Chapter Text
It began slowly.
And a good thing, too. Even at the beginning of the end, when his Agent persona was still intact, Kallus knew that snooping wasn't an activity for loyal citizens of the Empire. But regardless of sides and loyalties and all else, Kallus was a man that couldn't stand to be made a fool of. And there was just enough doubt in his mind to worry that was, somehow, a possibility.
So he started to look. In small windows of opportunity, he scanned databases and asked questions and watched for reactions. And many things are just as he thought they were. Kallus lived with the brutality of the Empire-he was the brutality of the Empire. There was no anarchist he hadn't been willing to silence, no potential terrorist he'd shown an ounce of mercy. No single individual could measure up to peace and prosperity for an entire galaxy. He had fought these threats for years, followed his orders to the letter.
It comes as a dull shock when Kallus learns that absolute loyalty isn't enough. That sliver of thought in his brain, that sliver of-rebelliousness-feels vindicated at the discovery
It isn't anything big. It isn't any grand horror that the Lasat had warned him about-like the mess with Geonisis.
But Kallus is an ISB agent. One of the best. With accolades and ranking he gained from the operations he has successfully completed. And, he thought, the trust of his superiors. So finding dozens of case files, his own case files, half-erased and clearly tampered with, is beyond maddening.
They aren't the only ones. Every ISB agent's files are lacking. With no one particularly bothered by it.
Kallus still doesn't know enough. He spends weeks reading over every datafile he can get his hands on, expanding his search to the files of operations, bounties, politicians, and so on. The missing pieces begin to tell a story, one that sits uneasy with him.
All the while, he continues his duties. Kallus is no traitor. (At least, his mind whispers, until he has proof-)
One day, Kallus signs off on an additional crate of supplies. The middle management gives him a funny look, and he feels his face heat.
"Is there a problem?" He snaps, and the man scurries away.
Five days later, he calls off pursuit early. The freighter they were tracking jumps into hyperspace, and Kallus pounds a fist into the wall, not knowing who exactly to be angry at. There was some danger in following, after all, it wasn't completely unfounded to pull out-
When an Inquisitor comes, sent to find the person rifling through Empire databases, it is a small thing to direct her to a fellow agent. That man was a cretin, lazy and lacking. It was a marvel he had made it this far. If anything, his loss would prove beneficial. He feels no guilt, no pity-
As the man is dragged away, screaming and whimpering by a smiling madwoman, Kallus resolves to stop lying to himself.
The Lasat was right.
He keeps looking, of course. The more information, the better. For whatever came next. But he no longer limits his search to finding evidence against his-against the Empire. It was enough, after everything else he found, to see that agent taken away to his death. Kallus was convinced. So. He has his superior's trust, for the time being. A supply of goons to take the fall for any mistake.
And a lifetime of being made a fool of to take revenge for.
---
It can't last forever. He knows that. For nearly three months, Kallus wreaks havoc on the Empire from the inside. Shipments go astray, refugees slip out of mysteriously opened containment cells, and vital intelligence manages to find its way into Rebel hands.
(And as Kallus works, he shoves down those blasted emotions and thoughts that bubble up so often these days. He ignores those warring factions of his mind, the side that screams traitor, and the side that screams murderer, and works.)
He can see where this is going to end. Whether the admiral or an Inquisitor, someone is going to catch him. The risk grows daily. Kallus entertains the thought of running. He can have one last grand act of sabotage, duck onto a TIE, and disappear, with perhaps both retribution and reparation satisfied.
He likes the idea.
One night, Kallus catches the admiral mid-discussion.
"-including the Emperor's most recent pet project."
"Isn't it a bit risky, to bring it through here?"
"The data is specially encrypted. It can't be downloaded or copied, and any tampering with the package causes automatic deletion. Trust me, Lieutenant, theft is utterly inconceivable."
Kallus forces his smirk away as the admiral rounds the corner.
"Agent."
"Admiral." They nod to each other.
The sharp grin makes its way back onto his face as Kallus plans.
---
"So...why are we heading straight for the Star Destroyer?"
"So we can steal stuff and mess with the Empire?"
Sabine rolled her eyes and shoved Ezra off his chair. "Yes, oh wise Jedi, I listened to the mission briefing too. But why are we going in now? I thought we needed to pick up Tseebo first so we can actually steal them."
"Change of plans." Hera said patiently. "We just had word they've moved up their departure date, so it's back to plan A. Go in and steal the thing, hope that it doesn't erase itself before we can get it back to base."
"A plan messed up before we even started. I think we have a record."
"Nah." Zeb grinned at Sabine. ""member when Ezra had that brilliant idea with the cable and grenade? And what Kanan did to make sure he didn't go through with it?"
"All past missions aside-" Hera rode over Ezra's complaints. "We've still got that iozod probe, so that's going to be your distraction to get in. Five minute window, everybody. Call me for pick-up."
---
The alarms are blaring, and they are not nearly loud enough to drown out his cursing.
Why did those fools have to pick this very day to stage an assault? Now the entire base was on alert, and he was walking down the hallway with incriminating evidence clutched in his fist. Fortunate, that it was so small. A grey triangular tube, prongs jutting from one end, and containing plans that the Rebels were, undoubtedly, here to take.
Kallus walked against the crowd, and only his angry glare and reputation dissuade anyone from stopping him. But those will only take him so far.
He makes it to his room. Clothes and supplies are tossed haphazardly into a bag. The datafile is stuffed into a pair of socks, and he slings the bag over his shoulder-
A yellow glow catches his eye.
He almost forgot.
(It's ridiculous, to feel such tenderness for an inanimate object, a stupid rock-)
Kallus takes a few, precious moments to pick up the small meteorite, wrap it in a shirt, and tuck it carefully away.
And then he is running.
---
"What do you mean, it's gone?"
"Just what I said, yeah? The file's gone!" Zeb flicks through the compartment. They are safe, for the moment, the Lasat running his pads over the sides. "No slots or secret bits or nothing."
Kanan ran a hand through his hair. "Sabine, keep an eye out. Ezra, can you bring up a feed of this room?"
"On it."
Blue holograms flicker to life. They watch as two guards speed through their daily life, up to a half hour before they arrive. Then Agent Kallus arrived. Ezra groaned.
"Of course it's-"
The blue Kallus pulled his blaster from its holster, and stunned the other men.
"What-"
"Did he just-"
Kallus expertly deactivated the forcefield and opened the compartment. He removed the three-sided metal object, and left.
"Okay. Ooookay. Did the guy who spent that last year trying to fry us just screw over the Empire? Is that what we just watched?" Ezra asked, bewildered. He twisted his head as Zeb began to chortle. "What is so funny?"
"Long story kid, but-"
"Zeb, save the stories for later." Kanan watched as a hologram admiral ran into view, shaking the prone men. "We only know that Kallus has what we came for, and he's probably heading for the hangar too. So we grab him if we can, stun him if we must, but get that device by any means necessary."
---
That bugger had actually done it.
The other are looking at him funny. He doesn't blame them, his grin isn't the regular get-to-bash-stormtrooper-skulls-together sort of grin.
No, this one is the I-no-longer-regret-saving-that-guy grin. And Zeb doesn't wear that one too often. It is a bit of an odd one.
He whooped as another one of Sabine's grenades went off. This is a good day.
---
"You-you! It's been you?"
The admiral is nearly frothing at the mouth. His men are spreading out behind him, directly between Kallus and the nearest TIE.
"You-traitor! You scum! I don't care what the Inquisitors want, there won't be enough of you left over to interrogate!"
Kallus leaps behind a crate as they begin to fire.
It's futile, and pointless, but he draws his blaster anyway, and jumps up to return fire. He downs three of them before they catch him at his left shoulder and hip, and the force from the blasts throw him across the floor.
---
"Yes, dear? Is the whole base attacking you yet?"
"Not exactly." Kanan drew back while the others ran ahead. "Agent Kallus is giving every appearance of defecting."
"...you're joking."
"I'm really not. And he has a good portion of the base chasing after him, too, We're feeling a bit ignored here."
"H-Wh-I don't care. Catch him and get to me and we can untangle this later."
"Just what I was thinking."
"Of course. We're the sane ones."
---
He can smell himself burning. He has shot a few more from where he lays, and the admiral is backpedaling while calling for reinforcements. Coward. He's injured and prone, and the man isn't finishing him off. His mistake.
Kallus drags himself to another shipment. He props his blaster arm on the surface, towards the door, right across where it reads-
EXPLOSIVES.
There's an idea.
---
Ezra yelped as Zeb dragged him backwards, away from the hangar door where a large squad of stormtroopers cluster. The group raised their blasters-
An explosion erupts from the archway. Their small group is thrown to the ground, while the stormtoopers are enveloped in a cloud of fire and ash.
"Oh-ah-that'll smart-"
"Quickly!" Kanan is already up, darting forward. They vault over the bodies and see-
Across the huge space, a badly battered Kallus is dropping into a TIE. The admiral is screaming at his men, but the TIE is already lifting, slowly, ponderously, and drifting toward the exit. No one pays any attention to the very obvious collection of fugitives watching the chaos.
"Oh man, I think he really is ditching them-"
The TIE careens out of the hangar, into space.
"He's already away-Hera!"
"I see him, but I can't follow him without-he's jumped. He's gone. We can't do anything else here, Kanan, get ready to board."
The enemy is easy to fend off for the spare minutes Hera needs to circle into the hangar towards them.
After they leap aboard, shots ricocheting off the closing ramp, Zeb pats Kanan's shoulder with a heavy hand.
"Don't be too upset boss, I don't think that's the last we've seen of 'im and those plans."
Kanan eyed him. "Got something you'd like to share?"
The Lasat gives him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, I think there might've been somethin' I, ah, neglected to tell you..."