"I'm all for settling old scores. Just make sure you get me a dossier of all the Mining Guild's investors on Umbara. I want to see if any of them can be persuaded to invest in some protection," Tyber said, his hologram flickering. "That will more than justify my trust in you."

"Of course, Tyber. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to do that while carving a path through the garrison." Trilla smirked, leaning into her fist as she slouched in the pilot's seat. "Not to worry, though. You'll have your dossier."

She clicked off the hologram. The TZ-86 was not much of a ship. An outdated, blocky hunk of metal, pressed in the service by the Consortium as a workhorse, transporting valuable cargo. Trilla practically had to fold onto herself in half to fit in the cramped cabin, with her knees pressed right up against the bottom of the blinking console.

Avoiding being spotted, she shut down non-essential systems; the cabin dimming. Umbara was a black smudge over the front of the galaxy ahead of her. A shadow world, subsumed by an ever present darkness, the haunting red tinge of its atmosphere served as the best guide onto the surface. From where she was floating, Trilla watched as streams of ships docked at an Imperial space station locked in rotation with the planet.

"Umpee," Collot said, climbing down from the storage container attached via a hatch at the top of the cockpit. He crawled onto the back of her seat looking over her shoulder. "Umpee."

"I told you this was a trip into Imperial space." She glanced back at him. The Jawa was kind of like having a probe droid, but was a far better conversationalist. Trilla had even managed to pick up a few words of his simplified language during the jump to hyperspace. "Don't be getting cold feet on me."

Collot rolled a thermal detonator out of the sleeve of his grey cloak. "Shootogawa."

"Aren't you the aspiring subversive?" Trilla teased. Okay, she preferred the Jawa to a droid. They might have been difference species, from entirely different backgrounds, but they both were born with violent hearts.

Turning back to the challenge of slipping by unmolested, she thought aloud. "This hunk of junk is too slow to outrun the Tie Fighters. Too unarmed to survive so much as scraping those turrets… Hmm." She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "Umbara has always been considered a model planet, so security will be more inclined to look the other way."

"Sooga!" Collot pointed toward storage.

"Food?" she repeated. "Ah! The ration packs!"

Collot went to take stock. A series of loud bangs followed as the strap holding the crate in place snapped and he narrowly avoided being crushed. Angered, he kicked the crate for good measure, then pushed it down the opening.

The crate clattered down behind her, causing Trilla to jump. "Why so much!? She leaned forward, finding an Imperial stamp on the top. Stolen goods, left to rot in favor of more lucrative cargo. "That is convenient."

She fired the engines, pulling toward the station. During her approach, two Tie Fighters appeared on both sides, announced by the scream of their engines. Trilla kept her nerve, waiting for their call.

It came through moments later. "You have entered Imperial jurisdiction. Please state your business and transmit transponder code."

Trilla decided to try her hand at seduction. "Oh, I'm so lucky I made it. Some terrible pirates ambushed my ship, and I barely escaped." Collot shuddered at the scratchy sound of her idea of a sultry inflection, but it seemed to sway the officer on the other end, who allowed them to pass upon being told they would have their fill of unexpired ration packs. Evidently, supply lines remained as overstretched as ever.

Already having landed, the Mantis crew had taken care to conceal their ship in the dusky brush of the shrouded surface. Although it was hardly necessary since a dark fog coated the entire area as far as the eye could see, punctuated only by bioluminescent tendrils rising toward the horizon. Squinting, Cal marveled at the haunting beauty of the spectacle of life at its most foreign in bloom. Insectoid creatures with glowing edges, skittering along the spines of sweeping tentacles. He also felt the disturbance of this ecosystem. Far to the North, Imperial machines chewed into the soil, throwing all life on Umbara into chaos. The never ending march of crude matter at the behest of civilization spoke of wars yet to come and a struggle to the death for the galactic soul.

Cal wiped a thin layer of film off his poncho, a certified Bracca classic for blending in with the dark environment. "This humidity is going to do my hair absolutely no favors."

"I bet I could make it stay in place." Merrin flashed an emerald orb in her palm.

"Eh, I'll pass," Cal said, eyeing her warily. BD-1 hopped on his back, beeping despondently. Cal nodded. "That's okay. Cere's not ready."

The TZ-86 passed overhead. Merrin stared as it landed nearby. "I cannot imagine the pain of losing a beloved pupil and to know she has forever turned away from your teachings."

"I don't believe Trilla is lost." Cal objected, a somber glint in his eyes. "I refuse to accept it. Had things been different, I'd have suffered a similar fate."

"Perhaps, but you didn't and dealing with hypotheticals will blind you to reality," Merrin said, wondering how much a connection via the Force was impacting his judgment. "This woman has killed before."

"You're worried about me," he cast her a toothy smile.

"Duh. Cere made it sound as though you might fall under the sway of the dark side the longer you two stay connected."

"That's why I'm trusting you to keep me grounded."

Merrin found herself flustered by his unwavering confidence. A true hero of old. She stepped closer to him.

The TZ-86's ramp pushed into the dirt. Shortly after, Trilla emerged as a spectral shadow. Draped in a flowing black cloak with frayed edges, she strode forward with a regal air. A veil concealed all but her eyes, which were bloodshot with strain. Waddling after her was a Jawa with an unusually large wrench. The four met between their respective ships. An awkward silence crawled forth between them as raw wounds were brought to the forefront of their reunion. Cal was confronted with the first time he met Trilla and Prauf's last moments as she plunged her saber through his chest without hesitation. He had done well to push away those memories, but being in her presence was enough to forget he had specifically asked her to come.

His hand found his lightsaber and wrapped around its hilt. Trilla remained motionless, enticed by the prospect he wanted to attack her. "Revenge is not the Jedi way, is it, Cal?" She pushed back her cloak to reveal the belt underneath, where her newly crafted lightsaber hung. A crude combination of the two she had on hand, it sported the ring hilt from the Sixth Brother and the bleeding crystal of the unknown Jedi. "So this is how you really feel…" Trilla batted her eyelashes, an invisible gesture but one he felt. "You've already taken everything from me. Finish the job Cal Kestis."

Merrin intervened, touching his wrist. "Relax. She's wants to provoke you."

Cal looked over and found solace in Merrin's gentle brown eyes. Reserved, yet filled with admiration, they spoke without words. He nodded, taking a deep breath, his cheeks filling with air before he exhaled. "I forgive you, Trilla. I've always forgiven you."

"How quaint." Trilla waved her hand dismissively. "I'll surely sleep better at night." Her eyes narrowed, fixating like a predator on him. "His name was Prauf, wasn't it?"

"He was a good man."

"Oh, I'm sure. But that's really the problem with so called good men, isn't it?" Trilla moved her head to the left. "They don't live very long."

He stepped forward, ready to meet her again as an enemy. However, Cal moved no further. No weapons were drawn. "Say whatever hateful thing comes to mind, Trilla. Beneath those cruel words, I see the burdens you carry." He smiled innocently. "When you are ready to stop hating yourself, I'll be here."

Trilla trembled with rage. His restraint stung more than any lightsaber. "Tch. Idiot."

Taking advantage of the lull and eager to avoid coming to blows, Merrin cleared her throat. "I'm Merrin. It's nice to finally meet in person. I've heard a lot about you."

"Every word he's told you is the truth," Trilla said coldly.

"I can tell. You do seem like an awful person."

Trilla cracked a smile at the blunt appraisal. She reached over, pinching the top of Collot's hood. "This is Collot. He's…" She paused, not sure how to introduce her traveling companion. "He has gotten it into his head that I'm a Jedi."

Collot waved a hand excitedly. "M'um m'aloo!"

"Is this scary lady holding you prisoner, little guy?" Cal asked, kneeling down.

"Boba, eyeta!" Collot pointed at Trilla with a single finger.

"He says you're his friend," Cal said, shrugging. He stood. "Here, I thought you didn't really make friends."

"I do if they don't drag me down." She sighed, finding fatigue creeping in like the ravages of age. Trilla became quiet, her eyes silently moving from face to face. "Where is Cere?"

The question emerged as a choked whisper. Cal shook his head. "She's on the ship."

The ground disappeared from below Trilla's feet, and just for the moment, she was buried alive. And the fleeting glimpse of Cere turning away from her in the cave left Trilla with only herself looking back at her. That girl was no longer someone she recognized."Of course." Trilla made a fist, distancing herself from her beating heart. "I figured Cere would be too much of a coward to lay eyes on her greatest failure." She relaxed her hand and raised her voice. "Make sure she knows I survived. In spite of her teachings."

Materializing behind her, Merrin mused. "You are strong. But it is a strength formed atop a foundation of sand." She softened her tone into a whisper. "What has defying death truly gained you, Trilla?"

"A chance to remind the universe I'm still here," Trilla answered. She frowned. "Can we be finished now? I came to draw my brother and sisters into the open, not discuss matters of history."

"You mean other inquisitors?" Cal asked.

"It is my duty to make sure they all die and know it was I who killed them." Her conviction came from a dark place. One few emerged from unscathed. "Only then will they understand we were deceived."

Cal, as expected, felt differently. Holding out both hands, he shook his head. "None of that. You're proof even inquisitors can be brought back from the brink."

"I'm proof of nothing," she objected, folding her arms. "Never forget, it is their choice to remain slaves. As it was mine." Trilla's eyes narrowed on him. "That's was Cere's parting lesson after all." She laughed. A chilling, phlegm-filled croak. "No sympathy for those who allowed themselves to be made victims."

Merrin returned to Cal and whispered, "Be on guard. She has other reasons for coming here."

"I sense it too." He gave her a coy look. "Passionate women are not all they're cracked up to be, huh?"

"I never said that." Merrin put her arms around his waist. "Her anger is… romantic, but that doesn't change the fact she scares the hell out of me."

Resentful of their affection, Trilla gagged. "How long must we linger? Let's get on with it."

Growing serious, Cal tapped BD-1's head, and the droid projected a topographical map of the area. "We've got a bit of a hike first. We can review Gerrera's schematics of the refinery." He took the lead, with Merrin following close behind.

Trilla held back. "Collot, stay with the ship. Be ready to leave when I call." She tossed him a communicator. Her eyes went to the starless sky above. "The Grand Inquisitor has left his lair and once he smells the blood in the water, we will never know a moment of peace."

"Mambay!" Collot, ever upbeat, saluted before waddling back to their ship. Trilla moved to catch up with Cal and Merrin.

From the shadows of the Mantis, Cere watched her leave, a numb sense of absence worn on her aged face. "Oh, Trilla. What has become of you?"

"That's the problem with growing old," Greez said, shuffling over from the cabin. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Eventually you have to let go of your kids and know they were always their own person." He laughed sullenly. "It's never easy to know what you hoped to teach never mattered in the slightest."

"Hmm, that's oddly philosophical for you, Greez."

He put one of his hands on his bald head, maneuvering to scratch two itches at the same time. "Hey, I've got a lot of time to think when you guys are gallivanting around saving people." He placed his other two hands on her back kindly. "Love your memory of Trilla, but please, don't shut the door on this one just because she's become her own woman. She needs to know there is a place for her, no matter what."

"You old softy." Cere smiled, her chest tightening. She slid to the floor. "You're right, of course." She sighed. "I never got a chance to tell Trilla how much I always admired her tenacity. Nothing ever stopped her once she set her mind to seeing it through."

"Especially when it came to killing us," Greez chortled to himself. He paused, thinking. "Maybe it would be better if we left her a seat in a cantina. That way, we can keep our meeting nice and public if things get heated."

"That'd be nice."

The first leg of the trip was quiet as the trio moved along the furrows of alien fauna. At times the world darkened so significantly, Cal had to rely on his lightsaber to illuminate their path. Progress was impeded further by Trilla, who continued to lag behind as their path rose and fell. With Imperial scouts choosing to avoid the wild frontier of the planet, the only immediate threat was the fauna. However, the deeper they traveled, the more the wildlife receded. Once the luminescent plants grew dim, the noises of thousands of insects fell silent and the howl of predators vanished. The ordered destruction of Imperial progress carried with it a terrible toll on the natural world.

And with it rose a smog-filled darkness that even a lightsaber could not resist. Reaching the edge of a ravine, Cal squinted at the map. "We… should be close." He scanned an invisible horizon, then pointed forward. "That way is the main refinery, I think."

"Where is the garrison located?" Merrin asked, peaking over his shoulder.

BD-1 flipped the map to the layout provided by Gerrara. Cal pointed to a structure in the center. "Here. It is unclear how strong."

Reaching them, Trilla put both hands on her knees, wheezing. "Hah. Ow." She grabbed her sternum, a sharp pain drilling deep into her bone. Before either could express unwanted concern, she said, "The garrison will be half-strength. There are far more rebellious systems who need those men."

"See, knew she'd be worth bringing along." Cal raised a hand, about to give her a slap on the back.

"Do it and I'll take off your whole arm." Trilla snapped her fangs at him. She looked to the map as well. "There should be a terraced housing complex for essential personnel and laborers.

"When you say laborers." Merrin raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Indentured servants. Imported from off-world for manual labor."

"You mean slaves," Cal said.

"No, Doonium refinement is sensitive and therefore contract based. Slaves aren't loyal enough." Trilla refused to look at him. "Most will be content with Imperial rule, so don't go getting any ideas about liberating them."

BD-1 beeped, switching off the projection, and the ocean of blackness squeezed in around them. Cal rolled his eyes. "Uh, huh. Didn't you once tell me such people are expendable?"

"They are. As was I." Trilla regained her composure, the ache receding into the background. "That doesn't change anything. It is just the reality of life in the Empire."

Cal reignited his lightsaber. Its saffron glow struggling against the tendrils of darkness. "I'm going ahead. See if I can find a route of approach."

As he faded from view, Merrin knelt, marking off a circle in the soil. Using her magick, she produced a small green flame. It flickered silently. "Finally, a chance to talk alone."

"Please, can we not? I'm not interested in justifying myself." Trilla sank to her knees. She stared at the dancing flames. "Although I will say, the other Nightsister I've met is—"

"You've met another of my sisters?!" Merrin interrupted, leaning forward. "Where?"

"In the company of a scoundrel. They seem to be happy together."

"I see." Merrin fidgeted, unsure how to handle the news. She looked up hopefully. "Would you introduce us?"

"I doubt you two would get along. She is more…" Trilla searched for the words. "My kind of woman. Ruthless and bound to no one."

Merrin frowned. However, she doubted Trilla's sincerity and chose to let it rest. She had another question anyway. "Can I ask something."

"I'd prefer you didn't."

"What was it like to live in the Empire?"

Trilla stared blankly at her. "Have you not put it together yet?" She gestured vaguely in the direction Cal had left. "We're not here making a friendly visit."

"Sure, but I want your perspective. Someone who wasn't an outsider."

"Okay…" Trilla paused before settling on. "It was like balancing on the edge of a blade and knowing the only way forward is shoving off the person ahead of you before the person behind you gets any ideas."

"Sounds miserable."

"On the contrary, I found it invigorating. Only through conflict can you discover someone's true nature." Trilla pulled off her gloves with her teeth. She brought forward her vibroknife, testing her finger tips for responses.

"So you've never known the kinship of others."

Trilla scoffed. "It wasn't like I was totally alone. There were alliances of hatred, especially in the Inquisitorius." She reflected on how she clawed her way to second in the organization. "In fact, I'd have probably died a lot sooner had it not been for the Ninth and Seventh Sister." Trilla smiled, remembering her triumvirate against the Grand Inquisitor. She had played the game well. "When the time came, I cut them loose before their ambition plunged a knife into my back."

"Then you got cleaved in half." Merrin giggled creepily. "I get the picture."

"There is truth to what you say. I was already falling out of favor with Lord Vader by the time Cal decided to play hero." Trilla pressed the knife against her index finger, troubled. "That holocron was my last chance to strengthen my position."

"The lives of those force-sensitive kids were just a means to an end then."

"That's right. It was a bunch of brats or me." Trilla sliced along her skin. "Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Merrin asked, noticing the lack of blood.

Flexing her fingers, Trilla said shakily, "I've lost all sensation in my thumb and index." She was once again confronted by the fragile nature of her persistence.

"That's bad?"

"It isn't good."

Merrin patted her knees, then scooted over. "Here. Let me see your hand."

"Why?"

"Trust me."

"No."

"I might be able to help."

Trilla assessed her intentions, and finding them to be genuine, she complied. Merrin took her hand into hers, gently massaging her calloused palm. It was a tenderness Trilla found unpleasant. Even more so when the wavy, green bands encircled her hand. A current of warmth spread upward toward her shoulder.

"Anything?" Merrin asked, quietly. She was bothered by the hidden marks of physical abuse just below the surface of Trilla's skin. Subtle things, accrued from a life never at rest.

Trilla poked the knife into the top of her thumb. She winced and was flooded by relief. "Hah! It worked!"

"Your nerves are dying." Merrin continued to massage Trilla, moving in the direction of her elbow. "So many… scars. So many of them are old. Your body and spirit are tapestries of tragedy."

Jerking her hand back, Trilla growled, "That is not your concern." She stared at her hand. "How long until I lose my ability to feel?

"Impossible to say, but you should be resting. The more you push, the faster the decline will be." Merrin slid back to the other side of their fire.

"I'd rather use my second chance to die standing," Trilla said coldly.

Merrin left it alone. Once Cal returned, he brought with him knowledge of several possible points of entry. The decision was made to divide themselves. Merrin would target the rail lines with her magic. Cal would clear the workers before setting bombs in the refinery. Trilla, true to herself, would wage a frontal assault on the administrative building, drawing the garrison's attention.

The Grand Inquisitor stood eerily motionless on the bridge of his frigate. His hands were pressed together behind his back, and his stare was fixed on a point in space invisible to everyone but him. His complete lack of movement was enough for his officers to steal anxious glances in his direction, worried he had stopped breathing.

In truth, he had. The Grand Inquisitor had delved deep into the Jedi archives searching for forbidden knowledge on how to conceal his presence. For him, the hunt was a singular pursuit and to remain hidden from his prey for as long as possible allowed the fear to settle. He knew how to focus inward, slowly reducing his breaths until his organs acclimatized to a lack of oxygen. It was a difficult technique and the Grand Inquisitor could not maintain it forever, but it was the taste of the void he so sought.

Footsteps clacked off the floor behind him. The first set of stomps, announcing the Nine Sister. A Dowutin with a brash personality and equally foul mouth. In her company was the Seventh Sister, a Mirialan with a slender frame which aided her preference for subterfuge. Both women had been personally selected for the task of capturing Trilla. The Grand Inquisitor hoped their former alliance would reignite old passions between the trio. He aimed to ensure Trilla hesitated when facing them.

"There has been an attack on Umbara, Grand Inquisitor," Seventh Sister said, offering a nervous bow. She knew his game. Three birds killed with one stone and his power would be secure again. "Initial reports suggest Jedi."

"You know it is no Jedi," he replied quietly, remaining distant from the bridge. "It is our beloved, renegade sister." His lips peeled back as a grotesque smile crawled onto his narrow face. "She's calling out for us to save her." The Grand Inquisitor reanimated, spinning around to face them. "That means do not kill her."

"Argh! Why!?" Ninth Sister exclaimed, punching her fists together. "She betrayed us!"

Despite her hulking size, she shrunk as he rose to his full height, only a hair below her chin. The Grand Inquisitor raised a hand. He used the Force to clamp down around one of her front teeth, twisting until it was yanked out by the root with a horrific shlunk. "Because those are our orders."

Ninth Sister groaned, clutching her mouth as blood poured through her fingers. She knelt. Seventh Sister moved to help her, but was frozen in place by the Grand Inquisitor. Her eyes went wide, feeling him probing her mind, searching for unresolved feelings toward their prey. She desperately tried to erect mental barriers. "Ah.. Ah.."

"Brutalize her. Mutilate her. Torture her. Burn her. Maim her…" The Grand Inquisitor loved the Seventh Sister's helpless terror as he dug ever deeper. "Just… Don't… Kill… Trilla Suduri. It shouldn't be too hard. You were comrades once, after all."

Pressing her hands against her helmet, Seventh Sister stammered, "Not anymore!"

He released her. "Good. Are the Troopers I requested gathered?"

Through her blood soaked hand, Nine Sister grunted affirmative.

"Good, I'll assess them." He left. Seventh Sister almost collapsed, but Ninth Sister caught her. The two reeling from his assault.

There were six teams of two Purge Troopers assembled in the hangar area. They stood at attention, their immaculate black and red armor shone with fresh polish. Each pair had a DC-15X modified sniper, perfect for long range engagements.

The Grand Inquisitor stopped in front of them. "Troopers. Each one of you present has documented confirmation of landing a shot on a Jedi target at one point in your career." His gaze swung right, then left. "Can one of you tell me the best way to incapacitate a Jedi for retrieval?"

On the far left, the first trooper stepped forward. "A sniper shot to the knee at a minimum of four hundred kilometers."

"Correct." He nodded. "Once we deploy, adopt a foco strategy and react according to the flow of battle until an opportunity to disable our target presents itself."

"Yes, Grand Inquisitor!" The Purge Troopers saluted with their fists across their chests.