Chapter XXII: Time's Arrow.
Trilla - Ordel, somewhere in the mountains
The first thing she felt as she woke up was an almost unbearable pain that crept through her body, reaching its climax down at her right leg, its flesh pulsating in an uncaring rhythm.
Trilla shut her eyes and unleashed a hellish scream as she pulled her leg out of the rubble, the pain of it almost enough to knock her out unconscious once more. It looked wrangled and twisted as Trilla noticed just how badly she was hurt. Her leg appeared to be broken in multiple places, some of the bones even managing to break the skin while her blood seemed to form an unholy union with the dirt below, creating a sickening looking red and brown substance that made her feel sick to her core. If that wasn't enough, a hellish wind reigned around her, every gush of wind that threw itself against her broken body settling her nerves aflame like a spark in an oil field.
Desperately, her hands went to her sides, searching for her small backpack - and the inclosed backs of bacta inside of them. Yet she found nothing but stone and grass ere she thrust her hands down in defeat. Feeling how her remaining energy started to leave her, Trilla's eyes darted around, looking for anything at all that could aid her. Suddenly, she realized how an eery red glow illuminated her chest. It was the Sith holocron she obtained from the ruins.
Trilla didn't quite know what happened next. Everything she could remember was reaching for the holocron until suddenly, her world sank into darkness, her thoughts replaced by an uncanny vision that blocked anything else out.
She felt the shot coming even before the bounty hunter pulled the trigger.
Ensnaring the Empire was one thing. Even she couldn't deny that the current cut-throat state of politics did nothing but enable such behavior, even if she detested that fact. The Sith lords were too busy protecting their own power bases while their Empire was rotting away from within, a dying beast on the bring of oblivion while the Revanite's insidious influence turned allies into foes as their agents seeded chaos wherever they stepped. The Republic wasn't any better in that regard, at least. They played them both and now the price had to be paid, beginning with her, apparently.
But to throw every mercenary and bounty hunter at her the galaxy knew? The Revanites were either dumber than she thought or smarter than she anticipated. Both choices scared her equally.
Here she was, on the bloodied shores of this forsaken beach, encircled by nothing but sand and trees. Using the palm of her hand to reflect the blaster bolt with ease, she ignited her lightsaber in one swift motion, preparing herself for battle as she held the tip of her blade in front of her, daring the bounty hunter to attack. And she did without hesitation: pressing a button on her mechanized wrist, her jetpack sprung to life, propelling her sky-high as a wave of sand was thrown into the air.
Damn Mandalorians, she thought darkly. Though her lightsaber warded off the barrages of blaster bolts with comparative ease, she saw the quickly approaching wrist-rocket too little too late.
It hurt. So much pain, almost too much. She wanted to scream her soul out but all she could do was grin wickedly. If there was one thing a Sith could do well, it was to turn pain into power. And so she did - despite seeing how some of her flesh was literally skinned off of her leg, her hands were stilled raised into the air, using the Force to hold the bounty hunter in the air against. With unimaginable satisfaction, she imagined how the bones in her body shattered like a glass that fell down a deep cliff. A scream. A gurgle and then a thud. She threw the lifeless body back onto the shore ere she lost her own footing.
The words of her sadistic master danced in her skull, taunting her without mercy as she stared at her torn leg. Would this be the end? Would the Revanites manage to deliver the Empire and the Republic into yet another war, weaken them enough for whatever was to come?
And just like that, she made a choice. As so often before, she would outright refuse fate. She'd refuse and challenge it head-on, as was the way of the Sith. Her gloved hand wandered over to one of the nearby trees. She could feel how the Force flew through it, as it did through the flowers and the grass below her, binding them together in perfect harmony. She focused on that serene essence, her thoughts as sharp as daggers as their bindings were broken apart, replacing peace with chaos. It didn't even take her a second to twist the Force until it served her will, perverting its vitalizing essence while she concentrated on her limb.
Calling her lightsaber towards her, she put it on her belt before she looked skyward. She had to hurry now. The stability of not only the Empire but the galaxy at a hole depended on it.
Trilla choked fiercely as her eyes found themselves anchored in reality once more. She gazed at the holocron flabbergasted, letting her fingers slide over its cold exterior. Could it be? Could the Dark Side really provide such power? Trilla felt what the mysterious Sith woman felt - pain on an unspeakable level. But yet, there was something more to it. A warm flame in the middle of the endless cold. It was true, part of her mind wanted to be rid of the pain at any cost. Yet another smaller part of it, however, began not only to grow accustomed to it but also managed to harvest something akin to unbreakable resolve out of it. Resolve that told her that she was to survive this nightmare, come hell or high water.
Was that what she was supposed to do now, she asked herself. To use the Force to mend her wounds, even if that meant treading in darkness once more? There had to be some alternative, some secret that eluded her as of yet. If she'd march down this path again, perhaps Cal was right. Could she really trust her mind, knowing what destruction the Dark Side could -
Oh no. Cal!
With panic, Trilla threw her eyesight around in despair. She spotted the body of the young Jedi nearby, his poncho carrying blood and dirt in equal measure. Beside him was the backpack she's been looking for, the one that could save their lives. If she could get to it, perhaps there was enough bacta for both of them - or at least enough for him to get back on his feet while he looked for help, sparing some of it to stabilize her while he'd get Cere and others.
Through the Force, she elevated the backpack into the sky, carrying it towards her slower than she would've liked. Grabbing it greedily, her heart broke in two as Trilla realized that the bacta was spilling out of the dark leather and onto the ground, two of the three bags torn apart by the mysterious explosion.
''No ... no, please.''
She glared at the remaining bag. It would be enough to save her leg, if only for some hours. Certainly enough to get if fixed without risking certain doom. But that meant that there wouldn't be enough for Cal. And even if she could her leg somewhat again, there was no way she'd be strong enough to carry him. Trilla glimpsed from the bacta bag to Cal. She felt him through the Force. He was weak, yet alive - for now, at least. Somehow, she doubted that he'd pull through without her help.
It's him or me.
There was nothing more she wanted to do than use the calming bacta and spread it on her leg. But there it was, that seed of doubt that halted her action. Wasn't it Cal that saved her life in the Fortress Inquisitorius? Wasn't it he and the crew of the Mantis that cared for her during her recovery? She should repay this debt, she had to. It was the reasonable thing to do - no, the right thing to do. Perhaps it would be her chance to make things right.
Yet Trilla wasn't perfect. Her mind wandered back to the day she and Cere walked into Stone Town, how the children toyed in the streets while she and Cere drank together. An illusion, of course, but one that meant the world to her, even if she'd never admit to it. This could've have been her life if it wasn't for the Clone Wars. Without a war to corrupt an already corrupt ideology further, this could've been yet another ordinary day with her master. No Empire, no Inquisitorius - only them, watching out for the people they swore to protect. It was so unbelievably peaceful. It was just people, enjoying life as they should. As she should.
Was it so bad to want this too?
Of course it was, she added quickly. She couldn't sacrifice someone as pure and innocent as Cal for it.
And yet, her fingers quickly wandered over to the zip of the bacta bag.
This was wrong, Trilla screamed silently. He sacrificed everything for her and what did she do? Trilla murdered his friend in front of him all in the name of terror. Hell, she has hunted him across the galaxy and made his very existence a walking nightmare.
And yet, she opened the bag and shuddered slightly at its revitalizing smell.
She needed to stop, to finally take responsibility for her crimes. Just like her, he didn't even have a childhood. Another victim of the Jedi order, another child turned soldier in a war neither of them asked for. Didn't he deserve as much peace as her? Didn't this entire galaxy own him that?
And yet, Trilla closed her eyes in sweet relief. Almost immediately, the bacta started to work its magic, its healing properties banishing the swelling pain firmly, replacing suffering with serenity. She peeked over to Cal. She felt nauseous at seeing him like that. She'd never forgive herself for that, but damn it all, she wanted to live. After all of that torture under the hands of the Empire and all of the many unneeded deaths carried out by her blade, Trilla wanted to finally live on her own terms. This galaxy has taken everything from her, starting from her childhood and ending in the Empire. Trilla earned her freedom - and she hated herself for it.
Force. What have I done?
Cal Kestis deserved so much more than dying on some random mountain at the ass-end of the galaxy. He was everything Trilla perceived to be wrong with the Jedi and their dark indoctrination and yet, he was also everything right about them. To her, he was what the Jedi could've been - no, should've been! Fighters of good, not serving some code or government - but the people and only the people. It were Jedi like Cal Kestis that created actual tangible good in this messed-up galaxy, the same galaxy she has added so much suffering into. His ideas had to be preserved. Yet Trilla was a coward. She killed him and thus, she killed this beautiful idea he represented.
There's an alternative. Come.
The words sounded like her own yet she knew it wasn't. Trilla glared at the holocron. She couldn't care less about the Jedi and their order - but the idea that was Cal Kestis? Perhaps it was worth saving.
Cere - Ordel, Stone Town, Romesch District
She pulled her hood down onto her face while she silently counted her blessings. The imposing hull of the Star Destroyer blocked out the heavy rain that poured down upon Stone Town, keeping her clothes dry for the moment. Cere grunted as she let her eyesight wander above, watching in disgust as the thick smoke of the town's newest set of industrial buildings hulled the destructive vessel behind a wall of mist, the light of its hundred spotlights glimpsing through the smoke serving as the only indication it was even there to begin with.
Her job was an easy one, or so she thought. Get the package, drop it and that's it. Yet as she should've known by now, nothing was ever easy.
With relative ease, she jumped behind one of the nearby containers, pointing the tip of her S-5 blaster pistol into the direction of the incoming patrol. Counting down the numbers in her head, Cere yanked the trigger without a second thought, the heavy knockback of the revolver like pistol easily compensated by experience. The two Stormtroopers dropped dead without any resistance, the sound of the pistol overshadowed by the imposing storm that prevailed over Stone Town.
''This is Cipher Actual. Romesch is full of troopers today. I've got the package but ... ''
BD jumped down from her shoulder, hectically pointing his head at something in the distance. It was another set of guards. It'd take about half a minute until they'd stumble upon the corpses of their comrades, amble time for her to take them out as well, she mused. Using the Force, Cere dashed forwards, firing at one trooper as she ran. Though she missed the first shot, the second hit the imperial soldier right into his head, burning a palm-sized hole into it as the other was lifted from his feet. Another shot hit true as Cere darted into cover once more, followed by BD.
''Sorry, me again. I wanted to say that Romesch is filled to the bring with troopers. Are those the new reinforcements Loch mentioned?''
It took a couple of seconds for her message to be relayed, even with the new equipment they recently acquired. For now, the Empire didn't know that Cere has managed to crack their communications once more. However, they all knew that it was only a matter of time until they'd have to start from zero, as they have done so often before. An endless game of cat and mouse with no winner in sight - a perfect summary of her life, she thought darkly.
''Yeah, not surprised. Heard that they ramped up recruitment in the Mid Rim ... no doubt a direct result of all of those ''revolutionaries'' wreaking havoc on their new toys, eh?''
Despite the seriousness of the situation, she had to smile slightly. Somehow, he constantly managed to make her smirk, even if Cere knew she shouldn't given the circumstances. Holding her blaster close to her, she lowered her head down to BD, nodding to him once ere she started to sprint. She was in the Romesch district, the heart of the imperial administration. On the horizon, she could see Administrator Milton's office - no, his newly constructed fortress, a set of automatic turrets on it scanning the skies as numerous imperial shuttles left the complex, no doubt making their journey towards the Star Destroyer above.
''Listen, I'm near Milton's. Got a pickup for me? Something tells me that walking over to Heartland would suck.''
''Try flying. I heard that's always fun.'' ringed sarcastically in her earpiece.
''Funny. Got a ship for me too?'' she squired in equal sarcasm, the easy flow of their chatter granting her much needed stress relief as her eyes scanned for any movement.
A different voice caught her attention. Different, yet not unwelcome.
''Stand by, Cipher Actual. Cipher Three incoming, I just need to conquer those rather crude controls. Hold on ... ''
''You're the best, Cipher Three. I'm waiting.''
I owe Merrin. I owe her for a lot of things.
As always, Merrin was true to her words as a brown, rather derelict shuttle crossed the skies above, the new jamming sensors they managed to ''acquire'' hopefully doing what they were supposed to do.
''Come on, BD. Let's go home.''
Sparing a final glance, Cere lowered her head and ran like hell, jumping into the already opened shuttle before it took off within seconds, leaving the imperials behind non the wiser. She dropped herself into the seat next to Merrin, helping BD off of her shoulders before she shut her eyelids, internally washing away the stress of the last few hours. That was until her nose picked up upon a scent most cherished. It was Merrin's own brand of tea, a passion projected that managed to keep the Nightsister sane, even in their darker hours. And although she has said it so many times now, Cere still couldn't fathom how amazing it tasted.
''Thanks, Cipher. That's exactly what I need.''
Grinning wickedly as the rainbow mix of local fruits besieged her tongue, she used her free hand to pull out a compact data disc, putting it on the console in front of her.
''The payload, hope it was worth it. You know I'm not really a fan of ... ''
''Killing.'' stated Merrin rather coldly, her eyes fixed on the landscape below.
''Yeah.'' Cere answered followed by a deep sigh. No matter how much time has passed, she still missed him. They all did.
They didn't exchange another word for the rest of the flight. Merrin was bussy mastering the controls of the old shuttle - which was a challenge in itself. Cere enjoyed the taste of her tea in the meantime, her eyes glued to the data disc in front of her. That should buy them some time, at least. If they're really lucky, a month, give or take. Milton - with the help of his soulless advisors - has been extending his callous reach through the city. Hopefully, there was enough intel on that disk to find something to even the odds.
As always, they landed between two sets of big farms, their on-the-nose approach hidden by countless trees and hills. From there, it would be a short hike to ''Homebase'' - as it was called by them, it being one of the bigger farming estates belonging to one of former Councilwoman Katherine's allies. Though it had nothing in the realm of defense, it was fully self-supplying and highly inconspicuous. Those facts alone allowed the rest of her team to rarley tread into the main city, making things a lot easier for them.
''Alright, I'll hide the shuttle. See you at home?'' asked Merrin's tired voice, her arms already working on shutting down the small ship's numerous compartments one by one. As always, Cere looked shortly at BD, signaling him to stay with her and guide her home once she was gone. It didn't take long for Cere to make her way to Homebase, especially as she used the Force for the last couple of meters. Immediately, she was greeted with a sign that made her heart jump in joy.
''They say a Jedi's strength is only outmatched by her beauty. Any truth to that?''
That was bad.
''You're an ass, you know that?''
Laughter erupted ere Cere threw herself into Relor's arms, burying her head into his chest as his hands gave her a slight clasp on the back.
''I heard we got some intel, boss. Anything worthwhile?'' Relor Tapal said as he let go off her, a smug grin spreading through his face.
''That remains to be seen. I better hope so, though ... If I did all of this for no reason, I'll be mad.''
''Aren't you always?''
The Lasat winked at her, giving Cere enough excuse to punch him playfully.
''Let's go inside. Here's hoping Greez got some of his magic ready.''
''Eh. You know, taste lies in the eye of the beholder ... ''
His voice grew softer as Cere felt his eyes wandering up and down her body. She sighed at that. If only they'd live in a different time, one without the constant threat of the Empire. Perhaps then, she could give him what he desired - what they both desired. But for now, all she could grant him was her friendship. Even if there was nothing else in the galaxy she wished to do more than indulging herself in what her heart wished for, Cere just couldn't. The last time she opened herself up, she lost two people so close to hear that even now, her heart began to ache at the mere thought. She couldn't lose anyone else that way. To think that one day, she could loose Relor as she lost Cal and Trilla, without even having the chance to say goodbye - it would break her. And for the sake of the people of Ordel, she couldn't allow that.
''Come on, Tapal. I'm hungry.''
Agent Eloren - Ordel, Stone Town, Romesch District
The troopers snapped to attention as her heels clacked through the narrow hallway of Milton's fortress. It's been some time since she actually got the opportunity to wear something as revealing as her current outfit, given that her standard ISB uniform made her look like a dignified potato sack in her professional opinion. But this? An elegant, jet-black dress showing just the right parts of her body: this was something she could get used to. Sadly for her, Eloren led a stressful life, one that didn't allow much for such a liberal fashion sense. That only meant that she enjoyed those moments more and more.
It was an easy task, all considered. Milton was - with every respect - a fool.
If it wouldn't be for other nuisances, Ordel would already be sacked and I could get off of this boring hellhole.
''Heh princess. See you inside, eh? I don't think I can stomach him sobber. Give me five minutes.''
''It's Agent Eloren.'' she corrected sharply ''And yes, I'm on my way inside. As should you, by the way. Or is your loyalty to the Empire in question, mercenary?''
She spat those last few words as if poison rested on her tongue. She had a simple enough assignment on Ordel: officially she was to act as an advisor to Milton. Given Ordel's special circumstances, that feeblish fool could use any help he got his hands on. Unofficially, however, it was also her goal to strengthen certain assets located on the planet that had a close relation to the bureau.
Yet that old and bald gun for hire seemed to use his people only for the sole reason of annoying her. Under his leadership, the mercenaries of Ordel have grown considerably in power, no doubt empowered by their effort in executing the wildlife of the planet. Now, that mysterious mercenary boss used his newfound influence whenever he could, stuffing his pockets at the Empire's expense - and indirectly hurting ISB in the process.
Not even bothering to hear his answer, she stepped into Milton's office, the two imperial bodyguards giving her a respectful nod ere they parted.
Stone Town's administrator set behind his big desk, the flags of the Empire hanging proudly behind him as he was seemingly lost in his work. He had to give Milton credit though, even if those words hurt to say. He had a think for propaganda, a quality his predecessor surely lacked. Gone were the days where Stone Town looked like a tourist attraction. Now one couldn't look five meters without the insignia of the Empire flying into their eyes, even if you tried to look away. Add to that the changes made to education and the media, Milton managed to re-introduce imperial culture without much effort, even if there was a lot of resistance to it.
Luckily, he has me when it came to that.
''Milton! I've heard that you've signed the latest resolution! Good thinking. Those investors are sure to boost our numbers even more!'' she said in a voice that could only be described as bathed in fake niceness. Milton started to glee, putting a wineglass into the air as he joyfully rocked his head.
''That it did. I told you that was the smart move. Can't wait for the Moffs to hear of this.''
Eloren didn't believe it to be necessary to inform him that one of the bureau's major weapon manufacturers was to make considerable gains from ''his'' resolution. Continuing in her masterful charade, she innocently crossed her arms behind her back, ensuring that her chest was put into a reasonable spotlight before she continued.
''I've heard that mercenary talking about some of the prisoners. Milton darling, you're not really thinking about releasing them, do you? A man of your strength ... no, I believe you wish to make a point out of them, right?''
He looked down at his glass before he started to shrug. Oh, that actual idiot. Was he really having second thoughts? What happened to the foolish, yet ambitious man in front of her? Eloren really wouldn't like seeing him replaced - given that he did have his uses, oddly enough. She was about to say something further until suddenly, one of the troopers stormed into the office.
''Administrator ... Agent! There was another hit on some of our patrols, not far from here!''
The mysterious Cipher Actual, I'd wager.
Eloren formed a fist and threw it down onto Milton's desk. She had it with those meddling insurgents. A couple of weeks after the horrific explosion in the mountain, an unknown ragtag group of terrorists started to sabotage Ordel's still freshly built and highly vulnerable industry, their efforts no doubt intended to break the imperial chokehold on the planet. Worst of all was that it weren't even her own ''insurgents'', it was a completely unknown group - if they even were a group to begin with. It wouldn't be the first time ISB had to deal with such situations but the timing of their attacks was highly suboptimal. The Emperor himself now fueled his personal resources into exploring the ruins unsheathed by the explosion, he wouldn't tolerate any setbacks.
She shuddered slightly at that. Back when the Ninth Sister disappeared somewhere on Synta, Eloren thought her career to be over, if not worse. Luckily for her, however, the ruins they found were almost the same as the one on Ordel - a fact that probably saved her life. Eloren doubted that she'd be shown such mercy anew if those insurgents sabotaged their efforts here any further.
''Damn it.'' she glared at Milton ''order a lockdown. I'll deal with this myself.''
Huffing angrily, she stormed out of the office. She'd have their heads, one way or another. Failure wasn't an option.
AN: AN's after the next chapter!
