Trilla didn't care for the propaganda that echoed through the prison halls.
It's not that much more pleasant than the grinding metal was. She mused to herself as she made the short walk to Cal's cell.
The blatant imperial propaganda that was the Imperial Sentinel grew louder and more clear as she did. Trilla paid the flickering blue program little attention as she came to a stop at the red holoshielded wall.
Cal sat in the cramped cell, watching the news and pointedly ignoring the Second Sister as she came into view.
Cal had lost track of the days since his visit to the dojo. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if a full day had actually passed. Time was nothing but a blur of sleep, torture, and holograms.
Holograms that Cal knew were blatant propaganda. But they were also the only hint of the outside world that he'd had in weeks.
They were the first time he'd seen a face since that fateful battle.
"Get up." The Second Sister spoke over the holoprojector.
Wordless, Cal looked to the black-clad woman. Even he could feel the dangerous edge on his gaze. Sharp and cold, like the rest of the fortress.
Cal could feel the pressure of the Dark Side closing in around him. Ever since he'd dipped into it in the dojo, the misery in the halls felt more familiar than it did alien. Not like a friend, but like a harmless acquaintance when it had once been a deadly enemy.
Cal hated it.
That only made it worse.
When Cal didn't move, Trilla simply held up the control fob for the electroshock collar.
Seeped in distain and achy to his core, Cal rose from the bench.
He knew that he could quash down most of the pain if he reached out to the Dark Side, just as he'd done in the dojo. The knowledge was unsettling. And tempting. Understanding the he couldn't meditate as he'd done thousands of times before without being accosted by visions of the past made him even more trapped in the tomb-like present.
A moment after Cal came to standing, the red holoshield blinked away.
Trying and failing not to let a mild confusion show, Cal kept his gaze locked on the Second Sister.
"Follow me," she told him without explanation.
Sure that this would going to end in something terrible, Cal hesitated.
The Second Sister didn't appreciate Cal's stalling, but she knew that he was getting into his own head far more than she could.
He knew there had to be some dark plan at work. Trilla had arrived with her saber and his clipped to her belt. As far as Cal was concerned, that was proof that she was going to drag him back to the dojo.
He wasn't sure that he would be the same person after another fight like the last.
He also wasn't sure how many more sessions on the table he could stand.
After that foray into the Dark Side, he'd felt the temptation lingering. Part of him knew that he could tear the torturer's table apart if he pulled from the same place of power. He'd watched Cere do as much, through Trilla's memories. He knew the Dark Side was a path to unnatural abilities, maybe gaining freedom was one of them.
Waiting for a moment before deciding that she had let Cal's stalling go on for long enough, Trilla turned on her heel and began to stroll down the hall.
"You don't want to know what happens if I decide you're being defiant. Follow along."
She was bluffing, Cal had already seen the full suite of what the Fortress could do to him.
Cal didn't know that.
After a short debate, and a load of disappointment in himself, Cal begrudgingly followed after Trilla.
For a moment, Cal considered yanking his lightsaber from Trilla's belt. He had no real plan for escape. He didn't even know if there was a was a ship or elevator to the surface, let alone off the planet. But, it was a nice thought at freedom.
One that didn't go anywhere as Trilla approached the doors to the dojo.
Seeing the place stopped Cal in his tracks, "I'm not going in there."
Standing in the now open doorway, the Second Sister looked over her shoulder at Cal, "Afraid you'll kill someone again?"
Cal scowled. He'd been more worried for his own sake than he was for some faceless imperial goons.
"I'd like to see him try." A smooth third voice came from behind Cal.
Twisting around at the sudden surprise, Cal felt a flash of annoyance at his having missed the unfamiliar presence.
This is what happens why you try to cut yourself off from the Force. Part of him bitterly told the rest.
The new comer approached Trilla and Cal. Cal took mental note of him as he did.
Tall. Some alien race that Cal didn't recognize, the man had gray-green skin that looked like stiff plates. While the man's face was exposed, the first one Cal had seen in person in weeks, the rest of his broad figure was concealed by a black inquisitor's uniform.
"You're late, Fifth Brother." The Second Sister scolded.
"I was on a mission." He smoothly replied, his insinuation that he was better than the Second Sister because of that fact clear on his voice.
"And now you're following my orders," The Second Sister wouldn't be insulted so easily.
Preferring not to waste time on words with the other inquisitor, the Fifth Brother looked to Cal instead.
The would-be Jedi looked small and terrified. Gaunt from a lack of food and pale from lack of sun, the Fifth Brother decided that their prisoner looked like a ghost of himself.
The Fifth Brother doubted that the prisoner was worth their time.
But orders were orders, and he would follow them.
Even if it meant that the Jedi wouldn't survive.
.***.***.***.***.
The Mantis smoothly slid through hyperspace. Endless flashes of blue white light painted the cockpit, a steady and calm contradiction to the frantic energy that lingered in the room.
Cere, Greez, and Merin had nearly been blasted out of the stars a dozen times in the last month. Being on the run from the Empire was nothing new for the crew. Being hunted, tracked, and stalked across the galaxy had been their way of life for years.
But things had gotten worse.
Imperial forces were bolder and better manned than before.
The Mantis crew had lost their goal of retrieving the holocron. They'd failed miserably at saving Cal. Cere couldn't bring herself to search for more force sensitives. Not after last time.
"Another close call," Greez spoke to the room, looking for a reply that might help lightened the tension.
"Any closer and we will be dead." Merin's matter of fact comment wasn't what Greez was looking for.
"Let's just focus on avoiding the next ambush" Cere didn't want to go down a defeatist rabbit hole.
The other two got the message, Merrin nodding before steeping out of the cockpit and towards the holomap.
Greez thought that Cere shouldn't be left alone with her thoughts. Rather than turning towards the scattered switches and levers that made up the Mantis' ill-defined control panel, he swiveled the pilot's seat around to more fully face the room.
"Hey, so… between a couple of these close calls we got a transmission from Kashyyyk. It doesn't sound like the empires back there yet, might be a good place to lay low."
Cere knew Greez was trying to help, but she didn't want to retread any of the path they had taken on their latest failed adventure.
Still, she couldn't help but wonder, "Who was trying to contact us, and why?"
"Mari Kosan. She, uh… She doesn't know what happened, and I couldn't tell her."
A twinge of guilt crossed Cere's features. They had to find a way to get Cal back but, after their single thwarted attempt, they hadn't known a moments peace.
"What did she want?" Cere tried to drive the conversation forward.
"A new band of rebels set up shop in the jungle. One of them said that the met another Jedi."
Cere ran her hands over her face, leaving one to rest against her chin as she spoke "Greez, no."
The captain stiffened in his seat before sputtering out, "I'm not saying we need to go track this guy down, but… They could probably use some help."
"You're right," she admitted, "I'm just not sure that we can help them."
"But… we should still try." Greez spoke with a voice twinged with apprehension and concern.
Cere heard them both. For a moment, she considered pointing it out to try and distract her from a roiling sense of guilt.
She had tried to help Trilla. She had tried to help Cal.
She still needed to help Cal. He was alone in that Fortress and, as unlikely as it was, Cere had to believe that he could still be rescued.
"We do need to try," she finally admitted, "but we have to try and get Cal back first."
Greez's eyes widened a fraction and he almost said something hasty before thinking through his comment, "Cere, we've been trying."
"We need to try again."
"We need to get some rest." Merin's voice came from the door.
Taken off guard Cere and Greez both quicky looked to the side.
As all eyes settled on her, Merin spoke again, "Look at yourselves. Greez, you have been in the pilot's seat for days. Cere, you have not slept in just as long. We need to stop running and make a plan."
A hush settled in the wake of Merin's words. No one was sure if it was uneasy or not, but when the near silent droning of hyperspace became unbearable, Cere was the first one to speak again.
"You're right." She told the nightsister before looking back to Greez, "but breaking into the Fortress is still out first priority."
"I never said it wasn't." Greez muttered before turning back to the controls, "I'll plot a course for Kashyyyk, we might as well hear Mari out while we lay low."
Cere didn't protest aloud. The Greez she'd first met wasn't the type to risk anything for anyone, and she almost had to admire his commitment to revisiting Kashyyyk.
He won't admit it, but Cal really made an impression on him. She realized.
Caught up in her own grief, Cere wasn't sure that she had made the time to help Greez or Merin work through their own
That's not your job, a harsh thought came to Cere.
No, but they've done the same for me. She replied to herself.
Not hearing an objection, Merin spoke before Cere had the chance, "It is agreed then. We will go to Kashyyyl. Greez?"
"Already on it" he spoke over a shoulder as he reached for a far lever.
"Cere?" Merin looked to the former Jedi.
Knowing that the blunt almost-command was Merin's way of being polite, Cere simply nodded.
With her job done, Merin left the cockpit once again. The chatter seemed to help her talkative companions, but she preferred the quiet in times of mourning.
Worn even more weary by that short conversation, Cere turned to the navigator's panel. She could rest when they landed, but for now she picked up the headset and tuned through as many imperial channels as she could name.
Hoping to get some warning if they were spotted again, she listened intently to the droning imperial chatter. For a long while it was a mindless task, then she found a channel discussing an ominous plan for an ominous planet.
"Navigator to control, confirming transit to Nur."
A static laden moment passed.
"Control confirms. Bridge requests itinerary, ETA."
"ETA three standard days. Transmitting itinerary."
Skin crawling, Cere checked the communications inscription code. She'd broken dozens of them and could tell at a glance what class of ship it belonged to.
An Imperial Star Destroyer? She tried not to wonder why such a high profile ship would visit the Fortress.
"Transmission received," the controller's voice brought Cere back to the conversation, "Bridge approves. Signaling propulsions. Navigation standby."
"Navigation standing by."
A faint click sounded over the line.
"Propulsions on call," a third voice added.
Quickly realizing that she wouldn't get any information beyond the fact that some ISD was visiting Nur, Cere only half listened to the rest of the conversation.
There's not many reasons why that ship should be visiting Nur. Cere thought as she glanced up from her control panel.
I can't tell Greez, he's already on edge. She thought as she looked at the back of the balding lateron's head.
She was about to gesture to Merin, but a quick look found the nightsister missing from her usual place next to the holotable.
Alone with nothing but imperial chatter, Cere was left with an increasingly troubled list of explanations for the ISD.
Jedi generals commanded Venators. I know I've seen Trilla on the bridge of an ISD.
Cere went from one comms channel to the next.
I don't think the Empire would spare a flag ship for a simple prisoner transfer, and there's no civilians on Nur to frightened into obedience.
Cal, Cere breathed deep, that ship better not be for you.