned on his heels, submitting his attire for Zeb’s approval.
“How do I look? Imperial enough?” he asked. The Lasat grumbled something about wearing black and old habits, then stepped forward, towering over Kallus. He tucked a wild strand of hair back in line and trailed over Kallus’s golden mutton chops as he pulled back.
“Better now. But you still look like you with these,” Zeb said as he gave Kallus’s facial hair an affectionate scratch.
“You sulked for a week when I shaved last time!” Kallus's bright laugh brought a smile to the Lasat’s face. “I’m not taking the risk again.”
“Fine, you win. Station’s empty anyway.”
He finished adjusting his clothes- they fit a little too tight, rebel life had made him bulkier than Imperial regulation would allow- and sat in the co-pilot’s chair. Zeb followed suit and started turning the engine back on. Kallus transmitted the codes once more, just to be safe. He was not about to let them go to waste.
While they flew closer to the station, they caught glimpses of broken structures floating inside the ring of metal. Much of the external plating had been ripped away, leaving parts of the station exposed to the cold void of space. There were no lights, and the whole vessel seemed eerily suspended in time. They kept going, looking for somewhere to dock the shuttle. The gaping holes in the station at least reassured them that there was very little risk the Empire was still stationed there. No point in protecting someone’s pet project about to fall apart when you have a rebel alliance to hunt.
Finally, they located a section that seemed stable, and Zeb slowly maneuvered the ship into the adjacent hangar. The muffled thud the shuttle made as it stabilized was Kallus’s signal to go. They had gotten lucky; the artificial gravity and shields were still functional: no need to poke around with limited oxygen while they looked for the on switch.
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” the Lasat asked, his eyes pleading.
“I’d rather have a shuttle ready to pick me up if this thing starts crumbling around me, Zeb.” He only got a worried grumble in response.
“Come on. Let’s do this.” Kallus got up, readjusted his hat (just in case they were still Imperial forces on the ship) and headed to the transport’s exit.
“Aren’t you forgettin’ something?” Zeb called out with a cheeky grin, having gotten over his grumpy streak. The ex-Imperial sighed theatrically and jogged back to the cockpit before planting his lips on the Lasat’s. Zeb’s hand found the back of his neck and pressed him closer. Kallus braced his hand on the chair to keep his balance, indulging his lover.
Still, he swiftly pulled away, gave Zeb’s mouth a quick peck and rubbed his left cheek against Zeb’s jaw. He got a chuckle in return and the lasat turned his head, allowing Kallus to rub against his other cheek as well. Kallus had first thought Zeb was pulling his leg when he’d explained that Lasats kissed that way. But he’d grown very fond of it since.
“I’m here if you need backup,” Zeb said, and patted Kallus's breast pocket.“Keep your comm close.”
Kallus rolled his eyes and headed back to the exit, but not before giving Zeb one last smile. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
“You better.” A pause, and much softer: “Love you, Sasha.”
The nickname made Kallus’s chest grow warm. A heartfelt, “I love you too,” was all he managed to say before leaving the ship.
---
As he disembarked, Kallus first noticed that everything that wasn’t nailed down had drifted to the side of the room in a messy pile, some of the crates’ contents spilling on the floor. He got closer, but not before a quick visual swipe of the hangar. (He did promise Zeb he’d be careful). What had fallen from the crates was nothing unusual to find in an Imperial station: blasters, spare uniforms, ration packets. Kallus made a face at the last one. The simple memory of the slightly bitter taste of the Empire-issued packets made him feel sick; he idly wondered how he had managed to survive while eating just rations for ten long years.
Shrugging away the thought, Kallus continued his inspection of the room. Apart from the odd pile-up, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He headed towards the hangar door only to find it locked. Just his luck.
Leaning on his good leg, he gripped the cold metal edge of the door with both hands, pulling with all his strength. He felt his gloved fingers slip a second too late to react and tumbled backward towards the crates.
“Kal! What was that?” Zeb’s worried voice crackled through the comm.
“Just had a little scuffle with a door. Nothing to worry about,” Kallus joked. He propped himself up on his elbows but stopped mid-movement. Something was written on a sign, high up on the upper platform.
“JANUS”
The name rang familiar. Kallus rattled his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew it from. For him, it was like opening a bunch of boxes, consulting the files inside one by one.
Konstantine. That was unlikely, the man was long dead and he hadn’t been one for experimental research when he was still alive.
Thrawn. That kind of peculiar project was his style, but he had been missing for years now. Higher up then.
Palpatine. Too high up. But he was close. He dug deeper until he found the name he was looking for.
Janus Greejatus. One of the Emperor’s closest advisors. So this project was likely directly linked to Palpatine himself. This was bad. Extremely bad.
Kallus tried to settle his breathing, analyze the situation objectively. The station was abandoned. Whatever the project had been, it had ended in failure. There was nothing to fear, nothing like the Death Star. He waited until the slight tremors in his hand quieted down to get up. Alderaan had been a shock to everyone, but knowing that, in a way, he had allowed it to happen by serving the Empire for so long had shaken him to the core. No point in mulling over it now though. Captain Kallus had a job to do.
He went through the motions: find a ladder, make his way to the upper part of the hangar, figure out where the mysterious sign led. Easy. Running into a partially-open door. Too easy. Instinctively, he put his hand over his blaster.
The door seemed stuck and Kallus had to squeeze himself through to the other side. The corridor it led to was dark, save for flashes of light from a defective lamp. Kallus made his way forward silently, his footsteps light, checking every corner. He took comfort in knowing that Zeb had his back, raising his hand to the comm in his breast pocket without even meaning to. He tried opening door after door, but all of them seemed out of power. There were names written on some of them, but none he recognized.
He felt something soft under his foot. A technician’s garb, probably left behind in a hurry. The back of the coat read ‘Project Janus’ in bright red letters. Kallus dug in the pockets, but he found nothing save for tissues and an empty ration packet. Disappointing, but not surprising. From what little he knew about the project, saying the security around it was tight would have been an understatement, and its technicians probably didn’t walk around with schematics in their pockets. Better keep going.
The corridor led to a room with a large transparisteel viewport. The light from outside allowed Kallus to map a quick layout of the space, where to hide in case of a firefight, where to escape from. He moved in carefully, keeping low, blaster in hand. He could see the inside of the station’s ring from the viewport, all torn up. Thank the force the window had held up against whatever had happened out there. Kallus did not fancy the idea of being flung into space.
He kept analyzing the room, noting the three pillars, each covered in odd wiring and placed in a triangle around the viewport. He could see something on top of each of them, but it was too dark for him to make out what it was. At the center of the setup laid an unassuming console, covered in electrical burns. Kallus looked left and right before making his way over to the switchboard, still not fully certain he was alone.
He tried turning the console on, fumbling for a switch in the dim light of the room. He bent down, feeling underneath until he heard a distinctive click and the familiar hum of a holo display. The display was flickering, almost unreadable. Someone had probably tried to erase the data when they left, but ran out of time before they could see it through. But Kallus still managed to discover a couple of key information through the static.
One, his hunch had been correct. The project was a personal project of the Emperor himself, but it had been helmed by Janus Greejatus for the past two years. Until the station blew up to bits. He couldn’t make out the purpose of the project, most of it was redacted, but he saw the words “travel” and “door” repeated multiple times in files.
Second, the project was somehow linked to Lothal. Kallus felt his heart ache as he saw the peculiar rock formations on the planet flash across the screen. He also caught a glimpse of the giant wolves that had come to their aid in their final fight against the Imperial occupation of Lothal. What did the Empire want with them?
And last, he found a schematic of the structure. The inside of the ring seemed completely hollow, and the room he was in was some sort of command center. What could have happened there for the station to be left in such a devastated state? Kallus felt a chill run up his spine. Being alone in the eerily silent station was making him uneasy. Something felt off and he didn’t care to stick around and find out what it was. In a hurry, he took out a data chip from his pocket and started downloading the files.
Kallus took his communicator out and pinged his companion back in the shuttle.
“Zeb, I’m heading back. Just getting some data, it shouldn’t take too long.”
“Copy that. I’ll war-” The answer devolved in static. Kallus tried shaking his comm, to no avail. He yanked the data chip away from the console and turned around. Only to be met with the end of a familiar Imperial- issued blaster.
---
“I knew it was you. You can fancy yourself a rebel, but I’d recognize that snotty Coruscanti accent anywhere.”
Kallus squinted, trying to make out the face of the man behind the blaster. He saw greying hair framing an angular face, and over the eye on the left, a well-worn eyepatch.
Jovan. He felt his throat go dry and his heartbeat accelerate. He’d sent him to jail, years before, when he was still under the grip of the Empire. Jovan had defected, just like Kallus had eventually, but unlike Kallus, he had gotten caught.
“Jovan, we can work this out, you don’t have t-” The stock of the blaster hit Kallus’s head with a loud thunk , projecting him to the ground. He braced himself and tried to get up, but Jovan still had him at gunpoint.
“Oh, can we? Come back when you’ve spent two years in an Imperial prison, and then we can work it out.” Jovan retorted with a snarl. Now that he was above him, Kallus could see him more clearly in the dim light of the viewport. He looked exhausted, his hair wild and his glare almost feral. Jovan was angry, and he was dangerous.
“I’m sorry I did this to you, it was wrong, but killing me won’t solve anything.” Kallus pleaded. He held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Come back with me to the Rebel Alliance. We can solve this.”
Jovan scoffed. “Nah. Not interested in playing hero. But this,” he gestured at the console “this could be big money.” He laughed when he saw Kallus’s eyes go wide in indignation.“Please. Like you didn’t defect for the same reasons I did.”
“I defected because it was the right thing to do.” Kallus answered, his voice strangely quiet.
“Right, because that’s what you do isn’t? The right thing?” He kicked Kallus in the stomach, making him double over. “Funny, that’s also what you said when you worked for the other side.”
While Kallus tried to catch his breath, Jovan made his way to the console. He pushed a couple of switches which made the screen light up with a code prompt. Jovan fumbled with his coat looking for something in his pocket. Taking advantage of the distraction, Kallus tried to reach for his communicator.
A blaster shot it out of his hand. Kallus screamed at the pain of the burn, clenching his fist over his chest.
“I’ll have none of that. Are you really trying to contact your Lasat friend? Even after I jammed your comms?” He turned back to the display, his blaster still aimed at Kallus.
The rebel captain stayed silent, weighing his options. He would have to manage without Zeb and disarm Jovan before escaping. The man seemed pretty focused on the task at hand but he was alert, as Kallus’s burned hand reminded him. Slowly, silently, he dragged himself until he was behind Jovan.
“You know, I saw the both of you fly in,” Jovan said, still facing the display as he typed an access code in. “I was just here hoping to make a quick credit from the scrap, but getting to teach you a lesson? That’s priceless.”
The screen lit up again, more stable this time, as Jovan brandished a small key. He inserted it in a small slot on the side of the console. The only thing Kallus could hear was the soft thrum of the life support system and his own heart beating wildly as he remembered Alderaan. Not this, he thought. Not again.
“Jovan, don’t!” He yelled out, brandishing his blaster. Too little, too late. Jovan turned the key.
A blue light traveled through the wires emanating from the console, making their way to each of the three pillars. The pillars started emitting a vibration, a low hum filling the room. Kallus felt something shake beneath him. Like a behemoth emerging from its sleep, the station sluggishly started moving. No. Kallus corrected himself. It started rotating.
Kallus stood up, his blaster aimed at Jovan. He heard a muffled noise behind him, which he assumed was the door shutting the both of them in.
“What did you do ?” He had to scream over the sound of the mechanism working around them getting louder and louder.
“Do you know what this station was built for?” Jovan didn’t turn around as he spoke. “Apparently, some of this Force nonsense allows people to travel through time . This,” he gestured at the viewport “, is an attempt to reproduce that power.”
For a second, Kallus looked through the plastisteel window. It was enough to make him freeze in place. The ring was rotating at an insane speed, and in its center, a sphere of bright crackling energy was growing. It was pulling the adjacent metal plating in, tearing it apart. It was beautiful and terrifying. He felt himself get drawn into the abyss outside, and the effort it took to refocus his attention on Jovan made him shake.
“The project failed, Jovan, you’re about to get us both killed!” Kallus stepped in closer, hoping that somehow, there was a way to stop the process if he got his hands on the controls. Suddenly, Jovan turned around, throwing a punch in Kallus’s direction. He was barely able to block it before stepping back, his blaster still aimed at the other man.
“Maybe you’re going to get killed. I am going back to a time before you ruined my life.” As Jovan said the words, Kallus’s thought went to Zeb and a shudder of terror ran through him.
Zeb is in danger. The Lasat would never abandon him, even going as far as to risk his own life. And who knew if the hangar was safe? Karabast, there was even a possibility that his partner had taken the shuttle to try and find a way around, right through the epicenter of the ring of energy tearing everything apart. Kallus needed to stop the machine at all costs. He couldn’t bear the idea of Zeb dying for him. Not ever.
Blaster at the ready, Kallus took a step forward. The instant his foot hit the ground, a blast of energy tore through the room. From the top of each of the three pillars beamed a ray of burning light, and at their intersection, the air seemed to be tearing apart. Like reality was peeling, and you could see what was hiding underneath. As the portal got larger, Jovan stepped in front of it.
“I don’t want to hurt you! But I have to stop you, Jovan.” Kallus implored.
“I’d like to see you try!” Jovan glowered, and started pushing his hand through the portal. “The Rebellion has made you soft, Kallus.” he commented, before starting to step through.
Kallus leaped into action, throwing himself towards the console. His mind hadn’t caught up yet, and he did what he thought was the most obvious. He shot at the machine, discharging his blaster. A jolt of energy erupted from the metal contraption and landed on the pillars. Cracks started appearing around the surface, a sickly blue light shining underneath. The whole room shook as the ring came to a sudden stop, making Kallus lose his balance.
“NO!” Jovan shouted as he grabbed Kallus by the neck, dragging him away from the machine. Kallus defended himself, trying to elbow the man behind him, jerking around to try and set himself free. But Jovan wouldn’t budge.
Of course, in his current predicament, Kallus couldn’t see it. But he felt the pull. The ground slipping under his feet as he fell backward. He could still see the console crackling and burning in front of him, but a bright light was creeping around the edges of his vision. It’s shutting down. He realized, I did it. Zeb is safe.
He couldn’t feel Jovan’s grip around his neck anymore. It felt like floating. He was surrounded by a sea of white. In the distance, dark rings were slowly, inexorably turning. Kallus felt something tug at his heart. This place was wrong, somehow. Like a copy of a copy of something much bigger and inscrutable.
Then, he felt it again. The pull. The bright tunnel turned dark, and Alexsandr Kallus shut his eyes, bracing himself for whatever was waiting for him on the other side.
---
On the station, Zeb forcefully opens the door to the command center. He doesn’t find his partner there, as he hoped. Instead, he finds charred pillars, a destroyed console and an abandoned communicator in a corner. He grabs the comm carefully and tucks it away safely in his pocket. He gets up and stumbles, bracing himself against one of the pillars. He looks around, ears twitching wildly. He can smell Kallus has been here, but the trail has gone cold. He covers his face with his hands and quietly mumbles.
“Sasha, what happened to you?”
