"We're what?!" Jorge forgot to maintain a careful respect to his words.

It didn't phase Cal, "Storming a rebel-controlled factory, that may or may not be taken over by a Jedi, to rescue some workers and a lost trooper patrol. What doesn't make sense about that?"

"The part where we don't get any back up or air support." Jorge leaned forward, controlling the level of his voice so as to not be overheard.

The trooper hadn't expected anything good when he got an unexpected call from the Inquisitor. He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected, but it wasn't an invitation for lunch in the mess hall and it definitely wasn't an impromptu mission brief over the same.

A somewhat busy canteen, Jorge was sure that more than a few passersby had overheard parts of Cal's insane plan. He was also sure that no one was going to say or do anything to stop them. Jorge didn't know exactly what had happened in the mysterious high-level meeting that had apparently involved the ISB, but he did know that the senior officers had been giving Cal a wide berth. Even more so than they usually did to the Inquisitors, if Jorge's friend who worked security for the bridge was to be believed.

He was tempted to ask, mostly sure that Cal wouldn't mind talking about it.

But he wasn't sure if knowing that happened would be a quick way to pin a target to his back.

He wasn't even sure if he was still supposed to be reporting back to the Second Sister about Cal's actions, or if that arrangement had timed out.

Well, if she want's me to do something, she knows where to find me. Jorge took a bite of his lukewarm lunch, trying to parse through what exactly he'd been volunteered for while also trying not to wither under Cal's or his droid's unflinching gazes.

Cal took the pause in conversation as a chance to start talking, "Come on. We'll be fine."

Jorge had seen the man in action, but he'd also nearly been crushed and eaten by a rancor, and he had been shot.

"No one's going to approve back up?"

"I told them I only needed one squad." Cal apparently didn't see anything wrong with that plan.

Jorge had nearly been killed, but he had also seen Cal cut through dozens of people like it was barely an afterthought, "And the patrol is definitely in danger?"

"Probably. Either way, I'm not just leaving them there." Cal wouldn't accept any form of debate, and the tone on his voice made Jorge know better than to even try at one.

"I know we're not."

"Then you know you're coming with me."

Jorge pushed his try away, done eating and knowing he was going to regret this, "Just like old times?"

Cal smiled despite the resigned tone, "Just like old times."

Wondering how far he should try to push his luck, Jorge went on, "Just promise me, no giant animals this time. And no jungles."

Cal seemed to take it in stride, "No promise-" a light on Cal's wrist gauntlet blinked, a sign that he had a call, "Uh, hold on. I got to take this."

Knowing better than to suggest otherwise, Jorge waved the Inquisitor on.

Taking his leave, Cal stood from the bench and made for the slightly quieter hallway. Halfway there, he clicked a button on his wrist that let the call through, "What?"

"Is that any way to pick up a comm call? What if I were somebody that you were trying to impress?"

"I'm not trying to impress anybody," Cal muttered through gritted teeth as he leaned against the wall, watching a pair of technicians enter the canteena

"You could have fooled me, with that little stunt you pulled in yesterdays meeting." Trilla's voice cooed over the comm.

Cal shook his head, adjusting his position slightly while he did so that BD had a stale place to cling to, "You didn't call my just to talk about that."

"Not just that, you're right." The humor faded from Trilla's voice, "I spoke with Manse and then with General Dalt. We've worked out a plan for Qiilura."

Cal waited for her to go on. When he was met by silence and a few more nervous looks from passersby he impatiently asked, "which is…?"

"More than I want to get into over a comm. You're probably distracted by whatever it is you do all day besides. Come to my quarters."

"You can't just order me around, say what you need to say."

A bark of a laugh came over the speaker, "I can and will, Fourth Brother."

Stiffening, Cal spoke more loudly than he'd meant, "We both know that I would have-"

"My quarters, now."

And then Trilla cut the call.

Surprised for a second, and then suddenly fuming, Cal let out a hissing sigh.

Almost managing to snap him out of it, low whirr came from Cal's shoulder. Kicking away from the wall so that BD once again had ample room to cling to his back, Cal spoke to the little droid, "You caught all that, right?"

BD chirped out an agreement.

"I can't catch a break, I swear."

Rocking his antennae back and forth, BD wracked his memory files for any time things had seemed to go right for the young man. Corrupted files overlaid with terabytes of new information, the little droid was only half sure of himself while he described their seemingly endless fall over Dathomir. If BD remembered correctly, the incident had somehow involved them almost getting eaten as well, but they'd made it out in one piece.

Something halfway between a smile and a grimace twisted at Cal's lips, "You're right. We made it through that, somehow. We can deal with Trilla for now."

Trying to hold onto a little bit of calm, Cal ducked back around the corner to peer into the mess hall. Locking eyes with Jorge, he simply shouted, "I got to go. I'll send you the details later!"

Wincing at the shout across the room, Jorge tried for a casual nod and wave.

Satisfied by the gesture, Cal ducked back out of the mess hall and wound his way through the twisting ship. It didn't take him long to move from the stormtroopers quarters and into the functional areas, the distant chatter of rec rooms giving way to a low mutter of officers trading news and the relaxed air shifting to something stiff.

No one bothered him as he passed through, venturing into the more formal quarters reserved for senior officers. It didn't take him long to reach Trilla's suite either.

Not bothering to knock, he let himself in with little more than the whooshing of a door.

The same multiroom dwelling she commandeered when she had the chance, the place had a privet bedroom off to one side and a modest kitchen immediately to the right when one entered. Beyond that was a seating area with an over-stiff couch, a privet office branching off to the left beyond that.

It seemed too much space for Cal's taste. He wasn't even sure what he would do in an office all day.

"You took your time." Trilla was sitting at a small table that sat between the kitchen and living area, a chilled glass of caf set in front of her.

"Don't you usually drink those boiling?" Cal ignored the judgmental edge to her words.

And Trilla ignored his non sequitur, "Sit. You're not just stumbling along on a mission this time, we need to plan our actions on Qiilura."

Cal stubbornly lingered by the door instead, "We go in, rescue the patrol, kill some rebels. I don't see what needs planning."

"That may have worked when it was just you and a band of fools, but we have things like troop movements, allocation of resources, and logistics to worry about."

"Isn't that the army's problem?"

"They execute, but we decide." Trilla countered before taking a sip of her drink.

Cal was skeptical, "Right. So you haven't decided anything, and you asked me here for my opinion?"

"Absolutely not. I've decided everything, you're just here to get your orders."

Crossing his arms, Cal gave Trilla a skeptical look.

"But, whenever I eventually don't have to drag you around and hold your hand through every mission, you'll need to know how to function on your own."

"There's the insult I was expecting."

Trilla set her drink down, "Sit. I'll tell you what we're doing."

Setting his jaw and considering remaining standing, Cal eventually buckled. Slumping into the chair opposite of Trilla, he said, "Ok. I'm sitting. What's the plan?"

Acutely aware of Cal's defiant tone, Trilla knew that addressing it would only encourage him, "We have two objectives, disabling the rebels communications, and purging the Jedi Knight."

"What about the patrol?"

"I'm getting there."

"And what about the rest of the rebels?"

"I'm getting there." Trilla repeated more forcefully.

Cal didn't hear it, "I mean, I get that we have to stop Jenussa too, but I don't see what she has to do with Cere."

Trilla looked at Cal as if he were the same clueless scraper she'd found on Bracca. Something contemptful that said he was as much of an idiot as he was an annoying younger sibling, she explained slowly, so he would understand, "Cere has a guilty conscience. If she believes that there is a Jedi on Qiilura, it is only a matter of time until she appears to investigate."

Cal had to roll his eyes, "She won't show up if she knows we're there. She's a coward."

Trilla had to smile, "She is. Which is why she won't know that we're there. Qiilura is a back water, despite its place in the mid-rim. The locals don't have many means to communicate with the galaxy at large outside of the shipping hubs, which are well controlled by us. The ISB wants the rebellion quashed quickly, I want a foolproof trap for Cere. If you and I destroy the rebel presence and then leave Agent Manse to pretend that the rebellion is still active, we can easily lure Cere there.

"And its all the better with a Jedi hiding there already. That way we purge one more, don't have to waste time sowing the rumors ourselves, and Qiilura will look all the more interesting for Cere."

The plan was dastardly.

Cal had to appreciate it, but he also saw a problem, "what happens when the rebels send out a distress message? There have to be more communicators besides just the ones for shipping."

"There are," Trilla admitted, "Agent Manse and his people have located three that can extend beyond the sector. Luckily, cutting through a few dozen common soldiers is no trouble for us."

The pure statement of fact didn't phase Cal, "Where are they?"

"One has been traced to the factory."

Cal gave Trilla a pointed look, "Convenient."

She shrugged, "Suspiciously so. But I'm sure you can handle that little complication."

The taunt on her words was obvious, Cal barely avoided taking the bait, "I got it handled. I'm guessing you're getting one?"

"And the army will disable the other." Trilla finished.

Cal couldn't help but tilt his head to the side, trying to balance the fact that the army had never seemed a threat to him with the undeniable evidence he'd found on Zeffo that they knew how to clear entire towns, "You sure that's a good idea?"

"Good idea or not, I'm not calling a third inquisitor. Dragging you around is hectic enough."

Feeling his features twitch in annoyance, Cal opened his mouth to protest, only to be talked over.

"Just don't strangle any more colonels." She said with a roll of the eyes.

"He deserved it," Cal quickly countered.

"They all do, but they hold petty grudges" she acknowledged before moving on, "The third transponder is hidden somewhere in a village in sector L-9, we'll rendezvous there after we've completed our tasks. If the army hasn't found the machine there by the time we arrive, then we will."

"Assuming no one uses it to send out a distress single before we get there." Cal rolled his eyes.

"Are you suddenly afraid of risks?" Trilla countered, accusation clear on her voice.

Cal leaned back in his chair, "No. I just know that Saw doesn't blink when it comes to sacrificing his own people. If he's hiding in that town, he'll start shooting the second he sees a trooper."

"And the troopers will shoot back." Trilla didn't have the sympathy to spare for a few dozen people that she'd never met, "That's simply what the village gets for harboring a criminal, they know the risks."

Cal looked away, something bitter at the back of his throat.

"One more thing."

Cal caught her eye.

"Agent Manse will be accompanying you on the factory raid. Try not to get him killed, the ISB gets fussy."

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

Seargent Kendima walked down the hall with measured steps and a carefully cultivated air of bravado. Shoulders rolled up back and down, he carried himself with his head held high and his helmet tucked beneath an arm.

Approaching the common area where he knew his squad played binspo during their off time, he hoped that none of them would be able to tell that his calm façade was a hasty fake.

Taking a final stilling breath, Jorge rounded the corner that would bring him into the common room.

Just as he expected, he found all eight of the troopers under his command huddled into the corner of the room. Corporals Gains and Deffo were intently focused on their game, with privates Platt, Ogrin, and Sleet watching and occasionally jeering them on. Privets Xane, Brint, and Cossik sat on one of the over-worn couches, occasionally watching the others but mostly chattering amongst themselves.

Brint noticed Sergeant Kendima first, perking up at his superiors sudden arrival.

Giving a low wave, Jorge didn't mean to set anyone on edge as he said, "At ease. We're not getting shipped out yet."

Everyone aware that the sergeant's arrival in the common room was uncommon at best, the privates paid him their full attention. The corporals gave Jorge an ear, but mostly continued their game.

"But we are getting shipped out in the morning." Jorge went on, much to the dismay of everyone listening, "There's not much a way to sugar coat this, we're on special assignment for the Qiilura campaign, assigned as one of the Inquisitors personal guard."

Jorge saw a question on Ogrin's face.

"Yes," he clarified, "it's the same guy we were on special assignment with for the Ordo Eris raid, and the Kashyyyk campaign."

No one groaned, but Cossik and Sleet had poorly hidden winces.

Platt was much less reserved. Being a new member of the squad, he'd joined after the Kashyyyk campaign and shortly after Jorge returned from medical leave, "I'm out of the loop on this one. Who?"

Ogrin, a tall and broad man who wore his dark hair as long as regulation would allow, spoke first, "He goes by the Fourth Brother now. Young guy, red hair. I would say he has a death wish, but I'm not sure he can be killed."

"What?"

Cossik spoke up, somehow uptight and ill-mannered at the same time, he had narrow features and a few freckles that he refused to acknowledge, "Ogrin's being dramatic. The inquisitors used to be Jedi, they fight like it too but they can still die." Cossik looked at Ogrin as he finished speaking.

"I know," Ogrin replied, "I'm just saying, the guy killed a rancor and then ran up a vertical wall. We all saw that!"

Brint jumped in, blonde haired and short he tried and usually ended up failing to defuse tensions between the rest of the crew. "Cool it you two. Ex-war criminal or not, he's on our side now. And if he wants to stay out in front of all of us while we're getting shot at, he can be my guest."

"So what?" Platt asked, "He's some kind of ginger Darth Vader?"

Jorge wasn't sure whether to laugh or shudder at the comparison, but he did now enough to warn the private, "Do yourself a favor and don't even think those words while either of them are in the same system as you."

"Come on sarge-" Platt began again

Only for Jorge to cut him off, "They're mind readers." Jorge explained without an ounce of humor.

Fighting the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes, Platt prudently replied, "Whatever you say, sir."

"Mind reader or not," a female trooper named Xane with a half-shaved head spoke from the far side of the table, "I'd be careful not to insult the inquisitors to their face. They got a habit of flying off the handle."

"Didn't he strangle that engineer on Kashyyyk too?" Brint interjected.

"And he saved my sorry ass on that asteroid," Jorge interrupted before the talk grew too hostile, "He's a wild card, but I'd rather follow him around than most of the officers."

Xane and Brint exchanged a look, distinctly remembering loosing privet Morce on Kashyyyk.

Jorge chose not to see it, "Lieutenant Bastile is still the unit leader, but for the Qiilura campaign, we answer to the Fourth Brother. Got it?"

The troopers shuffled for a moment, before one of them offered a muttered "yes, sir" that grew into a chorus of muttered "yes, sir"s

"Good" Jorge didn't have to be a jedi or an inquisitor to know that the troopers were only agreeing for the sake of it, "Now go get some shut eye. We drop out of lightspeed in 10 standard, and we're going in on as surprise. Be suited up in hanger seven in 9 hours."

Platt listened and put together a worrying detail, "Wait. We're the first wave?"

"It wouldn't be the first time, it won't be the last." Jorge looked at him, "And don't worry, ginger Darth Vader's pretty good at making sure the guys behind him don't get shot."