CHAPTER 3

To Trust the Devil

"Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair."

Tion Cluster, 15 BBY

Wild Space

To be a good pilot, one must have the reflexes to dodge asteroids flying well beyond the speed of sound, and also have the foresight to envision such occurrences. One must also know their ship and be able to tend to and also tailor oneself to its needs and flows. The ship had to become an extension of oneself, and in becoming a singular entity, the pilot became the ship.

It also helps to have a co-pilot one could trust.

Xur Eon was at the controls at his own insistence, piloting what the Empire passed as "top-notch" for a military craft made specifically for a two to four-man crew. The reaction to his commands were clunky, and it felt as if every part had been roughly scrapped together. He had already pulled one nob from its place, in which his co-pilot chose to laugh at his struggles. In fact, she laughed at every instance she could come up with.

He knew why the Second Sister, or Trilla, was doing it. After a few weeks coming up on a month spent undercover as an inquisitor, he quickly learned that no one was his friend, or honestly ever could be. That on its own was fine, since he was truthfully there to murder them all, but the dreariness of it all was exhausting. He was glad to finally get an assignment away from the Fortress…just not stuck with the living manifestation of deception and manipulation. She didn't want to work with him either, and if she could find a way to get him killed, he knew she'd take it.

Xur didn't know where they were exactly, and he didn't much care. He was more focused on making sure the Imperial shit shack made it to safe harbor.

Another knob popped off when he turned it. "Fucking hell," he grumbled.

Trilla chuckled, her legs propped up on the controls, not bothering to assume her duties. She had her mask off, as did he, mostly on a silent show of strength that neither of them cared to reveal themselves to a potential rival.

"Since your incompetence has led us astray, you will entertain me with a story for compensation," she sneered. Her voice was like a cage of thorns around his heart, the same soothing one he had known when he was young, laced with hints of sadistic pleasure in making him suffer.

Xur kept his eyes forward. "Shut up and let me fly."

Trilla smacked her lips together in condescension. "Awww. Poor little man," she goaded. "Tell me: what were you before you became…whatever you call yourself?"

The zabrak kept quiet. Speaking about his past to Trilla could jeopardize his entire mission, and he knew she'd be smart enough to know when he was lying. If she was anything like the woman he knew, she could piece together the most minute details without much effort.

"You first," he eventually said.

She shook her head. "That's not how this works. You owe me, remember?"

"I don't owe you shit, sweetheart. You first."

Trilla looked away, and he felt a bit of pride in staving her off for now. He'd sneak a few looks her way between adjustments to their course, and despite her corruption to the Dark Side, she was certainly no less beautiful. In fact, part of him preferred this version of her over the old…all lethal and lithe and…

Xur shook his head. He couldn't reverse the building levels of Dark Side energy within him that had massed over his time as an inquisitor, so dark and perverse thoughts were becoming much more common than he preferred. Everyone needed to be utterly convinced he was with them.

"I was a weak-willed and naïve Jedi," she said, and then turned back his way. "Now you."

Xur finally looked her way. "We have something in common," he noted, which was not entirely a lie…he was naïve. "What a surprise."

"A surprise indeed," she smirked. "Although, I don't believe I've noticed much of a change in you."

Xur scoffed. "Now that was just lazy. You're going to have to do better than that, Hun."

The Ninth Sister's words echoed: Just flirt with her. She hates that. For being an obvious threat to everything he stood for, the Ninth Sister had been perhaps the only person willing to actually give him advice, and he had admittedly learned a lot from her, even if she hadn't realized she was teaching him anything.

"Who was your Master?" Trilla asked, not fazed by his flirting for now. "Your skills are proficient…and slightly unorthodox even by my standards, not to mention your unnatural connection to the Force."

Xur grumbled in annoyance. "He was a Jedi Master by the name of Nunya Damn Business, now why don't you be a lady and take your boots off the-,"

Danger sense rattled his spine and he jerked the stick hard to port, watching as cannon-fire blazed past them on the other side. "Son of a-," he gasped, engaging in evasive maneuvers to avoid their pursuer. Trilla still made no movement to help. "Eyes on the scanner, will you?!"

"Oh no," she snickered. "This is far more entertaining than I could've imagined."

Not knowing where their pursuer was, along with the poor condition of the ship, they sustained a hit to the starboard engine that the shields managed to stave off. Boiling, Xur had his saber in hand and ignited it, pointing the blade directly at Trilla. "Get on the damn scanner, now!"

She chuckled, unmoving. "Oh, Brother. I've seen the way you look at me. I couldn't think of an emptier threat than the one before me now."

He didn't want to kill her, in fact he'd made it part of his mission to get her out of the Inquisitorious, but right now she was making that nearly impossible.

Time to bring out the big guns.

Deactivating his saber, and trusting the force to guide his movements, he jerked the ship hard to starboard, knocking her head into the console beside her at his amusement, and finally catching a glimpse of their assailant.

"Cunt," she cursed, shaking off the throbbing pain in her head as she pulled her feet from the controls. "I'm going to skin you alive for that."

"Yeah, well worry about that after we shake these pirates!" Xur urged, continuing to dodge incoming fire, only to be knocked forward by a direct hit. "That one shredded our shields! One more and we're both dead!"

Trilla begrudgingly looked down at the scanner, and Xur couldn't worry about her building hatred towards him at the moment. "Short range fighter," she relayed. "Likely from the planet nearby."

"Ah, thank you for being useful for once," Xur grumbled, fighting the controls as the ship began to burn at the aft section. "Too bad we're already shit out of luck!"

Xur pulled the ship towards the brown-green planet, taking almost everything it had just to alter its current course. Trilla's anger was now at fever pitch. "Silence, vermin! If we survive this, I will-," the console in front of her exploded, and her head drooped forward, her body only held in her seat by the belt around her waist.

"Sister?" he called and received no answer. He extended his senses, and still detected life force, which shuddered relief through him. It seemed that the pirate fighter broke off, which meant that they either wanted them alive, or just didn't want whatever cargo they were carrying to be destroyed.

The ship broke the atmosphere and was virtually dead. Engine power was exhausted, and everything else might as well have been burning. Once they were low enough, he'd have to eject.

Trilla was still out cold.

He'd probably be better off if he left her to die, assuming the crash would actually kill her, and his mission to tear down the Inquisitorious could continue with no further roadblocks…but to leave Trilla to die…

Xur unbuckled himself from the pilot's chair and stood, careful to keep hold onto the dividing console as the ship continued to barrel its way to the surface. Grabbing ahold of her chair for support, he unbuckled her from the seat and slid in underneath, struggling to strap the both of them in with her head in the way of his vision. Once he heard the satisfying click, he reached for the eject lever and pulled.

Nothing happened.

"Imperial piece of shit, work!" he shouted and pulled again. This time the seat launched from its place and through the above hatch. Xur kept his arms wrapped around Trilla's waist tightly as the g-forces weighed down on them both, wind rushing past his ears in a deafening torrent. The parachute deployed, and the chair jerked as it caught air, slowing their descent.

The belt sheared loose and they both tumbled out of the chair. Xur's stomach was in his throat as he barely grabbed ahold of the chair's underside bar, and he screamed as Trilla's weight threatened to tear his arm from its socket. Looking down, he saw they were approaching a temperate surface, and that their ship had crashed already in a forested area.

His grip slipped from the bar as his arm gave out, and they fell, at least a thousand feet from the surface. Through the rushing wind, and knowing he had a precious few seconds to save them both, he wrapped his left arm around Trilla's waist in a vice grip and used his free hand to project the most powerful force push he could. The initial burst slowed their descent, but he could feel her slipping from his grip each time he pushed.

Slowed as much as he could, he turned towards the sky and relaxed himself. Their impact was hard, not to mention being sandwiched between Trilla and the dirt.

"Agh!" he screamed, his entire body protesting what he had just undertaken, dumping Trilla's body from atop his and finally catching a few much-needed breaths. His shoulder was in excruciatingly bad shape, almost completely useless to him in its current state, and the scar on his back that Trilla had given him was acting up once again.

He'd have to manage.

Looking to Trilla, he rolled over and kept her face-up, and then checked her pulse via her neck.

She was still alive.

Whether that was a good thing or not, remained to be seen.

For now, Xur rolled onto his back and let himself breathe…deep, heavy, air-filled breaths of calm.

"Fuck."


Trilla ran for her life.

Her legs carried her as fast as they could, and it seemed as if the environment around her passed by faster than she thought was possible. She ran faster. The breathing was getting closer, the sound of metal boots crushing anything beneath them.

She ran.

"No, no, no..." she mumbled to herself in between panicked breaths, her hand reaching for the saber that wasn't at her waist. "Not-,"

The ground slipped from beneath her, and she fell, her feet dragged by an unseen menace. She desperately clawed at the dirt, only to be dragged more violently.

Her throat closed itself, and she struggled to breathe, pulled from the ground and suspended in the air. Clawing at her neck for the hand that wasn't there, she witnessed the same dark shadow that forever plagued her visions.

"You have failed, Inquisitor," it said, its tone ominous and mechanic, reaching to the darkest parts of her soul.

She screamed.


Trilla screamed as she awoke, dirt falling from her hair as she sat upright. She reached to her waist for her hilt, but only grasped at air. Hands were upon her and she slung her arm back in retaliation, only to have her wrist caught with ease.

"Relax, Sister," the Second Brother eased. "You're safe."

"Where is my blade?" she spat, forcing herself free from his grip and vaulting to her feet in an instant.

The unmasked zabrak kept a hard gaze upon her. "You're welcome. If it wasn't for me, you'd be burning rubble along with our-,"

"I don't ask for anything twice," Trilla growled, her stockpiled rage threatening to spill over.

"You can learn."

Over the past month of being forced to work alongside him, the Second Brother had proven to be the most infuriating man she had ever met. The only agonizing fact that kept her from permanently silencing him was his apparent unnatural power comparatively to them all. She never remembered this pitiful slime ever being a match for her; always breaking bread with his underlings, involved in multiple affairs with women he had come across during his assignments, and always adopted the sloppiest versions of the most pathetic forms of…

She caught herself. He was just trying to throw her off balance, and she couldn't allow him to succeed…not in these circumstances. With a breath, she focused her infuriation with him, instead of allowing it to manifest and consume her, using it to intensify her power and project her own dominance.

Trilla crossed her arms, adopting a less imposing stance. "What happened?"

The Second Brother returned to his seat, perhaps feeling as if she had calmed down enough for him to drop his guard. "Pirates attacked, you wouldn't use the scanner, engines blew, ring any bells?"

Her cranium was aching more than usual, and the last thing she remembered was threatening to skin him alive. She must've been incapacitated somehow, and not by him, otherwise she'd be long dead.

"How did we get here?"

"The pirates shot us down, but didn't finish us off, so I ejected us both from the cockpit. Despite your unconscious state, I was able to get us to the surface," he explained from his sitting spot. "As I said before, I saved your life."

"I did not miss what you said," Trilla coolly replied. "We must get off this planet and return to our mission."

The Second Brother snickered. "Do you even remember our mission, or did that explosion jog your memory? In fact, let's test it out."

"That won't be necessary," she insisted, turning away from him, but still keeping her senses alert. Despite his meek and weak-willed personality, she didn't yet have a firm picture of the extent of his abilities, and still remained wary of any tricks he may still be hiding under his façade.

Admittedly, her memory was a little foggy.

"If you say so," the Second Brother shrugged. "Our mission is to confirm that potential rebel groups are hauling supplies from Imperial runs, and if so, eliminate the group in its entirety. Obviously, it appears that this simple confirm and eliminate mission has more to it."

"Your grasp of the obvious is truly inspiring," Trilla mocked, scanning the terrain. Mostly temperate with dry brown-green hills and a forest in the distance, the planet wasn't too unpleasant. It certainly could be worse.

"As is your commitment to assisting me," he retorted, Trilla detecting edge in his voice, resulting in a slight smile to perk up her lips. "Why do you test me at every god damn turn?"

"Because frankly, Brother, you're not worth my attention or effort," she shrugged, turning to face him again. "Your commitment is inadequate, your demeanor is pathetic, and you're the worst imbecile I've ever met."

This time he sprung to his feet and marched forward, coming up nose to nose with her, his eyes suddenly as serious as she'd ever seen them. They stared for a moment, neither of them making a move to attack, but Trilla felt something…familiar about him. It was as if his façade had been broken, and his true self had finally been revealed before her.

He almost whispered. "You're a cold little bitch, aren't you?" She didn't leave his stare, although her fist clenched at the sound of his demeaning insult. "You spend every waking moment imagining all the ways you could kill me, all because I killed your precious little boyfriend before you had the pleasure. Is that what this is all about? Is that why you've always got a whomp rat up your ass around me?"

The Second Brother scoffed dismissively and turned his back. "Get the fuck over it. If my commitment is inadequate, then yours is flat out nonexistent."

Something inside her broke. "You cannot judge me!" Trilla shouted at his turned back as he walked away. "You could never understand the hardship of a real inquisitor. You simply chose to become one! I was betrayed."

"Oh, here we go," the Second Brother dismissed as he sat back down. "The old 'blame it on somebody else for how shit my life is' argument. Every one of you sorry bastards has the same, pathetic, cliché story. None of you have any fucking accountability!"

"Ah, and you're so different, aren't you?" Trilla challenged. "You were never subjected to the torment we all shared!"

"You don't know anything about me."

"No? You were born on Dathomir and adopted and raised by a Coruscanti family of wealth. When you were discovered to be force sensitive, they denied you from the Jedi Order, which in turn spared you from any indignities that followed. After the Empire rose in place of the Republic, you joined the Inquisitorious, not on circumstance or requirement, but on a dare!" Trilla recounted. "And now you sit here and have the nerve to question my commitment to this cause?! I am an inquisitor to make everyone who ever dared to harm me pay and suffer as I have!"

The Second Brother had calmed himself by now, and actually looked as if he was listening, not considering his next witty insult. "So why did you hate Xur Eon so much?"

"He-," Trilla paused. She had said too much, and she hated herself for allowing him to prod her so easily. It was as if he knew where to poke…where her vulnerable points were.

Like he knew her.

"Feeling better now?" he asked.

She grumbled. "Your condescension is-,"

"It's not condescension. It's genuine," he assured, and she could sense the truth in his words, which instinctively made her sick…but brought forth undeniable surprise…a welcome surprise. "If we're going to finish this mission, I need to know I can depend on you."

Trilla turned away, admittedly embarrassed more than anything.

"You might need this too," he said, and Trilla caught an object she sensed he tossed to her, which she recognized as her hilt.

"I have a feeling these pirates are better equipped than we were led to believe."


Xur and Trilla headed directly for their ship crash, running into small groups of roughly dressed human pirates along the way. None of them were a match for the both of them, and to maintain the secret of their survival, they had to kill them all, something Trilla enjoyed a little too much. Most of them were outfitted in outlander gear, common to outer rim worlds, but there was also an array of old Republic weapons; DC-17 blasters, standard issue scopes, and some even wore clone helmets.

The zabrak vaguely recalled campaigns to the Tion Cluster during Operation Countdown, mainly to secure routes to Raxus that he, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan never ended up using by war's end. These pirates must've raided the return shipments when the war ended, expecting retaliation only to discover that the Empire had no use for such models any longer.

Ahsoka Tano.

He didn't know where she was, nor did he want to, not in his current state. The two of them parted ways after a large invasion that revealed things he'd rather not revisit now, and Xur knew that Palpatine would be coming after him, thus if she remained it would only endanger them both. He didn't even know if she was still alive, and they hadn't parted on the best of terms, especially with his newfound lack of reluctance to use the Dark Side of the Force. The Empire had to pay.

Anakin had to pay.

Something Trilla had said had bothered him throughout their trek to the wreckage, how she had become an inquisitor to make those who had harmed her pay for their transgression. Despite what he considered his moral high ground, and his restraint against control or needlessly murdering those in his path, their goals were nearly identical, and here he was, serving as an inquisitor. Part of him enjoyed it. There was almost a nostalgic familiarity with traveling the galaxy with a lightsaber, righting the wrongs of the nation he served.

And with Trilla no less.

Maybe…maybe if he remained, they could…

No. He'd be living a lie the rest of his life, and in time, they would discover who he was, and none of that would matter. The only chance he would ever have at peace, would be a galaxy without the Empire.

Saving her was another matter. He had never turned anyone from the Dark Side, and he himself wasn't much free of it either. She had so much rage within her, he could almost feel it burning away at his essence just standing near her. Xur had released the darkness' hold on him through expelling it in combat, but that may not be possible for someone without his unique abilities. There had to be a way for her to let go of her rage.

She said she was betrayed, but by who? Her clones? No. She hadn't been around clones long enough for her to feel such hatred, and even he did not hate the clones as much as he hated their puppeteer.

Her master? No, couldn't be that. Cere Junda was as much a Jedi as Obi-Wan Kenobi. She wouldn't have betrayed Trilla. She would've died before the Empire turned her.

Trilla certainly hated him, but that couldn't be it, not to fully give in to the Dark Side. There was more to it, he knew that, and he'd need to observe her more to discover the truth.

"Get down," Xur whispered as he pulled Trilla down behind a bush with him, to her detectable slight displeasure. The ship had crashed within a forest, giving them plenty of areas to approach unseen, but the wreckage had at least twenty pirates present, probing and digging through it for any salvage.

"Twenty-five, thirty men," Trilla noted. "Five of them heavily armed. We can circle around, and each take a side," she said, and rose, only to be stopped by Xur pulling her back.

"Hang on now," Xur insisted, and she gave him a tested look. "These pirates are armed with Imperial-grade weapons, unlike those groups we found."

"Yes, that's what we came here to confirm, now we eliminate."

"No, wait, something doesn't feel right," Xur continued, feeling an edge in the Force. "If we kill them all, we'll never find out why."

"We have orders-,"

"To confirm and eliminate. We haven't confirmed jack shit yet."

"Then I'll take one alive," Trilla offered, and then stalked off before he could stop her. He could imagine seizing ahold of her with the Force and dragging her back to face him. He knew how easy it would be, but not only would that reveal them to the pirates, it would certainly convince her he wasn't who he portrayed.

No choice then…unless…

Xur popped out from behind the bushes, raising his hands to pointed blasters. "Hey, laser brains!" he called, not detecting any immediate danger from them, which was slightly a surprise.

"Hands in the air, skug," one of the pirates pointed, with a few of the heavies keeping their blasters trained on him.

"Woah, woah, hey, no need for the blasters, just passing through," Xur eased.

One of the female pirates aimed closer. "Fuck off, this one's ours."

Xur took their time of confusion to administer his surroundings, spotting multiple boulders behind a few of the heavy troopers, and Trilla was nearly in her position. Calling through the Force, he subtly wiggled one boulder free of the ground.

"Yup, my mistake, enjoy," Xur admitted, spotting Trilla preparing to strike.

The other pirate scoffed. "Asshole. Shoot to kill!"

Xur yanked the boulder towards him, bulldozing two of the heavy troopers, bones cracking upon impact as they were instantly killed. The zabrak pulled again, using it to cover him from the onslaught of blaster bolts that rained down, drawing his crimson blade.

Then Trilla's killing spree began.

Knowing his distraction had earned her multiple immediate kills, he heaved and rocketed the boulder back at his attackers, crushing bodies beneath it as blood splattered throughout the created clearing. He ignited both blades and spun them before him, now charging at the remaining pirates covered in their comrades' blood.

"They're blasted Jedi!" one heavy shouted, before being impaled in lightning manner, Trilla virtually appearing from thin air. She fed on his last gasp of breath and pulled her blade free, deflecting blaster bolts with a sadistic ease, embracing the fear and pain she inflicted upon each of her victims. None of them could track her movements, and before long, many of them had chosen to break off into the forest.

Xur pulled one from afar with an outstretched hand and impaled the poor soul with a yank, dropping his limp body before the others, who had also begun to flee into the forest. There was no pleasure in what he had just done…only necessity.

As they cleared the ship area, Trilla reappeared, dragging one of the wounded pirates behind her, his left leg severed at the knee. His grunted pains were becoming less appealing the longer they persisted, and Xur almost had to look away.

Trilla looked as if she had just engaged in the most euphoric intercourse of her existence.

"One alive," she said, tossing him at Xur's feet, writhing in agony. "Just as I promised."

He was grunting, and he radiated fear like a burning star. "I'll say anything, j-just don't hurt me anymore!"

Xur made no movement. He was completely shell-shocked. Recalling what he had done…what she had done…it was…

It wasn't him.

But that was the point. That was the price of this mission, to watch as his own soul broken down, his old self shredded to oblivion like the others. That was the life of an inquisitor.

This was the price of victory…but was it too high?

Saw would say no. Vorchenko…he wasn't sure.

Ahsoka…Ahsoka would never look at him the same way again. He knew in that moment, that if he was to destroy the Inquisitorious, he would have to destroy himself with it. In that, he could live with, if it resulted in the first stage towards the end of the Empire.

He knelt, abandoning his old life, and embracing his new one.

"What are you doing with Imperial weapons?" he asked.

He shivered, and Xur was beginning to feel rage within the man, washing over his fear. When he said nothing, his eyes panned to Trilla. "Look bud, you can either tell me what's going on, or you can tell her. Your choice."

His fear returned, and Xur could feel Trilla's hunger for pain building next to him. "You think us pirates," he gasped, still clenching at his searing stub. "We are far more. We are the Greater Imperium."

"Greater Imperium?" Xur asked. "Explain."

Now the man was chuckling, and Xur flicked his head at Trilla. She grabbed ahold of him and suspended her palm before his face, and the zabrak felt the Force crackle beneath it. He screamed in agony, her technique projecting pain throughout his body, making him feel as if he was burning alive. Never before had he seen such a barbaric technique used upon another living being, not since he had witnessed Anakin choking victims with an outstretched hand.

He pulled at her arm, and she stopped, allowing him to breathe.

"My friend here can do this all day," Xur implored.

"Oh, I certainly can," Trilla sneered. "Greater Imperium. Tell us, and your suffering will end."

"Through the forest," he almost wept. "Outpost. Just…don't do that again."

"You needn't worry," Trilla assured, igniting her blade and killing him before Xur could stop her.

The zabrak grumbled. "Well that was needlessly barbaric. Feel like you got your point across?"

Trilla chuckled with a sadistic tinge that nearly made him shiver. "I believe so, yes."

Xur wanted to be angry with her, but instead he…laughed.

"Oh, you're fucking horrible, aren't you?"

She actually smiled at him for once. "Your admiration is unnecessary, Brother, but accepted regardless," and then almost pranced into the forest. "Let us see this outpost, shall we?"

"Right behind you."


Above stood a guard, armed with an E-11 standard issue blaster, his eyes focused on the view of the horizon from his perch. With the sun just dipping below it, it was certainly a sight to behold, the various orange and purple colors painting the sky with their extravagance. He must've been at peace in that moment, relishing that his shift may be coming to an end at last.

It was almost a pity to watch him tumble over the railing and fall down the perilous cliff face to his death.

Trilla reengaged the pull mechanism at her belt, allowing the thin cable to easily support her weight and carry her to the edge of the outpost platform, where she deftly vaulted and cartwheeled onto her feet. As she severed the end of her cable from her belt, she was greeted to the pained grunting of the Second Brother as he pulled himself over with only one good shoulder.

"Are you…," he struggled. "gonna help me?"

She dusted her gloves and turned away. "I'm sure you can handle it."

He scoffed in disgust as he finally managed to pull himself over. "I'll…remember this," he wheezed through heavy breaths. "It's a wonder the whole outpost doesn't know we're here, you know with that man screaming the whole way down."

Trilla scanned the area, noticing that most of the base was built within the cliff face, so an accurate reading on its size from here was difficult. She had a few theories on this "Greater Imperium", all of them smelling of treason, but she mostly deducted they could either be a mercenary band, pirates or, in the worst case, an offshoot of the Empire itself. While the latter was extremely unlikely, it was not impossible. She had been trained to follow every lead, no matter how slim, since that was where Jedi would always be found, sulking under a rock on a remote moon, or hiding in plain sight among a work force.

No one could hide from her.

"Listen, I know you spend a lot of time not giving a shit about your companions, but I'd ask that you make one exception for once in your god damn life," the Second Brother pestered, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side.

"What would you have me do?" she asked. "Carry you the rest of the way?"

"That would be nice, but uh, I don't think you could take my weight, honestly," he commented. "Not with that frame."

Trilla paused for a moment.

Did he just…did he just call me weak?

She grumbled. Of course he did. "Fuck off, will you?"

The Second Brother giggled. "Lighten up, Hun, I'm just messing with you. I'm sure you could-," he paused, and then suddenly pushed her behind a few crates directly in front of them, peeking his head up to get a view. "Looks like someone came to check on your friend," he whispered, while she shrugged off the sudden landing.

Peeking over herself, she spotted five men dressed in stormtrooper armor, but each with spray-painted insignias on their chest. Whatever outpost this was, it certainly was not sanctioned by the Empire.

She pulled her head back. "Looks like your earlier assumption was correct. These aren't mere pirates."

The Second Brother gave her an I-told-you-so look. "Plan of attack?" he asked.

"Get help," Trilla sneered.

"Huh?"

She popped out from behind the crates, tears already flowing down her face. "Help me please! My friend, he's injured!" she pointed to the zabrak.

"Hold it!" the troopers warned, pointing their blasters.

"Please!" she cried, approaching them. "He's dying!"

"Where did you come from?" they asked, reeling in confusion.

"Down there!" she pointed at the floor, and all five of them looked. Her saber was ignited in her hand in a flash, and she cleanly decapitated each of them with ease, using the quick distraction.

She chuckled. "Idiots. I killed a Jedi with that once, you know?" she explained as the Second Brother came up beside her.

"Unorthodox," he noted. "But the results are there…I guess."

Then the alarm blared, as expected.

"Did you account for that?" Second Brother pointed.

"I'm almost insulted you didn't think so," she replied, and then walked in the direction the troopers had come. "This must be some kind of mercenary band, which means when attacked, they retaliate with the full might of their army, if they believe they can win, of course."

"So we're our own bait?" he surmised.

She only gave him half of her face as she turned with a smirk, troopers flooding out the outpost side door with their blasters pointed. The predictability of it all made her want to laugh almost manically.

"Mercenary scum," she said, her hilt still in hand. "I'd suggest that you all surrender and lay down your weapons, and I might consider letting each of you live."

There was baffled silence from each of them, followed by disbelieving laughter. "I think you're the one who should surrender, little lady."

She caught the Second Brother chuckling to himself. "Think they bought it?"

"Duck," she said.

He sighed, this time picking up on her idea. "Oh fuck."

As he did as ordered, Trilla ignited both blades and hurled it around her, the sudden attack bisecting the first row of troopers surrounding them, and then landed back in her hand. Halving the number of enemies in one stroke, Trilla went on the offensive as the Second Brother watched her back with only one good arm. She fed on their fear of her, quickening her lethal movements and enhancing her strength, cutting down each of them with literal ease.

"She's…too…powerful!" one of them gasped as he was diagonally cut down at the mid-section, his life ended instantly.

"Retreat!" another ordered, before suffering the same fate. They all ran, most jumping over the ledge and firing their own ascension cables or activating jetpacks.

"Clean slate on this outpost!" she spotted what looked to be the commander shouting into a comm-link. "You won't get away with this, Imperial slime!" before activating his jetpack and tumbling off the edge. Trilla moved to pursue but was jerked back.

"Unless you can fly, it's no use!" the Second Brother urged. "We need to get what info we can from a console inside!"

Trilla watched the commander fly away, finding satisfaction in imagining the screams he would emit under her grasp…which would have to be enough. The Second Brother was right.

"Come on then," she said, and they both jogged through the door, finding multiple consoles to work with, a window overlooking the cliff face. "Hurry it up."

They split up, each taking their own console and sifting it for information. Trilla was an expert slicer, and she was in the system within half a minute, only to find that a purge order had already wiped most of the files. Her fist clenched, and with the Force to enhance it, she punched straight through the screen in frustration.

"There's nothing left!" she shouted.

"Dammit. Same here," he confirmed.

She was livid. They had come so close, despite their perilous situation, they had nearly made what could've been a discovery worthy of the Emperor's attention. This Greater Imperium could not be a simply mercenary band, not with how equipped they were. Simple raids couldn't go on this long enough to outfit a group so effectively…she'd stake her life on it.

Yet she had no proof.

"Doesn't look like they were any more than a rag-tag group of pirates," the Second Brother figured coming up alongside her. "Too bad."

"I want a team to strip this place clean. If they find anything, I want to know about it," she huffed.

"Relax," he eased, gripping her shoulder, which made her pause. "I think the fact that we're still alive is reward enough."

She didn't remove it. Her curiosity got the better of her this time.

"Shit, I'll admit it, I didn't think I'd enjoy working with you at all," he said, dropping his hand from her back and pacing away. "Who knew I'd be wrong about something?"

Trilla kept her eyes on the sunset, her arms crossed. "Who knew."

Deep down, she was thankful he had saved her life, but an inquisitor never admitted her weakness.

Especially not to their partner.


As Xur Eon walked away, he looked down into his right hand where his miniature data drive sat.

Its troves full of information on the Greater Imperium.


Guest: I'm not revealing endings. Sorry bud.

That one was fun to write. I kinda made it up as I went and I really like how it turned out. Hope you enjoyed!

Next chapter is a time skip (not huge) to Bracca, where the "shit hits the crapper", if you know what I mean. See you then!