CHAPTER 20
Old Wounds
"It is what we rise above that makes us who we are."
Stinger Mantis, 14 BBY
Hyperspace
Merrin ceased the flow of energy from her fingers as her power dissipated, and then proceeded to rewrap the halved end of Trilla's right arm in a piece of torn cloth from Xur's own robes. He sat alongside the coach she was laid out on, his knees pulled up and arms wrapped around, looking up to the nightsister for her answer.
"I've cleared the infection," Merrin answered, allowing Trilla to rest. "But that's all I can do for her. I'm sorry."
Xur swallowed with that realization, looking towards the floor before eventually nodding his head. "Thank you, Merrin."
She merely tipped her head and subtly slipped away, off to Cal's room, he predicted. The zabrak finally took his chance to sit beside her, for the first time unsure as to whether or not he should reach out for comfort. Her eyes looked despondent, fixed on the back of the couch as she remained still, her black hair shaggy and unattended to.
"What's on your mind?" he asked, keeping his voice down so Greez could not listen in from the cockpit. He was grateful for their rescue, but that did not mean he put all his trust in the crew of this ship, especially with handling Trilla. Merrin seemed to be the only neutral and intermediary party available, and the nightsister had almost served as a messenger, since Cere had not dared venture near any place Trilla resided. That was perhaps for the best, since Trilla's emotional state was fragile at best.
As was his own.
Trilla did not answer his question immediately, and he made no move to pressure her so. Instead, she rolled over, trying to rise, only to use her missing right hand out of habit and slip off the couch, Xur there to catch her before she injured herself further.
"Easy, easy," he urged, lifting her into a sitting position and setting her down. "Don't hurt your-."
"Stop treating me like a child!" she spat in annoyance, and Xur backed off, giving her space.
"Sorry," he eased.
Trilla realized her outburst too late and grimaced, her head drooping in sorrow as she lifted her missing limb, sniffling as the realization hit her. "Why?"
Xur slowly slipped back into the couch, sitting right beside her. "Why what?"
She let it drop, her eyes looking towards the cockpit and the blue tunnel of hyperspace. "Why must I be made to suffer? What did I ever do to deserve any of this?"
He shook his head with finality. "Nothing. You didn't deserve anything you've been through."
"No," she denied, her body rocking forward with each point she made. "No, there has to be a reason. The Force has a will, does it not?"
"So they say," he had always been cynical about the Force having a will of its own, and he felt it necessary to tell her the truth even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Trilla…you can't beat yourself up over this. That's what he wants."
Her upper lip trembled as anger resurfaced, her eyes igniting with a yellow glow. "He took my future, my soul, my arm…he took everything from me. I…I…"
Xur reached out and grasped her remaining hand, removing her glove so that their skin could touch, just as it did on Katarr. Her hatred blazed, but with his presence came a wave of calm that deepened her breathing and relaxed her frame, and eventually she gripped his hand with that same effect on him. Despite her fragile state, she had always had an indescribable ability to dissipate his anger, giving way to bliss and joy. His own buried hatred could be forgotten for merely a moment with her touch, an unbreakable peace that sharpened his mind and strengthened his soul.
A revelation blossomed in his mind.
"Maybe you…maybe we should try to let go of our hatred," he suggested.
Trilla looked upon him like he was a madman.
"Let go?" she almost mocked, her eyes still adopting that sinister color. "Everything I've suffered has made me stronger. How could I ever let go of it?"
"You let go of your hatred for me," he reminded her. "I'd say that worked out pretty well."
She shook her head in denial. "That was different. Everything else? You're asking for too much."
"Is it?"
Trilla tried not to explode, air oozing from her nose and grit teeth behind her lips. Xur was challenging her again, just as he had when she was the Second Sister, and while it may be detrimental to the lives of everyone else on board, it had to be done.
"You…" she seethed, pulling her hand free. "So self-righteous. I've always hated that about you. All this anger you've held for so many years, and you have the audacity to demand that I be rid of my own?"
Xur kept his stern look, not backing down. "I'm not demanding anything from you. I'm telling you that I will be giving it an honest effort. You're right, I am worse than you, and I'm tired of letting who I hate define who I am."
He reached his hand back out. "I'm asking you to join me."
She was conflicted, he could feel it, and he could only guess it was the respect and love she had for him against the hatred she felt for Cere and now Anakin. Dare he say she felt worse than she ever had before…all her fear of Darth Vader transformed into raw hatred, now boiling and begging to be tipped over.
Xur needed to be firm. He needed to be deadly serious…as she still had not taken his hand.
"What did I tell you?" he asked. "I've been down that road. I'm telling you, there's nothing. If you let this consume you, then he wins. You understand that, right?"
Trilla's eyes shut as her head fell back against the rest.
"Are you going to let him win, or are you going to fight?"
The zabrak pressed it, even with the help of his influence in the Force, utilizing the connection that had manifested between them as they grew closer. Her hatred was intense, more in her essence now, as the war for her mind had already been won, but if she lost the reclamation of herself, none of it would matter.
When she opened her eyes again, the yellow glow had faded for now, and she took his hand again. "Xur…I will always love you. Just as you said when you went to war, no matter what may happen, you will always have a place in my heart…but that hatred I have…it's all I have left apart from you. You can't ask me to part with it, not after all I've lost."
Xur caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that hatred is what's taking everything away?"
She halted in the middle of her immediate answer, reconsidering her response, and eventually resulted in letting herself fall against the back of the couch again. In a deep sigh, she admitted, "Perhaps."
That was progress, and now he just had to place his bet and watch the table.
"Wait here," he pointed, gripping her shoulder and leaving her at the couch, pacing to the cockpit. Only Greez was there, humming to himself in the pilot's chair. "Hey, Greez."
The latero was stunned by his sudden presence, frantically shaking his head until noticing who had called him. "Wha-what? Oh, hey," he greeted. "You need something?"
Xur cleared his throat. "Yeah. You got any booze?"
This was the first time Cal had been aboard the Mantis since his master's lightsaber had been destroyed, and to observe it suspended over his workbench was a truly unbecoming sight. Years of serving his master and now protecting him…and it was ruined. How he had managed to crush the crystal with his own bare hands was another mystery, but what was done was done. He had lost himself to the raw power of the dark side, and this was the price.
BD was powered down, allowing himself a much-needed recharge, leaving Cal alone to contemplate it all. He truly had no idea where to go from here…and having Trilla on board was only making him uneasy. That first image of her helmet in the Bracca rain kept reappearing in his head, giving him ideas bred from paranoia. She was here…hurt…vulnerable. All of his nightmares could end with one stroke of his lightsaber.
No…you heard her story. She's not your enemy anymore.
So she said. It was all a moot point in reality. Cal didn't care what she'd gone through, or why she had done what she did. She'd killed Prauf and refused to apologize for it…which was plenty to keep Cal permanently on his toes.
That showed when he jerked towards his opening door, only to see Merrin walking in.
"Oh," he seized, calming himself in her presence. "Hey, Merrin. How'd it go?"
The nightsister shrugged as the door shut behind her. "She is better…but her body is broken," she explained. "I've done all I can."
He wasn't sure how he felt about that, so he merely didn't respond, leaving his saber on his bench and taking a seat on his bed.
"You don't approve?" Merrin asked, her arms crossed.
Cal huffed, his expression narrow. "I believe she can't be trusted. Trilla serves herself before anyone else."
Merrin didn't have an answer, only letting her head droop in thought, as if she was reminded of something unpleasant. "She has experienced great suffering. Perhaps she should be given a chance."
"You don't get it, Merrin-."
"I trusted you when every fiber of my being told me not to," she reminded him, stepping forward. "That is what you wanted, no?"
The red head sighed. "That was different."
"How so?"
"I…" he trailed off, realizing he didn't have much of an argument…until it sparked within his mind. "I didn't kill any of your people, Merrin. She killed a friend of mine and won't even apologize for it."
That seemed to catch her attention, but she wasn't as on board as he'd hoped. "If you were exposed to the same torment she went through, would you be any different?"
Cal was struck silent. He wanted to say yes…but he knew that'd be a lie. He had seen it all for himself, and what Merrin implied was an undeniable reality. Subjected to all Trilla had experienced, he'd be no better.
Merrin seemed to pick up on his troubled feelings, and cautiously took the seat next to him, settling in much more elegantly than he ever did. There was a natural instinct for him to scoot away, but he held firm, freezing himself in place to show a level of comfort with her beside him.
"I did not tell them…but I…saw things in her mind," Merrin admitted, her eyes on the floor. "She has been fighting a war within herself for many years…and is still to this day."
Cal sighed, leaning forward. "I guess the question is: will she win?"
Merrin mulled his words, and eventually nodded. "With Eon's help…and perhaps ours…yes, I believe she will."
He said nothing, too stubborn to admit it.
"When she tears out a bulkhead and tries to kill me again, I'll be there to say I told you so."
The nightsister took a moment to process his words…before giggling, much to Cal's surprise. He looked at her funny instead of joining along, prompting her to stop.
"Sorry…I just thought that was a joke."
"No, no," Cal shook his head. "I've just…never seen you laugh before."
Merrin's eyes narrowed. "If you mean to imply that you originally believed nightsisters do not laugh, I almost feel appalled by that."
Nice move, Cal. You're a real lady's man.
That reminded him. Now that Xur was here, and Trilla had admitted to her…activities with, who Cal believed to be the zabrak…he could possibly get some tips. The fact that he was able to swipe up a former inquisitor was impressive in itself, so to him, picking up a woman much less insane should be child's play.
Picking up…what the hell is wrong with me?
This was getting out of hand.
And Merrin was giggling again.
"What?" he asked, confused.
She only smirked, rising to her feet as she adorably shrugged. "Oh, nothing."
In that moment, she left him to his room, prancing off like a schoolgirl, and he could only watch her go.
What the fuck is going on?
Trilla didn't want to be here.
But she had to.
She could feel it again, that seductive call to the darkness, and based off her passive-aggressive moment in which the Second Sister returned, it would only get stronger the longer it persisted. Xur had been right, she didn't want to admit, and speaking to Cere felt more like wounded pride than anything else. Her hatred for her former master, while strong, had waned since Katarr…but she had no plans on being close to her again.
Ever.
The liquor Xur had conjured from the latero was meek compared to what she had normally been drinking as of late, but the effects were starting to set in the longer she sat in Cere's quarters. What the zabrak had in mind for the two of them could only be guessed, but she figured it wouldn't be anything spectacular. He understood the necessity for her to express herself, and if some shouting came, he would not intervene.
Yet he promised this would be simply between the two of them.
Cere's door opened, and her former master froze at the sight of her broken apprentice, sitting atop her bed with the glass bottle in her only hand. There was a moment in which their glances did not falter, waiting for the other to leap out and attack, but there was no shift…just a moment of silence as their memories resurfaced.
She grew tired of it.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Trilla began. "He's your kind of Padawan: one naïve enough for you to sell out at your leisure."
Cere said nothing, and she could see the hurt in her eyes as she stepped forward and allowed the door to close behind her, securing their privacy. "Trilla, I-."
"I'm not finished," Trilla pointed, seething. "Do you have any idea what you did when you gave me up?"
Cere's brow arched.
"They ripped me open, pulled out who I was and replaced me with an imposter," Trilla explained, her chin shivering. "And what do you do? You run off and find another apprentice to corrupt and manipulate."
Cere stepped forward. "I have never been more sorry-,"
"I will not hear it-,"
"-about anything!"
"I will not hear it!" Trilla shouted. "You betrayed me! You abandoned me after they had taken everything away from me!
She had no answer, and all Trilla felt was her blinding hatred return, staring serrated daggers into Cere without relent. This was when she truly questioned why she was here…and why her former master wasn't lying dead on the floor, at her feet.
Cere's eyes panned towards the floor, and with the shaking of her head, she said, "Alright. You had your future, and I stole it from you. I will always be your enemy…"
Trilla was unsure where she was going with this.
"So finish it, inquisitor," Cere suggested. "Finish your mission."
The former Jedi Padawan looked upon her former master, an undeniable and insatiable predator instinct arousing within her. Trilla's senses sharpened as she set the bottle aside, freeing her only hand, and clenching her fist. Cere was right there, vulnerable and goading her to do what she'd desired for years: to watch as her life faded away, her hands wrapped around her throat.
And yet she just sat there…staring.
Cere angled her head to one side. "If it weren't for me, you'd have never been found. If it weren't for me, you'd still have a future," she listed, and Trilla's rage only intensified…as did her own. "If it weren't for me, you'd have never shared my torment."
In a quick and sudden move, Cere revealed her hilt, pressing it on her own heart and pulling Trilla's hand to the ignition. "Do it! Finish the mission!"
Her hand trembled in the grip of the hilt, feeling the opportunity of a lifetime presented to her; a chance to finally settle the oldest score on her ledger. Trilla felt her thumb shift up the leather lining and caress the switch, almost toying with her life as she saw fit. To see her eyes fade into the glossy and lifeless embrace of death…the satisfaction…the freedom.
And then, she remembered…she remembered Xur's dead body in her arms, his life taken by her own hand, and the indescribable agony that returned. If she drove the blade into her heart…would it be any different? Trilla desperately searched Cere's eyes for a reason, anything to justify flipping that switch, but all she saw was pain, hurt and sorrow…all the exact things Trilla had felt since the day her master attempted to sacrifice herself.
The hatred she felt; that friend she had kept since then…all it had done was torment her, and there was no strength in giving in, not anymore.
Trilla pulled the blade away in a fit of mild disappointment, while Cere let out a quick huff of relief. The brunette shut her eyes and grit her teeth, letting her emotions flow, instead of restricting them. "…fuck."
Cere breathed, looking unsure how to react, before stooping in for the bottle Trilla had set aside, taking a drink of her own. She coughed at the strong taste, unable to drink anymore soon after her lips touched the top.
Eventually, Cere placed the bottle on her nightstand and slowly took the seat beside Trilla, who only looked away in a huff, still holding Cere's hilt.
"Trilla…it's over," she said.
She heaved in disbelief, almost stunned by her words. "It is never over."
"Your mission, this fight, it's over," Cere reiterated, leaning in. "You're still holding on to that growing darkness within you. Please...it's not too late to let it all go."
Trilla swallowed. "Cere…it's too late for me. I am what I have become. Your Padawan, she's gone…forever…"
Her pride was still there, dictating her actions, and even if Trilla could no longer kill her, she would never be her student again…perhaps not even her ally. Trust would just never return, not after what they had both been through, at least not in their lifetimes.
Cere reached for something in her side pouch, and Trilla did not see what she revealed until she had brought it into her vision. Her emerald eyes could not believe what she presented…the shining durasteel hilt that she never thought she'd see again, glistening in her mind's eye. Dropping Cere's hilt, she took it into her hand, feeling the natural grip she had crafted herself…and the pleasant memories that accompanied it. It was almost as if they all returned with her touch, and Trilla felt a tear ooze from her eyelids.
"It was the only thing I grabbed on my way out," Cere admitted, and then sighed, her own emotions emerging.
Trilla did not interrupt, her eyes in another place, another time.
"In the years after I escaped…I couldn't forgive myself. I was…a wreck, because I had all this rage. I hated what they had done to you, but most of all I hated myself. A Master's only responsibility is to protect their Padawan….and I couldn't even do that.
"All I…all I wanted to do was die."
Trilla let her hand drop, the hilt still tight in her grip, and she finally let her pride go. "There's no hiding from yourself," she added. "I think that's a lesson we've both learned."
Cere nodded in mild agreement, leaning in closer as Trilla allowed her to. "I failed you, Trilla, I know I did. I am so...so very sorry."
There it was…what Trilla wanted to hear from the beginning, and almost immediately she felt a part of her cold heart glow once again. The warmth and satisfaction it gave was pure, satisfying relief, and she felt herself let go of the darkness that had ruined her for so long. She would never be a Jedi again…but maybe she could be herself once more.
"I've…" Trilla swallowed as Cere listened. "I've amassed this hatred for you, and it's pushed me along all these years...making me do terrible things. All along, I thought they would bring me solace…but now I see…he was right."
Cere knew who she was referring to. "What did he tell you?"
"He told me that my darkness would never lead to what I seek. I called him a liar…and I…I killed him for it."
Her eyes widened. "What? Then how…"
Trilla's eyes shut as she shook her head with raw emotion. "I brought him back…with my power," she explained, and then lifted her right stump. "But since…"
"Trilla…when someone like you resurrects another…" Cere explained, looking unsure if she should continue. "…you lose your power…forever."
Forever.
That word echoed in her mind, and Trilla could not decide how she felt about that revelation. Her power was the last of its kind…and now it had been wiped from the face of the galaxy…for love. Instantly she felt betrayed by Master Yoda, who had left out that small detail in his appearance…but that was placated by how she had felt when Xur had that smoldering hole through his broken heart.
"When he died," Trilla recounted, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. "I cried…the anguish cannot be explained, not when you're the one who kills the person you love most. All my rage had granted me was despair, not victory."
"Trilla…" Cere trailed off, finally gripping her shoulder. "What's done is done."
She did not sob; in fact she merely nodded her head. "I know. I don't regret anything…because I know he'd…he already has done the same for me."
Cere nodded in agreement, and that only reaffirmed Trilla's life-altering decision in this moment she'd never thought possible. "He loves you. Even after Zeffo, all he talked about was you…how he thought he had failed you."
That broke her heart, now knowing all he sacrificed.
She sighed, shoring up her emotions and doing her best to remain strong, just as she had vowed. "So what happens now?"
Cere sighed in return; her hands clasped against the edge of the bed. "I don't know."
Neither did Trilla. The shit-heap they were in was only getting deeper, and she was going to have to learn how to swim…fast.
She started with reclaiming her bottle and taking another swig, desperately needing to replenish her buzz. "You can come out now, nightsister."
Green energy manifested into the embarrassed form of Merrin in the corner of the room, and Cere's jaw dropped at the sight.
"Sorry," Merrin apologized, her eyes surreptitiously drifting to the door. "Cal wished…he wanted me to…he felt it necessary for us to-."
"Make sure we didn't kill each other?" Trilla filled in for her, taking another drink.
The nightsister cleared her throat, nodding.
Trilla swallowed, only mildly afflicted by the taste. "And…what's your name…again?" she asked, while Cere continued to stare.
"Merrin," she answered, scratching her head. "And you're…Trilla…while you are…" she looked to Cere, stumped on the answer.
"I'm Cere," she filled in. "You were there the whole time?"
Merrin looked desperate to reach the door and couldn't find a proper answer.
"Yep," Trilla confirmed. "Fair warning, nightsister…I always know when someone is watching me."
"I will…consider that for the future," Merrin answered, quickly opening the door and shutting it behind her. There was a moment of silence, until Trilla slowly began to giggle, and soon enough Cere joined in…allowing the pair to laugh together at long last.
"No shit, you play?" Greez asked, sitting in the pilot's chair while Xur slouched back in the co-pilot's, turning back and forth.
"Fuck yeah I play," the zabrak answered, referring to sabacc. "Been playing since I was eight. Used to play at the Dark Star Lounge on Coruscant all the time."
"That's crazy," the latero remarked. "I didn't think you Jedi ever gambled."
Xur chuckled. "Yeah, I was a pretty shit Jedi."
Greez laughed at that in a classic "old-man" way. "No offense, but I can tell. I mean, the shit I've seen you do, not to mention heard…man, I'm just glad you point all that at the Empire."
"Ha! None taken."
Greez was cool. Xur never thought he'd make a connection to the four-armed latero so quickly, but their interests were much more aligned than he originally thought. Sure, he was blind as all hell to anything about the Force, but he was sure he could talk games with him for hours and never run out of topics.
He didn't realize how much he missed a "dude-friend" until that moment…like Kaidan. Spending so much time with Trilla was no curse, but it lacked that aspect he had shared with his troops back in the day. The way he spoke to his girlfriend was certainly different than the way he spoke to his guy-friends.
"Hey kid," Greez greeted, pulling Xur out of his thoughts as Cal entered the cockpit, looking as if he was searching for something. "Grab some seat. We're having a chat."
Cal looked over his shoulder, and the zabrak narrowed his eyes. "Got something to hide?"
"No, no, just…" Cal began, and then leaned into a whisper. "You gotta help me, please."
Xur sighed. "Alright, what did Trilla say to you…"
"No, it's not that," he waved off, scratching the back of his head as he struggled to find the words. "I need to know…how do you…you know…"
Xur cocked his head. "No, I don't."
"Girls," Cal blurted. "Look, I just want to know how."
Greez laughed almost hysterically, while Xur held back his own. "Okay, okay. I gotta know…who? I mean, since the prize jewel aboard this ship has already chosen her partner, that narrows it down pretty good."
"Ugh," Cal groaned in embarrassment. "I just don't get it. It's like I just…freeze up. She never wants to talk…I don't know…deeper."
"Cal, that's because you're awkward as hell," Xur answered, genuinely answering this time. "You've got to be confident; own your words. Don't start all at once…just get comfortable, and once you are, start hitting it off. It's really simple."
The Jedi was listening, his eyes pacing away in thought. "So, how about with Trilla? How did you pull that off?"
Xur scratched his head, since all of that had really come naturally. To describe it was like trying to describe sound to someone without ears.
"Well, usually they'll start showing signs that they can't stop thinking about you; giving you gifts, smiling at you a lot, wanting to initiate more physical contact. Hugs are a good sign," Xur pointed. "Yeah, they seem small, but you can tell if a girl likes you just by how they hug you."
"No bad boy demeanor? Come on!" Greez threw in.
Xur scoffed. "Trust me, with this relationship, the bad boy is almost required. Honestly it depends on the girl. I'd say most don't like all that bravado. You gotta have chemistry. Crack jokes and tease them a little…just make them laugh," Xur then knocked his head back in bliss. "Let me tell you, there is no sweeter sound than a girl's laugh."
Greez scoffed. "Speak for yourself."
"Don't listen to the cynic, Cal," Xur insisted, even if Cal hadn't shifted his attention, fully focused on what the zabrak was explaining. "Honestly…I think I was able to attract Trilla by challenging her…almost making her chase after me, but that's a very specific situation. Not sure if that's really a good example. In the end, really, the best thing is confidence. Girls like guys who have their shit together. It doesn't really matter if you actually do, so long as you present yourself that way."
"Hm," Cal thought. "Confidence, huh?"
"Pets too," Greez brought up.
Xur snapped his fingers. "Or adorable little droids," he realized. "Holy shit, Cal. You should be using BD to your advantage. I know a girl magnet when I see one."
Cal chuckled. "You're saying to use BD as a wingman?"
"Hell yeah," he nodded.
He slowly nodded, sorting all of Xur's advice before adopting a more confident outlook. "Okay, I think I get it."
"Fair warning…nightsisters…" Xur trailed off. "Uncharted territory. I'd watch yourself. Who knows what the fuck they can do to you?"
"I hear that…" Greez chimed in, and then lowered his voice. "Hey, how do we know she's not listening to us right now?"
Now everyone was looking around, and that only ended when there was movement in the back, followed by the sound of distinct laughter. Xur rose to his feet and spotted Trilla and Cere speaking to each other, reminiscent smiles on their faces.
"Would you look at that," Cal remarked, and Xur did his best not to look as emotional but seeing the two of them back together awoke a feeling inside him he wished he didn't have to suppress. Despite everything…Trilla looked so happy to have made up with her former master, just as he thought she would.
Once they said their final words and separated, he met her in the middle, embracing tightly as she smiled brightly.
"You were right," Trilla admitted. "As bloody always."
"You'll have your moments, I'm sure," he said, letting his muscles relax against her body. "I'm glad you're happy."
She pulled away, revealing her stump. "Get me another arm and…well," she leaned in, her voice but a whisper. "…gratitude will serve you nicely."
Excitement piqued, and he wanted to lock his lips with hers, but it felt awkward with so many eyes…and the buzzing of a device he thought dead rattled his belt pouch. Trilla detected it in the close proximity, and when Xur revealed what looked to be an old-fashioned pager, displaying a message on its interface.
"What is that?" Trilla asked, looking down.
"Heh," he chuckled. "Second Sister's worst nightmare."
She only smirked at his subtle shot her way, before sighing. "Is that a…pager?"
"Yeah," Xur nodded, putting it away. "Completely untraceable."
Trilla turned her head, as if waiting for the punchline.
"I know where Saw is."
She looked somewhat conflicted, until a blurt from Greez pulled them out of their conversation. "Uh…we have incoming."
Cal took the co-pilot seat while Xur and Trilla shored up the back, allowing Cere to take her station. "We're in hyperspace," Cere noted. "How the hell could we have incoming?"
Xur sighed to himself, as the circumstances narrowed it down for him. "Drop out," he suggested, which was greeted with confused looks all around. "Only one knows how to do that, and they're not the enemy."
"You sure?" Cal asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
There were tentative and cautious looks shared all around, but Greez eventually pushed the hyperspace lever forward, turning the blue lines into dots against the black canvas of space. With a sporadic scan of their surroundings, it was obvious they were in the middle of nowhere.
"Scanner's still picking up something," Cal relayed.
Cere listened in through her headset, fine-tuning the nob to sync into any known Imperial frequencies. She grumbled in annoyance as she failed to make any meaningful progress, prompting Trilla to stand over her shoulder. After a few moments of observing, the former inquisitor reached forward.
"Here," she said, adjusting her sub frequency nobs to the more updated Imperial standards. Xur couldn't understand much of it, since computer slicing was never his forte, but within a few moments of her working her magic, she stepped back. "Try that."
A few seconds passed, and a smile worked its way across Cere's face. "I've got something. Broadcasted distress code…Imperial."
"I can't get a readout," Cal huffed. "Something is blocking any high-level scans, but its not jamming…more like a bug."
Their predator roared past their starboard, flipping into the viewport and within visible range. Trilla's face brightened.
"That's my ship!"
"Indeed, Suduri," Rava chimed in through the comms. "I've found you, at last."
Trilla had never been so happy to see a droid, so much in fact that she fell to one knee and embraced Rava with her one arm once she rolled to the entrance. Rava's domed head moved from side to side until Trilla finally let her go, the VI's optic focused on her missing forearm.
"Your arm is missing," Rava noted. "Why have you not replaced it?"
Trilla narrowed her eyes. "I'm elated to see you as well."
"Wooooooah," Cal enunciated, his eyes entranced with the beauty of her ship with BD on his back, scanning the area. "I'm almost jealous."
Rava rolled quickly towards Cal, flashing him with the red hue of her optic. "Don't touch anything."
"Alright, alright," Cal eased as Xur walked in, chuckling to himself.
"Don't mind the resident housekeeper. She did the same thing to me," he said, smacking Cal on the back.
"I am far more advanced than a housekeeper," Rava insisted. "They do not have the capacity or knowledge to track ships through hyperspace, as I do."
Do-boop pree?
"Yes, droid," Trilla answered as she rummaged through her liquor cabinet, which was situated in the main room. "That was her."
BD jumped from Cal's back and scuttled up to Rava, cautiously poking his head forward to get a scan while Cal paced behind Xur to get a better look at the ship. Huffing with impression, followed by a whistle, he crossed his arms. "It's a damn shame this didn't end up in our hands."
Trilla grumbled. "Xur, remind me to get more bottles of Rancor's Gut if we ever got back to Vandor."
The zabrak shrugged as he took a seat. "I'll add it to the shopping list, hun."
"Didn't you just drink half of Greez's alcohol?" Cal asked, and Xur made an edgy face while Trilla slowly turned.
"Ah, so now that I'm no longer pursuing you, you believe you can judge me?" she questioned. "Padawan?"
Cal backed off. "Sorry…"
She wasn't truly upset, but she didn't believe Cal had earned the right to speak to her in any loquacious matter…in fact she still had no desire to exchange words with him at all. For him to question her practices felt like crossing a line, even if it was harmless.
And the audacity anyhow…
"Don't worry about it, Cal," Xur eased. "Just know for next time…don't come between Trilla and her liquor."
After spending time going through the ship at Xur's insistence, even if she wasn't too keen on letting everyone browse her private area, everyone returned to the entrance…with the intention of saying goodbye.
"Shouldn't we stick together?" Cal asked, Merrin and Cere at his side. "I feel like we could do some real damage."
Trilla snorted in amusement. "I don't have time to carry you through a battlefield, unfortunately."
There was silence from her antagonistic comment, until Xur broke the ice. "What Trilla is desperately trying to say is we have a mission of our own, and while we'd love you to join us, we know you're after the holocron. That's too important for you to be sidetracked."
Trilla was plenty content with that, even if there was a lingering desire to get the holocron first. Remnants of her obsessions returned now and then, something that was beginning to get on her nerves, even with the Second Sister lying dead in the field of her mind.
Cere seemed to sense that, still finding it difficult to look her fallen apprentice in the eye. In truth, Trilla still had not fully forgiven her for what she had done, but the hatred…that was gone, and her desire to end her life had disappeared.
But to be locked in the same ship with her…Trilla wasn't ready for that.
Merrin stepped forward somewhat awkwardly. "If this is goodbye, then may I say it was a…pleasure to meet the two of you," she bowed, and Trilla was unsure if she was being sarcastic, or her social skills were truly that poor.
"Ah, you too Merrin," Xur embarrassingly rubbed the back of his neck. "Stay safe, Cal, Cere."
Deet-deet.
"Yes, and you too, BD," Xur smirked. "Tell Greez we've got to play a round sometime."
With a slight nod and a tentative turn, Cal left the Fury with Merrin in tow, and eventually Cere followed. Trilla felt an urge to call out, and it soon became too much to hold back. To leave on such terms…felt wrong.
"Cere," she called, and her old master turned. "Good luck finding the holocron."
She nodded. "Thanks. I hope you find what you're looking for…and if you ever need anything…" she hesitated, before assuring her final words. "Well, you know how to find me."
Trilla watched her go, her eyes falling to the ground as the airlock shut, leaving her alone with Xur and Rava.
The zabrak nearly burst from held-in laughter.
"What?" she asked, her brow raised.
Xur smirked, still trying to hold back his laugh. "Nothing…it's just…the way you say certain words…"
Trilla rolled her eyes, trying to cross her arms, only to realize she only had one once again. "Which words?" she asked, approaching as her eyelids narrowed.
"Okay. Say holocron," he sounded out his own pronunciation.
Her eyes paced away before returning. "Holocron."
"Holahcrun," he mimicked.
"That's what I said…"
"I know! That's wrong."
"No it isn't."
"Hun, listen to me," he eased, gripping her shoulders. "Hah-low-cron. Say hah."
"Hah."
"Low."
"Low."
"Cron."
Now it was her turn to mimic, losing her accent. "Cron."
"Hah-low-cron. Say it."
"Holahcrun."
"Holocron…" he pressed, and this time Trilla shook her head, shaking his hands free from her shoulders.
"And here I thought we would be spending our time alone productively. Oh well. Enjoy stroking yourself off tonight…" she shrugged, walking away.
"Woah, woah, wait!" he chased after her, only to see her turn and raise a pointed finger.
"You wanted to criticize my speech, so now you get to pleasure yourself without me," she then sighed, drawing it out. "What a shame…"
His brow arched in desperation, and she could only giggle internally as she had him tied to a string. "You know what babe, actually, now that I think about it, you're saying it right! Perfect pronunciation."
Trilla couldn't let him off that easy. She stepped forward, letting her lips nearly touch his own as their breaths collided, and just before he fell forward, she stepped back. "I don't believe you."
Before Xur could fall to his knees and beg her to allow him entry into her body, Rava rolled from the cockpit.
"Trilla, I was thinking we should begin constructing your prosthetic," she suggested, which snapped the both of them out of their moment. "I assume that the looks on your faces entails you did not believe this ship to have the resources."
Trilla slowly nodded. "That is a correct assumption."
Rava then rolled towards a room on the port side, which Trilla knew was the small medical area it had. "I shall be waiting."
It was hard to process, looking at her stump once again. Losing her arm was extremely demeaning to her confidence, and without it, she could never be the same lightsaber duelist she was. Seeing that, it was like a part of herself had been lost with it.
Xur was beside her in an instant. "Do you want me there for this, or…?"
Trilla smiled. "Of course I do. It was all a jest, love. Besides…" she let her hand brush over his chest and fall atop his shoulder. "I'd rather have two hands to handle you."
He smiled back. "I could probably use a third in my case."
She giggled and leaned in for a kiss, this one a mix of lustful passion and serenity. "I like my Jedi scared."
Xur rolled his eyes. "Well then, scary lady…let's make you even scarier."
Hope you guys liked this slower paced chapter. I figured with all the insanity and reveals, this would be better for now. Thanks again for hitting 10,000 views!
Next chapter is where we really get it moving towards the endgame...
