"I don't like her," Trilla flatly told the captain, letting the moment sit and the man squirm before adding, "but she was perfect."
Having returned to the lambda shuttle not long after the incident with the train, Cal had been mostly silent. Deep in thought about what he was really trying to do here, and whether or not he could live with the honest answer to that question, Cal only partially listened to Trilla and Captain Stairns discussing their new information.
Relaxing a fraction, Stairns kept his voice neutral, "Excellent. I trust the meeting was productive."
"Quite. It appears our query visited the rebel leader not long ago." Trilla shifted slightly, making it obvious to Cal that her next words were meant for him more than Stairns, "They're in search of a Jedi."
Voice cutting like a dagger, Cal stiffened, What!?
Trilla sensed the silent shock. Taking a twisted glee in seeing Cal suffer through the same injustice she had suffered through, she said nothing for it while continuing her talk with the Captain.
"A jedi? On Kaller?" He seemed in disbelief as well.
"It appears so," Trilla left Cal to obviously grapple with his thoughts as she looked back to Stairns, "But her information was limited. Our next move will be interrogating the rebel leader themselves."
Caught blindsided by the news of this Jedi, Stairns still had the presence of mind to be worried as he voiced another failing, "A wise decision. But unfortunately, we do not know the location of the rebel's safe house."
A dangerous grin pulled at Trilla's lips, "After some persuading, our source revealed to me its location."
At once impressed and ashamed that the Inquisitors had arrived and accomplish the most difficult and enduring parts his mission in less than a day, Stairns tried to maintain some professionalism as he asked, "Where?"
"The tavern in South Bend,"
A look that said that should have been obvious to him flickered across Captain Stairns' face, "Of course! I'll call in reinforcements," he immediately said before calling to the pilot, "Reiner!-"
"That won't be necessary," Trilla spoke over him, "We should be more than capable of handling a measly rebel cell."
Hiding a nervous twitch, Stairns didn't doubt her after seeing what just one Inquisitor could do, "Understood, ma'am. Reiner, set course for South Bend."
.***.***.***.***.
Having delivered their short invitation for a meeting to the Jedi, Merin and Cere returned to the Mantis. Blazing sun beaming down against the deep snowdrifts, they were somehow both hot and cold, and nearly blinded by the time they returned to the ship.
Stepping into the Mantis and finding it darker than usually, the two women had no time to rest before Greez nervously peeked out from the cockpit.
"oh, thank the stars, you're back." Greez told Merin and Cere in a pained and rushed tone, "Guys, we've got trouble."
"We always have trouble." Merin tried to be reassuring in her own peculiar way.
"No, not that kind- well, ok, yes, but-," Greez shook his own head, "Just listen to me for a minute!"
Finding no respite from the long day, Cere tried to hold onto the little bit of composure she still has as she said, "Go ahead Greez, we're listening."
"It's bad guys. I got a call from that rebel you met up with the other day, and..." He didn't want to say it, but he was desperate to get it over with, "It's… the empire's here and, and they got Cal with them."
News coming like a shock of icy water, neither fully knew how to react.
Merin stood perfectly still. No stranger to either loss or to betrayal, facing either still tore at her in that particular way that escaped a proper name. Casting a suspicious eye across her companions, she couldn't help but think back to the first times she met Cal.
Standing in the graveyard before the tomb on the mesas, she's come across Cal speaking to Malicos. Not knowing a thing about the young man at the time, she'd thought that her greatest enemy on the platform that day was the old Jedi.
"Join my family, and I will teach you to control its power." She had interrupted Malicos then, promising temptations.
She wondered what was so different now. The Cal she knew -the one that had shown her that there was more to the galaxy than grief, than fear, than revenge- had turned down Malicos' advance, one that even she had fallen prey to.
What is so different, about this Empire? She wondered. Why pick them over us?
Cere thought she might collapse, the combined weight of guilt for what had happened to Trilla and now Cal too much for her to bear.
One promising young padawan after the next, they all fell into the empire's clutches eventually. Twisted and broken, she'd felt Trilla's wrath first hand. She'd hear accounts of Cal's madness. Faced with the reality of two fallen apprentices, she wondered how long it would be until she met that same fate.
But she persisted, holding onto a nightmare made horrifically real and struggling with the merciless silence.
One that she was endlessly thankful to have interrupted by a chime from the communications terminal.
.***.***.***.***.
The plan was simple; along with Captain Stairns and two purgetroopers, Cal and Trilla would enter the tavern. Quickly moving to secure and guests and workers, they would search for the entrance to the rebel base.
Assuming that it would be hidden behind a false wall -as it seemed they so often were- the purgetroopers had brought explosives with them from the shuttle.
The plan was quick, efficient, and troublingly easy for Cal to stick to.
Which is why he had a mounting sense of irritation even as the last of the workers were being pulled out from behind the countertops and seated at a table with the guests where they could be easily watched.
"Onto the door," The Second Sister almost sounded board by her command, the hunt for rebels being nothing more than a passing annoyance.
"Yes, ma'am." The nearest purgetrooper replied, reaching a hand up to toggle the settings on his helmet while gesturing for the others to do the same. Professional, and well-coordinated , they began their investigation.
But even that would take too long for Cal's taste.
Impatience quickly mounting, he agitatedly sent a forceful pulse out through the Force.
A long thing made of seemingly solid stone, the wall shook slightly where the pressure wave suddenly collided against it. A shower of dust sprinkled down from the uneven surface, wall hangings clattered, and one section of the wall buckled slightly.
Everyone's attention suddenly went to the cracked section.
"Set the charges," the lead purgetrooper spoke to the others.
Only to be overridden by the Second Sister, "Unnecessary."
Not one to be outdone by Cal, she made a similar blow through the Force. Equally as powerful but far more concentrated, the damaged spot caved in to reveal a short passage and a door.
"The two of you stay here, make sure the patrons' don't get any ideas."
Livid to be left out of the action, but obedient nonetheless, the troopers replied with a stoic, "yes, ma'am" before turning to face the room at large.
Passing them to come even with Trilla, Cal stiffly held onto the lit lightsaber in his hand. Only sensing one person of the other side of the door, he still had no idea what to expect.
Also sensing their single target, Trilla doubted that even Cal could find a way to mess this up, "After you."
And so he went.
Door flying inwards, Cal found a single kalleran rushing for a rack of blasters to the far right. Reacting to the movement more than anything, Cal let loos another shove through the Force.
Catching the blunt blow to his side, Reymond had just managed to wrap a hand around a blaster riffle before being flung to the side. Back landing hard against the stone wall, he still had the weapon in his hands as he slid to the ground.
Only registering the man in the room to be a threat, the kalleran fired the riffle. One shot going wide, the second and third
Cal caught both plasma bolts on his blade, harmlessly deflecting one with each step he took to close in on the downed rebel.
All but standing over the man, Cal sliced the barrel of the weapon in half, bringing the tip of his blade to hover over the rebel's chest.
Huffing and just gathering his breath as two other imperials walked in – an officer and the scary lady from the landing platform- it dawned on Raymond just how hopeless his situation was.
"Don't do anything stupid," Cal kept his lightsaber level.
Raymond had never been one to do as he was told, "heh, this the kind of treatment you give to Greez?"
Incandescent rage flew out of nowhere at the mere mention of Greez. Wrestling with his own doubts in his own mind were one thing, Trilla's taunting another, but facing the reality that a perfect stranger somehow thought that they knew enough to comment on the situation was something else entirely.
Especially galling, especially obscene, was the insinuation that Cal had been the one who somehow hurt the Mantis crew.
"He was real concerned about you," the rebel mocked through the silence.
They left me!
"Tell me where they are!" Not even Cal had expected himself to shout.
Unnerved but immediately tucking the fear away Raymond held onto his defiance, "Who's they?"
"Cere and Merin. A human and a nightsister," Cal replied, not even registering Raymond's sarcasm.
So the rebel held onto it, a coping mechanism when death lingered scare inches from his chest, "Never heard of them."
"Then what about the Jedi they're looking for?" the words tumbled out of Cal's lips, propelled by jealously and so many dark things.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Raymond spat.
Knowing that the rebel lied about that at least, Cal didn't even try to stop himself from plunging into a swirling maelstrom of pained emotions. Almost muttering, confused with himself, and not knowing what he would do next, Cal let the blazing red saber droop slightly as he looked Raymond in the eye. "…I've killed a lot of people to get here."
Seeing the inquisitor's features twist, Raymond's hardened. Seeing the slightest bit of remorse to work with, the crafty rebel already had a clever plan of escape.
Cal noticed.
Something wrathful within him noticed as well.
"I killed a lot of people," he repeated before adding, "What's one more?"
Eyes going wide as the words left Cal's mouth Raymond didn't have time to draw in a breath for a shout before the lightsaber plunged through his chest.
Burning pain cut into Raymond, followed by a slow bloom of warmth carried by the blood seeping out of his pierced heart and through his chest. Lungs sizzling against the plasma beam as he tried to breath in, Raymond died silently, gone with a whimper and without the chance to beg for his life.
Cal watched the man's head lull to the side, limp and lifelessly staring into the distance.
As it did, something cold dawned on Cal.
This was easy.
Cutting through waves of desperate fighters had never been hard, but Cal had always stopped with the battle. Never one to kill in cold blood, he'd looking the other way at Malicos' death, he even had a moment's disbelief as he watched the Ninth Sister tumble over the edge of the life tree.
The rebels on Kashyyyk had been different, still being in the fever pitch of battle
So Cal was left to look down at the kalleran. Defenseless and laying on his back, the man was dead by his hand.
And Cal felt nothing for it.
A cold chill that was almost welcome against the summertime heat traced its way across Cal. The odd sensation and the sight before him were so preoccupying that he only barely noticed Trilla calling for him.
"If you're done with that," she spoke from the far side of the room, near a bank of machines, "we have a call to make."
Looking up in a daze of confusion, Cal found Captain Stairns stepping back from a nearly ancient communications terminal, simple decoder in hand.
"It's confirmed," the captain told the room, "last outgoing call was to an S-161 XL luxury yacht, though its unique code has been scrambled."
Heart rate spiking and apprehension flushing unmaking the rage that had overcome him only a moment ago, Cal crossed the room in a step.
"I have no doubt's that it's them." Trilla replied to Stairns, "Make the call."
