CHAPTER 22

Chaos Breed

"Why have enemies when you can have friends?"

Destral, 14 BBY

Imperium Camp

"The intel you sent to the Admiral all those months ago paid off," Saw explained, leading Xur through the clustered and hidden camp within the Destral jungle. It was crudely assembled, with little more than a massive tarp serving as a roof until they reached a cave entrance, illuminated by set up light sources. Rag-tag soldiers passed by with their weapons in hand, and the zabrak figured they were the next patrol shift or simply were headed to training. "Your friends from the 502nd saw to that. They were the ones who found this place."

"Is it everything those files said?" he asked, ducking over a low clearance bar as he followed. "Honestly, I hope this isn't their base of operations."

"Just an outpost, like the one you and your war criminal girlfriend found in the Tion Cluster. We've secured a mutual threat alliance for now, but they won't even tell us where they get their funding and weapons…only that they have a 'Benefactor'," Saw continued, and Xur couldn't help but notice the technology level suddenly increase, even if his mood was soured by his needless shot at Trilla.

"A Benefactor, huh?" he asked rhetorically, noting the advanced computer systems and cleaner clothing from those who worked them.

"That isn't even all," Saw revealed, walking past a massive holotable with a map of the galaxy projected, certain star systems pinpointed all throughout it. "There's something else…but I'd prefer you hear it from them."

As they approached the back section of the cave, stepping over massive cables and coming to a cut-out door, Xur paused. "I meant what I said about Trilla, Saw. I'm trusting you with her."

The battle-hardened veteran growled to himself, stopping his walk to address the zabrak directly. "You're playing with fire bringing her here. If it were up to my men, they would've shot her, no questions asked. The only thing keeping that woman alive is the respect I have for you, and what you've done…and I haven't even brought up how the Imperium already feels about her."

"She's one of us, Saw," Xur implored. "For fuck sake she's another lightsaber we get to add to the field. You know how big that can be."

"Is it that, or is it because you're in love with her?"

Xur paused, for some reason not prepared for him to stoop that low, even if it made sense in retrospect. "What does it matter if I am?"

"Because something tells me she's only in it for you…and that's best case," Saw explained, leaning in to bring his voice down. "Worst case, she's a sleeper agent for the enemy, just waiting for her time to strike, which I find most likely."

The zabrak tried to stay impartial, but he couldn't.

He loved her too damn much.

"You don't know shit about her," he growled. "She's suffered things you couldn't even imagine, and she's pissed…ready to strike back at the Empire for all the fucked-up shit they did to her."

"Eon-,"

"Either you can join us on our warpath, or get out of the way," Xur stated with finality. "Your choice."

Saw only respected guts, and had no time for platitudes or careful maneuvers, which was why he came at him so strongly. In the end, if Trilla showed she had the tenacity to tear the Empire down, Saw would be on board in a heartbeat, and Xur would stake his life on that.

He just needed to see it.

"We're not making any decisions right now," Saw shook his finger. "For now, you need to see this."


Giving Xur the time he needed was becoming a less favorable decision by the minute, as were the looks she was receiving from some of the male soldiers around the base. That wasn't really anything new, even when she was the Second Sister, although with a mask and cape it wasn't as easy to discern her as female.

In a place such as this, where most of the fighting force seemed to be male, adrenaline was certainly pumping with the stakes so high, and after a tough fight, anything with tits looked good to man. For some reason Imperial soldiers would sometimes believe her to be stocked just for them.

They learned the truth…permanently.

And yet that didn't stop her superiors, and to kill them was unhealthy in her state as a "mystic". Ever get out of line and she'd be persecuted just like the rest, so she had to suffer many unwanted fingers over her body in her lifetime. Now that she was out, however, she could pay some old debts to shore up the ledger.

Stuck behind bars was better than being tortured, but submitting to these cave dwellers felt demeaning to her image…and being in the same cell with a man she used to give orders to, and now certainly wanted to kill her, only made her feel more on edge.

On top of all that, Petro wouldn't stop sneaking surreptitious looks her way.

The fifteenth one got on her nerves.

"Found something you like?" Trilla asked, her bound wrists hanging through the bars as she stood, her eyes piercing into Petro like serrated blades through flesh. He sat in the corner of the cell fiddling with his hands as he looked away, until eventually realizing he should acknowledge her comment.

"What?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, looking back through the bars at the empty passageway. "You think I haven't caught you staring at my tits yet?"

Petro flushed red. "Sorry."

Part of her felt bad, since she understood what a teenager such as him would be going through, but she needed him focused in case things went sour. Why she cared about getting him out of here was another question she asked herself, but it just felt…natural.

Jedi instincts…

Those, in her mind, were just as destructive as her instincts to harm others. She wasn't here to save anyone, in fact she was only concerned with her own survival, as well as Xur's. From her perspective, that was all that mattered in the grand scheme, and if these people stood in the way of seeing him again, they would stand aside, or they would die.

All of them.

Brutis hadn't said a word since they had been placed in their cell, and she was starting to wonder why he even cared to comply.

"Why take the boy, Commander?" she asked, truthfully trying to keep her mind occupied. Petro seemed to take offense to the way she addressed him, but she ignored it, waiting for her former constituent to answer her question.

She was waiting a long time, and he never did.

Petro was staring at her again.

"I know you think I don't see you, but believe me," she turned, and Petro jerked his head away once again. "I do."

She sensed his annoyance spike, and then he suddenly lashed out. "Well, when you don't want to respect me, I don't feel like I should have to respect you."

"Oh?" Trilla seethed, and then marched forward, fighting off his resistance with ease before pinning him against the wall, even with her wrists bound. As he struggled, she growled, "Still think so?"

His defiance faded in an instant, and there was distinct terror in his eyes at the sight of her expression, as well as the feeling in the Force she emitted as her annoyance manifested into rage. She had no idea why she was so angry, but she didn't care…she needed to let it out.

"What…happened…to you?" he grunted as she held her forearm across his neck.

"You remember what I told you?" Brutis finally spoke, and Trilla turned to his voice. The bearded man kept his distant expression towards the bars, making no move to free his travel partner. "Lightning rods?"

Petro's expression loosened as Trilla's grip fell weak. "Yeah…but you didn't tell me…"

Trilla had no idea what he was getting at, but she could only infer.

"Your little guardian here," Brutis began, now looking their way. "Was captured after she told you to run for your little shit life. Once they had her, and the black armored prick couldn't get what he wanted out of her, they strapped her to a lightning rod."

Trilla's eyes shut as her teeth grit.

"What you're looking at is what the Empire does to people like you. If I hadn't rescued you on Rhen Var, you'd be just like her, suffocating horny teenagers for staring at her ass too long."

"Will you fuck off?" Trilla growled.

"You want to know why I deserted on Zeffo?" he didn't let up, his intense stare enough to frighten a jotaz. "Because after Xur Eon kicked your bubbly ass, along with your entire bloody platoon, you just exposed yourself as a fraudulent leader. After that, everyone knew you were just an empty sadist with no purpose other than to wet yourself with the screams of others. It got old, Sister."

"That isn't who I am anymore!"

"Like hell. You're doing it right now," Brutis stated flatly. "You tell me you've changed, and yet here we are."

You're doing it right now.

He has abandoned you.

He has forsaken you.

He cannot save you here.

You

Trilla grimaced as the words flooded her mind again, the experience she suffered in the Fortress, every indignity she had ever gone through at the hands of the Empire…and she felt herself slipping. Her grip fell from Petro's neck as her eyes glossed over, and her reality became warped, trauma replaying itself endlessly…her throat drying as she emitted her screams.

Are

This was how it started…how it always started. The pain…the suffering…the anger and the hate. They were the four pillars that had brought the Second Sister to life, and they all had been broken…the Second Sister was dead.

Or was she?

"Trilla, I'm sorry," Petro apologized.

She felt her focus return momentarily, but her struggle was still intense.

"After what had happened, I spent years wondering what had happened to you," he revealed. "I was pretty sure you were dead, as I could no longer feel you in the Force anymore…but my connection has never been very strong anyway. Part of me thought you had escaped and were still looking for me.

"But knowing this…I should've helped you. I should've at least tried!"

She blinked, and her emerald gaze cleared. "Petro…"

He looked as if would burst into tears, and she felt her heart break. "You sacrificed yourself so I wouldn't be captured. I should've never let you."

"What's done is done," she said, drawing his gaze. "I made my choices…and now I have to live with them."

Her answer seemed to give him hope, and his confident determination that she remembered returned in some regard. "Well, you don't have to do it all by yourself."

She chuckled. "That's sweet. I'd hug you, but…" she raised her binders.

"You…would?" he asked, and she gave him an admonishing look as his face reddened again. "…sorry."

A door opened in the pathway, and Trilla's head darted to the direction footsteps came into play. It was almost agonizing to wait, but eventually her expression brightened as Xur came to the bars…and then was riddled with confusion and preparedness when the next figure revealed themself.

"Admiral?" she questioned as Vorchenko came up beside him…and Xur wasn't in cuffs. After her moment of confusion passed, everything settled into place, and she could only sigh to herself in disappointment. "I…fucking knew it."

Brutis didn't look so secure, already prepared to start bashing heads. "Knew it? Knew what?"

"Pleasure to see you again, Suduri," the Admiral greeted, her expression that of always, with her hands behind her back. "And you, Commander Brutis. I am here to inform you that you will be immediately released from this dreadful cell."

"And shipped back to the Empire in a box?" Brutis challenged. "I think I'll take my bloody chances with these shit-cunts."

Xur scoffed. "Trust me, you want to come with us."

"Us?" Petro questioned. "She's-."

"Been the one pulling the strings the entire time," Trilla deducted, rising to her feet. "You orchestrated his death and his transformation…then lead the entire Empire on a wild bantha chase while he infiltrated the most secure fortress in the galaxy."

Vorchenko tipped her head. "All correct."

Trilla's eyes looked to Xur. "The pager?"

"Yup," he nodded, struggling to contain his laugh.

Her head drooped as she sighed, leaning against the bars. "Fuck me."

"Don't feel so down," another voice came in from below, and Trilla watched Rava roll up beside the Admiral. "That wasn't even the worst part."

Trilla scoffed. "Well you were a little obvious."

"And yet here we are."

The former inquisitor shook her head, wiping her eyes in a natural reaction to her embarrassment, letting her arms slap against her body as she dropped them. Silence followed as they observed her, waiting for her reaction, but she had none to give. Instead, her eyes turned to her devious boyfriend.

"I'm going to hit you…really fucking hard," she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"What if I took those cuffs off? Would you forgive me?" he asked, and Vorchenko revealed the pin necessary to achieve that feat.

"Hm," she shrugged. "Perhaps that is enough," she offered her wrists, and with a twist, the Admiral had her arms free. Massaging the one of flesh and blood, she turned back to Xur. "For now."

"Let us meet on your ship," Vorchenko suggested, just as her two death trooper bodyguards walked up, E-11D carbines across their chests. "We have much to discuss."

"What about us?" Petro asked as Xur opened the door, embracing Trilla once the opportunity presented itself.

"Both of you have just been exposed to a truth that if spread, would be detrimental to my life and position…which means you must come, or be silenced," she laid out, and Petro looked to Brutis, who seemed to be indifferent at this point.

"Whatever."

"Excellent," she tipped her head. "Rava, if you will lead the way."

"Of course."


Ilum, 14 BBY

Stinger Mantis

Cal had been gone longer than Merrin was comfortable with. Cere insisted that there was no current Imperial presence on this icy and desolate world…to which Merrin found herself struggling to stay warm…but her natural instincts told her otherwise. Maybe it wasn't the Empire, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he might be in trouble.

This resulted in her fidgeting on Greez's couch, her eyes moving rapidly as her mind drifted outside the ship, unable to keep her thoughts singular. She had never been particularly good at sitting still anyhow or dealing with feelings she had of others. Since it happened, she had found it difficult to open herself up again; to allow herself to care for someone, just to watch them being taken away. The emotional agony she had felt at the demise of her sisters was permanently scarring, and since she found herself becoming a recluse, which truthfully was beyond her control.

Even sitting across from Cere was somewhat disconcerting.

"Something is wrong," she blurted, unsure how else to place it.

Cere was half asleep, and her comment only seemed to open her eyes somewhat, the former Jedi rubbing her eyes clear. "What?"

"Something is wrong," Merrin repeated, her eyes towards the floor.

Her words seemed to finally register within her, and Cere was suddenly alert, her focus singular. "Something is wrong with that?"

"It's Cal," Merrin revealed, trying to trace the root of her unease, and only discovered feelings…not a precise answer. "I can sense he is…distressed."

Cere wasn't as worried as she should be.

"Tell me, Merrin. What do you know about Jedi?" she asked.

Merrin didn't answer immediately, truthfully confused as to the need for such a question to be asked. "What do I know about…Jedi?"

She nodded.

"Well…they have a connection to the Force, as you call it, and they use lightsabers for melee combat," Merrin answered, and realized that was all she had.

Cere nodded slightly. "Those are the basics, but with everything, there's a little more to it than that."

She wasn't in much of a mood for a history lesson, and Cere seemed to notice that.

"Long story short, for a Jedi, they come here to be tested, and especially when seeking a new kyber crystal, its normal for a Jedi to feel distress," she explained, which didn't make Merrin feel any better.

"What if he is in danger?" she questioned.

"Then it is the will of the Force…" Cere trailed off, and Merrin noticed her eyes pacing away, becoming distant. Something told her that her crew mate did not even believe her own words…and after eavesdropping on the conversation she had with the black-haired woman, Trilla, Cere had seemed more unsure of her own teachings. Her role was now mostly of encouragement for Cal, and less teaching, and Merrin could only guess that whatever conflict she once had with Trilla was still actively plaguing her.

The nightsister had only known her for so long, but she hadn't been the same since that conversation.

"You feel you need to help him," Cere deducted, to which Merrin found herself questioning at first. In the short time of knowing him, she had become admittedly close to Cal, not to mention his somewhat adorable cluelessness to his infatuation with her. To see him become suddenly unsure of himself and stumble over his words in his presence had transformed from annoyance into irresistible comedy.

She had never spent much time with boys, always surrounded by her sisters, and any interaction with a nightbrother was not much of one at all. They had revered her there as some kind of goddess, but Cal treated her like any other girl. Sure, their customs were different, but Merrin was certainly in a position to adapt.

To take him away…she didn't want that. She didn't want that at all.

"Hey, uh, anyone hungry?" Greez blurted, passing by the couch and up into his kitchen. "I was thinking of whipping up some scazz steaks."

Merrin cleared her throat, needing something to keep her mind occupied. "I will."

The latero had an expression of mild fear from her request, but it eventually faded with a nervous smile. "Oh…right! Uh…"

There was scuffling by the open loading ramp, and Merrin's head jerked to see Cal's droid scuttle up in a hurry, emitting a series of loud beeps and whistles she could not translate. Best she could tell, he was distressed, and that was plenty to get her on her feet.

"What's wrong?" she asked, more toward anyone who could help her understand.

Greez ran to her side as BD continued to trill and whine. "He's what? In the snow?"

Deet-deet beep proop!

"Shit, he's going to freeze to death!"

That was all she needed to hear. In an instant, she transported to the spiritual plane, against Cere's cries for caution, feeling around the landscape for his familiar presence. It was difficult in the harsh condition of Ilum, as a blizzard roared through the snowy biome around the Mantis. However, being without any particular wildlife made finding him easy.

And it was not a welcoming sight.

Reappearing in the physical world, her teeth immediately chattered from the intense cold that barreled into her, stumbling forward to find Cal half-buried in the snow, unmoving. His clothing was soaked with freezing water, which she imagined was actively killing him.

"Cal!" she shouted over the wind and fell to her knees. He was heavy, but not enough to stop her from turning him over. She gasped in horror as his skin was beginning to turn purple, his eyes distant and glossed.

"Merrin…" he barely wheezed.

"Hang on," she eased, pulling him from the snow. "You're going to be alright…I promise."

With a wave of her hand, they both disappeared from sight.


Destral, 14 BBY

Tropics

"You're not going to tell me what happened?" Trilla asked with Xur beside her, walking back along the path they took to the Fury. They paced just behind Vorchenko's tall death trooper guards, while Brutis and Petro brought up the rear. He was not quick to answer, but it felt more as if he was gathering his thoughts, and not hesitation.

"These people, this…Imperium, well…they said a lot of things I find hard to believe. They have virtually limitless funding and some pretty impressive tech, but they won't reveal where they get it from, or who supplies it, only that they have a benefactor. Long story short, they wanted me, Saw and Reyna to fully commit to them…serving as faces for a larger invasion of the Empire," he explained, and she was beginning to see the scale of it all.

Hearing that, it was the definition of all Xur had ever wanted; an army at his back as he waged war against the Empire. Whoever this benefactor was, she didn't feel he would care if it was a secret, so long as the resources kept coming.

"So…did you accept?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

The zabrak's conflict was present, but eventually he answered with finality. "Saw did. Vorchenko basically told them she'd give them a call, and I…told them to fuck off."

Trilla almost stopped her walk then and there, and if it wasn't for the need to progress the group, she would have. "Why?"

"Because what the hell does it matter if you're not there?" he asked, keeping pace as his frustration began to show. When her confusion only mounted, he sighed to himself, knowing he needed an explanation. "They said I'd have to cut ties with you…because you're an unknown variable, or whatever bullshit excuse they came up with."

Immediately she felt anger towards anyone who dared to take him away from her, and her instincts told her to run back and raze the camp to the ground…but that wasn't who she was anymore.

What a lie. If Xur had taken that deal, she would've killed everyone there or turned them all over to the Empire, because what good was this galaxy without him? Trilla had lost everything once, and she remembered how little she cared about the odds then. Again? Put an army in front of her, and she'd charge straight in, killing as many of them as she could before they finally put her down.

The Second Sister never cared about dying, but now she had something to live for…but if anyone took that away…

If she had to don that helmet again just to keep him in her life, she would.

Without hesitation.

She felt so lost. Her loyalties were more clouded than ever before, fighting the Empire, but not trusted by its enemies, or not hunting for Jedi, but not helping them either. She lived in a gray line so alone…the place in which no one trusted her, and she was finding it harder and harder to trust herself. In her mind, she had seen the Second Sister die, but she knew better than to think that part of her was gone forever. Take everything she had regained away, and she'd be resurrected, becoming that same slave to the Empire she once was.

"Have you ever thought about…running away?" Trilla asked, her voice low. "Finding the most desolate planet in the Outer Rim, and starting a new life for yourself?"

Xur seemed unprepared for her sudden change of the subject at hand, but he indulged her. "Before you? No."

Her heart beat a little faster. "Maybe we should…just do that."

He sighed to himself, that same despondent and hopeless sigh she only rarely heard from him. "They'd find us eventually, Trilla."

Of course they would…because of the very organization she herself helped establish. The Empire unchecked will span the galaxy one day, every planet under its grasp, and there was nowhere they could hide. Besides…a life like that wasn't what she wanted for…

Her left hand brushed her stomach, before falling back to her side.

There was reality in that mentality. Suddenly Trilla found something to fight for…a reason to not only fight back against the Empire…but repair the horrendous mistakes she had made.

In that moment…she found her purpose. The Second Sister was knocking on the barriers of her mind again, and there was only one remedy that would not only secure her a future but silence her past forever.

They needed to do it. They needed to hit the Fortress and blow it to kingdom fucking come.

Her thoughts…Xur could sense them, and his hand gripped her shoulder with a supporting and knowing expression. "But if we do that," he said. "We may not need to worry any longer."

She nodded with acceptance. "Yes…all hypotheticals, however," she admitted. "The two of us alone is only a suicide mission."

He gave her a smile, which intrigued her. "You see…I didn't get to what the Admiral and I spoke about after our introduction…"


Nur, 14 BBY

Fortress Inquisitorious

Effa rummaged through drawers of useless trinkets and various souvenirs, some she herself remembered Trilla taking off the bodies of Jedi she had killed when they hunted together. This room…the one where the Second Sister used to brood in between hunts, was little more than a conduit of dead ghosts, its silence only just broken by her intrusion.

Your usefulness has not yet reached its end.

Trilla's final quest was now hers, and she had scrambled to pick up the broken pieces her lost counterpart had left behind. That holocron that Cal Kestis was after was her key to winning Anakin's favor back, and perhaps another step closer to becoming his ultimate confidante.

All she had ever wanted…all she had ever dreamed of was standing beside Vader when the Empire had no more enemies to vanquish, not as an inquisitor, but as his apprentice. She knew, deep down, that his ultimate desire was to kill the Emperor and take revenge against his master for reasons unknown to her. Effa wanted to show him she could help make that a reality, and that she would forever serve him until he deemed her unworthy.

If she should die by his hand, then so be it…but she would prefer to prove her worth.

The longer she dug through Trilla's old quarters, the less she seemed to find. There wasn't much of value or memorabilia…just sporadic relics and a few lightsaber hilts that she had taken. Best she came up with by the end of her search was a datapad, and even that was mostly various notes taken on each of her prey, before eventually closing out the files. She had always been organized, and it only showed how freakishly intelligent she was, something Effa had relied on during many occasions.

There were two files that weren't closed, TARGET 22 and TARGET 1. Opening 22 first, she was shown a list of notes typed for consideration.

TARGET 22: Cal Kestis

Eighteen years of age. Former student of lasat master Jaro Tapal. Bladework- unrefined, sloppy. Easily manipulated and predictable. New master an exploitable weak link.

Most of it was incoherent rambling, to which Effa found her eyes merely glossing over as she exited Trilla's quarters and walked down the Fortress halls.

Eno Cordova's Holocron – From what I can gather, aside from the obvious, it contains explicitly sensitive information about the Jedi Order. To what extent, I am unsure, but certainly worth exploring.

It appears to be a list, and

The entry stopped there, whatever thought she had left unfinished, and when she surfed back to her file access history, TARGET 1 was the last thing she ever looked at. Effa was smart enough to make the inference of who it was behind the classification, but she opened it up anyhow.

As the Third Sister, Effa knew that she was "short a few marbles" so to speak. It was useless to deny that her mental stability was questionable at best, and her supportive colleagues never let her forget it.

What she saw made her feel sane.

TARGET 1: [OMITTED] Traitor

[Incoherent rambling] Impossible to find. HE'S A FUCKING GHOST. Eighteen reported sightings on ten planets in ONE DAY. How does he do it? There must be a mole. Traitors are easy to find, but WHY CAN'T I FIND HIM? Signature pings? Dark science? Cloning?

I need a fucking drink.

Seventh Brother tried to one-up me. That shit-cunt ended up in the trash compactor just for being lippy. Found another body on Takobo, another inquisitor. That's four he's killed so far. Who's to say I'm not next?

Effa's eyes widened reading that. Trilla never seemed to be questioning her own skill, always pristine and confident, scaring the shit out of whoever she was hunting. She chuckled to herself as she turned through a trapezoid door, pacing down the long hall before sitting on the steps leading up to the elevated torture chair.

TARGET 14 died today. Simple trick. Never stood a chance. His last words were: "you'll never find him". Like he knows. I WILL find him.

She set down the datapad and continued to read, whilst fumbling her fingers through her pocket for a syringe.

Tried using a filter to narrow down his possible pings. Still have no theory on his radar pings, and I cannot even feel him in the Force. It's almost as if he's hiding himself…but he was never able to achieve that before. The way he tears apart these other inquisitors…I wouldn't put it past him.

I'm…dare I say…I'm impressed.

Effa almost laughed to herself, finding her dosage canister and pulling back the syringe once it was administered, filling it with a regular dose of ketamine.

He's like a cancer within my mind. I…I…I HATE him. He left me here…to suffer…to waste away while he continuously torments me with this sorcery. If only I knew someone he loved…someone he cared about…and I could take them away, just as he did when he refused to acknowledge me. That horned cunt is probably fucking that togruta right now.

That's it…if she's still alive…

She could already see it then. Trilla never really hated Xur, she just hated the fact that he might be inserting himself into another woman.

"Oh, you jealous little bitch," Effa remarked, and casually administered the drug into her body. The dose she gave to herself was plenty to render a normal human incoherent for an extended period, but she merely shook it off, feeling a euphoric bliss that relaxed her muscles.

Tano is probably dead. Her master didn't survive, so why would she? She was so gullible. I'm sure she was one of the first to be executed by her own men. Absolutely. Has to be. She's dead. Certainly. She's certainly dead.

Fuck me…I need a drink.

What came next was a rough and horribly misspelled mess of words, to which Effa could not translate.

Then she came to the good stuff.

He's dead. Xur Eon is fucking dead. Killed by some imbecile who spends his off time fucking whores and drinking until he passes out.

HOW?! YOU SPEND ALL THIS TIME FOOLING ME, AND YOU LET HIM KILL YOU?!

This galaxy is a cruel joke, and I only wish to strangle it with my bare hands. Perhaps I shall settle for the man who stole my solace. This Second Brother…when I am finished…

-File Close-

-File Open-

Xur Eon is dead.

Xur Eon is dead.

Xur Eon is dead.

Xur Eon is dead.

That wasn't him on Zeffo. It couldn't be. I…I'm just losing my bloody mind. None of that was real. He's dead. Has to be.

Xur Eon is dead.

That sentence repeated an uncountable amount of times, but Effa was more stunned by this side of Trilla she had never seen. She was always so precise and proper…so elegant…but this was perhaps the most informal and shockingly ridiculous thing she had ever read.

In that moment she realized she had made no progress in finding the holocron. Setting the file aside, she dug elsewhere.


Ilum, 14 BBY

Stinger Mantis

"Set him down, set him down!" Cere commanded as Merrin heaved, Cal's limp body over her shoulder. Setting him gently on the floor of the ship, Cere was quick to rip off his soaked poncho while he mumbled incoherently, his shivering completely non-existent. "Greez, shut the Mantis and get him something warm, now!"

The latero was already one step ahead of her, sealing the ship and running through his own ship to comply. Cere was tearing off his clothing like a madwoman, while BD only watched despondently as his partner experienced the severe stages of hypothermia.

"Master…" he mumbled weakly. "Sorry, Master."

"Shhhhh," Merrin hushed while Cere finally reached his jacket, tearing it open and tossing it aside, leaving Cal to only his exposed skin on the ship floor. He was toned nicely, obviously a result of his constant physical endeavors, but his skin had spots of blue in multiple places.

She hated seeing him like this…a man who had always put others first, one who was willing to trust a stranger such as her with his life. He didn't deserve to die…not now…not anytime soon.

Greez came running by with a thick blanket just as Cere finished removing his pants and boots, leaving only undergarments to conceal his dignity.

"Wrap him up," Cere directed, handing Merrin the blanket. She did just so, making sure his entire body was insulated, and soon his mumbling stopped…his consciousness lost.

"Cal…Cal?" Merrin shook his body, only to get no response. Cere was quick to check his pulse, and it was agonizing to wait for her response, as she had to feel around before finding it at last.

"Can barely feel anything," Cere grimly remarked. "Greez we need more."

"Cere…"

"We need more!" she shouted, and Greez only reared back with no response. Merrin was frozen in place, unsure if this was truly reality before her, as Cal looked as close to death as he ever could be.

She had to do something.

"I…I can try something," Merrin suggested. "I've never done it…"

"Do it," Cere answered for her, her tone desperate.

"But-."

"Whatever you need to do, just do it," Cere insisted. "I don't care."

At this point, neither did she.

Taking a deep breath, Merrin delved into her arsenal of magik, and began to speak the words that were almost second nature to her. She felt her hands glow with heat as she continued, and with caution, she raised them, doing her best to imagine the shape of Cal in her mind. It took intense concentration, but eventually her hands were engulfed in green flames, and it was difficult not to panic at the sight. If she did, however, the flames would consume not only her, but perhaps the entire ship.

There was no time for doubt now. Cal needed her.

Going out on a limb, she encased his body in a cocoon of heat, and with a gasp, she was able to hold it steady.

"Woah," Greez watched from behind, while Cere stared in awe. "That's not going to burn him alive, is it?"

"Talking does not help," Merrin seethed, trying to maintain it. If she lost control for only a moment, Cal could suffer permanent and severe burns, not to mention death if bad enough.

He was stirring…

With an ending chant, she felt the flames dissipate and cool off, and once the spell had been relinquished, her vision began to tunnel, but she forced herself to remain conscious. She needed to know if Cal was alright.

BD waddled up to his head and looked down, his sad whistles heartbreaking to endure. Merrin waited, watching his fluttering eyes shift, until they opened, as his confused look was set upon them all.

"What…the hell?" he mumbled, and BD jumped and beeped happily, running up beside Merrin as Cal lifted himself up.

"Easy," Cere insisted, her expression relieved. "You were lost in the snow, but Merrin-."

Merrin roughly pulled him into an embrace, and he grimaced in pain from its harshness, prompting her to pull away quickly.

"Sorry," she apologized with embarrassment.

Cal seemed fine with it, but his hand grasped his head. "I don't…remember much."

"You probably have amnesia," Cere noted. "We'd better get you something to eat, as well as some bacta injections. Think you can walk?"

He nodded, but then realized his clothes were not on his body, and that resulted in a sudden pull of the blanket over his chest. "Why am I…"

"You almost died…Cal," Merrin revealed, and his eyes widened. "You were freezing to death."

His eyes flashed with recognition, and he shifted towards BD. "Buddy…did you…"

BD nodded, revealing a compartment in his head that held a clear crystal, to which the red head reached forward and shakily pulled it out.

"You found it," Cere smiled. "That's great, Cal."

"Yeah, all thanks to you though," he made clear.

Cere smirked. "Merrin did all the work. I was just here as…moral support."

Cal snorted and looked to the nightsister, who felt her cheeks heat. "I think I remember seeing you…barely."

She smiled and tipped her head. "I'm glad you're okay."

She was…very much so.


Honestly, I wasn't a huge fan of the last chapter. It felt like aimless writing, but I'm happy to say I've got the goal in sight…finally. I'd spent to much time sequel building and felt like I lost the true premise of the story altogether. Now we can get back to what really matters.

Stay safe and stay healthy.

See y'all soon.