Days ticked by.

Alone again, Cal had gone back to his semi-permanent state as a shade haunting the workshop.

Only now he was waiting on two things, for BD to finally be brought back online, and for the final layer of encryption to be broken on the navigation logs. Being kept in an apprehensive state, knowing that any moment could be the one where he was either greeted by his closest friend or the one where he was given a reason to leave the Fortress once more, was as nerve wracking as any battle or mission he had faced.

And the long moments gave him an awful amount of time to be lost in his thoughts

She's been alive this whole time. Cal still hadn't allowed himself to accept the fact, That whole month I was just sitting here, locked up in a cage like an animal. Cere, Greeze, and Merrin were all just out there.

Greez and Merrin, I can almost understand why they didn't come back. He's just a pilot, I don't even know if Merrin can swim.

But Cere?

Distant but painfully recent memories of Cere carving through a hall of purge troopers lingered in Cal's mind.

She could have helped.

Do they even know I'm still here? Did they think I was dead?

Muddled moments of being locked in that cell swirled in Cal's head, punctuated by sharp memories of stormtroopers and rebels and Bracca workers.

The mental maelstrom ended on the image of his ruined apartment.

Cal breathed deep, inwardly cursing the fact that it was more of a desperate gasp than anything, I wish I was.

In the pit of his self-loathing, Cal couldn't help but think back to Kashyyyk, that last rebel lying dead at his feet as he pulled the navigation log out of the machine.

If they thought I was dead before, they have to know better by now.

Mari's terrified reaction to him as she fled into the jungle stood out to Cal.

They probably know exactly what I've done since they left me here. I can't take any of that back.

For all the misery he knew he'd caused, a few aggravatingly bright spots picked at Cal. A friendly face or two, a mission well done. The deeply addicting sense of security that came with authority.

Cal looked around the workshop, I can't take any of this back. Don't even know if I want to.

Before Cal was left to realize that his skin no longer crawled at the notion that this was where he belonged, one of the senior engineers approached him.

"Excuse me, sir." A middle-aged woman, she wore her hair back in a tight bun, wearing the same gray tunic with long lab coat as the rest of the workers there, it was her only distinguishing feature, "We've finished the repairs for the BD unit, would you care for a report before it's powered on?"

Sight quickly moving from the engineer over to BD's repair station, Cal stepped away from the wall. Nervously crossing the room, he barely thought to speak to the engineer, "He's really done? Everything's fixed?"

Caught off guard, but careful not to show any confusion, the engineer followed the inquisitor to the table, "All possible repairs have been completed, sir." She chose her words carefully, "Some new components had to be fabricated."

Now standing over a still de-powered BD, Cal looked the droid over. Main processor still the same red-white that it had been before the mission to Kashyyyk, Cal's eyes were drawn to the new matte black leg and plating along BD's chassis.

Catching up a second later to the young man, the engineer began talking through her report, "The droid's original leg was unrecoverable, we fabricated a replacement and outfitted it with a scomp link of comparable make and model to the previous one."

Cal nodded along to the engineer's words, running a hand over the heavy new parts they had installed on his old friend.

"To prevent similar incidents," the engineer continued, "we replaced the alusteel chassis plate with durasteel. While this increased the overall weight of the exploration unit, the mission needs outlined in the project scope suggested that durability should be prioritized over mobility.

"Internally, we were able to procure a new gyroscope and battery pack. The droid's hologram projector was salvageable, though we upgraded its resolution and framerate."

While upgrades seemed like a good idea, Cal was wary, "Did you do anything to his processor?"

"The processor is the same." She answered flatly.

"AI chip?"

"Also the same."

As satisfied as he could be, Cal nodded as the engineer went back to her talk.

"We've also taken the liberty of uploading a series of access codes to the droid's data bases."

Guess that means no more splicing doors, Cal thought back to the dozens of blocked off halls and rooms the little droid had hacked their way into …I'm sure we'll still find a way to make some trouble.

But Cal still had one pressing question, "and his memory banks?"

The engineer stiffened.

Cal tensed at the slight movement, repeating, "his memories?"

"Partially recovered, sir."

"Partial how?"

If words could wound, the engineer was sure that she'd be on the floor, careful that what she had to say might be a trigger she cautiously went on, "The droid's temporary storage was undamaged, everything from a week before the incident should be available. Some long-term storage was damaged beyond recovery."

Good news and bad commingling, Cal wasn't sure if the cold feeling in his gut was a shock of relief or a sinking dread, "How much?"

"One core was completely melted through. This model of droid scatters stored information across multiple drives, it's unlikely that all the lost data is from the same time period." She tried to be gentle, "I'm sorry sir, we were unable to pinpoint its contents."

"What about the rest of his long-term memory?"

When the inquisitor didn't react with a seething rage, the engineer took it as a good sign, returning to a neutral professional tone as she said, "largely encrypted, but intact."

The encrypted files aren't the ones I want! Cal's heart raced, but the only thing he managed to mutter was, "Will he remember me?"

"The droid will remember everything from a week before the incident." The engineer carefully repeated.

Cal looked down, charcoal-black and red stripped uniform looking back up at him, so, he'll remember this part.

"Turn him on." Cal spoke to the floor.

"Yes, sir."

It only took a moment to bring BD online. In the time Cal took a breath and tried to hold his head high.

In a heart beat that could have lasted a year, a few of the blinking lights across the back of BDs main processor flicked on. Pulse thumping at the good sign, Cal leaned in closer. Small sounds of a cooling fan clicked on, followed by near silent gears turning an motors powering up.

Apprehension mounting, Cal's breath caught in his throat as a dull light clicked on from somewhere deep withing BDs visual receptor.

Looking his friend in the eye, Cal didn't dare breathe.

Slowly standing, BD buckled slightly on his unfamiliar leg.

Lens within one visual receptor closing and opening to draw the world into focus, the first thing he saw was Cal's worried face looking down at him. Processing what data he had and searching a set of updates for anything he missed, BD stalled for a moment.

And then something clicked.

Antennae suddenly rocking upward with recognition, BD let out a series of excited beeps as he leapt from the table.

Catching the explorer droid and buckling slightly under his heavier than usual weight, Cal was sure he'd never been so relieved, "You're back! Oh, BD, I missed you, I was so worried! How are feeling? Is the new leg giving you trouble? Do you feel heavier? I think you feel heavier."

Feet crimping down on Cal's arms to crawl around to his shoulders, BD sputtered to answer Cal's questions while launching into a few of his own.

Wincing slightly at the questions that BD should already know the answers to, some of Cal's relief gave way to pinpricks of worry.

If he doesn't remember where he is… Cal looked around the workshop, trying to tell himself that it looked different enough from the rest of the Fortress that BD could only be thinking that it was new.

Shaking away the worries about what BD did and didn't remember, Cal tried to cling to the knowledge that their friendship seemed intact, "I'll tell you all about it. BD, it's been such a crazy couple of months, you don't even know."

Sure that he'd heard something of Cal's story about recent events, BD was confused to find that he didn't have a file on the specifics. Noting as much with a series of whirs and beeps, BD realized that some of his older files were missing as well.

Heart skipping a beat with every new thing BD mentioned, Cal made a careful effort not to show the discomfort on his face, "Let's go talk about it. I got a private room."

Ready to follow wherever Cal would lead him, BD firmed his grip on Cal's back.

Taking his friends weight as a comfort to cling to, Cal turned to leave the workshop.

Just before he did, a new voice came from the far side of the room, "…Sir."

Ready to shoo away whoever had called, Cal looked up to find the same computer technician that had played the audio recording a few days ago

"What?" Cal impatiently asked.

Hiding a wince, the tech answered, "We've broken the encryption. We have the Mantis' destination."

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

"This is the place." Cere came to a stop half way down a shadowed alley, between two stone huts.

Merrin repressed a shiver, "You are certain?"

No. Cere admitted to herself while putting on a confidant face, "Just watch."

Turing to face one of the dull grey walls, Cere intently looked for some flaw in the masonry. Finding one stone with less mortar around it that the others, she carefully pulled the rock from its place. Just as the pantoran from Kashyyyk said she would, Cere found a rusted over metal plate.

Even revealed, it was hard to reach, and Cere was left to knock against it with a single knuckle.

A moment ticked by, the only sounds being rushing wind and a distant stream, barely babbling along against the ice. Then the metal slid to the side, the flat and slightly green face of a kalleran peering at them through the stones.

They said nothing.

"Mari sent us," Cere let them know.

Not even giving a nod of understanding, the kalleran slid the peephole shut, only for a seemingly solid section of wall to slide open.

Exchanging a look with Merrin, Cere proceeded down the newly revealed path.

Narrow and dimly lit, Cere and Merrin had no choice but to walk single file, the tall and lean kalleran wordlessly following behind. Slightly on edge, Cere said nothing as the short path ended in a slightly rusted door.

"Go through it," their previously silent door guard told them.

Trying not to let her suspicions get the better of her, Cere did as she was told.

On the other side of the door, she found a what appeared to be a safehouse.

The entirety of the wall to the left was filled with doors, their destinations unknowable at a glance. Wire shelves lined the far wall, dotted with boxes and half-filled water barrels. To Cere's right was a rack for blasters, less than a quarter of the slits actually holding a riffle. Beyond that was two sets of bunk beds, privacy curtains half drawn and their sheets tightly tucked; Merrin wondered if they had ever even been used.

Besides the crowded stone walls, the center of the room doubled as an office or maybe a war room. Clone Wars era communications terminal and even older holoprojector dominated its center. A movable magboard with metal print outs of galactic maps lingered beside a large crate that doubled as a table.

It felt like the sort of place that should be cluttered, but the lack of supplies and people made that impossible.

In fact, the only person in the room besides the new arrivals and their guide was another kalleran, sitting at the makeshift table. A more vibrant green but with less black markings than the door guard, he seemed slightly younger.

"Raymond, I presume?" Cere repeated the name of the Kashyyyk rebel's contact.

Focused intently on Cere and Merrin the moment they walked in, he answered with a casual, almost flippant, air, "You presume correctly. And you are?"

"From Kashyyyk," the door guard croaked out before Cere or Merrin spoke in reply.

Raymond's deep-set and yellow eyes flickered over to his companion, "Thank you, Takmic, but they can talk too."

Moving further into the room and slightly away from the guard, Cere spoke to Raymond, "I'm Cere, and this is Merrin. We were told that there was a Jedi in hiding on this planet."

Quickly moving his sight back to the two guests, Raymond paused for a moment before noticeable dropping some tension from his shoulders. Playing off the twitch, he kept moving, leaning back in his chair and bringing his feet up to rest on the desk, "Ah yes, the Wood Man."

"That what?" Merrin asked, unsure if Jedi had some other name or role.

"The Wood Man." Raymond repeated, "That's what the loggers in the southern canyon call them at least. He never messes with their stuff, but they know they're being watched, and it's making them jumpy." He chuckled, "Some of the old timers are using him like a local legend to make sure the kids behave, 'don't go into the woods at night, or the Wood Man will pull you into the trees and eat you'."

Cere wasn't laughing, "Are you sure that this is actually a Jedi?"

"Pretty sure."

Cere waited for a long while, "you care to elaborate?"

"We had a rogue Jedi out here a couple years ago," the kalleran spoke as if he were telling a mundane story rather than one of life and death, "Talk of the town for a long while."

"What happened to them?" Cere was sure she already knew

"Dunno," Raymond shrugged, "But he caused a big stir in Plateau City. The Imps put it under marshal law for a week."

"Is that why you want us to find this other Jedi?" Merrin interjected. The kalleran's too-calm tone had rubbed her the wrong way, and now she was sure that she sensed an ulterior motive, "So the Imperials do not come back to Kaller?"

Raymond took his feet off the desk, leaning forward over the table and growing serious, "Hate to break it to you lady, but they never left, not a way that matters. But yes, to an extent. We're living on the edge out here, and we don't need the extra attention a Jedi manhunt would bring. The way I hear it, you folk are looking for Jedi and you're also looking to avoid the empire. Sounds like we've got some overlapping interests."

"We're not bounty hunters." Cere didn't like the way this sounded

"And I wasn't planning on paying you" Raymond quickly replied, "I'm not here to stick my antennae in Jedi business, but I don't have the people to spare on getting a Jedi off planet, or on hiding them here."

"Any idea of where the Jedi is?"

"Nope." The light tone was back, as if the moments seriousness had never happened at all, "Last person to officially see him was Siku, but Miss Korin's been buying more food than usual. I'd bet credits she's been feeding him, sweet little old lady that she is."

"Thanks for the tips." Cere flatly answered before turning slightly to leave, "Merrin?"

Before the night sister answered, Raymond cut in, "You can leave out that way," he cast a purposefully careless hand towards the door to the far right, "the tunnel will take you to the cliffs north of town."

Our ship is to the east. Merrin flatly thought while asking, "where does that one lead?"

Following the nightsister's gaze to the door on the left, Raymond answered, "To the pub. But Koska never forgets a face, so you probably don't want to go that way." He looked at Cere, "I'm assuming you plan on laying low."

Fairly certain that the comment might have been a threat, Cere kept her expression carefully neutral, "Of course. Come on Merrin, we've got work to do."

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

The Second Sister entered a gloomy conference room with smooth and confident steps.

Not bothering to turn on the light, she instead activated a holocomm inset into the large table that dominated the room. The delicate blinking lights on the control panel said that now, she only needed to wait before the Grand Inquisitor answered her call.

Moments ticked by, leaving Trilla to wait in the dark and steel herself against whatever irksome advice the Grand Inquisitor would have in store for her.

I'm not sure why I bother to update him, she sourly thought while pointedly ignoring the consequences that she's seen others suffer for failing to include the Grand Inquisitor in their plans, He's going to order that I bring Cal with me, I know it.

And what right does he have to be there? Just because he wants to 'speak' with Cere. I'd tell him not to lie to himself if I were bothered.

Cere is mine. Bitter memories, the first true sense of fear that had ever bitten into Trilla washed over her. She earned my wrath when she left me and a youngling to hide in a cave.

The moments of fear bled into Trilla's first days trapped in the Empire. The pain, the isolation, the creeping realization that the only thing forcing her to endure it was a misplaced loyalty to a woman that abandoned her. Eventually those vulnerable fears, that weakness, melted away, replaced by a simmering resentment and stubborn disdain.

A resentment that threatened to overcome Trilla completely the day that Cal and Cere attacked the Fortress. Cal's yelling at Cere, telling her to run, to save herself and leave him behind on the Fortress floor was nothing more than an awful reminder of the loyalty, the admiration, the trust, she'd once held for Cere. A reminder that cut deeper and pained her more than any physical blow ever could.

Yes, she left you too. Trilla acknowledged some of Cal's struggle, but you're a fool if you think it's the same as what she did to me.

As comforting as the smug sense of superiority was, Trilla wasn't sure if she was still thinking of what she would say to Cal or if she was only talking to herself as she thought, You knew what Cere was capable of, and you trusted her still. Really, this is your own fault.

Standing in a darkness that didn't quite match the shade of her thoughts, Trilla checked the time, Where is he?

In time with the impatient thought, a hologram suddenly flickered on over the table. Casting the room in dull blues stood a half-sized recreation of the Grand Inquisitor. Straight backed and clear eyed as usual, he held onto a carefully constructed formality.

Trilla tried to hold onto the same air, "Grand Inquisitor."

"Second Sister," He returned a rigid greeting, "I trust this is a worthwhile mission update."

Stiffening at his almost-dismissive tone, she replied neutrally, trying not to show that it affected her, "Yes, sir. I've recovered the Mantis' destination. They're bound for Kaller, in the outer rim."

He appeared unfazed, "And you've arranged passage there?"

Knowing a challenge when she saw one, Trilla didn't let any apprehension creep into er voice as she answered, "Yes."

Evaluating her tone, he didn't give a clue as to what he thought of it, "Very well. And your other mission?"

"In a similar state as when you left." She carefully answered.

The Grand Inquisitor hummed in acknowledgment, the sound almost too low to be picked up by the transmitter, "Take him with you."

Safely hidden behind her helmet, Trilla didn't even try to stop herself from casting a poisonous and unsurprised look at her master's projection.

Thought he couldn't see the reaction, the Grand Inquisitor sensed it all the same, "Whereas you see a hindrance, I see an opportunity." The Grand Inquisitor didn't laugh, but the amusement on his words filled Trilla with just as much resentment as open mocking would have.

Holding her tongue, Trilla let the more senior Inquisitor go on.

"Consider this arrangement whatever you will, a challenge, a test, a competition if you must. In any case either you, or your charge will kill your former master. Whichever it might be, your mission will be complete."

Speaking in carful measures, Trilla said, "I will not be denied my revenge."

"I'm not suggesting that you will be." The Grand Inquisitor dismissed the concern, "Operate as you have, strike down Cere Junda. Show Cal how we operate."

Hoping that the holocomm wasn't sensitive enough to show that she tensed slightly, Trilla was careful not to react or to let her simmering anger creep into her voice. "Yes, sir."

Carefully hidden or not, the Grand Inquisitor knew it was there. Almost looking through the Second Sister as he spoke, his unusual well-wishing was sinister enough without a faint and ominous smile, "Good luck."