CHAPTER 8

Knights of the Fallen Order
Part I

"A servant with divided loyalties is no servant at all."

Stinger Mantis, 14 BBY

Hyperspace

Cal enjoyed his sleep, something he was finally able to take part in as his situation had become much more stable with his crew mates. Despite what had happened on Zeffo, he held out hope that with his new powerful ally, they would be able to do some good in the galaxy. A thought such as that was powerful comfort.

Being poked awake by Greez…not so much.

"Hey, kid, wake up," he heard the lateron say, and his eyes fluttered open, greeted to the fuzzy image of his face as his vision readjusted. "Can we talk?"

Cal wiped his eye to expediate the process. "What?"

"Can we talk?" Greez echoed, and Cal could sense his urgency enough to at least attempt to grant his request…but his mood was another matter. However, when Cal silently tried to get him to leave him to his rest, the lateron took it upon himself to sit atop his mattress. "Look…I got some concerns about our new friend here."

The Jedi groaned, forced to rise when he'd much rather continue to shut his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked, groggily as he threw his legs off the bed and sat up.

Greez was almost down to a whisper. "Since the guy is in the fresher…I just want to say that he gives me a bad vibe," he said, and Cal could tell his concern was genuine. "Are you sure we can trust him? I mean, he looks just like the other lady who almost crashed my ship."

Cal scoffed. "You mean Trilla? Greez, just because he dresses the same way doesn't mean he acts the same. Besides, he was undercover."

"Alright kid, I'm not going to pretend like I get all this Jedi stuff, but I'm telling you…the guy makes me feel uneasy," he voiced. "And even if he was undercover, I don't think now is the right time to trust someone like that anyway. What if he's undercover now?"

The red-haired Jedi almost laughed at that. "You're serious?"

Greez raised his four hands defensively and shrugged. "You don't believe me, fine. Just don't be surprised when your buddy suddenly sells us out to the Empire."

"The Empire has been chasing him a lot longer than they've been chasing me," Cal reminded him. "No one hates it more than he does. What would he have to gain?"

"Credits, fame, and maybe," Greez counted off on his fingers. "Maybe winning that girl back. Tell me kid, how do you think she'd react if he brought you back to her?"

Cal paused for a moment, not expecting to actually consider any of Greez's claims. The way Xur felt about Trilla was painfully obvious, and Cal had experienced firsthand what a powerful emotion lust could be, turning even the most stable individual irrational.

"All I'll say is this: if you and she were dangling off the edge of a building, and he could only save one, I'd bet big money he'd save her every time."

He wanted to refute it…but he couldn't even convince himself that Greez was wrong.

"Alright Greez, you've made your point."

Cal sensed the lateron's regret spark for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out. "I don't hope he is what I think he might be…just, the shit I've seen, kid…I just want to make sure you're prepared."

The Jedi only gave him a nod, and said nothing, quietly wishing to be left alone. Greez seemed to get the point, hopping down from his seat on Cal's bed.

"We've still got a few hours of hyperspace. If you need a few winks, I'd get them now," he smirked as he left Cal alone, shutting the sliding door behind him.

Unexpectedly, he pondered every word that Greez had said. Cal could see it in his mind, the zabrak pulling Trilla to the safety of solid ground whilst leaving him to fall to his death. It played out like various futures, desperately searching for the one in which the opposite would be true.

No avail.

Boo-doo?

Cal shook his head to BD, who had just reactivated himself from recharge. "No BD, I'm not ok," he replied, dejected. "I just feel like no one can be trusted anymore."

Greez hadn't even mentioned that Cere had lied about Trilla, something that was already plaguing Cal's mind. Xur's appearance and reveal was enough to table that discussion for now, but he certainly hadn't forgotten it.

The little droid waltzed over and hopped up onto Cal's bed, his antennas pointing upwards.

Trill boo-doop pree.

He smiled at that and patted him on the head. "You're right. You'll watch my back, won't you?"

BD-1 propped himself up in glee.


"Run it by me again. Short version this time."

Xur kept himself attentive as Cal had revisited his travels since Bracca, but he found it especially effective to hear the condensed summary after the story was told. He found it easier to remember the big details.

Cal was arched over on the couch, his hands making gestures as he explained. "So Jedi Master Eno Cordova hid a holocron in an ancient Zeffo vault containing a list of all known force sensitive children just before the Purge. In order to access it, he tasked us through BD-1 to explore the tombs of the Zeffo Sages. The one where I found you was the second, but before that we went to Kashyyyk to speak with Cheiftan Tarfful. As I explained, we assisted Saw Gerrera in capturing an imperial refinery, who in turn, brought me into contact with him," the Jedi then pointed to the gold and gray cube at the center of the round table between the two of them. "Who gave me this: a wayfinder, which we are currently using to plot our course through hyperspace. This, in turn, unlocked another recording from BD."

Xur leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the device. "I've seen wayfinders, but nothing like this one. Could you play the recording, BD?"

The droid stood beside Cal on the couch, and he looked to his companion first. "Yeah, go ahead."

Boo-doop.

BD straightened himself before his projector eye glowed, and the holographic image of Cordova appeared beside the wayfinder.

"Over my years of studying the Zeffo, I can say with finality that this device was not created by their kind…but of another precursor civilization," Cordova rambled, shown observing it in his hand. "But its design distinctly resembles that of the secondary artifact depicted in the Tomb of Miktrull mural. My best conclusion is that it is a wayfinder, perhaps a guide to reach a world not mapped by the Republic," he said, joy in his voice at the possibilities. "My friend, I believe this planet may be the key to finding our Astrium."

The recording ended, and Cal continued. "BD says he doesn't remember where the wayfinder goes, so we're heading in blind."

Xur mulled the information. This seemed like a lot of extra trouble for a holocron, but its importance certainly warranted the difficulty of accessing it. A list of force sensitive children…it could be the outlet for he and Cal to restore the Jedi Order and beat back the Empire. The fight could truly begin.

"The good news is that if this planet is off star charts, then we could be safe from the Empire while we're there," Cal leaned back.

Xur's anxiety sparked, but he stifled it.

"Don't get your hopes up, Cal," Xur warned. "If I've learned anything all this time, it's that the Empire is everywhere."

"Cal, Eon," Cere called, stepping out of the cockpit. "We're almost there. Better secure yourselves."


ISD Valkyrie, 14 BBY

Command Bridge

"Zakuul," Vorchenko revealed, her hands clasped behind her back and chest inwards, her chin angled downward in a state of focus.

"Never heard of it," Trilla admitted, adopting a very similar stance, their sets of eyes locked on the dark center of their hyperspace tunnel.

"It's ancient history, and the fact that it lies so deep in the Unknown Regions and serves absolutely nil strategic value to anyone," the admiral explained. "And yet that is where Cal Kestis is headed."

"You still haven't told me how you know this," Trilla noted, her arms crossing beneath her breast. "I'm not one too keen on marching into somewhere blind."

"Neither am I," Vorchenko seconded, and took the datapad that was offered to her from an officer. In an exchanging motion, Trilla looked down to see it passed on to her.

"What's this?" she asked, accepting it, her eyes granted the image of a Zeffo mural displayed on the screen. Some of it looked familiar, especially the style, but she was not one to focus on artistic culture. She had only observed it in such astute detail to determine why Eno Cordova had been so obsessed with an ancient culture, and the path he was leading her Jedi prey on now.

"There are two artifacts depicted," Vorchenko explained, her eyes focused back on the hyperspace tunnel. "One is what the Zeffo refer to as an "Astrium", and what do you believe the second appears to be?"

Trilla bit back a retort. She was in no mood for trivial games, but the Admiral had been resourceful enough for her to bite. "It appears to be…a Jedi holocron."

"It's a wayfinder," she corrected.

The Inquisitor scoffed. "Wayfinders come in many different shapes and constructions. What makes you so sure?"

"I got a second opinion," she said, taking the datapad back and handing it to her officer. "A rather intriguing alien who is rising through Imperial ranks at a staggering rate. His fascination for art proved to be quite useful, as he was able to determine it based off striations and molds-,"

"Why would Kestis come here?" Trilla cut her off, disinterested in some random Imperial cadet. "The only reason I can determine is that Master Cordova left another step for locating the holocron on Zakuul."

"That is a fair analysis."

Trilla sensed there was more the admiral wasn't telling her, but her structured mind was also a labyrinth virtually unreadable. Perhaps she had developed such a defense to hide her thoughts from the Jedi Generals she was forced to appease during the Clone Wars.

Or just to hide her thoughts from the likes of her.

"Admiral, brace for deceleration," the deck officer warned.

"Acknowledged."

The Valkyrie came out of hyperspace, the lines of blue becoming dots of stars…but they seemed to appear in simply deep space.

"Is your navi-computer malfunctioning?" Trilla questioned.

"Quite the opposite," Vorchenko denied, allowing her head to lean back. "Allow the hyperdrive to reset, and then begin the overcharge process."

"Yes ma'am."

Trilla was dumbfounded, but she attempted to not seem as such. "I'm not familiar with 'overcharging' the hyperdrive."

"It is somewhat dangerous, but a hyperdrive can siphon power from other areas of the ship to overcharge itself, firing the ship off at a speed too fast for even gravity wells to pull us out from. This means we can take a more direct route, bypassing hyperlanes, however since this part of space has no hyperlanes, we need to forge our own."

"But if we had a wayfinder, like Kestis," Trilla filled in.

"Precisely," she tipped her head in acknowledgement. "There would be no need."

The inquisitor sighed. "How long?"

Vorchenko shrugged. "Until we reach Zakuul? A day. Three at the longest."

Trilla grumbled. "Time is of the essence, Admiral."

"That is abundantly clear to me, Inquisitor," Vorchenko finally turned to her. "I recommend you settle in."

If I didn't need you to pull this off…

"You are testing me," she warned, her hand inching towards her hilt.

The bridge went eerily silent in that moment, and Vorchenko cocked her head. "You believe that fear instills superiority, do you not?"

Trilla turned her head but kept her eyes on her current adversary. "It is a powerful motivator."

"But it is by far the weakest foundation. Light a fire on a durasteel bridge with wood supports, and the entire structure will collapse. Fear has similar weaknesses, which I'm sure you've experienced rather recently."

Trilla's hand was inches away from the cold metal of her blade, and she could almost taste her death by now.

"I would stretch your senses, if I were you," Vorchenko warned. "Isn't that a power you Mystics are capable of?"

Her hand was on her hilt, and that was when she sensed something was not right. The black-armored pair of death troopers stationed at the edges of the bridge had moved during their standoff, now positioned close enough to Trilla to not only have a near point-blank shot but engage in melee if necessary. She felt she could take them…probably. Death troopers were rumored to be worth about three of her purge units, but by the time she dispatched them, Vorchenko would certainly have enough time to call upon other assets she had hidden.

Not only that, she sensed that other officers on the bridge were experiencing adrenaline at the situation…preparing themselves to fight…to defend their Admiral.

Trilla's hand fell away from her hilt, and the death troopers slowly backed off.

"Take my advice, Inquisitor," Vorchenko suggested, turning back to the viewport, but without the condescending tone she expected. "Lead by example, not fear. Then, your men will not only follow you now, but forever."

It was odd. Trilla didn't feel embarrassed, rather she was impressed. Her people's devotion to her, it was reminiscent…of him. Trilla had watched half of her own men betray her in an instant, because someone had been able to take their fear of her away. That meant, to not suffer the same fate, she would have to be the most feared being in the galaxy…

And she was far from that.

"I will consider your words," Trilla tipped her head, and left the admiral to her bridge.

As the inquisitor left her sight, Vorchenko only had one thought to that.

It may save your life.


Zakuul, 14 BBY

Unknown

Blo-peep?

"No, BD. I've never seen anything like this before," Cal replied as he stepped out of the Mantis and onto the old, rusted and abandoned landing pad, greeted to the sight of a fallen ecumenopolis. He could only imagine the majesty of this world when its lights brightened the night, and its bustling skies were still filled with skycars and speeders. The buildings were architectural wonders, hourglass shapes that stretched just beyond the atmosphere and into space, where the weaker center could be compensated with the lack of heavy gravity.

"It's like Coruscant," Cere noted, standing beside him. "But…everyone's gone."

Not everything was still standing. Cal noticed one toppled building in the distance, which in turn had left a trail of destruction in its wake. There were areas where some of the buildings had crumbled, and the sound of struggling durasteel was apparent in the wind, echoing across the landscape.

Not to mention that the Force was still strong here, and Cal felt as if ghosts were watching the both of them in the shadows.

His eyes paced to what looked like a device, ancient and far beyond inoperable, but he could sense an echo in the Force from it. Taking it into his gloved hand, he felt himself transported back multiple millennia…its history revealed.

"This was a dock worker's datapad," Cal said, turning to Cere as BD's scanning interface appeared over his shoulder. "We're on a planet called Zakuul. It used to be the center of galactic power at one point."

Cere's eyes narrowed. "Why does that name sound familiar…"

"Because you probably read about it in the Archives," Xur answered, descending the ramp as he pulled his last glove over his right hand. "Thanks for the change of clothes by the way, Cal. Got really tired of wearing that crap material."

Cal scoffed. "I'd expect Inquisitor garments to be high quality protection."

"Are you kidding me? That piece of shit couldn't stop a flea from biting you."

Cere rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Back to the task at hand, you're right. I remember the Archives having a section on a precursor empire that controlled the galaxy for a brief moment, but long enough to do some serious damage. They commanded something called the…Eternal Fleet I think it was."

"I second that," Xur pointed pulling up his pants. "Damn Cal have you been gaining weight?"

"Hilarious," he deadpanned, before returning his gaze to Cere. "If that's the case, then I can imagine they may have collected Zeffo artifacts during their reign. Maybe one of those is an Astrium."

"BD doesn't have any logs?" Cere asked.

Booooo.

"No, he doesn't," Cal translated.

"Then we're going in blind," Xur shrugged. "Lucky for you, I specialize in jumping into death traps with no intel."

Neither of them even acknowledged his comment, and Cal sensed a slight surge of distrust from their zabrak companion.

"Ok…what's up?" he asked. "Why the hard-ass seriousness?"

"There's a lot at stake, Eon," Cere justified. "And…"

Cal shook his head, eventually turning to Xur, deciding to get it off his chest. "We're concerned about your motives."

He narrowed his eyes. "My what?"

"Greez talked to you too, huh?" Cere noted.

Cal snorted, waving his hand in the air. "Oh, so we're just roping everyone in, are we?"

"Hang on…" Xur raised his hand, pulling up his pants again, and both of them stopped before they began to argue. The zabrak thought for a moment, before chuckling in a less-than-amused manner. "Is this about the whole Inquisitor thing?"

"Not…" Cere paused, this time reconsidering what she said.

The red-haired Jedi stepped forward. "If it were me or Trilla, who would you choose?"

Xur blinked a few times, before shaking his head. "What…what the fuck are you talking about, kid?"

"Alright, listen to me carefully," Cal spread both hands, demanding attention. "I trust you, and I don't want to speak for her, but I think Cere trusts you…but I'm worried your feelings for Trilla may have an adverse effect on your decision-making."

Xur scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. "You've got to be shitting me."

"Eon, this is serious-," Cere began, but the zabrak suddenly reared his head.

"I busted my fucking ass to get the hell out of there just to help you, and this is what I get? Distrust and deceit?"

"Now, Xur," Cal eased.

"If any of us should be concerned with anyone it should be her," he pointed to Cere. "You're the one who fucking cracked-," he stopped himself, eyes wide, and feelings of regret purposely projected in the Force, Cal figured. "That was…really unnecessary. Sorry, Cere. You didn't deserve that."

Neither Cere nor Cal said anything, and his blue eyes paced to them both before looking back to the ship. "Maybe I should just…"

"No," Cere shook her head, displaying no hurt in her eyes, and then turned to Cal. "He risked himself to help you on Zeffo…we should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"No you shouldn't," Xur denied, his head towards the floor. "I'll admit it…you're right, both of you. You know, maybe I'm not trustworthy…maybe I would choose Trilla when it came down to it…and maybe I haven't fully forgiven you, Cere, but that's on me, not you."

He looked up. "But I can promise you both this: I would never choose the Empire, and if that's what choosing Trilla entails, then you can bet your ass I'd side with you every time, Cal."

Cal mulled his words. He wanted very badly to put all his trust in the former Jedi. Part of him still looked up to him as an example, but he knew what the reality of him was. The Dark Side was a part of him, and it always would be…but it was time for Cal to start being a Jedi…to start putting his trust in people that may not completely deserve it but have earned that chance.

The Jedi smirked. "Then let's get to work, shall we?"

Xur seemed surprised, but eventually nodded his head and smirked back. "Yeah. Let's."


ISD Valkyrie, 14 BBY

Trooper Mess Hall

Trilla wasn't sure why she was here.

She sat at her own table at the edge of the entire hall, and she had watched troopers try to hide their movements away from her, but they were very bad at concealing their emotions. None of them wished to be too close to her and were probably asking that same question she had just asked herself.

There wasn't even a tray of rations before her. She was just…sitting there, unsure how to act upon the advice she had just received.

Being among them made her feel unwell internally. During her time in the Fortress, she had been isolated for so long that large crowds of other beings had adverse effects on not only her emotions, but her health entirely.

Not that either of those particularly mattered to her anymore.

Coincidentally, her mind focused more on Effa during her brood. The fellow inquisitor was still facing bed rest and bacta tank baths, but as far as injuries went, she was mostly healed. It was her mind that was the problem. She had never been fully stable, but her mental sanity had gone completely off the rails since Zeffo, spending most of her bed rest time engaging in full-on conversations with herself.

To see her like that…it was admittedly…unfortunate. Her constant nagging for Trilla to show her affection was less than amusing, however, resulting in the reduction of her visits to her counterpart.

Love, like restraint, meant death.

"Liar!"

Trilla's eyes flashed to full focus, shocked by the response, but realized it was only one trooper yelling at one of his companions across their table, followed by laughter from the group.

This was going nowhere, and she needed to prepare herself for Kestis. With a frustrated huff, she shuffled to rise to her feet.

"Second Sister?"

Her yellowing eyes met who had spoken, a familiar purge trooper standing at the opposite end of her table.

"Lieutenant Commander," she greeted, reaffirming her posture. "Is there something you need?"

Blaze had never been truly intimidated by her, but he had never been one to speak out of turn either. It was an…admirable combination of traits. Her best guess was that it was his trusting nature, adopting a "gung-ho veteran" demeanor, being one of the older troopers in the Inquisitorious, but still maintaining his stark professionalism.

He looked unsure of himself, perhaps mulling whether or not he should even engage in what he considered, but he eventually straightened himself. "May I ask you something, ma'am?"

Trilla knew better than to give him free reign. "Depends."

No fear rose within him, and he proceeded to take a leap of faith. "That mission on Zeffo…it keeps replaying in my head," he started, eventually taking a seat, in which she allowed him. "Did I miss something?"

The inquisitor narrowed her eyes. "In regard to what?"

Blaze hesitated, his eyes pacing away, before returning in a flash. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

She was somewhat unsure as how to respond. No one ever asked her that, and she had never wanted them to. Her men were supposed to follow orders and do their job, not lay upon her how they were feeling or…

And yet if she had known what their state of mind was…

"Granted," she approved.

He nodded, seeming somewhat stunned, but was good at not showing it. "I've been a soldier all my life, even before the Empire…I've never seen anything like that before. Half of a company just…turning on you?"

Trilla crossed her arms in warning. "I do not need you critiquing my supposed inadequacies as a commander."

"That's just it, ma'am…I don't think it was your fault."

She scoffed. "Of course it's my fault; my fault for being foolish enough not to see it sooner."

Trilla paused. What the hell was going on? Why would she admit to such a thing? Traitors are traitors, and in no way should she feel responsible for a failure of a mission when insurgents and deceivers had interfered.

Maybe she needed to reanalyze her mental state.

"I think there's something bigger going on…something we can't see," he admitted. "This Xur Eon…I've only heard stories about his exploits…but he didn't just fool you, he fooled everyone."

That was a favorable point of view.

"Stop me if you feel I'm overstepping my bounds, ma'am," he said. "But I've noticed you've been…hard on yourself since then."

Trilla considered ending the conversation then and there, but she decided to bite. There was no one on this ship who could possibly understand what she was dealing with, not with Effa the way she was, but there was slight comfort in the possibility of getting it off her chest.

"I don't…feel the same," she revealed, keeping her voice low, but not allowing her head to bow downwards. "Not since…"

Not since Xur pulled off his blasted helmet. He was the catalyst behind her imbalance, and he needed to be eradicated before it destroyed her.

It is not my decree, Sister.

Trilla winced, trying to hide the shiver of fear that followed her revisit of the Grand Inquisitor's words…and despair followed, the sheer hopelessness of ever getting the meddling zabrak out of her head.

She stood from her seat, just as she felt the Valkyrie come out of hyperspace once more. "I must prepare…" she hesitated, trying to speak as if learning a new word. "Blaze."

"I understand, ma'am," he nodded.

Trilla left the mess hall in a hurry. She felt she needed to kill something…or burst into tears.


Zakuul, 14 BBY

Unknown

Xur had just been reminded how much of an asshole he was.

He had seen what devices the Empire had put living beings in to, and to know that Cere had once been placed within one…and then to go on and punish her for it? The zabrak felt inclined to punch himself in the jaw, and he would whole-heartedly welcome it.

It was Trilla's revenge, certainly. Even if he felt like he had the upper hand, her voice still plagued his mind, whispering how he had failed her, and left her to suffer ever further at the hands of the Empire. Admittedly, he still held Cere responsible for what Trilla had become, but that was not even close to a valid excuse for what he had said. He could know, but he could never understand what both of them had gone through.

Love had a way of blinding one's sense of reality…and it really made him think. Would he ever choose Trilla over Cal? Not once had he considered it since he had joined the crew of the Mantis, and he imagined that was probably a good sign…but the answer to that question couldn't be answered until the moment came. Like he had realized many times before, the nightmare of that crimson blade protruding through her chest haunted him, sometimes even revisited him in his sleep. The idea of letting her die was unthinkable.

But I don't love her anymore.

Xur almost laughed to himself as he paced behind Cal and BD-1.

Yes you fucking do.

Honestly, he did, and he should stop trying to convince himself otherwise. One of the reasons he and Ahsoka had never stuck together after the war ended was simply that their motives were so different. They were on opposite sides of the spectrum, which seemed to be enticing during their time together. Trilla, on the other hand, had complimented much of him, and as unfortunate as it was, even more so now. The togruta had never strayed near the Dark Side, which was ironic with who her master ended up becoming, but Trilla had always been slightly less wary of it…which in turn seemed to be her undoing.

But it wasn't her fault. As far as he could tell, she had done everything she possibly could've done. She fought, and she lost, simply because the odds had been stacked too greatly against her.

She deserved better…much better.

BD-1 whistled and jumped from Cal's back, racing on its two short legs towards an old doorway. "Hey! Wait up, BD!" Cal protested.

They had been walking along an elevated man-made plateau that housed a strip; a pathway in between two rows of towering buildings. Because of their position, darkness was present around the clock, as the sun could not breach the building cover above, not to mention the thick, dark clouds of the swamp world. It made Xur wonder…why choose the swamps to build atop of? Not only were swamp worlds notoriously more dangerous than others, building foundations were much more difficult to establish. Truthfully, he was impressed by the ingenuity of this entire world, seemingly far ahead of its own time.

Doo-whoop. Beep-boo.

"Your scanners are picking up something?" Cal confirmed, and then let his eyes run up the side of the building, which towered into the sky. Xur couldn't shake an eerie call in the Force just from looking at it.

In fact…it was…strong.

"Do you feel that?" Xur asked, unexplainably spooked.

Cal looked back, and he couldn't find the same look on his face. "Feel what?"

The zabrak waved it off. "Nothing. We need to get this door open."

As he stepped forward, his Jedi counterpart grasped his shoulder. "Hang on. BD, I need you to scan for structural integrity."

BD nodded in compliance and activated his receptor, projecting the scanning interface. Xur grumbled to himself. This was why he shut out these feelings when they came. They made him sloppy.

"Good catch, Cal," he admitted, truthfully finished referring to him as "kid". The connotation didn't fit their age gap much anyhow, and now, he wasn't sure he deserved such a high ground anymore.

BD finished his scan, letting out a trill of beeps. Cal nodded. "Hey says it's-,"

"I know what he said, Cal," Xur elbowed him with a smile.

"That's right," he remembered. "Sorry, habit. Usually I run translator."

"I know the feeling."

Cal stepped forward, running his gloved hand over the durasteel door as BD jumped back onto his back. "No power. We could probably force it open."

"Solid durasteel?" Xur questioned. "If we had ordinance, sure, but this isn't the Clone Wars."

The Jedi wasn't about to give up, trying to dig his hands in between the two sliding doors. "There's got to be a way inside," he grunted, eventually giving up on his futile effort. "BD, scan for alternate routes."

Xur grabbed ahold of his shoulder. "Cal…just move."

His green eyes narrowed but he complied. "Oh…kay."

Placing his back foot in a supporting stance, the zabrak centered himself, calling upon as much energy as his body could contain, and only Cal could see the air around him distort from the phenomenon. Once he felt as if his own body would burst, he stepped forward and outstretched both hands, unleashing a battering ram of Force energy that ripped through the air and tore through the durasteel with a scream of clenching metal. Left behind was enough of a hole for the two of them to fit through.

Cal scoffed while BD let out a whoo-hoo. "You've got to teach me how to do that."

Xur took in deep breaths of calm, the Dark Side rising within him. "Nah. Then you'll end up like Trilla."

He paused before heading inside, turning his head back to his companion. "You used the Dark Side?"

The zabrak shrugged as he passed the Jedi, patting him on the shoulder as he entered the building. "Just a bit."

Cal followed, both of them greeted to darkness. "How does that work, exactly…your immunity."

Xur pulled his hilt from his belt, igniting the bleeding crystal to fill the darkness with a crimson hue, and the low, terrifying roar. "I don't even really know. All I know is when the Dark Side tries to take over, it doesn't, and I can make it go away at will."

"Sounds simple enough," Cal replied, igniting his master's blue blade, the end of his hilt repaired with that of Master Cordova's own.

Xur let out a weak laugh, kneeling to clear dust from the old rug beneath him. "I wish it was." The feeling he experienced was closer, but its cry had weakened somewhat, and he worried his force attack on the door had a hand in that.

In fact, the more time he spent here, the more it felt familiar. He had never once set foot on Zakuul, only read stories on it in the Archives during one of his punishment assignments with Ana…that Jedi. This place…it's vibe…the planet itself called to him, as if he were meant to be here.

There was something here for him, something beyond Cal's quest for Cordova's holocron.

"Xur, come see this," Cal called, and the zabrak turned, watching BD-1 illuminate what looked to be a deactivated droid, sprawled against the side wall in a dusted corner. "Never seen a droid like this before."

Xur narrowed his eyes and took a knee, albeit wary to touch the droid despite its obvious inoperability. "It looks like a…HK series maybe?" he surmised.

BD confirmed that with a scan.

"This droid's processor is still intact?" Xur asked, and BD nodded with a beep. "So you could reactivate it?"

"Woah, woah," Cal warned. "We have no idea what this thing does."

"Cal, if we can get a droid guide through this place, that's gold," Xur reasoned, then turning back to BD. "Do it."

He hesitated his optical receptors zoning in on Cal for confirmation, which was…admirable to the zabrak. It showed the pair's trust in one another.

The Jedi sighed, but eventually nodded. "Alright BD…just be careful, buddy."

BD beeped in assurance, before climbing atop the dead droid and raising one leg, letting it spark with power before plunging it onto the droid's chest. At first, nothing happened…until the droid's yellow eyes flared to life. It reared forward, launching BD from its chest and into a tumble along the ground.

"BD!" Cal shouted, chasing after him while Xur jumped to his feet, saber ignited in hand.

The droid slowly stood, its movements robotic and stiff, until its eyes flashed in a constant pattern, its head moving up and down the zabrak.

"Scanning detected organic," it said, its voice fuzzy, as if it was repairing itself. Xur waited, saber in hand, while Cal picked up BD from the ground.

"Are you alright buddy?" he asked.

Woo-hoo!

Cal chuckled. "Whatever you say."

"Scan complete, genetic identification confirmed," the droid's eyes stopped blinking, and its bronzium-plated armor relaxed its stiff stance. "Hello, Master."

Xur cocked his head. "Master?"

"Yes! Master! You have purchased a Hunter Killer 69 series model for combat and protection. I am HK-69, and it appears I am now made to serve you."

The zabrak ran his hand through his hair, slicking it back, visibly confused. "Oh…kay. You can start by telling me about this place."

"Of course!" the HK unit jubilantly nodded. "Scanning…we are in the Czerka Corporation's Embassy here on Zakuul…although my memory banks distinctly remember the light levels being much higher."

"A lot has happened since…then," Xur figured as Cal came up beside him, letting BD climb on his back once more. "Zeffo…tell me what you know about that."

HK-69's head jerked, and eyes blinked, before speaking again. "Zeffo: a term used to describe an ancient precursor race long forgotten in the annuls of time. They were of little to no interest to the Eternal Emperor," the droid stopped, and then spoke again. "Aside from one scientist my old master had me slaughter. Hm…pity…that meatbag's scream nearly ruptured my audio receptors."

Xur held up his hand. "You killed a scientist studying the Zeffo?"

"Yes, of course. It was my old master's command, but now, you are my new master," HK answered. "I scanned his research logs before I left his body to rot."

"My god," Cal rubbed his eyes in disgust.

HK turned its head toward Cal, and rigidly pointed. "Is this meatbag bothering you, master? I can gladly murder him for you."

As Cal backed off with his hilt in hand, Xur held back the droid. "No, no! You are not allowed to kill this… 'meatbag'. He is a friend, understood?"

The droid sighed, pulling its hand away from the rifle slung over its shoulder. "Very well, master. I will refrain from killing this one until you say the word.

Cal shook his head. "Xur I think we should scrap this bucket of bolts and move on," he suggested, and BD trilled negatively at the droid.

"I am no bucket of bolts," HK complained. "And your inferior droid companion should watch his language."

"HK!" Xur grabbed its attention. "The logs…tell me about the logs."

"Are we still on this topic, Master?" the droid asked, and Xur gave him a trying look. "The logs are very boring and uninteresting for a meatbag, but they repeat one phrase."

Xur cocked his head, and Cal leaned in, while HK's head jerked to the two of them.

"Where the skies end, the key will be found."

"Where the skies end," Cal echoed, but in the next moment, their commlinks both blared to life.

"Cal, Eon," Cere called, her voice begrudged. "The Empire is here."

Cal's eyes widened, but Xur's expression remained the same, waiting for more information.

"Only one Star Destroyer, the same we saw over Zeffo," she relayed.

That was all he needed to hear, and the presence that had appeared in the Force once Cere had called had a face. "It's Trilla. She found us," Xur confirmed.

"You're sure?" Cal asked.

Xur nodded with finality. "It's her. Cere, you should move the Mantis. You can't sit still like usual."

"If we fire up the engines, they'll know where we are."

"They already know where you are," Xur denied. "If it's who I think it is, she'll have you pinged on a map before she sends any ground troops. Your best chance is to keep moving."

"What do you mean?" Cal asked, and Xur detected a level of mistrust peeking out again.

"That ISD we saw over Zeffo, that's the Valkyrie. Admiral Vorchenko's ship."

Cal's eyes flashed with slight recognition. "The one you fooled…the one who thought she'd killed you."

Xur nodded. It was good to hear his story was believable. "Yes, and she's here to tie up loose ends…with Trilla as her weapon."

Cal grumbled. "Dammit."

HK jerked its head. "Have you considered the skytrooper foundry, Master?"

"The what?"

"Skytrooper: a variant of battle droid used as the backbone of the Eternal Empire's military," HK explained. "There is a foundry nearby. If there are meatbags here to kill you, and you believe my protection is not enough, then I suggest we acquire…reinforcements."

Xur and Cal paused, slowly looking to each other, until BD trilled in agreement, confirming HK-69's idea.

"You get that Cere?" Cal asked.

"I have no idea who that was, but it sounds like our only chance," Cere answered. "I suggest you come up with a distraction."

"Heh, I can manage that," Cal reassured, but BD protested. "And BD, of course."

"I'll take HK then," Xur agreed. "We'll go find this foundry. Stay safe, Cal."

"I think I should be saying that to you," Cal warned, his eyes looking towards HK, before running out the door with his little droid on his back.

Once they were alone, HK leaned in. "Master, if you wish to designate a certain meatbag to my omega no-kill protocol, for whatever reason, I can do so for you."

Xur crossed his arms. "You can do that? Sure."

"I must caution you, Master," HK warned, and Xur tilted his head. "You may only designate one name."

Xur's eyes widened…and his emotional conflict returned.

"Choose wisely."


The next chapter is where ALL the action is, so I hope you enjoyed this taste for what's to come. I know this story has been a little tame since The Revenant, but the big conflicts are right around the corner…and who knows what's in store for Xur, Trilla and Cal?

Thanks for reading! If you'd like, there is a poll currently at the top of my profile where you can input your opinion. It could decide what characters appear sooner!