"Looks like I got an upgrade," Cal spoke to an empty suite, desperately missing a response of excited beeps from BD or a snarky comment from Jorge.

Once again thrown into an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar place, Cal tried not to let the near-silent hum of the cruiser's engines get to him.

He also tried to tell himself not to get used to constantly jumping from one Imperial ship to the next, but his recent experiences were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Luckily, that inner struggle didn't last long before a small knock came from the door.

Wondering if he had already done something to offend the captain, Cal answered.

To his surprise, he came face to face with a man not much older than himself. Slightly shorter than Cal, the young man had dirty blond hair and wore an olive officer's tunic, the rank placard over his chest made up of two small squares, one red over a blue. Cal didn't have to guess that the man was very junior.

"There's a holocal for you, sir." The officer quickly offered.

"That was fast," Cal couldn't help but mutter before asking, "Who's it from?"

"The Fortress Inquisitorius, sir."

Cal huffed, Of course. Considering simply ignoring the call, Cal thought better of it as he reminded himself that BD was at Trilla's mercy, "Ok. Where do I go to take this thing?"

Aware that the Inquisitors operated outside the military's rigid structure, the officer was still confused and concerned by the lack of formality, "The third-floor conference room, sir. I'm glad to show you there."

Considering just wondering around until he found the place, Cal decided that making Trilla or whoever wait might do more harm than good.

"Sure." Cal took the offer, asking a question as he stepped even with the other man. "What did you say your name was?"

Dreading the idea of attracting any attention from the Inquisitors the officer answered simply, "I'm Ensign Billing Clovis."

They turned down a different hall as Cal asked, "So Bill, or do you prefer Billing?"

"Just Clovis is fine, sir."

"…right. Ok, Clovis. You don't need to call me sir, by the way. My name is Cal."

Not knowing where this conversation was going, but having been warned by the other officers not to anger the Inquisitors, Clovis played along, "Understood, Cal."

Sensing the other man's unease, Cal tried not to address it, "So, how long have you been here?"

"I graduated from the academy four months ago, s- Cal."

"Which one? You don't have a core world accent."

A fact that Clovis was very aware of, especially when speaking to his Coruscant educated superiors, "Myomar."

Cal didn't know much about that planet, but he was pretty sure that it was part of the Republic during the Clone Wars, "huh."

Biting his tongue, Clovis wondered what judgmental thoughts might be going through the Inquisitor's head.

The ensign's worried suspicions made an obvious ripple in the Force, Cal was half addressing them, half thinking aloud as he said, "I met a stormtrooper from a Separatist planet not long ago."

"It's all Imperial space now," Clovis quickly commented, unsure of what Cal meant with his comment, "and I was too young to be involved in the Clone Wars besides."

Cal looked at the officer again, "Yeah. Too young during the Clone Wars. Right."

Feeling that Cal's comment was loaded, Clovis hurried the last few steps to a nondescript door that led to the conference room, "here we are, sir."

Catching that Clovis had defaulted back to calling him sir, Cal wasn't sure if he was more concerned that some Imperial officer thought he was in a position of authority, or by the fact that he probably was the more experienced of the two of them.

Clovis didn't notice any of Cal's inner turmoil as the door whooshed open, "After you."

"Thanks, Clovis," Cal decided that he wasn't as interested in a chat with the crew as he'd thought he was, "I got it from here, you can go now."

"Yes, sir." The ensign answered before hurrying away as if they hadn't spoken at all.

Faced with a mostly empty room, Cal was left with nothing to do besides close the door behind him and click on the blinking holoprojector.

"Here goes nothing," he spoke to himself as the call connected.

He wasn't left with too long to grow weary of what the conversation might entail before Trilla appeared as a ghostly blue hologram.

Seemingly permanently clad in her matte black uniform, her dual-colored cloak rested flat against her back, though Cal was almost surprised to see that she had gone without her helmet for the call.

"I'm surprised you didn't keep me waiting." She began.

"If this isn't about something important, I'm hanging up." Cal refused to take part in whatever game she had in mind.

But that didn't stop Trilla from playing one, "Temper, temper. You've become so easy to get a rise out of."

Biting his tongue, and then suspecting that that was exactly what Trilla wanted him to do, Cal tried to stay calm as he replied, "You called for a reason, and it probably wasn't just to annoy me. What's going on?"

"You're correct, this isn't just to irritate you. I was curious if you understood the gravity of your situation."

"Yeah."

Trilla raised an eyebrow, waiting for elaboration.

Rolling his eyes, Cal offered a purposefully obtuse one, "Go to Bracca. Kill someone. Go back to the Fortress. It's pretty straightforward."

Trilla nodded, "So, you don't understand."

"I do." Cal was quickly losing his patience.

"Let me explain this to you," Trilla ignored Cal completely, "The Grand Inquisitor is a patient man, but he's not a terribly understanding one"

"You don't have to threaten me," Cal scoffed, "I know what will happen if I don't go through with this."

A slight and twisted smile crept across Trilla's features, it looked comfortable, as if it were a common expression of hers beneath her helmet, "Speaking of, you should know that the engineer said it would take days, possibly two weeks for your droid's data to be safely restored. But it can be restored."

Though the time was long, Cal couldn't help but feel a hint of relief at some confirmation that BD would be ok. He didn't trust it, "Why are you telling me that?"

"Would you believe comradery between allies?"

Cal's expression went flat.

Trilla dropped the already flimsy act, "To remind you that you're not a criminal on the run anymore. You work for the Empire and that means that you have staff at your disposal. We have resources, you should use them."

"And make it look like I'm actually working with you people? No thanks."

"Fine, have it your way." Trilla shrugged, knowing full well how ridiculous Cal was being, "Carve a bloody path through your old home planet, since that seems to be your favored method."

Cal stiffened, "When I have no other choice."

"That's not what the battle records from Kashyyyk indicate."

And you know that's not true. He couldn't help but think to himself. Despite that, he said, "I'll do the mission. I don't need your lecture."

"I still don't think you understand the true purpose of your travel to Bracca."

Losing what little patience he had, Cal let out a hissing breath as he said, "Enough being mysterious. Just say what you want to say."

"Well, now I'm not so sure I actually want to."

"Trilla!"

"Oh, well, if you insist," she gave a wave of the hand, before loosely crossing her arms, "This mission is a test-"

"I know that." Cal's conversation with the Grand Inquisitor left him with no doubts.

Trilla eyed Cal, checking to see if he was done interrupting her. "…Perhaps a trial is a better word. Fail and you die. Succeed, and you'll truly be one of us."

There you go again, he thought, acting like you have some grand scheme in place. Well, it's not going to work this time.

Despite what he told himself, a little uncertainty ate at Cal as he told Trilla, "I doubt it."

She could see and sense every thought that ran through his head, they were so poorly hidden. "Do hold onto that misplaced confidence. It's very entertaining."

Eyes narrowing, Cal slapped at the control panel, suddenly dropping the call.

.***.***.***.***.

The scent of spent oil and durasteel shavings coated the air, too thick to be tamped down even by the persistent rain. Constant showers made for a permanent muttering of water across metal, accented by whirring sawblades and laser cutters, occasionally punctuated by heavy distant thunder or a deep rumble that came from breaking a capital ship.

The air was heavy, the ground slick, the sky the same impenetrable grey as the alusteel scraps that lined the landing pads.

Bracca was an awful soggy rock.

It was home.

And it's hiding someone dangerous Cal thought as he walked away from a lambda shuttle and toward the customs house.

Trying to move away from the knowledge that he was supposed to kill someone before this was done, Cal thought of his life on Bracca, that last ill-fated day standing out in his mind.

Lined up, trying not to look Trilla, or the Ninth Sister, or any one of a score of purge troopers in the eye. He'd been hopelessly afraid, cowardly hiding while Prauf spoke up.

Prauf, Cal remembered his old friend. I should have done something. I should have saved you.

But he hadn't. He'd waited until Trilla cut the older man down, and only then did he strike out. Just a scared kid lashing out in anger. He hadn't thought of it then, but that's what happened.

A bitter thought caught in Cal's throat as a scoff, Came back the same way I left.

The little sound didn't carry far through the rain as he came to the customs house's door. A stormtrooper stood guard, water rolling down their bright white amour. They didn't stop to question Cal as he stepped inside.

Entering the cramped building, Cal found a clerk sitting behind an empty counter.

Trying not to look as confused as he actually was, Cal approached the desk, taking in the room as he went.

Relatively simple, there were two doors, the one Cal had entered through and one behind the counter. A row of scanners and a few terminals for registering in and outbound shipments sat against one wall. A scale and a ticketing machine lined the other. The counter was dual leveled, lower so that the clerk could sit while the person on the other side stood. One section of it was on a hinge, easily raised by hand so that one could walk around the counter. The clerk that sat behind the counter wore an officer's uniform; her rank placard had an additional set of squares compared to the ensign rank that Clovis had worn.

Attentive since the moment he'd walked in, the clerk looked up from the computer screen that was inlaid into her side of the counter. "May I help you?" she asked, trying to figure out which service Cal was with from the uniform.

"I'm here to see Colonel Aldo." He answered, half convinced that he was in the wrong place and completely sure that he didn't want to be here.

Nodding, the clerk looked down at her half-hidden computer, "Last name, first name?"

Blinking away a slight confusion, Cal took another quick glance around the room, They're really not busy…

Despite the slight absurdity of the situation, Cal answered, "Kestis, Cal… Is there some kind of waiting list, or-"

"Colonel Aldo is expecting you." The clerk spoke over him, before standing and lifting the movable section of the counter, "Right this way, sir."

This is weird, even for the empire, Cal couldn't shake the sense that this was an unreasonable and atypical amount of formality as he walked past the clerk.

Quickly shutting the counter, she then went to the back door before Cal had the chance to. Standing nearly at attention in the doorway she opened to it say, "Cal Kestis from the Inquisitorius is here to see you, sir."

A muffled reply came from the back, leaving the clerk to step to the side, "Colonel Aldo will see you now."

"Right…" Cal wasn't sure what kind of protocol these people were expecting out of him, but if watching Trilla had shown him anything, it was that the rest of the military knew that Inquisitors rarely abided by their rules.

Not that I'm one of them, Cal tried to tell himself as he entered the room.

This one was more cluttered, more dim, with a single fluorescent tube clinging to the ceiling. Two tall windows sat against the back wall; densely packed shelves stood against the rest of the walls. A table that passed as a desk filled the center of the room, bare besides a grimy overseer droid's head.

Standing at the side of the table rather than sitting behind it stood a man.

"Colonel Aldo?" Cal presumed, looking at the series of red and blue squares on his chest and trying to commit the unfamiliar pattern to memory.

"Inquisitor," he acknowledged Cal with a slight nod.

Trying not to react to the title, Cal still felt an involuntary flinch pull at his features.

Completely unaware of Cal's predicament, Colonel Aldo misread the twitch, assuming that he had already made some obscure faux pas that offended the Inquisitor. Rather than letting the moment linger on whatever error he might have made, the colonel quickly moved on to business.

"Thank you for arriving so quickly," he began, "Seven days ago, we received footage of a suspected Jedi. As I'm sure-"

"Footage?" that was news to Cal

"You haven't seen it?" Colonel Aldo let an incredulous question slip.

Cal wasn't sure if he was supposed to have "No?"

Also unsure of how the inquisitors handled things, the colonel had a moment of confusion as he asked, "…would you like to?"

Pretty sure I'll need to see it at some point. Cal wasn't really sure why that was a question as he gestured for the colonel to just play whatever film they had acquired.

Taking the gesture in stride, the colonel reached for the droid on the table.

A light flickered on, shortly afterward projecting a clip pulled out of the droid's memory. Cast in the dim blues of a cheap holoprojector, the footage was distorted, either by the rain or the wear and tear Bracca delt to anything unfortunate enough to land on its surface.

In the clip, a bright streak fell out of the sky, landing hard and burying itself into a scrap heap. Difficult to make out, it could have been an oddly designed fighter, or maybe an escape pod. The footage shook, the droid zooming in on the odd sight from far away.

Seconds later, the scrap heap trembled before a second bright light lit up the frame. Blurred beyond any possible chance of identification, Cal could just recognize the fact that the light came from a small person holding a glowing blade.

So, they just landed? Cal considered what the footage might mean.

The colonel tapped the old droid head, jarring Cal from his thoughts, "Turned over by a scavenger after we increased the reward for information pertaining to the Jedi Order."

Cal grimaced at the memories of struggling to get by on a meager scrapper's pay.

"Don't look so surprised" the colonel misread the expression, "these people are only motivated by fear and credits."

"A handful of credits goes a long way out here," Cal roughly muttered, looking at the droid's head and trying to justify the tip-off to the empire.

Though he wasn't emotionally invested, the colonel wasn't blind to the suffering on Bracca, "unfortunately that holds true for far more planets than just Bracca, but the military is in no way equipped nor responsible for running the domestic affairs of a planet."

Cal glanced out the window toward a choked market street, white armored stormtroopers standing out like pinpricks of light in the crowd, "could have fooled me."

Tucking away a trace of annoyance like he would when talking to a more senior officer, the colonel moved on, "Yes, well. In any case, imagine my surprise when the informant never appeared to claim their reward."

"What?" caught off guard Cal looked back into the dim room at the colonel.

"You heard me. The droid's head was dropped off, anonymously, with no one ever coming forward to claim responsibility."

That can't be right, Cal thought as he stepped closer to the table. Never minding the frozen frame of the blurred-out hologram, Cal took a closer look at the overseer droid.

As he did, Colonel Aldo continued on, "We were able to trace the droids manufacture back to sector 17C. This particular unit's serial number is unrecoverable, but the model-"

"This model oversaw sector 23A" Cal cut the colonel off.

He'd heard this model's cracking voice modulators try to speak over hissing and sputtering of laser saws more than he cared to remember.

Running a gloved hand over the top of the droid's head, Cal caught tremors of unease and short pangs of surprise, probably from the scavenger watching the projection. But there was nothing remarkable, the droid having fulfilled its humorless duty without fail until it met its end at the bottom of a scrap heap, as forgettable and replaceable as the rest of the scrapper guild's tools.

Biting down a scathing remark, the colonel simply went along with whatever Cal said, "As you say, sir. I'll have a fleet of probe droids deployed. The Jedi won't escape our notice for long."

"Hang on a second," Cal stopped himself as quickly as he started, "…I'll go looking for them."

Beyond his chain of command and supposedly a trained Jedi killer, the colonel was still incredulous as he looked Cal up and down, "On your own?"

Cal considered it, but then one of Trilla's comments occurred to him, "You have resources. Use them."

Or I can just waste the Empire's time, Cal thought as he told the colonel, "Actually, I'll need some stormtroopers. A squadron at least."

Colonel Aldo's lip twitched in annoyance, "Very well."

"And, if you don't handle how the planet is run," Cal added, his curiosity getting the better of him, "Who does?"

The colonel wasn't sure why that concerned the Inquisitors, but he was more than ready to have the younger man leave, "that would be the governor's office. It's north of here, in the city courthouse, the stone building. You can't miss it."

Growing quiet, Cal considered his options before surprising even himself when he said, "Have the troopers meet me there. I have some questions for the governor."