CHAPTER 18

Black Thunder
Part I

"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?"

Ordo Eris, 14 BBY

Haxion Brood Lair

Cal tried to open his mouth, only to find constant pain as she lifted his cheek from the filthy, durasteel floor. Immediately spitting as an unknown and vile taste ravaged his tongue, he held back a vomit as his senses fully actualized. The room was dark, smelled of rotting flesh, and with a quick look he realized it was a cell. His mind drifted, trying to recall how he had ended up wherever it is he was…to no avail.

"BD?" he rasped, his voice returning as it struggled up his dry throat. Quickly he noticed that his droid companion was not on his back, and that sparked his focus. "BD?" he called again, louder. "Little buddy?"

"Your droid is gone, Padawan."

His eyes bulged, pupils narrowed, and Cal's head whipped to the sound of a voice he knew all too well. Sitting at the other end of the cell was Trilla Suduri, dressed differently than he could remember, but he could care less. Her face was plenty to prod his already unstable mental position.

Cal sprinted forward and leapt out like a madman, only to see Trilla quickly roll away from his attack and deftly flip to her feet, fists raised. Scrambling forward, he roared, swinging at her with his lesser martial skill, only to watch her block both blows and plant her boot into his chest, knocking him onto his rear.

"Not anything special without your blade, are you?" she noted, looking down upon him with a frustrated gaze, which was a change in pace from the downwards condescension.

"What did you do?!" Cal growled, leaping into her chest, his tackle enough to take her down. They clawed at each other with vicious tenacity, until Cal managed to wrap his hands around her neck. "Where's BD?!" he screamed. "Where's MERRIN?!"

Trilla roared and pushed him from atop her with both arms outstretched, the Force attack enough to slam his back into the wall of the cell. Enraged by his attack, she jumped forward and pinned him down, forearm over his neck and other fist raised, putting enough pressure to make him gag.

"If I wanted you dead, Padawan, you would be," she seethed while he struggled. "I'm a prisoner, like you."

Cal shook his head, almost gasping for air. "Liar…"

Trilla snorted. "If you wish to test me, I will gladly beat the truth into you!"

"Of course you would," he growled, and Trilla looked stunned by his sudden dark response. "Because that's all you are: a murderer…a hate-filled murderer!"

"What do you know?!" she nigh screamed in response, his hatred only fueling her own as she pressed up against his neck even harder. "Think, Padawan…I know it's difficult for you. Why would I capture you, then lock myself in your cell with no weapons?"

Cal managed to scoff without proper airflow to his lungs. "Who knows? You're demented and insane. Last time I saw you, you chased me across an entire planet, your eyes blazing with uncontrollable hatred."

Trilla paused for a moment, her eyes turning yellower by the minute, and she seemed to realize something as she continued to hold him down, her strength plenty so. "Such hatred…" she noticed. "Did Cere finally crack, just as I said she would?"

This time, he roared, and suddenly had enough strength to free himself, his shove enough to make her stumble backwards as she defended herself against his next attack flurry. "I've had enough of your lies!"

All he saw was red, and his control was a foregone conclusion, eventually coming full circle when Trilla finally clobbered him in the jaw, enough for his vision to blur, and him to collapse. He held his mouth as the pain worked its way across his face, and he heard Trilla spit.

"You're pathetic," she growled. "You've already cracked."

He breathed, and finally here words made it through to him. His memories slowly returned from Dathomir, watching Order 66 once again, facing his master…his lightsaber.

And the power he could not resist.

Cal massaged his bone and let his head droop. "You're right…I failed. My master was right…I'm no Jedi. I don't even know what I am."

Trilla's fists were still clenched, and truth be told, she wanted nothing more than continue to beat down on him, but there would be nothing to gain from such cruelty…and she was beyond those foul impulses. What truly made her pause, however, was his recitation of her exact words, the same she had said to Xur before their…unfortunate turn of events.

She sighed, falling to her rear in a heap and opening her palms. "Neither do I."

Her former prey looked up to her, surprised by her response, but pieced it together in his head. "The Ninth Sister said you were kicked out."

Trilla scoffed in amusement, letting her head fall back as she worked out kinks in her neck. "Oh? That's an oversimplification, and honestly, not very truthful."

"Yeah?" Cal then flicked his head. "Well, judging by that patch job on your suit, I'd say you and the Empire are having some issues."

She chuckled. "How uncharacteristically perceptive of you. While I do not have the years for you to possibly understand what has transpired since Zakuul, I can assure you that the Empire and I are finished."

Trilla felt raw euphoria just from saying that.

Cal scoffed. "Well then, that's interesting. Cere would be-."

"She and I, however," she growled. "Are a different matter."

"Right, right. I was just saying-."

"And I make no apologies," Trilla made clear, her eyes stern and final. "For anything. Not for those I've killed, not for the words I've said…nothing. Don't ask."

The red-haired Jedi sighed, sitting up straight as his jaw finally stopped throbbing. "Not even for Prauf?"

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Who?"

"Abednedo, bout this tall," he gestured. "We're all just expendable."

Trilla almost laughed, and his brow slanted with a lack of amusement. "If I didn't kill him, someone else would've shot him anyhow. As I've made clear, Padawan, I make no apologies. I did what I had to do to survive."

"Why do you always have to call me Padawan?" he asked.

She gave him an expression as if it was obvious. "It's what you are."

Cal scoffed. "I see…I guess I'll start calling you Padawan too."

"Shall we return to when I had your neck beneath my arm?" she reminded him in warning. "Padawan?"

He gulped. "No thanks."

A blanket of silence covered the two of them, and Cal was hesitant to continue speaking with her, still shaking off the fact that she still had the face of the Second Sister in his eyes. Trilla stayed quiet merely because she didn't want to speak to him much at all.

His curiosity broke it. "So what happened?"

Trilla mulled staying silent, but eventually looked away, realizing they had nothing but time in their cell.

"Xur. Xur happened."


Do not allow your personal feelings to jeopardize your destiny!

You said it yourself, I can beat the Sith!

You can't beat him! You can't-

Xur jolted awake, and instantly his vision was filled with green, a blinding hue that consumed everything he could perceive. With a stunned motion, he tried to bat it away, and when he rolled to one side, he was freed of that light, until his head slammed into durasteel.

"Gah! Fuck!" he cursed, holding his head. "The hell?"

"You are awake."

Xur turned towards the voice, and instantly he scrambled away from what he saw, an undeniable terror gasping hold of him.

Merrin couldn't understand why this man was suddenly afraid of her, especially when she had been trying to heal him as best she could. He was a nightbrother after all…she was only doing her duty.

"Easy, brother," she eased, trying to approach, only to see him clench his fists and rise to his feet in a confrontational manner.

"Back off, witch!" he warned. "Get the hell away from me!"

Xur was deadly serious with his threat. The last time he saw a nightsister, he had never stopped hearing whispers until he was many parsecs away from Dathomir, and a few weeks had gone by. They had tried to own him once, and he vowed to never let them near him again.

She tried to look innocent, but it only made him even more wary. "I am a nightsister, not a witch," she corrected. "Your fear is unnecessary. I was only trying to help."

"Yeah? Well you can help me by staying as far away from me as you can," he pointed. "I've seen what you do to guys like me…so you take your green shit and keep it to yourself."

Merrin narrowed her eyes. "It is not green…shit," she tried to pronounce the word she had never heard of. "It is magik."

"I don't care what you call it. I'd better not see it, or I swear, I'll…" he trailed off as his memory clicked into place, and suddenly more important questions came to mind. "Where the hell are we?"

"A prison of some kind," Merrin answered, respectfully keeping her distance for now. "I do not know where."

Xur took a chance to walk to the bars of their cell, but even with a quick survey, this place was unlike anything he had seen. It seemed to be carved out of a rock face, but on closer inspection of the stone walls, he recognized that this was most likely space rock…which meant they were trapped in some prison outfitted on an asteroid. Those had been common for criminals of high crimes during the Republic, but now it was just standard for the Empire.

But this was certainly not an imperial prison.

Then another question sparked into his mind.

"Trilla…" he trailed off. "Oh, shit."

"Who is…Trilla?" Merrin asked, standing at the other end of the cell.

"None of your damn business, that's who," he snapped, looking around for a possible way out of his cell. He could try to blow through the door with a simple force push, but he wasn't sure how secure the bottom clamps were, and he'd rather not cause a loud scene, letting everyone know he was out.

"Well…my name is Merrin," she continued, a sarcastic edge to her voice. "Not like it mattered to you."

Xur appreciated her sarcasm, admittedly, and truth be told, she hadn't done anything to prove she was a threat…aside from his abrasive preconceptions. She could be trying to gain his trust just to sell him out, but that felt needlessly pessimistic.

And it was obvious that she was younger than he.

"Xur," he finally answered. "I'm not a nightbrother, though."

Merrin seemed to appreciate him opening up, which momentarily upped his guard. "I figured as much. You do not have the birth tattoos, and your clothing does not reflect their culture."

"Sorry. I wasn't privileged enough to receive them," Xur explained with an edge to his voice, pulling at the bars to test their strength, only to see they were plenty dug in to hold him at bay. "Instead I'm a prisoner in some rusted-over dump with no way out."

"Oh, nonsense," Merrin crossed her arms. "I could leave here any time I wished."

Xur scoffed. "What are you waiting for then?"

"You, of course. Now that you have confirmed you are not a nightbrother, I know that you must be the Jedi Xur Eon."

He froze, his head slowly turning as he gave up on the bars. "And you figured that out…how?"

"Well-."

"Actually, don't even answer that," Xur cut her off. "I don't want to know what kind of fucked up shit you did to my head."

Merrin felt her annoyance bristle with his rude interruptions and blatant disrespect for her, and with her frustration of their capture, she snapped.

"I did nothing to you!" she shouted, her voice doubled over, and Xur backed up against the door like a scared pup, trying to slip through the bars. When she realized what she had done, she backed off, calming herself. "Sorry…I didn't mean to…"

"No, no," Xur shook his head, forcing a smile while sweat poured over his face. "It's fine…totally fine."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why is it that you Jedi always become nervous when I am present?"

Xur cleared his throat, stepping from the door and reasserting himself. "I don't know…what you mean. You've met another Jedi?"

She nodded. "Yes, he spoke of you. His name is Cal Kes-."

"Cal Kestis?!" he cut her off. "He's here?!"

Merrin almost growled, and Xur backed off again. "That is what I was trying to say. I was trying to nurse you back to health, but instead you have continuously berated me for no warranted reason."

Xur grimaced to himself.

Nice job, dickhead. This young lady has done nothing but try to help you, and yet you've written her off simply by what she looks like. What a man you are.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry…Merrin. I just…you know…"

She cocked her head to one side, very Trilla-esque. "Didn't know?"

Xur tried his best to break the awkwardness, but really found no words that could do the trick. "Yeah, you know what? How about we get out of here and uh…find our friends?"

"If you are done being abrasive, then yes," Merrin smirked.

The zabrak rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure. You said you could get out any time…"

Merrin disappeared before his eyes, and he jerked his head back and forth with extreme discomfort as she left his vision, but before long, he heard a manifesting sound, and the cell door opened. He stepped through slowly, looking down each hall, before seeing Merrin standing by the control panel.

"Neat trick," he noted.

"Thank you."

Xur scratched his head, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he'd had his hand held most of the way so far. "So, I was thinking maybe we should start this way," he pointed down the tarnished hallway, as opposed to the opposite one heading in the other direction. "Or maybe-."

"I will find them," she said, and then disappeared once again.

"Hey, Mer-…ah whatever," he sighed, beginning his own search, probing the Force for that specific signature.


"I can't even…wow," Cal gasped once Trilla finished her retelling of everything since Zakuul…all the parts she wanted him to know. It was admittedly refreshing to get that tumultuous time off her chest, even if it was towards someone she didn't particularly like. Her life had been completely reshaped in such a short time, that not even she could believe herself as she explained it. "Dare I say that's…empowering."

"You are too kind, Padawan," she rolled her eyes, fed up with revealing things to him, as well as sitting in her cell. "My question is why we are not bound in these cells," she noted, looking down to her wrists. "I certainly would not leave prisoners so…open."

"I'll bet," Cal popped his brow, rising to his feet. "There's got to be something here…"

"You're wasting your time," she huffed. "I've already checked the area. You won't find anything."

"Ah, well," Cal grunted as he pulled off a nearby durasteel panel in the wall, finding nothing behind. "Judging by your lack of success in catching me, I'm not sure why you're surprised," he mocked, dropping the panel to the ground and moving to another.

"If Xur had not intervened, it would've only been a matter of time," she sneered his way. "You were crafty, I will grant you, but Cere was your weak link. It would've backfired when you needed it most."

"And your arrogance would've had the better of you," Cal retorted, dropping another panel.

Trilla did not bite back. She merely stared through the bars and recalled that fateful day on Zeffo…seeing Xur's face for the first time again and remembering where her mind had been before it all came crashing down.

She smiled, giggling for a moment. "Perhaps."

As Cal shook off her unexpected and somewhat chilling response, he finally found a panel with a power console, and began to pull and pry at it using his previous knowledge as a scrapper.

"Tell me, Padawan," she continued to question him. "When you saw me for the first time…what did you think?"

Cal scoffed. "You mean before you killed Prauf?"

Trilla said nothing, merely waiting for him to answer.

He shrugged, accepting her previous standpoint, while pulling some small tools from his belt to gain access to the circuit. "Honestly, I was pretty sure you were forty years old."

She rolled her eyes, as she was only 25. "I see why you have remained single all this time…unless of course…" she trailed off, and her sinister questioning gave Cal a slight shiver down his spine. "…this Merrin…you shouted her name while you attempted to kill me. Who is she?"

He hesitated, eventually electing to focus on his work. "That's none of your business."

Trilla giggled. "Oh? Padawan, your sabacc face is dreadful."

The red-haired Jedi ignored her again, trying to connect his rod to both ends of the exposed conduit, only to fail getting it to conduct.

"Do you know how to do it?"

Cal growled, knowing she was not referring to his current task. "Of course I know how to do it."

Trilla spat as she began laughing, reminding him of that same one he had heard when HK had refused to kill her. "This is but one reason I refer to you as Padawan. You are still just a boy, pretending to be a man," she mocked, and he kept to himself, failing to hide his growing frustration. "Tell me, boy. Has a woman ever touched you before?"

"Yes, Trilla, a woman has touched me before," he snapped, grimacing as a spark ignited his thumb for a moment.

She cocked her head, a mocking smile working its way across her face. "No…I mean…touched you."

He said nothing, his annoyance building.

"Let me tell you…there is nothing better," she giggled to herself, smiling in blissful memory. "When you are with another…and especially when he's *ugh* built like a-."

"I get it," he cut her off. "How about you help me get us out of here?"

"Because I make observations while you stumble from debacle to debacle," she retorted in condescension. "Look around, Padawan," she twirled her finger, grabbing Cal's attention to do as directed. "Ask yourself. Why would a cell have panels in the first place?"

Cal looked around, dumbfounded. "I was wondering that myself, actually."

"Then I will spare you another bout of aimlessly searching for something I've already found. These cells have panels because they're built to hold animals…not sentient beings," she explained, rising to her feet and reaching behind the panel her back had rested on. "Also, the fact that we are not bound, and the cell is not ray shielded," she continued, and Cal watched the door open as Trilla punched in the hidden button behind the panel. "They want us to escape, Padawan."

"Huh? Why would they want us to escape?" Cal asked.

"A number of reasons are possible," she deducted, searching her gloves for any grime. "I believe these are either pirates or some kind of mercenary band."

Cal walked through the cell door, glancing both ways. "Well I could've figured that out."

"Could've, the operative word," Trilla dusted off her hands, walking past him and down the hall to their right.

"Wait! Shouldn't we be more careful?"

Trilla stopped, her head only gracing him with one eye as she turned her neck. "Have you not heard a word I've said?"

Cal grit his teeth, his annoyance with her at the breaking point. "Okay, you know what? I'm sick of this. If you're going to keep being a bitch, you're on your-."

Trilla was on top of him within a blink of an eye, strangling him with a crazed look on her face. "Do not…call me…that," she growled, watching him gag. "I've had enough presumptuous men call me a bitch to last me a lifetime. Call me that again, and I will kill you!"

"Let him go!" another voice came in, and Trilla watched a figure manifest from nothing and fling her across the hall with an unseen force, rolling end over end until she managed to handstand and flip back to her feet. Standing beside Cal was a pale-skinned woman to which Trilla identified as a dathomiri nightsister, holding her glowing hand out in warning. "You will not harm him."

Trilla roared and fazed forward again, only to feel her legs and arms lock together in a bind, crashing to the ground in a heap.

"What…is this?!" she pulled at the binds, finding no give. As sudden as they appeared, panic set in, and the more she tried to struggle, the tighter they became. Her mind fell into a trance, the terrifying noises came back, the screams…the helplessness. "Let me GO!" she screamed in an anguished cry.

Merrin closed her fist. "Not a chance, Imperial scum."

Cal's eyes widened. "Wait, no!"

Another roar echoed through the hall, and a tidal wave of force energy crashed into both Merrin and Cal, feeling as if they had been hit by a full speed mag-lev train. They tumbled and landed roughly, looking to see Xur sprinting down the hall. While Cal fully expected him to attack, he stopped short at Trilla, who had been freed, and was now breathing heavy breaths of recuperation.

"Trilla…Trilla, it's alright!" he called to her, taking a knee. "You're safe."

She fought off hyperventilation, letting her mind set into reality and accept that she was not back in that chair. She was here…with him, and when she looked up and saw his blue eyes, her panic faded.

But she remembered something else.

Xur helped her to her feet while Merrin and Cal did the same for themselves, and they watched Trilla's hand collide into his cheek.

"Ow!" Xur protested, holding his face. "What the fuck?!"

"We were fighting about something!"

Xur scoffed, rubbing his skin. "Now? We're doing this now?!"

Her teeth were grit, pointing with a stern finger. "Do not…ever…lie to me again."

"Oh, like you've never lied to me before!"

While Trilla and Xur's shouting match ensued, Cal helped Merrin to her feet, noticing a streak of blood running along the side of her face. "Merrin…your forehead."

"It's fine," she shook off, placing her hand over the cut skin, only to discover the blood that covered her hand. "Oh…still, I've had worse."

"You sure?" Cal asked.

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes now focused on the couple whose voices were only rising higher and higher. "I have a feeling this is normal for them. Two very distinct personalities."

"You can say that again."

Trilla gave Xur the cold shoulder, not gracing him with her gaze. "…oh believe me, I know you're far beyond giving a shit."

"That's bullshit, and you know it!" he reared forward, demanding her attention. "I don't do these things because I'm against you! I'm only trying to help!"

"I can't have your help if I can't have your trust!" she whirled back to face him. "I know you still don't trust me!"

"Fuck that! Of course I trust you!"

Cal stepped forward. "Hey, can you guys-."

"Stay out of this!" they both shouted in unison, and continued to berate each other, leaving Cal to only sigh as he looked on. In a swift motion, Merrin marched to his side, and he spotted her eyes glow green.

"Quiet!" she shouted in a terrifying bellow, bringing their argument to an abrupt halt, while Merrin let her magik dissipate. "Thank you. Shouldn't we be more concerned with escaping this place?"

Trilla looked visibly upset, but Cal was glad they had finally stopped their screaming. It wasn't really anything new, especially with what happened on Zeffo, but in this manner was slightly confusing…and odd. There was no malintent behind any of their words, just frustration with the other over something that seemed miniscule in the grand scheme, which honestly was a nice change of pace compared to the constant death threats.

Yet he was still waiting to see Trilla smile without a sadistic edge, which worried him if Cere ever crossed her path. That was an issue that he would rather avoid…since it would likely result in his blade being raised against Xur's.

"Trilla, please," the zabrak almost begged, which was a new sight for Cal. "I'm sorry."

Trilla clenched her fist, visually searching for a reason to stay upset with him, but eventually her expression broke, and Cal could sense the embarrassment within her. He chalked it up to her not wishing to display weakness in front of the Jedi…or maybe her idea of weakness had shifted, based on what she had told him.

She sighed, stepping forward and pulling him in for a hug. "It's alright. Sorry I slapped you…again."

Xur returned it, pressing up against her back to instill comfort within his partner. "Ah, no big deal. I think that side of my face is numb to it anyhow."

She scoffed and giggled. "You are such a fucking cunt."

Cal looked over to Merrin, who was watching the exchange with an intrigued look, as if she was attempting to understand what she saw. Dumbfounded and confused, she eventually met his gaze. "Where is your droid?"

His eyes widened. BD…how could I forget?

"We need to find him," he insisted, already preparing to start looking. "Any ideas?"

Merrin shrugged. "I thought I spotted a droid heap that way," she pointed towards Trilla and Xur, who were finally pulling away.

"Droid heap?"

She awkwardly pulled back, scratching the back of her neck momentarily. "I'm…I'm sure he's alright."

"He'd better," Cal growled, turning to Xur and Trilla. "We'd better move."

"Forget the droid," Trilla insisted. "I need my weapon, and to kill whoever dared to trap me in this place."

"No, we need BD," Xur agreed with Cal. "That droid's memory banks are the only link to-."

"Finding the Jedi holocron, yes I know this," Trilla finished for him. "We'll get it after we find our weapons."

"My lightsaber, it's…" Cal trailed off, realizing the embarrassment of it. "…well it's broken. Finding it before BD wouldn't do me any good, besides, he has healing stims, and Merrin is hurt."

"I'm fine," the nightsister insisted. "But I believe you are both right. I think we should split up. You two get your weapons, and we will get his droid."

Trilla scoffed. "When you two get captured again, you're on your own."

"I thought you said they wanted us to escape," Cal reminded her.

"Huh?" Xur asked, looking to her. "Why the hell would they want that?"

"Still working on that," she answered.

"Well, until you figure that out, I think Merrin's right," Xur agreed. "We should split up."

"What about communication?" Cal brought up. "Assuming we find a ride out of here."

"Eon here is a zabrak. I have a natural affinity at sensing him," Merrin said, drawing an uncomfortable stare from Xur, to which Trilla met with her arms crossed, animosity building.

"Hm. Isn't that interesting?" Trilla huffed.

"Don't start getting jealous," Xur joked.

"I am not!"

"Okay, that sounds great!" Cal interrupted, marching through the two of them and dragging Merrin along with him. "Come on, let's go find BD."

"Um, yes," Merrin accepted, trying to keep up. "Uh, good luck, you two."

"Thanks," Xur nodded, watching the two of them go. Once they were out of sight, he felt a fist pound into his shoulder, to which he reacted harshly. "Dammit, stop fuckin' hitting me!" he protested to Trilla, who had her arms crossed.

"What took you so long?!"

"Do you have any idea how abusive you are?" Xur was genuinely upset this time, fed up with her constant physical attacks. "There are better ways to get your point across than beating the fuckin shit out of me! I thought you'd have figured that out by now."

Trilla's expression softened, and he figured that was only because Cal was out of their sight, filled with some useless idea that she had to still project her own dominance over him. "I've been captured enough…I'm not sure how many more chains I'm willing to endure."

Xur stepped forward, taking her hands into his. "Look, we're going to find these people, and we're going to fuck em up…just like old times. Deal?"

Trilla's confidence spiked, and she smirked. "Like old times, then."


Effa was in a very good mood. What a time it was to finally be alive…and to fill her ears with the agony of others. The alien in her grasp sufficed well, as the burning blade searing through his thigh let out a smell of charred flesh, one that made her lick her lips in pleasure. Her previous playmate was already dead, sprawled out on the floor in the "lobby" that the Haxion Brood had made her wait in. Needing something to pass the time, the two slimeball alien bounty hunters who tried to infatuate her served nicely.

Her two scary-looking purge trooper boy toys just stood and watched as she sat with one leg over the other, letting her blade burn his leg as she flipped her bangs out of her eyes.

Her victim screamed in a language she didn't understand, and she shrugged. "Does that mean 'stop'?" she asked, eventually looking to her two armored guards, who shrugged.

"Hell if I know, ma'am," her Commander answered.

Effa's eyes bulged in surprise. "You remembered! Someone here finally treats me like a lady," she smiled and hummed to herself, while the Commander's counterpart nudged him with his elbow in compliment. So joyous with his respect for her, she deactivated her blade, and the alien grasped his leg in shivers of pain. Clipping it back to her belt, she cleared her throat. "Now, my wounded friend…could you please tell your boss that I'm tired of waiting? Please?"

Whatever he spoke, he understood her, and crawled away as fast as he could, eventually limping with the help of the side railing, disappearing around the corner. There was no one else in the room, and Effa leaned back into her chair.

Eventually, Not-Commander spoke up. "Did you see that new 74-Z model?"

"Hell yes," the Commander nodded. "Hopefully if we get deployed for recon, they'll kick one my way."

"Always been a 614-AvA girl," Effa inquired. "Z's are too military issue for my taste."

"Ah, come on, the speed on the Z though, ma'am. Don't tell me you don't like that," Not-Commander tried to convince her, to which she merely shrugged.

"Girl has her tastes. Third Brother and I ran over some kath hound pups back in the day with an AvA," she reminisced, before giggling. "The mother tried to chase us down, and then we ran her over too!"

Both of them laughed, and Not-Commander said, "That does sound entertaining."

"Ah, sorry about Third Brother, ma'am," Commander apologized. "He was always the funniest."

Effa narrowed her eyes. "And I'm not the funniest?"

They both paused, looking to each other until back to her.

"Ha! Just kidding," she joked. "No, you're right, he was."

Not-Commander grabbed his chest in relief. "Oh…ma'am, you…you really had me there," he chuckled, while the Commander reacted similarly. "Thought you might uh…you know…"

"What? No," Effa waved off. "I only cut the balls off the ones who bore me. You two are definitely not that."

They both laughed.

"Although ones that don't laugh at my jokes…usually break each of their fingers…"

Their laughing stopped, and that eerie silence fell over them again.

"Ha!" she pointed. "Got you again!"

Now their laughs were forced, feeling uneasy as she continued to juggle their lives with such ease. Luckily for them, footsteps came from around the corner, and the Haxion Brood boss had finally graced them with his time, followed by his own escort.

"Ah!" Sorc Tormo greeted with false surprise, his umbaran helmet projecting his voice. "Third Sister! If I knew it was you, I would've never dared waste your time. I offer my deepest apologies!"

Effa leaned back in her chair, letting her head turn away in disinterest. "Tormo…your manners are forgettable," she sighed. "And I thought our relationship was so solid…"

The umbaran boss of the Haxion Brood adjusted his trench coat, stepping over the dead body with slight disgust, and offered his pinkie-ring hand for her to take. He was greeted to the quick raising of two rifles from her protectors, as well as the retaliatory response from his own guard.

"Hands away from the Inquisitor, pirate scum," Commander warned.

"Careful now," one of his masked bounty hunter guards warned, brandishing a custom carbine with a vibrosword slung over his back. "Wouldn't want to get blood over your shining black armor."

"Boys, please," Effa insisted. "If he touched me in a way I did not approve of, he would be screaming now, would he not?"

After a moment, they both lowered their weapons, while Not-Commander nodded. "Um…right, of course, ma'am."

Tormo gave the wave for his two guards to lower their weapons, and they complied. "No hands then…I suppose," he half-chuckled. "You are here to inquire about our catch, I suppose?"

"Ah, yes," Effa nodded, rising to her feet. "Three Jedi, you say? I must admit, it is a little far-fetched."

"You're callin' my work far-fetched?" that same carbine-wielding bounty hunter reacted. "Got em with a stun web. Those sad twats never had a chance."

Effa cocked her head in a bone-chilling manner, to which Tormo moved in between the two of them. "Ah…you must forgive Three here…he just gets…uptight when others criticize his work."

She smirked, looking past Tormo. "They call you Three? They call me three too!"

"T'was the only word I knew for a while, so the boys stuck with it," he explained. "Empire always fancies their numbers with you inquisitors. I'd say it's just a coincidence, love."

Effa let out a deep giggle, eventually returning her gaze to Tormo. "He seems like a fine specimen…maybe I believe you."

"Oh, wonderful!" he reacted in extravagance. "If you'll please, we should discuss the pricing first."

Effa crossed her arms in disappointment. "Mr. Tormo, hun, we can't go over payment until I see…" she trailed off, her eyes becoming distant, and distinct Force signatures came into her senses. Her heart raced, and the taste of blood sated her tongue as a sadistic grin creeped over her face, eliciting troubled looks from Tormo and his guards.

"Ah…pricing would do nicely," she retracted.


Trilla's sprint slowly came to a stop as her mind was ravaged with a new presence, one that blazed brightly over the cascading vermin of this putrid asteroid, and she felt she might vomit. Instead, her eyes stared aimlessly towards the end of the hallway, and Xur stopped just in front of her, hit with the same trance. Her chin shivered, and she felt a tear well up under her eye, before Xur turned to face her.

"I thought you said she was dead?" he asked.

She had no words. Effa's presence was distinct, and far too vivid to be a falsehood, along with the fact that Xur felt it too. Trilla wasn't losing her mind, but she couldn't deduct how her childhood friend could possibly still be breathing.

"I can't…I don't know…I saw…" she trailed off, wiping the tear from her face. "I saw it with my own eyes…they killed her!"

"You sure? Because that's her," Xur insisted. "Same demented shit I felt on Zeffo…in fact it's worse."

"Her chest was split open!" Trilla panicked. "Her eyes…the blood…" she tried not to break down now, especially not in front of Xur. She vowed to herself to look stronger after their conversation on Vandor, the only issue being that she had interpreted stronger as more abusive, which did not sit well with him. Truth be told, she never wanted to see him harmed, or ever have to suffer what she went through, even if it may be possible that he already had, perhaps even more through smaller doses. How he maintained his sanity after struggling with the Dark Side since he was an infant was incredible, while also empowering. If he could rise above it, so could she.

If Effa was still alive, she could face that too…whatever the Empire may have done to her, and she was done letting them control her through fear of suffering or the unknown. She had something to fight for now…a future, and if there was a chance to rewrite Effa into that plan, she should be hopeful, not filled with despair as she had once before.

Xur stepped forward to offer her comfort, but she waved him away, taking deep breaths and focusing her mind. Strength was not in raw power or unsated anger…it was in the power of will…the ability to move on despite what the galaxy had told her was set in stone.

Now you just have to write the story.

In her story, Effa was alive, and she could learn to see the truth as she had. She could take on the battle for herself…and Trilla could help her win, just as Xur had done for her.

"Trilla…" Xur craned his head. "We really should keep moving."

"Yes," she nodded, sounding more like the strong woman she once was. "Let's move."


Watching Xur and Trilla hug in such a passionate way was…almost unsettling…in Cal's eyes. He couldn't quite get his preconceived image of her as the Second Sister out of his head, embracing a Jedi he once looked up to in a state of passionate…love.

Trilla hadn't made him jealous when she bragged about her…encounters, and his lack thereof. He was just upset that she brought them up in the first place, giving him the unpleasant image of her without any clothing…

Maybe he was a little jealous.

Truth be told, the whole thing was demoralizing, and that was the reason he had snapped at her in the first place. He regretted calling her a bitch, since he really shouldn't be calling any woman a bitch, regardless of the connotation, and letting his anger get the best of him was embarrassing to say the least…not to mention how easily she had been able to knock him on his ass. He knew she had suffered enough bullshit in her time, but even so, she was the catalyst of a lot of his own, so he felt justified in at least not giving her any leeway, especially with her whole "no apologies" standpoint.

Stop thinking about Trilla…she's not after you anymore.

Having BD-1 back over his shoulder would do a lot to restore some normalcy, assuming the droid hadn't been melted down. Not being able to feel him in the Force was a painful and unfortunate drawback. All he had now was Merrin's assurance that he was okay, which was likely just an attempt to make him feel better, not a truth.

"You worry for him," Merrin noted, trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Of course," Cal remarked. "The longer he's alone, the higher chance he'll be gone forever."

Merrin gulped. "Cal…can't you just get a new droid?"

"No, I can't just get a new one!" he whirled around, quickly pulling back in regret for snapping at her. His anger was getting the better of him, and it was becoming more embarrassing the longer he let it control him. "Look…aside from the intel he has; his personality, our dynamic…you can't get that back with just a new droid. He's my friend…" he trailed off, and then had a thought. "He's like what you would consider a sister, to me…family."

She cocked her head, intrigued. "There are not any droids on Dathomir…so to consider one living is…strange."

"A lot of people have droid companions," Cal explained, continuing to walk again. "They help make up for the tasks we can't do, or simply they can do faster."

"But doesn't that make you weaker…having to rely on something else?" she asked.

"No," Cal shook his head. "We complement each other. We're not helpless on our own."

Merrin smirked. "Well if that is the case, then you have no reason to worry for BD-1," she answered. "Along with the fact that I have not seen any guards, even when I spirit walk."

"Is that what that's called? Spirit walk?" he asked.

"It is what we call it."

"You said no guards?" he inquired again, stunned by that. "Trilla was right, then. They want us to escape…but why?"

"A good question."

Cal and Merrin came to another junction, and a high-pitched trill gave Cal more joy than he could imagine. Down the hall to their left was a large room with scattered droid parts all across the floor, and on a workbench stood BD-1, held in place by a restraining bolt.

"BD!" he called, running to the work bench, Merrin in tow at her own speed. "I found you!"

Merrin cleared her throat, hands on her hips.

"Sorry…we found you," Cal corrected, pulling another pin tool from his belt. "Let's get that restraining bolt off you."

BD angled his rectangular head downward and watched as Cal pried the bolt from his body, and after a few grunts, it eventually popped off. "Jerks," he remarked. BD jumped and spun around with joy.

Boop doop deet!

Merrin giggled from behind while Cal smiled, letting the little droid hop onto his back. "Happy to see you too, buddy."

BD scanned around, eventually noticing Merrin.

Boooo…deet deet.

She gave him a confused look. "I don't know what he's saying."

Cal only popped his brow. "He said that he's sorry about your head," he pointed, to which Merrin seemed displeased that he brought it up again. Eventually, BD fired a healing stim her way, and she reacted quickly to catch it before it smacked into her chest.

"Cal, I'm fine, I really don't need-."

"Merrin," Cal eased, closing her hands over the stim with his own. Her eyes panned up, unsure how to react to his gesture. "Just take it. It's yours."

She couldn't find the words to respond, and eventually Cal left her to look down upon the green device he had given her. Yes, her head had been ailing her since it had been cut, and without a water source, she had been unable to clean the dried mess that it was. A healing stim wouldn't do much…but the kind gesture…maybe that was the point.

Merrin pocketed the stim for herself.

"BD says there's a lift nearby," Cal informed her as she turned back his direction. "Says it takes us out of the prison level."

Clearing her throat to return to focus, Merrin advanced alongside him. "Let us find this lift, then."

It wasn't far, and there wasn't a door that BD couldn't slice through, and after restoring the power to the rusted-up machine, he and Merrin began the ascent upwards…to the sound of a growing crowd.

"I don't like the sound of that," Cal noted, and BD whined negatively.

Merrin finally regained her footing from the sudden movement of the platform, and her own ears began to pick up the sounds that were being emitted from the floor above. "Is that…music?"

The lift reached the top, and they both saw only one way forward…into a large arena with ray shields protecting the observers above. They slowly paced forward, letting the music with hard percussion instruments sink in, as well as their surroundings.

"Hey…" Cal noticed. "I recognize this band."

A massive hologram projected above, and he gulped.

"Ah! Finally they arrive!"


Was going to do this all in one chapter, but then I was like…eh, no need to make you guys wait, since it will probably be another of identical length. Hope you guys liked this one! Was really fun mixing these characters together (especially Cal and Trilla). Very happy to write about Effa again, she's so fuckin crazy!

Next chapter is going to be crazy, and maybe a little overwhelming…just a warning.

Thanks for reading! See y'all soon.