With Merin and Cere out searching for the Jedi, Greez had been left to man the ship. Flitting between the cockpit, the kitchen, and his terrarium, the lateron hadn't know a moments rest since he'd woken up. On some level he was glad for the chores and maintenance; the constant walking leaving him with no excess energy to worry; the hourly need to do the tedious and painstaking task of scrambling the Mantis' signal being just attention grabbing enough that he didn't have the bandwidth to worry about the rest of their mission on Kaller.

But when the ship was spotlessly clear from keel to stern, when the hyperdrive had been calibrated, and when the Bonshyyyr tree had been trimmed and watered, Greez found himself with too much time to think.

So he began cooking an elaborate dinner. Preheating the oven he pulled spices from cabinets and vegetables from the refrigerator. Slicing, chopping, and measuring his ingrediants, he had a roast in the oven and had just begun to sauté the side dishes when the communicator pinged from the cockpit.

Shaking a sizzling pan over high heat, Greez considered the sound before quickly trotting out of the kitched to get the call.

Hearing his dinner teeter on the edge of perfection Greez all but slapped the terminal as he answered, "Speak up, you're on speaker and I'm moving around."

Not waiting for an answer, he was sure that either Cere or Merin's voice would crackle over the machine.

So he was surprised, and half way back to the kitchen, when he heard a man, "I'm trying to contact the Mantis."

Stuttering a step and trying not to assume the worse, Greez looked over his shoulder, "Who is this?"

Sputtering of the oil in the pan loud enough that it nearly drowned out the man, Greez just barely heard him say, "My name is Raymond. Cere and Merin paid me a visit."

Relaxing a fraction, and hoping that this wasn't some kind of imperial trick, Greeze went the rest of the way to the kitchen, if the empire did have our coms channel, they wouldn't waiste the time on a call.

Reaching the stove and quickly stirring the vegetibles, Greez shouted back, "Ok Raymond, you got the Mantis on call. What's going on out there?"

Now standing over the sizzling stove, Greez didn't hear a word of the man's reply.

"Speak up!" Greez yelled from over a pan of hissing and popping food.

There was a moment of annoyed silence and then a shout, "The Empire! We got Imps in Plateau city!"

Blood suddenly running cold, Greez cast a shocked look over his shoulder, half expecting half wishing he had someone in person to talk to, "What!?"

"They look like worse news than usual. They got stormtroopers in black." Raymond's static voice crackled over the machine, slightly easier to make out as Greez took the pan off the stove and hurried to the cockpit, "Some official looking lady - no armor but a weird flat-looking and black helmet. And a red headed guy – don't recognize his uniform either."

Appetite vanishing in a flash despite the half-cooked dinner, Greez came to a panicked stop at the communications terminal, That red headed guy… No. "Tell me everything you know about the ginger."

"Whoa, I was just calling as a courtesy, I don't-"

"I'm begging you!" Even Greez was taken aback by the raw edge on his voice. Biting his tongue and catching his breath, he tried to speak more calmly through the shocked silence that buzzed over the communications terminal, "We got a… a history with… Some of the…

The silence left after each of Greez's false starts grew heavy. Grappling with his words and thoughts, Greez wasn't sure if he would call the lack of a response from the rebel respect or suspicion.

"We've been running for a while…" Greeze settled on, "Some of it's been, well, it's gotten personal."

The silence stretched on for a moment before Raymond gave a reluctant, "I'll see what we got on him. All I know now is that he looked real young, and had an explorer droid on his back."

The dire stakes and potential double meaning to that answer gave Greez no comfort but he chose not to dwell on it, "Thanks."

Somewhere between shame and panic, Greez instinctively plotted their course off planet. It'd been touch and go for a moment while they were landing, with Kaller being dangerously close to one of its suns. Though they'd been here for what felt like days, the suns still hadn't sunk below the horizon, with at least one of the too-bright things clinging to the sky.

"Hey, Raymond," Greez was sure he was still there, the machine was still humming with an open line.

"It's going to take me a while to gather information," He answered, still thinking they were on their previous topic.

Greez both appreciated and hated it, "Yeah, but I got a different question."

"What?"

The lateron grimaced slightly, "How do these dual suns of yours effect the flying? Just one was giving us trouble coming in."

"At this time of year? You're not getting off of Kaller in anything bigger than a shuttle. And even that's dicey."

"I dunno, I'm pretty good." Greez tried to cling to a familiar bravado, hoping that the act would trick him as well, "even with this rock between the suns like this, there's got to be a couple of ways through without getting pulled into one of the gravity wells."

"Spoken like an off-worlder," Raymond spoke with a bit of a chuckle, "If you do slip between the suns, good luck doing it quiet enough to sneak by that cruiser they got up there."

"The what?" for the second time in five minutes Greez's heart fluttered with a panic

"A scan turned up a large ship at the edge of the system." Raymond clarified, "An Arquitens-class command cruiser, if you're taking notes."

"I'm not."

"Even in that case, it'll probably be a standard month before they can get it close enough for an orbital scan or a bombardment, if that's what you're worried about."

I'm worried about a lot of things these days, Greez bit his tongue over the sarcastic comment, instead settling on, "We'll be out of here long before then."

"For you're sake and mine both, I hope so."

Greez let out an annoyed sigh, almost speaking to himself as he muttered, "We'd be out of here a lot sooner if it wasn't for those suns…"

"Those dual gravity wells keep the Empire from bringing their capital ships anywhere near Kaller," Raymond began testily before letting out an annoyed hum, "but they are a double-edged sword."

Knowing that wallowing in bad news would do them no good, Greez tried to remain calm as he asked, "How long till our orbit puts us in a place to sneak away?

"A week at most," Raymond answered, "The summer never lasts for long here."

That's more than enough time for… "Ok. Ok. We can lay low until then. "

As sure as he sounded, Greez couldn't help but doubt every word that had come out of his mouth.

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

Scarcely an hour after they arrived on Kaller, Cal and Trilla were on a lambda shuttle once again. This time short half their purgetroopers, but with Captain Stairns, they flew for a logging camp in the southern canyon region. Just outside of a small alpine town, Cal couldn't be sure of exactly where their spy was.

What he did know was that Trilla insisted on meeting them alone. On some level thankful that he wasn't being pulled into her plotting, the rest of Cal loathed their plan. A simple one, Trilla would slip off alone while Captain Stairns and Cal made a show of inspecting the logging camp.

Cal didn't even need to say much, just standing around listening to Stairns and the foreman talk while looking displeased or slightly agitated should be enough to distract the workers. The fact that doing so would come natural to him wasn't lost on Cal as the lambda shuttle landed.

This time keeping it's door closed, Trilla used the privacy for a few last reminders.

"I will contact you when I'm finished." She mostly spoke to Cal, knowing that the officer and purgetroopers would be perfectly obedient, "Do not return to this ship before then."

"You're not planning on meeting our guy here, are you?"

Cal could feel her testy look from beneath her helmet.

"Fine, keep your secrets." Cal rolled his eyes, "but be quick about it."

Keeping near the walls of the shuttle, Trilla put a hand over the door controls, "I will take as long as I please."

Before Cal commented back, she opened the door. Rather than trying to shout over the whirring of the lowing ramp, Cal simply turned away.

Facing the world as it came into view, he was left to peer into a thick tree-line. Tall and perfectly straight pines reached into the endless sky, their lowest hanging branches still far above Cal's head. Clumps of snow clung to a the dark green and needle-like leaves, occasionally slumping off as the mounting heat melted them just enough. The little sounds of snow melt were lost, covered beneath a constant hum that Cal recognized as a laser cutter, and a sharp whine that could have been a manual saw.

Stepping off the lambda shuttle, Cal found the ambient air to be warm, a sharp contrast to the mountaintop city he'd just visited.

"The temperature will reach the high thirties," Captain Stairns spoke from behind Cal, following him out of the shuttle, "It won't last long. I almost miss it during the winter."

Looking back at the captain, Cal found a winding road stretching through the trees on the far side of the ship. He also found a winded chagrian trotting up the road and into the little landing clearing.

Characteristically tall, the dark blue man carried himself with a nervous air. Two long and thin horns sprouted up from the sides of his head, another two dangled from the bottom of short tentacles that rested on his shoulders. The horn that dangled to the mans left had been broken in two at the middle, Cal wondered what could have done that while leaving the man witout an obvious lingering injury.

Drawing near, he liking his lips with a forked black tongue, as if it smoothed the way for his words, "H-hello, gentlemen, I am Tito Mas, the foreman of this camp. We weren't expecting your arrival."

Moving away from the loading ramp, Cal and his group met the man in front of the shuttle.

"We're here for an out of cycle inspection," Stairns flatly told him.

"Yes, of course." An unmistakable flicker of fear crossed Tito's features, "Welcome! Follow me, please."

Wordless, Cal stepped forward, almost even with Captain Stairns, who himself was nearly beside their guide. Like shadows, all four purgetroopers fell in behind Cal. Though they meant him no harm, their presence left the hair on the back of Cal's neck to stand on end on end.

Even BD seemed to remember something about the dangerous nature of the black-clad troopers. Clinging ever more firmly to Cal's back, the little droid kept a suspicious eye on them, all but ignoring the logging camp.

Thankful to have at least one person looking out for him on this planet, Cal only half listened to Stairns and the nervous foreman.

Approaching the camp he found a mundane workplace. Not quite as desperate as Bracca, but close enough that he felt he understood the workers perfectly. A woman piloted a barge piled high with trimmed branches, a man operated a woodchipper. Occasionally a droid would wonder by, beeping for people to clear out of its way, though no one ever seemed to.

Saws whirred, occasional shouts and chatter would bubble up, a rude reminder for someone to get back to work or mind their own business; a crude joke between friends, their rough laughter quickly quelled with they noticed a supervisor within earshot.

Stairns spoke to Tito, asking questions and seemingly knowing all the Empire's workplace regulations off the top of his head. Even on a good day Cal would have found it painfully boring, and on a day like this is seemed particularily grating.

I should be out there looking for the Mantis. Not stuck here. He looked around the camp, not even sure what he would do when he finally caught up to his old crew.

Trying not to think about it, Cal looked to the treeline.

To his confusion, he found a group of workers hoisting someone upward.

"What are they doing over there?" Cal watched as the lifted worker scaled the tall thing to pull at a growth along it's branches

"Harvesting kallnuts, sir." The guide answered, apprehension in his voice.

Waiting for further explanation but getting none, Cal goaded him on, "Why?"

"For lunch. As long as they get back to work on time, it's well within regulation."

Watching the worker toss the head-sized fruits down to a waiting friend, Cal wasn't interested whether or not it was within regulation. Instead, he found himself longing for a simple day with friends; making a decent living off a hard days work, gathering a fresh meal and not having to worry about tomorrow or regret yesterday. In some ways it seemed an unobtainable dream, a figment of his imagination that he had invented and projected onto the workers. But it was a comfort.

One that was quickly dashed by Stairns' continued questioning, "That reminds me, have you been keeping accurate time card records?"

Tito suppressed a heavy sigh, "Yes, sir. I can provide them for you."

And so the tour continued, each question more mundane than the last. What felt like hours crawled by as Tito lead the group from one work station to the next; from a manager's trailer, to a repair station, to a set of scales.

Eventually they reached the end of what the logging camp had to offer, coming to a stop in a clearing where chopped trees were loaded onto a long train to be shipped to processing.

The few workers in the area operated large cranes, their hook grips clamping around and lifting four logs at a time, before swinging them into large open-top bins. Each bundle of logs cascading on the piles already set in place, a slight unease coated the clearing. Cal wasn't sure that it was just because of the imperial presence.

Stairns and Tito somehow talked more, most of their words lost beneath the groaning of machines.

Cal twitched, hairs suddenly on end.

Then a warning shout range out, thundering over the machines and distant sounds of saws before itself being swallowed by the heavy clatter of falling timber. Eyes snapping up, Cal was just in time to see a gear on one of the crane arms snap, leaving the machine to buckle, drop the logs, and catching the side of the container on its way down.

Suddenly on the move, Cal wasn't sure what he was doing as he watched one worker tumble from his seat on the crane. Splaying across the ground, he turned around just in time to be overtaken by an avalanche of wood.

"Argh!" a pained scream came from beneath the pile, the following shouts of the man beneath muffled and weak.

Attention taken by the trapped worker, Cal found himself sliding to a halt while the mound of logs was still rolling forward from the toppling train. One cart lurching to the side after another, the entire train began to keel over.

Adrenaline spiking, Cal saw a worker stumble from a train compartment, tripping and splaying across the ground before he could clear the falling structure.

Suddenly raising a hand and making the Force bend to his will, Cal moved on instinct rather than rational thought. Body straining and nerves on end, his heart fluttered as the train groaned to a stop. Jittery and slowed in defiance of gravity, the long train body sat perched on a single edge, logs shifting in place and making the already grating task near impossible.

"Move!" Cal shouted to the stunned worker who laid in shock beneath the falling machine.

Snapped into action while still confused and in awe of the impossible events folding out before him, the logger scuttled backward, barely clearing where the train would have fallen.

One dire variable out of the way, Cal focused in on the train. Breathing deep and grunting under the effort, he pushed against the it. Slowly, painstakingly, the long durasteel machine groaned and creaked as it moved up and then fell back into place. Exhaling as the train landed with a heavy thud, Cal turned his attention back to the pile of logs before him.

Not sure if he was desperate to find the buried worker or if he just needed to do something to work through the sudden release of tension he didn't even know he was holding onto, Cal pulled the light saber from his belt. Hacking thick trees into manageable logs, it was a trivial thing to send the debris flying, especially after the strain of turning the whole of the train back upright.

A moments mad cutting later, and Cal found the trapped man. Unconscious but breathing, he was limp when Cal pulled him from the clutter.

Turning around with an almost lifeless kalleran draped over his shoulder and a lit lightsaber in hand, Cal was distantly surprised to find that a crowed had appeared from the rest of the camp.

The shocked looks from the clearing felt just as heavy as the unconscious man; Workers and imperials alike casting confused looks between the smoldering cuts on the logs, the upright train, and the single person responsible for them.

Having nothing to say for himself, Cal offered the wounded worker to the flustered crowd. Half falling into his awaiting friends, the kalleran was quickly pulled away and out of the sight of the suspiciously helpful imperial.

Cal doubted that the purgetroopers were really surprised, having seen more than enough of them throw themselves at lightsaber wielding opponents with a wicked glee. Stairns' features were unreadable, something that said he was trying to process too much information at once.

Enough had happened in that short burst that Cal was also slowly processing what he'd done.

Thankful at first that he'd leapt in to help a perfect stranger, Cal tried to ignore a few periphery thoughts, a few distant realizations.

Like the knowledge that he could do anything he wanted here.

Not just that he could suddenly accomplish feats of power he would never have considered before. Not just that stopping and overturning a train had suddenly become no more difficult than toppling an ancient and crumbling temple wall.

It was the realization that no one would challenge him. Using the force in full view of an imperial captain, in front of half a squadron of purgetroopers even, was strangely liberating. He'd done much the same on a smaller scale around Jorge, but the single trooper had been different. A simple man just doing a sergeant's job, Cal had never considered him a big threat.

Switching off the lightsaber and clipping it back to his belt, Cal let out a calm breath.

Stairns nor the troopers would challenge him, and Cal knew it. If anything, this display had only proved that he was truly in charge here.

One of Trilla's comments stuck out to Cal, "They're all living at our mercy."

She was right. Even Cal had to admit it.

Waiting for but getting no comment from the Inquisitor, Stairns straightened his tunic and cleared his throat.

Regaining some composure, the captain only somewhat addressed what had just happened. Looking at the ruined machines and then at the foreman, he asked, "What tonnage were those cranes rated for?"