Cal didn't wake up as much as he drifted into consciousness.

Searing pain in his back nearly knocked him out again. Face down this time, he found himself on the table. Unable to see the room around him he was left to writhe in place as machines tore at his back.

Gasping as a dull piece of metal scraped against his bones, Cal tried not to focus on the drills and saws that he knew were busy at work.

As he tried to ignore the sounds of a botched surgery Cal found a voice.

Droning but not monotone, the voice spoke with a practiced cadence and had a hollow quality. Not an echo in the force, or the voice of a droid, whatever it said was lost under Cal's stifled screams.

.***.***.***.***.

BD-1 scampered through an unfamiliar hall.

Clattering bootsteps echoed from around the corner. Skittering to a stop, BD pressed against the wall. Waiting as yet another contingent of troopers marched passed him, BD considered the layout of the ship he was on.

He'd been running through the halls of an imperial freighter for days, if not weeks, and he'd still only seen half of the place. BD had passed several computer terminals, he'd tried uploading maps from each one, but much to his chagrin none of them were quite accurate.

The group of troopers passed, leaving the little droid to clatter down the hall they had come from.

Wondering if all of the empire was as inefficient and out dated as this freighter, BD didn't bother looking for hiding places as he went. It seemed to him that the troopers never really looked down or up. Whether because they're helmets blocked their view, or because they were just too lazy to do so, BD didn't know or care.

Turning down the ships twisting halls, to took BD a moment to realize he hadn't been down this way yet. Grumbling to himself BD began logging his location once more.

Shortly after he did, the dreaded sound of more marching troopers grew in the distance.

Tired of pressing against walls and hoping for the best, BD bolted for one of the doors that lined the unfamiliar hall.

Stepping through one of the doors, BD found himself in a cramped meeting room. Mostly bare, it's only important feature was a central table that had a computer and holoprojector installed into it.

A rumble of footsteps echoed from the hall. Peering over his shoulder at the noise, BD didn't hesitate long before darting across the room and up onto the table.

Sure enough that he wouldn't be caught, BD pushed a foot down over the computer terminal. Scomp link twisting and turning in the terminal, BD was met with no resistance as he dug deeper into the Empire's network.

To his annoyance, the computer in the room didn't have any maps or charts of the ship. But, it did have access to Imperial flight data, both past and planned. Stifling a surprised whistle, BD had to be content with an excited jitter of his antenna.

Glancing at the data, BD learned that he was on the Blood Crow, a Gozonti-class cruiser set to patrol the mid-rim. Daring to let himself hope, BD scrolled through the records, looking for ships bound for Nur. For a worrisome moment, he found nothing.

Then, an ominous name drifted past him.

The ISD Vehement. The Class-I Imperial Star Destroyer would travel to Nur in five standard days. BD glossed over the reason for the ship's journey. Why it was visiting the Fortress Inquisitorius wasn't his problem.

How he was going to get to it was.

Filled with a fresh enthusiasm, BD looked through the list with a fervor. At first checking any ship scheduled to make a supply drop to the Vehement, he worked backwards until he found a string of transfers and supply drops that would take him from the Blood Crow to the Vehement.

The task was made all the more difficult by the fact that five days was no time at all to journey half way across the galaxy. It wasn't easy, and it took hours, but BD managed to isolate a path that would get him where he needed to go.

Saving his itinerary to the deepest part of his processors, BD nimbly hopped of the table and broke into a run.

The first leg of his secret journey would leave the Blood Crow within the hour.

.***.***.***.***.

Cal awoke with a sharp gasp.

Lungs protesting, he quickly coughed out the breath he had just brought in.

Bracing for another sharp stab, Cal felt the already strained flesh in his back pull and fray. Only after he hurt himself in his stupor did Cal realize that he was back in his cell. Only after that did he realize that that same droning voice was still nearby.

Unable to move, Cal sluggishly swept the cell with a glance. Still bare, the only new feature was a holoprojector outside of the red holoshielded wall.

"…terror attacks continue through the sector." A recorded news caster spoke from the projection.

The voice droned on for a while longer, talking at length about every terrible thing that happened in the galaxy. Pirates in the outer rim, illegal spice trade through the mid rim, a sentient-trafficking operation was busted in the Corescanti underground.

Cal didn't know what the Empire was playing at with the holoprojector, and he couldn't bring himself to care either.

Letting the voice drone on, Cal was more focused on his own questionable actions.

He'd killed in the heat of battle before. The fact of the matter wasn't that people had died, it's that he'd drawn on the Dark Side to do it.

And Cal knew he would do it again.

The fear, the anger. Both had worked to save his life and give him some desperately needed control. Lightsaber in hand, a glorious moment happened where he was no longer a tortured prisoner. He was something to be feared, something that couldn't be defeated.

The taste of bile lingered at the back of Cal's throat.

You don't want to do it again. It's a trap. He tried to tell himself. It's a trap.

Despite the good sense that Cal tried to cling to, part of him was ready to fall into that obvious trap.

He'd never wanted power. Not just for its own sake. But now he had to admit that power might be the only thing that would keep him alive.

Malicos' ideas and temptations on Dathomir seemed so strange, so unimportant. But in the halls of the Fortress Inquisitorius, they began to make sense. Cal still didn't want to conquer a planet or command an army, but he desperately needed the chance to control his own fate.

He'd thought he'd found that on the Mantis, during the quest that he'd adopted. Fleeing Bracca had been a new beginning for him, so he'd thought. But he'd never really escaped the shadow of the Empire.

Guess I did have some kind of power, Cal distantly realized. I just didn't notice until the Empire took it away.

Memories of his time on Kyshyyyk swirled around Cal. Running through the jungle, destroying that foundry, freeing scores of wookies. That had been an example of his power. The power to free others, to go where he pleased and do what he wanted in the face of the Empire.

In the face of his own friends' worries, he also realized. Cere had been so cautious about Sol; Cal had ignored her fears. She'd been right, of course, with the rebel abandoning his friends when things looked grim.

"They're not coming back for you." Trilla's words grated on Cal once again.

He closed his eyes, trying to shake her words from his head.

Greez and Merrin had to be coming. BD had to be out there, somewhere. Cere hadn't abandoned him, and it cost her life. They wouldn't let a sacrifice like that be forgotten.

But it's been a month… a few doubts ate at Cal. Stop that! You don't know how long it's been. They'll be here. They'll come.

The muted voice of the holoprojector droned on, news of terrorist cells and dead imperial soldiers the only thing to keep him company.

They'll come. Cal tried to tell himself.

"Pirates continue to terrorize the system." The holoprojector said.

But when?

"In other news, the empire has taken Haxion Brood head, Sorc Tormo, into custody…"

When…

"…Signaling a close to some of the rampant criminal activities in the outer-rim"

Cal screwed his eye shut, as if that would do something to block out his own doubts or the muttering holoprojector.

Instead, he was left alone in the dark.