Wrath of the Protector

"Joy is always far more worthwhile than pleasure."

12 BBY – Teth

Mama?

My…my daughter…I…I failed you…

Mama!

KATARA!

Trilla heaved as she awoke violently, her inhale squeezing her lungs of all traces of air, resulting in a shriek of terror that made avian wildlife flutter and flee the scene in a hurry. The terror that came with her vision lingered, and she nearly screamed in horror again, but a cold, synthetic grip on her arms pulled her attention towards the source.

"…let me go!" Trilla tried to free herself, but the grip maintained.

"Trilla! Trilla, it's me…" Rava eased, and Trilla noticed this as she looked up, her breaths of restoration continuing as they slowed, her mind picking up the scattered pieces of her focus. In time, she lowered her head, letting her false hand grip Rava's arm for support, and she continued to breathe.

"Rava…what…what happened?" she asked, and then remembered why she had come here in the first place. "Why aren't we moving?!"

She tried to force herself to stand, but Rava held her in place, shaking her head. "Trilla, it's alright! I have a fix on Katara…I just needed to…" her android eyes panned downwards, and Trilla had never witnessed so much life in her synthetic companion. It was…beautiful…and there was a faint whisper of emotion within the Force itself…even for an artificial construction. Rava was conflicted…a little sad…but instilled with a renewed confidence in herself.

"…just needed to find yourself," Trilla finished for her, and then let her head droop. "Rava…I'm so sorry about what I said—"

"Don't worry about it, please," Rava insisted, taking a knee. "What matters now, is that we're going to get your daughter back…I promise."

Trilla nodded, taking another deep breath to center herself, calling back to even some of her Jedi teachings to do so. She almost shivered from her conditioning relapse, but her mind…fought it off. Confused, she grasped her forehead, realizing her prosthetic forearm was exposed, uncovered by her gauntlet and glove.

Then she felt a presence, and Rava seemed to notice.

"This is Zahira," she pointed, and Trilla turned. "She's a Jedi…she saved you."

She blinked for a moment, hardly able to register Rava's seemingly impossible sentence, before fully regarding the complete stranger standing not far from where she lay on the dirt. The Jedi was a zabrak, crimson skinned with the staple black tattoos covering her eyelids, lining her cheek bones and shoring up her chin. Her lips were lined with some sort of dark makeup, while her black hair almost concealed her horns as it was pulled back behind her head and tied.

This Zahira…well…she was beautiful, and certainly more in a complimentary fashion through Trilla's eyes. Her mind, however, was oddly blank upon seeing her face…as if she could not find the words to react to her. There was no conversational foundation, no basic beginning. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak entirely.

But her name…her name was so familiar, and yet it felt like she was reaching for something many parsecs from her grip.

Zahira seemed to take note of her distress, and knelt before her, the expression she gave so warm…so comforting, and her voice was like resting in a sanisteam for hours on end, letting the warm water cascade off her skin.

"Take it easy…you might be a little disoriented. You were suffering from almost severe dehydration, so I had to keep you out of commission for a few hours," Zahira said, her accent almost on par with hers, albeit maintaining a hint of the dathomiri dialect with a plethora of certain words. "It's alright. There's nothing to fear. I'm here to help this time."

Trilla furrowed her brow in confusion, fetching her gauntlet casted aside. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

Zahira blinked, cocking her head before letting out a slight giggle. "Trilla…we've met. It wasn't exactly friendly…but…" she trailed off, hoping Trilla would fill in the blanks, but the brunette merely shook her head.

"Listen…Zahira…I appreciate what you've done, but I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

Zahira's eyes narrowed, and she seemed to fall into thought for a moment…and that was when Trilla almost reared back. Every time this woman spoke, she saw a faint resemblance through the blue eyes, facial construction and hair color of someone she did know.

"Have you ever been to Belsavis?" she asked, and Trilla's though process trailed off for now. "Imperial prison world?"

Yes, she had been to Belsavis as the Second Sister, but the mission had been a failure. The Jedi she had been chasing had already been confirmed to be long gone, and it was placed as a lack of due diligence from the ISB.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more holes in logic she found, but there was nothing there…no memories to pull from.

Trilla just nodded. "Yes…but I don't remember finding you there. Were you our target? We had little to no information…in fact the Jedi we were chasing wasn't present in the Imperial network," she mused, piecing things together. "All I remember was that we came up empty."

Zahira smiled at that, and the resemblance was beginning to drive Trilla insane. "That part isn't untrue."

Trilla grimaced. "Do…do I know you? And…why do you look like my husband?"

The Jedi didn't know how to react and had a rather silly look on her face. "Excuse me?"

Rava let out a sigh of relief. "Oh good. I'm not crazy."

"I don't understand," Zahira questioned again. "Perhaps if you could tell me who you are referring to…then maybe…"

Rava shrugged. "Ever heard of Xur Eon?"

Much to Trilla's surprise, Zahira's expression flashed with anger and she rose to her full, impressive height, taller than both her and Rava…and perhaps Xur as well. "That man is an affront to everything the Jedi stand for!" she spat; her distaste vehemently projected in the Force. "How dare y—"

Zahira seemed to catch herself as her face softened, and just in time, as Trilla was on the verge of viciously defending her husband, even if she was…slightly upset with him currently. His solo adventures were a deep pet peeve of hers, and she had kept them to herself for longer than she believed healthy…but she understood why he did what he did.

That didn't mean she had to like it, but that doesn't mean she would allow someone to slander his name with venomous ferocity.

The zabrak breathed, closing her eyes as she recited the words, "There is no emotion, there is peace."

One of those Jedi.

Trilla could debate that incredibly flawed line of the Jedi code for hours, but they needed to get moving again…and Katara was only slipping further from her grasp.

She growled slightly, waving it off as she rose to her feet, pulling her glove over her false hand. "Forget it. If you're going to be a good Jedi and help us, then I'm content with that…but just keep your Jedi blabbering to yourself, please."

Zahira seemed mildly offended, but she kept it to herself, just nodding. "As you say. I would like to help you, if you'll have me. I've been able to track your thief using the echoes in the Force through the objects she's touched. I was telling your friend while you were asleep that she's a young chiss woman, Imperial special forces…but they seemed to be…caring for your daughter."

Trilla's distrust piqued for a moment. She didn't fully trust Zahira…in fact she truly didn't trust her at all, but she felt keeping her closer would be a safer bet than sending her away.

Friends close and enemies closer.

"So you have psychometry?" she asked, feeling her helmet clap into her hand as she gestured below, but hesitated before sliding it back on.

Zahira's eyes darted away for a moment. "Yes…I can see what has transpired through the—"

"I know what it is," Trilla answered, perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. "I spent months chasing a child who could do that."

Rava held in a snort of laughter…or something along those lines, since she didn't have a nose to breathe through. "A child…" she quietly chuckled.

"I can't tell if you're joking, or if you're being serious…" Zahira trailed off, but then seemed to come to the conclusion that it didn't matter. "Anyhow, there hasn't been any Imperial presence on Teth thus far, so I suggest we hurry."

Trilla nodded slightly, and then slid over her helmet, tipping her head to Rava. "You said you had a fix."

Rava nodded. "Her armor contains an alloy not found on this planet, something only I can track. She's just a few miles ahead, and only recently started moving again."

"Transmit the data to my HUD," Trilla directed. "And let's get my daughter back."


The physical taxation weighing upon Nerah as she climbed the cliffside with Katara's pod slung over her back to her extraction point pulled at her tired arms as she lifted herself up to each handhold. Her legs felt like liquid, almost dangling with each step as she forced herself to continue, her muscles screaming a protesting for a chance to rest themselves…but the natural feeling of being followed kept her moving. Failure of this mission was not an option in her eyes…in fact failure for any mission was inexcusable, unless, as Thrawn pressed, an advantage for a second engagement was gained, or valuable intelligence was gathered.

The only intelligence she'd gathered thus far was that babies cry a lot and smell like shit. At first, Katara was a nice little positive bonus to her precarious situation, but by now, only her guilt was stopping her from dropping the baby from the side of the cliff. As far as assignments go, this had been by far her worst under the Empire, and she would personally protest to Thrawn the reality of this kind of excursion…as well as the blindside she had been given.

Still, she would complete her directive.

Her foot slipped, and she emitted a slight yelp in surprise as she grasped ahold of an outcrop in the cliff face, the raw pain ravaging her legs almost unbearable by now. The sudden movement startled Katara, and she began to cry, making Nerah growl with intense frustration as she heaved herself up to that outcropping for a rest. She almost screamed from the sting that worked its way through her hands, collapsing onto her face on the rocky surface.

Katara's shrills of terror eventually bothered her enough that she rolled over, pulling the pod from her back and setting it aside. To her luck, the outcropping was plenty large enough for her to sit down and have the pod in no danger of falling over the edge.

She'd been at a constant pace around the clock, before taking a 3-hour rest and starting again, which was beginning to push the limits of her natural body's ability to continue…but the mental toll was the most devastating. Questioning the point of the entire operation had dragged her productivity, making her feel aimless and indifferent to its outcome.

What good is a random child to the Empire?

She'd been so focused on moving that she'd never had time to ponder the notion, and perhaps now she would be able to give it a thought. Thrawn would never waste resources without reason, and while going after Suduri wasn't a surprise, it was the fact that she even had a child that was baffling her. Why would a terrorist steal one in the first place? Nerah struggled to comprehend the mind of the woman of focus, an anarchist with no sense of law or order, hoping to only spread chaos and destruction across the Empire.

Nerah could only imagine what she was doing to this child…most likely running experiments with horrible long-term consequences, brainwashing her into a mindless slave seeking only to destroy the galactic harmony brought about by the Empire.

Finally with her breath under control, Nerah opened the capsule, taking note of where she had saddled in Katara for the climb. The girl was still crying, and quickly Nerah noticed the rope burn on the child's waist, making her crimson eyes bulge with guilt. Swiftly, she untied and removed the strap, allowing the child to move freely again

"Ohhh, I'm sorry," Nerah said, but then plugged her nose as a rancid stink waivered towards her. Revolted, she pulled back, and by then she knew she needed to wrap this mission up quickly, and she could feed the child all she wanted, but cleaning her up would waste valuable time…and she didn't want her to remain so uncomfortable.

It was only then that Nerah pondered the oddness of the infant's red skin, which was what convinced her in the beginning that she had been stolen. Humans weren't known to have a skin color so deep as that, and it made her curious…because this child had to be human.

A small scan from her MAHI couldn't hurt.

Pulling up the gauntlet interface, Nerah let the red hologram run its course, and eventually information popped up on the screen. The child had a genetic structure most similar to a Dathomirian but was missing the pale white skin that usually came with the kind. The red skin was explained by her zabrak origins, but the lack of cranial horns backed up the readings she was getting.

Trying to run a cross check against known galactic citizens, she was denied as her signal was still being actively jammed.

"Mama…" Katara whimpered. "…Mama…mad."

Nerah narrowed her eyes, and scooted back over her, used to the smell by now. "Katara…who's your Mama?"

Katara sniffled, opening her eyes. "Scary lady."

The chiss chuckled a bit. "Sweetheart, I'm trying to save you from the scary lady."

The infant pouted. "Mama…not scary. Mama good."

"Katara…who is your Mama?" she asked, feeling a hint of frustration work its way through her mind, but then pulled up a picture of the terrorist Suduri, showing it to her.

Her eyes widened, and she pointed. "Mama…"

No…that's not possible.

Nerah shook her head, pulling the image away. "That is not your Mama!" she denied. "Katara she can't be your Mama!"

The infant shrieked, louder than ever before. "Mama!"

Nerah jolted in surprise, shutting the capsule, but by then, she had discovered far too late the reason for Katara's outburst. It was like a black blur blotting out the sun, a phantom rising from the earth as Nerah felt herself pinned against the rock surface, a knee jammed into her neck. Once the blur finally materialized, she saw the black helmet and purple slit she remembered from Onderon. Her yellow blade hummed with menace as she held the tip over her head.

"You…you are going to suffer endlessly for stealing my daughter!" Trilla roared behind her helmet, pressing her knee into Nerah's neck.

Adrenaline poured into her veins as the super soldier made use of her name, pushing Trilla's leg clean off with only her upper body strength, and then tumbled over the edge with the woman, engaging her repulsor boots before they both landed roughly on the grassy surface below. Rolling over, Nerah quickly drew her blaster and fired a dozen bolts Trilla's way, but her spinning blade kicked into gear to ward them all off just in time.

"Grab her!" Trilla shouted, just as her synthetic companion appeared, and the droid was already ascending the cliff with mechanical precision, while Nerah grit her teeth. Raising her wrist, she fired a focused sonic blast that tore out part of the rock face, and the droid stumbled and fell, landing with the cascade of rocks.

"I won't let you hurt her!" Nerah declared, and then fired the sonic blasts towards Trilla, who deactivated her blade and zipped out of the way, before advancing atop Nerah in a fraction of a second, far too fast for her eyes to track. Hands were wrapped around her neck, one certainly mechanical as it closed her windpipe, blocking air from entering her lungs. She tried to tear her wrists free of her neck, but Trilla's own strength was enhanced by a force unknown to her, and Nerah could only fail to gasp at the unbreakable grip.

"And I'm going to kill you!" Trilla screamed, closing her grip, just as Nerah's vision started to tunnel…and the last thing she ever saw was the blank, covered stare of an expressionless helmet that broiled hot, intense anger within…and only then did she realize why.

This ferocity…this savagery…it was instinct, not lack of sophistication or civilization. Suduri wasn't trying to kill her out of bloodlust…but protection, primitive and primal protection of her offspring. With that realization, Nerah almost allowed herself to die then, a pang of guilt rising and fading in an instant before her own self-preservation instincts kicked in, and she could feel her muscles pulling for a last-effort heave.

"Trilla!" another voice entered the scene, and Nerah felt the grip on her neck soften just enough to grant her a slight gasp of air. "Trilla, don't give in to hate…"

"Stay out of this!" she snarled back, and tightened her grip again, turning Nerah's lips bluer than they already were.

"Trilla, please let her go," Nerah spotted the woman kneeling beside her, her red skin similar to Katara's, but the horns and ceremonial tattoos giving her away as zabrak. "This isn't who you are."

"What do you know?!" Trilla roared back, her focus still on Nerah. "Just shut up!"

"I know what you used to be…I know what you did…but I also know what you're struggling with," the woman continued, pulling at her arm. "We all feel that pull from the Dark Side…but it doesn't control you unless you let it."

Whatever she was getting at, Nerah hoped it worked, because she only had a few seconds left before she was a dead woman.

Trilla hesitated, and Nerah felt her grip loosen just a moment.

"You have your daughter…now leave it be," the woman continued.

Nerah's body seized as it forced itself to gasp for air, and that was when Trilla finally released her, and she felt the pained needling sensation of air rushing into her empty lungs, and her consciousness fading in and out. She rolled over and coughed, only to have her face pressed into the dirt, and her arms latched together with cuffs.

"Don't try to overpower me," the synthetic replied, to which she recalled was named 'Rava', just as she was pulled to her feet and sat down against a tree, with a rifle pointed at her head. "You organics never learn that servos can match whatever you can scrape up, super solider or not."

Nerah couldn't even retort. Her throat hurt just to move her head, and breathing brought pain with each fluctuation, not to mention her already extensive exhaustion.

Trilla was approaching the capsule that Rava had left for her, and she was almost afraid to even look…afraid to find her silent daughter dead before her eyes. Tearing off her helmet, she bypassed the hesitation and opened the container…finding the shivering a pouting form of Katara Eon…her infant daughter.

She didn't care how bad she smelled, Trilla's tears poured down her face as she scooped her into her arms, almost crushing her in a death drip.

"Katara…" she whimpered, falling to her knees as she held the sniveling child. "I'm here…mommy is here…"

"Mama…" Katara cried. "I was scared Mama…"

"Shhh, oh I know, baby girl. It's okay now…it's okay…I'm never letting you out of my sight again. I promise."

Never.


Zahira was glad she had found Trilla when she did, acting off an anonymous tip from one calling themselves "Fulcrum". She'd been tracking the woman she'd battled on Belsavis for years, and it was a welcome surprise to find her already free of the Empire's dogmatic control. Her having a daughter was even more surprising, and Zahira began to wonder if her influence had a much greater effect than she had expected.

However, she'd be naïve to think this was entirely her doing, especially with the fact that Trilla could not remember her at all, which she figured was part of her Imperial conditioning of sorts. Why they would wipe her mind clean instead of just killing her was another mystery…one that they could perhaps solve together…if Trilla was actually starting to like her.

Judging by what had just occurred, she imagined the opposite.

Trilla was busy doing her best to clean Katara as well as she could, while also feeding her with what she had. Zahria and Rava had resulted to interrogating their chiss kidnapper, one certainly of Imperial special forces. While Zahira had never seen a chiss before, she'd heard of them, as well as their strict military tradition. Her Basic was influenced entirely by a Coruscanti dialect, although heavily accented with some words, somewhat similar to her own but far less refined.

Her synthetic friend, honestly, was the more baffling of the two.

"Look, red eyes, I understand why you would decide not to be talkative but believe me…we're not the good-natured heroes all the holovids portray Jedi to be…well, the ones without Imperial propaganda," Rava remarked.

Nerah scoffed. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

Rava shook her head. "No…" before pressing the control on her wrist that stunned Nerah with a jolt of electricity from her stun cuffs, making her gasp. "…just wanted you to be aware."

Zahira grimaced. There were better ways to extract information, one that benefitted both parties without expelling someone's dignity…and as far as she cared, those that tortured suffered from a lack of imagination.

"Let's relax on that, shall we?" Zahira asked, easing Rava. "No reason why we can't all get what we want."

The chiss spat in disgust. "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

Rava shrugged, reaching for her wrist. "Oh well."

"Enough!" Zahira stopped her with a raised hand, and then fell to one knee. "Look. Consider your position. You stole a child from its mother, and now we'd like to know why, that's all," she said, and couldn't help but notice Nerah's flash of guilt in the Force, even if her emotions were very well concealed. "You'll be free to go."

"Says who?" Rava chimed in, making Zahira grind her teeth together. "Trilla has suffered much at the hands of the Empire, and I'll be dammed if we let it continue."

"She's a traitor," Nerah growled. "So is your precious Admiral. Do you have any idea what they've done to people who merely had bloody lunch with her? Subversive cowards do not deserve mercy, or my pity!"

"No one is asking for your pity, little girl," Rava spat with contempt. "Frankly, I'm perfectly content with killing you here and now."

Katara shrieked from behind, "Bad!" before Trilla hushed her and continued to wipe the muck from her skin.

Rava's eyes piqued, and Zahira couldn't help but detect the protest from Katara had meaning, especially after the threat towards Nerah. Recalling to what she saw via the echoes in the Force, Nerah had been caring for Katara in a way none of them expected, and while it was difficult to comprehend why…the zabrak had a thought.

"You had no idea you were stealing a child, did you?" Zahira asked.

There it was. Nerah's eyes panned down for a moment, and no response came, telling her virtually all she needed to know. Rava seemed to catch on and pointed her weapon towards the chiss in a non-malicious manner, only to hear Katara shriek again.

Nerah shook her head. "No, I didn't…and I didn't hurt her."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you stole her in the first place," Rava spat.

"Do you honestly think I care about your forgiveness?" Nerah incredulously remarked, her brow slanted and eyes tinting redder than before. "The three of you can bsotah can En'kar for all I care! You want to know what I'm sorry for? I'm sorry Katara was born to a terrorist slut and not a decent law-abiding woman!"

Rava growled and shocked her again, even against Zahira's protests, and that's when Katara began to sob profusely…leading to Trilla's bellowing response, "Rava! Leave it be!"

It became apparent quite quickly that Rava was innately unwilling to deny an order from Trilla herself, as the shock treatment immediately ended, and the synthetic drooped her head like a child that had been reprimanded by its parent. Zahira had to wonder if she had been programmed as such, but that thought seemed improbable, as the advancement of Rava was far beyond any droid…no…any construction she had ever before seen. She was so lifelike, so articulate that sometimes Zahira mistook her for a human being…not like the distinction truly mattered.

Zahira's attention returned to the chiss, whose breathing had her chest fluctuating noticeably as she tried to shake her ruffled hair back into place. While she didn't approve of Nerah's derogatory language, that didn't mean she deserved to be tortured for it, and she was glad Trilla had stepped in before she had to, as Rava had no reason to listen to her in the slightest, and Force suggestions were virtually useless against a synthetic brain. It was obvious Nerah had no intention of cooperating however, and she couldn't help but notice the woman's confidence with her situation. It did seem odd that a lone Imperial had…come alone, as the Empire never shied away from a show of force in a precarious situation. While Teth still remaining in Hutt space certainly played into the equation, Nerah was now staring at two Jedi and a Force-sensitive young girl, three things that would give the Empire plenty reason to breach foreign space with a fleet strong enough to subdue them all.

Rava said they had jammed communications from the Fury, but with both her and Trilla's emotional state…she couldn't discount the possibility of a slip up while they had pursued Katara.

Zahira returned to her less imposing kneeling stance, regarding the irritated woman who let her crimson consumed irises lie on her.

"Katara seems to not want you hurt…" Zahira noted. "Would you like to explain how that came to be?"

Nerah only seemed to "like" to be let go. "I already told you the answer to that question."

"You told us that you didn't hurt her…but you didn't tell us why," Zahira pointed out, and Nerah only shrugged disinterestedly.

"Would you want to hurt an infant?"

"No," Zahira shook her head. "But I'm not you."

The chiss said nothing, letting her gaze drift over to where Trilla was finishing with Katara, the little girl finally sounding calm in the care of her mother. Zahira sensed a moment of relief that was quickly masked with annoyance and dread, which told her that the woman was at least somewhat conflicted about her task. Why she would be sent instead of an inquisitor to kidnap a force sensitive child had the zabrak inquiring that this could be a preemptive setup, or some kind of test for Nerah. Perhaps there were questions about her loyalty, or her ability to…

Interesting.

"How many inquisitors are left?" Zahira asked, chasing the thought.

Nerah shrugged. "No idea."

That told her a lot more than the chiss may believe, and the fact that she said that so nonchalantly, especially without a hint of contempt, certainly upped its chances of being the truth. If Nerah, a special forces operative, had no idea, then she could assume she'd hardly seen one, and Zahira was aware of the events on Nur and the destruction of the Fortress.

They're trying to replace them.

It was all a theory for now, but she'd pocket it.

Zahira rose to her feet and took a slight bow. "Thank you Nerah, you've been most helpful."

The chiss narrowed her eyes but seemed to dismiss it. "Whatever."

She had hoped to make her adversary paranoid with the sense that she had divulged something important, but it didn't seem to take root. Still, Nerah was good with hiding her emotions, and it was possible it had worked, and she just didn't know it.

Rava assumed tireless watch duties as Zahira paced to Trilla, seeming to finally get her daughter comfortable enough to sleep. The woman's eyes looked sullen and heavy, her face covered with streaks of eye shadow and cheek blush, while her hair hung in various directions, somewhat matted and pressed down upon her head, thanks to her helmet. In the Force she felt ravaged…conflicted, and yet relieved in a sense. She wasn't naïve enough to think this was over, and neither was Zahira, but she knew taking this chance to recuperate herself was smart.

The zabrak could only imagine the pain of having her child taken from her, and while it wasn't pity that had urged Zahira, it was…sorrow. Looking at Katara, Zahira felt a distinct connection in the Force between herself and the child, one of…blood?

She blinked but shook off the idea. Now was not the time for such questions, not with Trilla in a disparaging state. Instead Zahira reached out and grasped Trilla's shoulder, a gesture that she seemed too exhausted to deny.

"You said I know you," Trilla recalled, her gaze fixed on Katara as the infant slept. "But why can I not remember your face?"

Zahira didn't have the answer to that, and she would need more time to observe the woman's mind for any missing memories. It wasn't an unheard-of occurrence, but Zahira couldn't comprehend why that would be necessary. The Empire wouldn't want to have their hunters forget their targets, so it became increasingly more likely that it was all to benefit the Jedi…but who would have the power to execute such a thing?

"I don't know, Trilla. Maybe someone who was trying to protect me," she figured, informing Trilla of her thought process.

The former inquisitor turned, her expression observant as she let her eyes dance over the zabrak's features. The moment had its awkwardness, but it faded in time, just as Trilla sighed and looked away.

"Valeria," she half-growled, her emerald eyes sky bound. "Ah…of course."

Zahira flashed her a puzzled look. "Valeria?"

Trilla snorted. "She's technically my mother in law…but she's the only one who could've slighted such a devious little plot. I'm not entirely certain…but I'm fairly."

The zabrak grimaced, still confused, until Trilla regarded her again.

"And you look precisely like her son…just more feminine…I suppose," she scrunched her brow.

Zahira blinked. Her…a family? She had no memory of her family, and as far as she was aware, she had none, and the Jedi was all she had ever known before Order 66. Even then, Order 66 didn't reach Dantooine until some time after it had been issued, giving her time to escape and scatter with the others. She'd been on the run ever since but had been able to hide herself from the Empire with her extensive knowledge of manipulating the Force around those that sought after her, and hardly ever had to raise her lightsaber against them.

And yet, she had always thought there was someone else watching over her from the shadows, but she never had any proof, or reason to actually believe so. She figured it had been Master Yoda…but maybe…

She had always sensed someone out there…a presence…a familiar one not unlike her own.

"I think I need to meet your husband," Zahira figured.

Trilla thought on it for a moment, before turning back to Katara and shutting her pod. She still didn't fully trust Zahira, and she had no reason to, but she couldn't deny her aura…as well as the similarities she presented…and the echoes of familiarity in her mind.

"Perhaps. Rava, call in the Fury. We're leaving this disgusting slime pit."


Within ten minutes, the Fury was coming in for an automated landing in a forest clearing not far from where Katara had been reclaimed, and Trilla had not let relief flood her essence just yet. While black operations were easy to disavow by the Empire, it was quite obvious that they had sunk many resources into Nerah's training and upbringing into their special forces…meaning they would not so quickly abandon her on a whim. The intrepid Agent Elena Markov also seemed to bear an emotional attachment to her, thus further pressing the point that it was only a matter of time until they were ambushed by Imperial retaliation, Hutt space or not.

All the more reason to get Katara's pod aboard as fast as possible.

She stomped up the ramp, pushing along the floating pod to Katara's designated room and secured it, strapping it to the side wall aperture as used for takeoff…only to find that it had been broken when Nerah had barged in. Feeling hot, rising anger, Trilla growled to herself and slammed her metal fist into the side wall, denting the durasteel just as Rava checked in.

"Trilla…" she half-eased.

"Get us moving," Trilla demanded, activating the magnetic belly of the capsule, watching it snare itself onto the floor. "Now."

"Trilla," Rava grasped her forearm, making her pause with an admonishing look. She had no patience to be questioned, not now, and Rava was perhaps one of only two beings in the galaxy who could administer such a pause from her in her current state. "We have company."

Those words made her freeze in place, and only after a moment did she finally blink. "Who?"

"Imperial warship above Teth. Gunships inbound," Rava reported. "If we take off now, we'll be shot down."

"Nonsense, this ship is faster than anything they have access to—"

"They'll be above us in three minutes," Rava shook her head. "I suggest you prepare yourself. I will look after Katara," she reached, only to have Trilla grasp her wrist.

"Just like before…when she was captured?" Trilla scoffed incredulously.

"Trilla, we don't have a choice!" Rava's voice rose to its highest volume, and for once Trilla could sense her sincerity within the Force. There was guilt…a need for closure, mixed with a potent level of protective instinct. She wanted nothing more than to mend her earlier error…and Trilla could not deny her that chance. "Trust me…please."

She nodded, lowering her wrist as Rava released it. "Protect her. Wait for my signal."

It wasn't long before Trilla heard the charging of Rava's rifle, and by the time she had reached the loading ramp where Zahira was waiting with Nerah, still cuffed and on her knees, she could hear the scream of TIE fighters racing above. Her stomach lurched, and she felt a distinct well of fear rise within her, but it was quickly snuffed out by her building and unbridled rage. She had just got her daughter back, and there wasn't a chance in Hell the Empire would take her away from her again.

"It appears your mindless fellow lackies are here to reclaim you," Trilla scowled down at Nerah, who wore a neutral expression. "We shall see how much they truly care about your safety."

Zahira began to protest, but Trilla was far too quick for her, gesturing with a slight move of her hand and dragging Nerah across the dirt. She dropped her on her knees, just before her with her wrists still bound behind her, just in time for a flood light to illuminate the night.

"You don't have to be what they say you are," Zahira pleaded under the downdraft. "You don't have to be a murderer."

"You are free to walk away now," Trilla growled. "I will do what needs to be done."

The chiss stirred, her hair astray and a mess atop her head. "When I am free of these chains, Suduri…I promise you…I will kill you."

"Such empty threats," Trilla goaded, just as the gunship doors opened, and her quarry was revealed.

As she expected, an ISB officer with a vicious scowl expressed behind her field helmet was first, followed by a platoon of death and purge troopers. From the back end of the forest clearing emerged two inquisitors, their crimson blades flaring to life as she recognized their builds: the lithe and skinny Seventh Sister, and the blocky behemoth that was the Fifth Brother.

Agent Elena Markov held her ground at the front of the pack with her pointed blasters…just as a final, tall and unmistakable figure was last to emerge, his stride proper and confident as he assumed the secondary lead role.

"Second Sister…oh how I have missed you," the Grand Inquisitor greeted, his eyes bathed in amber as his pointed teeth were revealed with his smile. "I believe it is time for you to surrender."

Trilla probed her odds. They weren't great, in fact they were particularly perilous with the emergence of the Grand Inquisitor. Three blades against two, not to mention the squad of elite units who would certainly be shooting at them all the same…and then there was the fact that Nerah would eventually be factored back into a scale that continued to tip ever further away.

"As you can see, I have brought nothing less than the Empire's best to bear down upon you," the Grand Inquisitor spoke, his voice projected as if he was presenting a speech. "Within moments I will have the remainder of my forces arriving to finally…bring an end to this little charade that has persisted long after my Emperor can tolerate. Your feeble success on Nur has merely stalled the inevitable, and your continued illusion that you are free of your former masters continues to amuse me further each day it persists."

He was trying to intimidate her, a common tactic among his kind, and while he had made it quite obvious that he was aware of her former tutelage as one of his best students…he didn't seem to understand that she had never lost those lessons.

"How quaint," Trilla mocked. "I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to finally track me down. It's almost embarrassing really. A whole Empire, and I've existed right under your nose…"

The pau'an flashed her a smirk. "Charming, as always. I never dreamed of ruining that beautiful face when you were…enjoying our hospitality all those years ago. You have a wonderful voice, my dear, and you filled our halls with such captivating screams that it's hardly a wonder we decided to leave you in the embrace for so long."

Trilla tightened her grip on her hilt but did not let her anger show. She was beyond that…far beyond that moment.

Stop lying to yourself…listen to him…

No…not now. Not her.

The Second Sister was standing right behind the Grand Inquisitor, her smirk so chilling it almost froze Trilla in place. Her wrist began to shake ever so slightly, and it was enough for her adversary to notice…and smile again.

"And it appears you have a friend," he sneered, his eyes on Zahira, who remained guarded, yet calm. "Why is your face not familiar?"

"It is not for you," Zahira commented, remaining at Trilla's side. "And I suggest you heed this warning: drop your weapons now. There is no need to throw your lives away in a fight you cannot win."

Trilla found it hard not to cringe at a line she had heard so many times from so many helpless Jedi. She wished she could spare her the embarrassment of the waves of laughter that came from their adversaries, one that even the Grand Inquisitor could not resist.

"Aha…my dear, why don't you entertain my counter-offer," he mused, keeping his hands behind his back. "You will release the honorable Vigan'era'hrorra and submit to Imperial custody. We will begin with the zabrak's interrogation…and then return you to the grasp of your former comrades. They have been dying to see you again. Your android will be analyzed, slaved and perhaps made to torture you while we nurse your daughter to adulthood…to become an enforcer for the mighty Galactic Empire."

All Trilla could imagine now was wrapping her prosthetic hand around his neck and squeezing until she felt his vertebrae pop and the breath siphon from his lungs. Death hazed from her breath, and her thumb flirted with the ignition switch.

Then she felt something…a warm, inviting presence in the distance…something so comforting she wanted to smile, to surrender herself to its full embrace. It was euphoric…yet fierce and determined, a presence that struck fear in the heart of its enemies…the presence that she had loved so dearly.

And it was not alone.

Clenching her fist, an idea sparked in her mind.

"Go on then," Trilla waved Nerah forward, keeping her expression distressed and unsure. "Go back to your crowd."

Nerah looked from her and then back to Agent Markov, whose eyes regarded her with a soft it's going to be alright look, before returning its fierceness back to Trilla. Nerah rose to her feet and stepped towards the Imperial group…just as Trilla felt that presence nearly atop her.

Danger sense prickled her spine.

TIE fighter blasts were followed by a brilliant ball of flame as the above gunship was struck three times in the side, already tumbling out of the sky and towards the assembled Imperial troops. Part of the gunship sheared off and barreled towards them, but the quick reflexes of Zahira reached out and caught the burning piece with both hands outstretched, and then shut her eyes as she heaved it away, tossing it aside. The Imperials were already recovering, but by then, two figured emerged before she and Zahira, blades of orange and green ignited in a bastion before them.

Terror echoed in the Force…all emerging from the side of the Imperials.

"Yeah," the unfamiliar and strikingly tall man heaved before them. "You're all dead."

The Grand Inquisitor snarled under his breath, just as his constituent inquisitors caught up behind him.

"What he said," Xur lurched forward and unleashed a booming push in the Force aided by his companion, making the inquisitors stumble and the startled Imperials either dig their weapons into the ground, or find themselves flailing helplessly through the air as they disappeared.

Within moments, the odds had evened…and Trilla's heart warmed as her husband's presence became physical. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him…or punch him for being late…but either way she knew now was not the time.

Introductions would have to take a back seat to the army of pissed off Imperials hungry for blood.


Nerah was built and tailored for battle, and over her seventeen years of life, she'd embraced quite a tolerance for horrifying and gruesome sights.

She'd never seen anything like this. Four Force-wielding psychopaths all together at once, conjuring waves of energy and tossing boulders and tiny pebbles at the speed of blaster bolts. The front two men lead a forward charge into the mob of Imperial forces while Suduri engaged directly with the head inquisitor. Behind her remained the horned female who she had heard as Zahira, and she was the one raining death with merely her gestures and movements. Bones cracked while screams filled the air, bodies entering death throes as they eventually lay still.

This was no fight…it was a slaughter.

Knees slid across the dirt and Nerah whirled around, her wrists still bound, but momentarily relaxed with Markov in her sights. She looked fresh, certainly much cleaner than she appeared, which made her somewhat jealous for the brief moment she could forget about the battle currently taking place.

"Wrists," Markov gestured, and the chiss wasted no time turning for the ISB agent to quickly unlock her cuffs and free her arms. However, when Nerah attempted to grasp a loose rifle and return to the fight, Markov's grip on her upper arm pulled her back. "Stand down. You and I are leaving."

Nerah scoffed, despite the hail of dirt. "What? Are you insane?"

"You achieved your directive, now we must let the mystics do their job. Commodore Thrawn has a more important task for you."

The chiss pulled herself free. "No! I'm not letting these terrorists—"

"You have your orders!" Markov shouted, which took Nerah half by surprise. The Agent never regarded her in such a way. "Do not allow this to become personal. I have lost too many comrades to that mistake! You will drop that blaster and leave with me, now."

She wanted more than any reason in the galaxy to reject her command and return to the fight. It was in her nature to destroy the sworn enemies of the government she served…

And yet…she was an Imperial second. If Thrawn had something more pressing than the current command…then she'd be foolish to deny him…to deny the superior officer the Ascendancy had assigned to her.

Big Brother.

In that, she lowered her blaster and nodded to the only human she would ever consider a friend…and they exited the battlefield with all haste.


Xur had watched the ISB Agent and chiss special forces soldier retreat from the confrontation and mulled pursuit, but eventually thought against it. The Fifth Brother was upon him, crashing his blade into the zabrak's titian beam while displaying his sharp, pointed teeth and his absent green eyes. He almost laughed at the inquisitor's efforts to overpower him, as if he had not taken a hint from his former counterpart and Xur's current wife that such an effort was pointless against him.

Daniel was not far, currently tearing through a battalion of stormtroopers that flooded the scene with a ferocity that reminded him of…him. He appeared as a giant in their light, not so much against the Death Troopers who put up a much better fight, but any white armored trooper was staring death in the face. His intimidation did a number on them alone, and with his above-average affinity to the Force, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, he wasn't quite the menace he was.

Despite the chaos of the current conflict, Xur had managed to turn his focus towards the new female presence during his duel with the Fifth Brother. It was warm…inviting, and certainly not unlike what he felt from his wife when she and he were together merely sharing a moment, but this was during a conflict. Such serenity earned his respect, and as she continued to defend them with primarily Force attacks…he sensed a faint echo within her, one he had felt before…distantly when he was younger. It was a flicker of belonging, a blanket that enveloped his essence to hers…almost precisely how he felt around his mother.

He didn't know who she was, but he certainly desired to find out.

Xur readjusted his stance to execute two deflections before pressing with both hands wrapped around his hilt, making the larger combatant lose his balance just long enough for the zabrak to send him spiraling into a purge trooper, his flailing blade severing his own man in two. The Fifth Brother was always overzealous, hardly a match for him even four years ago, and he hadn't seemed to have learned much since.

Support from his men saved his life, pressing the advantage against Xur as he was forced to defend himself against the onslaught of enemy fire. Almost on cue, Daniel tore into the scene, drawing all the attention in the galaxy with his beckoning call, the emerald blade tearing through the air, heads rolling across the grass, and some stormtroopers thinking it best if they made themselves scarce.

"Cowards!" the Fifth Brother growled, swiping his blade through the air in vain. His rage was short-lived, however as the prospect of now fighting Xur Eon, slayer of more than enough of his kind, and Daniel Velken on his own…the inquisitor knew when he was far outmatched. He staggered backwards, holding his blade defensively. "Grand Inquisitor…we are outnumbered!"

His superior was locked in a grueling and teeth grinding duel with Trilla, who didn't seem to give a damn who he was…and whose rage was beginning to induce him with fear.

A gasp in pain pulled Xur's eyes back towards the Fury, and he spotted the woman sustaining an upper arm mark that dropped her to one knee.

"Go!" Daniel pushed him forward. "I'll take care of him!"

Xur didn't need to think twice. He Force leapt to her aid, crossing blades with the Seventh Sister before she could land the death blow.

"When will your kind ever learn?" Xur asked, beginning to win out on their saber lock.

The Seventh Sister frantically shook her head as she deftly ducked out from under the lock and slashed horizontally, only to have Xur readjust and bat her saber away. "You'll never win," she declared.

"Heard that before," Xur swept her off her feet, sending her flying into the tree line and sliding on her back into the darkness. "And everyone who's said it is long dead by now."

With her taken care of, the zabrak turned and took a knee, regarding the fellow female of his species who still held her smoldering wound. Gently grasping her wrist, she glared his way and tried to jerk away. "Hey, hey! I'm just trying to help…" Xur insisted. "Just let me see it."

"I know how serious wounds are…I'd be a terrible healer if I didn't," she snapped, her accent posher than Trilla's, which was a shock that left his face with a stupid, puzzled expression. "And I don't want your help."

Xur scoffed. "Listen lady, that little thing I just did a few seconds ago, that's called saving your life. I'm not one to cash in on such debts, but a little gratitude goes a long way in my book."

The woman still glared at him, but her eyes didn't linger long, falling towards the ground in embarrassment. She then turned towards Trilla dueling the Grand Inquisitor and the fleeing Imperial troopers desperate to avoid Daniel's wrath. "We should help her."

Xur grasped her good arm and held her down. "No, no, no…she's doing just fine. We got to give her this one."

She narrowed her eyes. "Whatever do you mean?"

The zabrak watched his wife wear that determined look on her face, the conflicted expression he remembered so well from Katarr.

"She's not fighting him," he said. "She's fighting herself."


Trilla had made a habit of avoiding personal engagements as a Jedi, as leaving emotional ties behind would only ever hold her back. A lot of that changed towards the end of the war, and certainly after she had been tortured by the Empire for so long. Once hatred took its root into her heart, everything she ever did became personal; a chance to prove to herself that she wasn't a weakling for giving in to the Dark Side. Eventually that faded as well, and by the time she had been reunited with Xur Eon, she lived off personal engagements. Letting Nerah go was perhaps a chance to loosen that trend, but the moment she laid eyes on the pau'an male who had ruined her, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave this planet until he was dead.

There was too much to fight for, and she felt it all at once with each clash of blades against her taller quarry. She could feel the essence of the Second Sister pushing her on to complete her revenge, to rid herself of this man's influence once and for all…but she knew better. The Grand Inquisitor was merely the poster boy, and the true master of her torment would be forever beyond her reach.

That didn't stop her sinister double from trying. With each saber lock, she saw her face, echoing one phrase:

Kill him.

She wanted to…oh how badly she wanted to run her blade through his heart and drink in the agony he experienced. The pleasure of such an act would be intoxicating…not to mention so incredibly right. He was good, but he wasn't as good as she had become. She'd learned too much from so many others that she'd become far too unpredictable for even his vast knowledge of bladework. He'd never go down easy, but she knew he stood no chance against her, and even less so if another came in to assist her.

But this was her moment. Her challenge.

And she would take it.

Her Form II and Form IV hybrid style was too steady and too quick against most combatants, but the Grand Inquisitor was good, seemingly unaffected by the unorthodox tactic. He masterfully stopped her advance, pressing against her blade with his own.

"Is this all your freedom has taught you?" he asked. "Or has the truth set into your mind forever, my dear?"

Trilla snarled, stopping his advance with her superior leverage even with her shorter height. "Call me that one last time, and I shall show you what freedom has taught me."

They had two more deflections before Trilla enhanced her speed, batting away his blade and flipping with her leg, crashing her heel against his jaw. He stumbled and held his blade for defense, but she had already fazed away, winding up her blade and charging forward at a blinding speed, slashing horizontally at his waste. The Grand Inquisitor took this in stride, ducking under her attack and winding her with a knee and backhanding her onto the dirt.

Trilla grunted, grasping her pulsing jaw as she rolled over.

"Let me in…let me beat him!" the Second Sister shouted, looking down upon her. "Let me have my revenge…it's what we both want!"

She growled and yelled, fazing through the spectre of herself to meet his blade again, and now he began to chuckle to himself. "You're wretched. This nuisance has persisted long enough," he pressed, his blade winning out as he back began to fold. "Ready to die?"

The Second Sister was blaring into her ears to let her in…but she couldn't…she wouldn't. Not after all she had been through…not after everything she had experienced since Katarr, not after looking into her daughter's eyes for the first time.

We all feel that pull from the Dark Side…but it doesn't control you unless you let it.

If she gave in, everything would be lost…all of that joy, that permanent joy, traded for pleasure that would fade in minutes, and then…she would have nothing. She would be a slave to her hate, a servant of her anger…not a mother to a child who loved her.

In that moment, she felt herself accept that, and in the corner of her eye, she watched the wide-eyed Second Sister fade into the Jedi she once was. She smiled at her…and she smiled back.

This was true freedom…free from uncontrollable passion, free of a life clinging to perverse pleasure, and in that, she fully surrendered to the moderate joy of being who she truly was.

She was a mother…and she was a Jedi.

Slowly, she began to press back, a new sense of purpose in her gaze as her strength began to win out, fear falling upon her opponent's expression as she pushed off his blade, slashing and cutting into his defense with precise swings. Her meticulous pattern pressed her advantage, and the Grand Inquisitor cried out in pain as his right arm was severed at the elbow.

An arm for an arm.

He dropped to one knee, his hilt far from his reach. She whirled back for the killing blow, but instead her blade stopped just before his forehead.

She felt it…her struggle…her fight…was over.

"You…you will never…escape," he vowed, holding the stump of his arm. "You will die alone…agonized…and unloved."

Trilla felt her upper lip twitch, but she didn't take his bait, merely pulling her blade aside and let it drape steadily.

"You've lost," she said. "Everything you've built is gone…and it will never return."

He heaved heavy breaths, looking up to her with hate-filled eyes, and she spotted his left-hand gesture. "Still…after all this time…you're just as—" his sentence died in that moment, right as Trilla's golden blade cut clean through his neck tissue, spinal column, and freed his head from his shoulders.

There was a clang behind her, the sound of his saber hilt returning to the surface.

The anger was gone.

A hand was on her shoulder, and when she turned, seeing the face of her husband, she dropped her hilt and fell into him, her nose buried into his neck, and all the pain she had ever felt floating away forever.


12 BBY – Fury

Trilla was asleep with Katara beside her when the Fury landed, and with her obvious exhaustion, Xur did not dare wake her. There was nothing for her to do any longer, and with the way she clung to her shut-eyed infant daughter, he didn't wish to ruin the perfect serenity she had achieved. Instead he had left her to her dreams, descending the loading ramp with Daniel Velken, a pack slung over his shoulder.

"You sure you don't want in?" Xur asked, just as they hit the end, and Zahira followed in tow. "The admiral needs men like you."

Daniel seemed to mull his response but shook his head. "I've got my own path to follow, wrongs to right…family to find," his eyes flicked towards he and Zahira, before turning back away. "You're way ahead, I've got to catch up."

Xur snorted. "Well, offer is always standing…and when you do catch up," he held out his hand. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of stories to tell."

Daniel nodded, a bit of a smirk in his expression. "You know I used to think I was the only one left…" he said, before shaking his hand firmly. "Never been so glad to be wrong."

The zabrak let it ride out before letting his hand free, and then Zahira moved to give him a warm hug before pulling away.

"Stay safe, please," she said, her head cocked with a sad smile. "Out there…fighting. If you need anything, let me know."

He nodded, before turning half away. "You got a good thing here, Eon," he said, before beginning to walk away. "Don't screw it up."

As he left, Xur crossed his arms, and begin to take note of Zahira's sudden impulse to shudder, and the blush that erupted even with her crimson skin.

"Everything alright?" he nudged her with his elbow.

She shook her head, as if shaking dust from her body. "Of course," she nodded, and then quickly ascended the ramp, leaving Xur to only smirk and follow, shutting the ramp closed once he reached the top.

"Someone's got a crush," he prodded, to which she whirled around and balled her fists.

"I do not! I'm a Jedi," she crossed her arms, looking away. "Don't be ridiculous."

Xur's smirk grew wider. "By the Force, you might be the worst liar I've ever met."

Zahira smiled back. "Ah. I take that as a compliment."

"So you are lying."

Her smile faded, and eventually she began to rub her neck and force that smile to return, before shrugging. He couldn't resist smiling back with a slight laugh, and then eventually flicked his head towards their makeshift bar, just as the Fury began to take off at Rava's behest.

"What something to drink?" he offered, opening the cabinets and fishing out a glass.

"Just water please," she smiled brightly, taking a seat on the large couch usually he and Trilla occupied. "I um…don't drink."

"Hmph," Xur half-snorted, pouring one for himself, and a water for her from the sink. "We'll see how long that lasts. I'm kind of a bad influence."

"So I've heard," Zahira rested her palms on top of one another, waiting patiently. She trailed off after that, and then continued to look down as he took his seat beside her, only looking up to accept her glass.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice more flat than concerned.

Zahira flashed embarrassment in the Force, and then finally met his gaze. "I'm sorry about how I treated you back on Teth…I just wasn't sure…"

"Zahira, I've dealt with much worse than that, believe me," he assured, taking a sip and letting the bitter taste work its way over his tongue and down his throat. "And I probably deserve it, to be honest."

She chuckled. "Perhaps. I probably should've yelled at your louder, in hindsight. Might've wiped that insufferable smirk you always seem to wear on your face."

He laughed. "Didn't think you'd be funny."

"I think you're just an easy crowd," she popped her brow, taking a heavier sip of her water.

Xur scoffed. "Is that a compliment, or…?"

Zahira shrugged. "Up to you, baby brother."

Brother.

The word resonated well within his mind, and even if it had only been a few days since he had learned that this warm, inviting presence in the Force was indeed his twin sister, he felt like he had known her all his life. She was just…so easy to love, and to have her as part of his family…it was just a beautiful gift he never expected to receive.

"Baby brother," he snorted. "Why am I the baby brother? Is it because of your lovely and adult accent?"

Zahira rolled her eyes. "No…you're just short."

He shook his head, and then let his hand rest atop hers. "You and I are going to get along great…but only if you try this," he offered his drink.

His sister eyed it for a moment, before surrendering to his gaze with an admonishing smile. Amateurly, she took a large sip and immediately coughed, but the wheezing eventually evolved into their joined laughter…and they let it ride until their jaws hurt and their smiles dissipated.


Long time coming for this one. Hope you enjoyed it! Most likely, I will be leaning towards single-chapter arcs instead of multi-chapter ones, that way I don't get trapped with one for a long time. It may mean a longer wait, but I think it will mean more content for you all in the long run.

Thanks for reading, and stay safe!