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The capital city of Lothal glistened in all its glory against the planet’s plain horizon. Zeb flipped some switches and grabbed the controls of Sabine’s borrowed Gauntlet.
“There she is, AP-5. Home.”
Zeb knew the droid was as fatigued as him, since they sighed instead of replying with the usual witty retort. After landing, Zeb gave his companion a brief but polite nod and took off into the streets of the capital.
Post-war, Lothal had become a cross-cultural hub of sorts, a former haven for refugees who’d finally decided to put down roots. In his five minute walk home, Zeb heard more languages than he could count on his eight fingers. He waved to a Rodian fruit seller, then half-saluted at a Mon Calamari turning a corner. He heard a squeal underneath him as he nearly tripped over an Ugnaught, only for an Aqualish to laugh at the both of them. Zeb also laughed it off as he stumbled home.
Home. Zeb and Kallus moved back to Lothal only a few months ago, but Zeb still navigated its streets and blended into its crowds with an ease he felt nowhere else in the galaxy. Lothal was his first home after the fall of Lasan, and the remaining members of his family were here, too. Though the planet never signed the New Republic Charter, the few surviving members of Phoenix Squadron also stayed instead of moving to Mid Rim or Core planets.
Finally, he’d arrived. Zeb clapped the shoulder of a Human pilot exiting their shared building, before abruptly shifting past him. If he heard the pilot chuckle to himself, he ignored it. How easy it was too, when he could smell the faintest traces of spice just outside his apartment door. With a grin, he pressed the unlock button.
Sunlight poured into a generously sized living room, slightly obscured by wisps of light smoke twirling out from the kitchen. Zeb inhaled appreciatively then walked towards the source of the vapors. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around the tall figure standing before the stove.
“Hello to you too, love.” That crisp Coruscanti accent had softened but never faded, even after all those years in the Rebellion and on Lira San.
Zeb nuzzled a blond head in response. “Mmm, my favorite. Smells great.”
“Of course, you’ve been gone for three weeks, I wanted to give you a proper welcome home. Anything to report from the Yarith sector?”
“Report?” Zeb frowned. “I’ve been home for all of two minutes and you want to talk about work? Whatever happened to ‘How are you, dear?’ or ‘Here’s a medal for surviving three weeks with AP-5, dear.'”
Kallus turned around and placed a container in Zeb’s hand. The Lasat carried it over to an already set table and the two sat down.
“Well?”
Zeb sighed. “Nothing from Hoth or Bespin. But, I hear there’s trouble on Nevarro.” He took a bite of Kallus’ cooking and whimpered.
“How is it?” Kallus gestured at Zeb’s meal.
Zeb raised a hand to Kallus’s cheek. “Fantastic, as always. By the Ashla, it’s good to be home.” Kallus leaned into Zeb’s hand before removing it.
“Nevarro?” Zeb nodded. Kallus hummed. “Nevarro hasn't signed the Charter, so I’m sure Coruscant won’t bother dealing with this. Who called it in?”
“Teva.”
“Ah, Teva.” Kallus had a tell, Zeb noticed, whenever he’d recall Rebel Intelligence files. The blond’s eyes shifted right, ever so slightly. “He’s a good man. A little too good, if you ask me. He’ll need help, probably from us.”
“And we can’t spare any of Phoenix Squadron, since they’re technically New Republic. You think ‘Bine and Ahsoka know where that Mandalorian cult’s hiding nowadays? They said those guys are always itching for fight.”
Kallus raised an eyebrow. “Manners, Garazeb. They call themselves a covert, not a cult.”
“Like cults ever call themselves cults.” Zeb grumbled.
“Do you remember that old droid Sabine and I fixed up, to follow the Mandalorian with the Darksaber?”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“The Mandalorian might know where to get help, or even be able to locate his old covert. Someone should let Teva know he can trace the droid’s signal, discreetly.”
“I can be discreet.”
“Zeb, nowadays you’re as discreet as a Wampa tripping over its own feet. We can send a message through one of the Phoenix Squadron pilots out on patrol.”
Zeb pouted. “I didn’t come out of retirement to be insulted like this.”
“Love,” Kallus gently reminded him, “you officially came out of retirement because you wanted to leave Lira San. We still need to talk about tha—”
“—I left Lira San because Hera and Sabine said they needed our help finding Moff Gideon.” Zeb reminded Kallus, more firmly. “The New Republic’s screwed up, again, and now we gotta clean up after one of their messes, again.”
“We used to do that from Lira San.” Kallus muttered.
Zeb’s ear twitched. “What was that?”
“Hm? Oh,” Kallus checked his chronometer, “would you look at time?” He stood. “I have to go pick up Jacen from school now.”
Zeb lit up. “Jacen! Can I come?”
Kallus bent over and pecked the top of Zeb’s head. “Not today, love. Stay home and try to get some rest before he arrives. You know how much he tires you out. I’ll give him a snack when he gets here, then how about you take him to the park afterwards?”
Zeb smiled. “Sounds perfect.”