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The child caught in his arms slumped as the airlock closed. They were abandoning their young comrade to Imperial justice. The youngster suddenly seemed smaller than before – more fragile.
Kallus frowned. They’d just abandoned him. Did they not realize that the boy’s age would do nothing to save him?
“We need to go,” he barked, holding tight onto the boy. “Quickly.”
The rebels would likely have sabotaged the transport. Explosives, and if it didn’t explode he’d send a droid sweep to be sure. They needed to be gone.
He ignored the boy’s struggling – keeping his grip secure – and pretending he didn’t hear the rather inventive – if mild – cursing that was being directed at him as the kid found some of his spark again and began to fight like a feral-loth cat.
The brat managed to break free and he had to waste precious time lunging and catching him again, when the explosion rippled through the transport. Kallus swore – yanking the boy into what little cover that his larger form could provide.
This wasn’t going to go well.
…
…
…
Ezra groaned softly. His head was pounding. And he felt nauseous. And his mouth tasted like cotton.
“Slow,” a voice commanded. But he tried to listen and only sip at the water offered.
Then he looked at who was there and yelped – choking as he inhaled. The ISB agent snorted softly, but pulled the cup away before it could be knocked over. Only after that was done did the Agent stand up, moving, hands clasped behind his back.
“I am Agent Kallus of the Imperial Security Bureau. And you are..?”
“Jabba the Hutt,” Ezra scowled, trying to pull away only to realize he was in binders attached to a hospital bed. And his leg hurt. A lot. Bacta bandages were wrapped around it – how-? The explosion…he didn’t remember anything after…“Look!” he snarled, “I just met those guys today. I don’t know anything.”
The Agent’s uniform looked new. And there were bandages peeking out from the collar of it too…
“You’re not here for what you know, ‘Jabba’,” Kallus shook his head. “You’re here to be used as bait upon our return to Lothal.”
“Bait? You seriously think-?” Ezra can’t help but scoffed. “Wow, you’re about as bright as a binary droid. They’re not going to come for me.” But he couldn’t help the way his voice broke a little, “People don’t do that.”
The agent – Kallus – inhaled deeply, studying him with eyes that looked almost…sad.
When the agent exhaled though the sadness was hidden again. Replaced once more by Imperial steel and coldness.
Quietly he reached out and resettled the thin blanket that Ezra’s earlier struggle had dislodged. The move alien in its familiarity. Both because he didn’t know Kallus but also because it’d been so long since anyone had just…cared. (Hera had, a little, but she left him. They all had. Just like everyone else.)
Kallus moved like he intended to leave – hurt leg or no – that’d be his chance. Ezra wasn’t looking forward to getting around on a broke(?) foot but he’d have to do it, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t stay here.
“Rest, ‘Jabba’,” Kallus told him with a frown. “You won’t escape if you can’t walk. Heal first, you’ll increase your chances.”
Ezra glared back.
Kallus gave a faint shrug and left, ordering the guards outside the infirmary to keep watch as he went. The boy’s things had been taken while he was out so medical treatment could be given. There were troopers stationed outside the room, and a medical droid inside.
And…he had no idea what he was going to do with the young rebel. Too young for him to be comfortable doing ‘what must be done’ the way some in the ISB would be. (And when his troopers reported the kid was missing – Kallus added ‘too resourceful to go to waste’ to his impression of the boy.)
If it weren’t for the annoyance of a second explosion on his ship in the span of a day thanks to the Mandalorian Kallus would almost say he was impressed. Except the rebels also hadn’t gotten their target - again. (At least he could be secure in the knowledge that whatever Intelligence they had was pathetic.) The boy had escaped into the warren of tunnels and air vents but not been able to get to the lower hanger. And he’d never been in the cells that the rebels went looking for him in.
Had they not considered the possibility that the boy would be injured? Or had they not realized that Kallus had circumvented Imperial protocol to have the boy treated.
But the rescue plan had stunk of desperation.
“The boy told them about Kessel.”
“Set the course,” Kallus sighed.
“And the kid?”
“I’ll take care of it,” he growled. Kitchen first. He’d need a bribe. Then into the maintenance corridors.
His time in Coruscant’s lower levels was a long time ago but not so long he didn’t remember what it was like to be a street kid. To know, instinctively, that high up, small places were safer than down on the ground.
Vulnerable. Probably even as recent to the rebel crew as the boy had claimed earlier.
How much trouble could find you anyways.
Kallus frowned at that memory of how he got out of that place – of a man in white armor, painted with red who stood behind him in front of an academy, of the other with the gold stripe across his nose grinning in encouragement and giving Alek a nudge forward so he’d take that step – and pushed it away. It would do no good to dwell on it now.
They were gone.
Movement that didn’t belong to a droid made him turn his head.
“Hungry, Jabba?” he asked pleasantly. Setting the ration bar down and sliding it into the darkness he’d heard the scuffling from.
Kallus would have preferred something with more taste but the boy was smart enough to look for tampering in the packaging.
“Why?”
Because he is sentimental enough that Yularen worries about his performance in this role? Because he is too soft for the job he has been given?
“You haven’t eaten all day,” is what says instead. He knows the question wasn’t about food. “They left you again.”
Silence answered.
“Come down. We’ll feed you,” Kallus sighed. “And we’re going to Kessel. Maybe your rebels are good enough to get away with the bait after all?”
The boy slid out of the duct he’d managed to crawl into. Clearly wary, and favoring his bad ankle. (Not a surprise since he should have been off it for days and instead opted to crawl around the inside of the ship.)
Kallus took him back to the infirmary. A firm hand on the boy’s elbow. It wasn’t to keep the boy from putting too much weight on the bad foot – just keep him from escaping again. And once the binders were placed back on – ‘Jabba’ glaring at him about them – he took a seat in a chair by the bed and began to read.
He always had datawork to catch up on. Most of it not sensitive enough for him to worry about inquisitive youths managing to catch a glimpse of.
“…you’re not leaving?” Ezra glared – Kallus pretended not to notice the boy pocket the fork from his lunch.
Kallus raised a brow at him. “You seem to find trouble when left on your own, ‘Jabba’.”
“That’s not my name.”
Kallus lowered the datapad. “Do you want to tell me what your name is?”
There’s a cold glare leveled his way. That’s a ‘no’.
Kallus smirks, but goes back to his reading. Ezra Bridger will tell him eventually. Until then it’s somewhat amusing to keep using ‘Jabba’.
He’s not surprised that Ezra manages to follow them to Kessel.
He is surprised when Ezra saves him instead of going with the Jedi.
He saw the kid’s jump.
But so had the trooper.
He frowned at the boy. Was he even aware?
“Kriff,” he muttered. And turned towards the trooper who had managed to cling to the edge of the platform. Good luck but just not good enough.
He ignores the way Ezra flinches at the blast. And the quiet, sharp inhale as the trooper plummets to their death – assuming the blast hadn’t done the trick. Ezra shouldn’t have stayed. But he had.
The wookies had escaped, but the boy had stayed. Had chosen to stay.
Kallus reached a hand up to massage his temples. Nothing about this was going to be easy.
“…Ezra,” the boy mutters. “My name. It’s Ezra Bridger.”
“Alright, Ezra. Welcome to the Empire,” Kallus says. I’ll look out for you, he doesn’t say.
At least Ezra had all the makings of a good ISB agent if given half a chance. It wouldn’t be conventional, but he can work with this.