Cal and Merrin's suspicions were correct. Trilla had another reason for coming to the planet of Umbara. Besides a vehement desire to commit fratricide, she sought a path to greater power. She had seen Lord Vader in action more than once in all his glory, and through his dominating presence, she knew the Inquisitorius had stunted her abilities. There were dark places in the galaxy she wished to walk.

To that ambitious end, Trilla needed a Darth, and she knew of only one still alive. So upon reaching the top of the administrative building, she converted Administrator Golar Toszuzi's office into his very own impromptu interrogation chamber. The butchered remains of his bodyguards, whose arms and legs now served as the new décor, had not convinced him to talk. A veteran economic planner of the defunct Republic, Golar had a mind for numbers and carried the polite manner of a reserved aristocrat. Punching him across the jaw, Trilla knocked the glasses from his face as a splatter of blood graced the tile floor.

"I'll repeat the question," she struck him again, harder, before forcing him to look up at her. "Why did Maul spare you?"

Golar sputtered. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You told the Second Sister that a red Zabrak raided a shipment of Doonium on route to Kaut." She shook him roughly. "That was Maul, and he doesn't spare anyone. Especially not some Imperial bureaucrat."

Trilla knew the Stormtroopers were swarming up the stairwell, and it was only a matter of minutes before her barricade outside was breached. Golar shook his head. "He did not see me. That's the only reason!"

"Liar!" Trilla shoved him to the floor. She pressed her knee into his back, wrenching his arm upward. With cruel intent, she pressed her vibroknife against his index finger. "You two made a deal. He'd spare you for no other reason."

The knife bit into his skin, drawing a small trickle of blood. Golar cried, fighting against her hold. "Just credits! The occasional ingot of Doonium! Never enough to hurt production quotas, I swear!"

"So, you are still in contact?"

"Only through liaisons!" He yelled over the blare of the emergency alarm. "I haven't spoke to Maul directly since!"

"Where do your liaisons meet?!"

"He'll have me killed!"

Trilla severed the finger below the knuckle without hesitation. It fell to the floor, blood flowing onto her hands. "And I'll kill you right now. Do the math." She unfurled the next finger.

Golar grunted, stifling a scream. "Onderon! They meet on Onderon!"

"You wouldn't be lying again, would you?" She pushed the knife further.

"It's the truth."

She knew there was only one way to be certain. However, Trilla found it to be uniquely distasteful, since she had been on the receiving end of the technique far too many times. Hearing footsteps outside, she released him.

Trilla walked toward the window, then stopped. "It's not enough," she muttered and spun around. She grabbed hold of Golar, forcing the administrator to look her in the eye. "Hold still."

Calling on her meager connection to the Force, Trilla held a hand in front of his face, pushing a probe deep into his mind. A violent violation if there ever was one, and she was never the most skilled at the technique. Scraping through his memories with the precision of a buzz saw, Trilla discarded all those not useful to her, until buried deep within his subconscious, she found the raid.

At first, everything appeared exactly as reported. Crimson Dawn pirates, with Maul at the lead, had boarded the Imperial vessel, massacring the crew and liberating the cargo. She found herself enthralled by Maul's brutal way of killing. There was beauty to be found in his simplistic method. He eventually reached the bridge where Golar was cowering. Trilla was inches from her prize, but her strength was beginning to fail. Golar was also nearing his limit, falling into convulsions as white foam formed on his lips.

"Don't you dare die on me!" She demanded both of herself and him, as her vision blurred.

At last, her answer traveled in a whisper at the very edge of her hearing. Excellent, administrator. One of my men will wait for your tribute on Onderon… He'll ask a question, and you will simply answer the chaos to come.

Maul's cadence was reserved, almost diplomatic. Something she did not expect from someone of his reputation. Trilla dropped Golar, who crumpled onto the floor, unresponsive. Weakened, she slid against the desk, finding her legs shaking. Every ounce of her focus had to return immediately to the task of holding herself together. There was no chance to recover as the Stormtroopers breached the office; they opened fire on her immediately. Trilla grinned, rolling over the table, and ignited her lightsaber. The tyrian blade was unstable, sparking from the hilt. She plunged it into the window, leaping outside.

Sliding down the wall, Trilla used her lightsaber to slow her descent as an explosion in the distance wrapping the world in a cold, sapphire hue. Cal had completed his objective. Hitting the ground with a dull thud, Trilla stumbled forward as more Stormtroopers moved to intercept her. Staggering, she rasped, "Out of my way!"

A wave of heat crashing against his back, Cal fell onto the metal struts holding the magline in place. Climbing onto the precarious perch, he ducked as a second explosion shook the complex's foundation.

"Merrin. How's it looking on your end?" He asked into his communicator.

"Almost done. I was delayed." Merrin sounded breathless. "Train should be out of commission in 3… 2… 1."

Cal stopped as another blinding flash lit up the sky. A plume of flame created a canyon of red and orange in fog. He rubbed his head, almost forgetting his precarious situation. A Lambda shuttle flew overhead. He looked up to see a skeletal figure standing at the end of the loading ramp. The Grand Inquisitor's eyes locked onto him, sending shivers dancing along Cal's spine as he ignited his lightsaber expectantly.

The Grand Inquisitor leapt, landing gracefully on the railing. Towering a full foot over Cal, he made new moves to attack. "You are the one who invaded my home."

"Guilty." Cal flashed a grin. He opened his mouth to deliver one of his patented one-liners, but was interrupted.

"No need to apologize." The Grand Inquisitor interrupted with a raise hand. "Thanks to you, Cal Kestis, I was able to carry through a much needed purge of the Inquisitorious's ranks." He walked forward and with each step announced a subtler terror than most dark side adepts. Devoid of anger or hate, the Grand Inquisitor was an expression of absence. A black spot in the Force's connection to all living things.

He conveyed the detachment unique to a bureaucrat of death. Cold, and meticulously calculating, he was not one who ruminated on those who perished as a result of his actions. For the Grand Inquisitor was above such trivial matters, ordained by the Emperor to carry through his mission.

"So you're the Grand Inquisitor," Cal said, controlling his urge to run.

"A pleasure to meet…" The Grand Inquisitor respectfully bowed his head. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, where is my sister? I assume she must be in your company."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find her." Cal played dumb. "Just follow the bodies."

"True enough, she was always one to lack refinement." The Grand Inquisitor looked around at the destruction unfolding. "Might I ask something?" He did not wait for an answer. "What is it you hope to accomplish here?"

Cal looked at the rail line passing below them. "Every ingot of Doonium that leaves this planet goes toward building new Star Destroyers."

"Yes, I'm familiar with the economic factors that might motivate you." The Grand Inquisitor cocked his head. "But what are you doing here?"

"Fighting the Empire."

"Why?"

"Because the people of the galaxy need to know the Empire can be beaten."

"The Empire is an idea, Cal. A simple one at that, which exists in the brains of all living things." The Grand Inquisitor spoke slowly, as if speaking to an imbecile. "As old and enduring as the Republic." He made a circle with a single long finger. "An Ouroboros."

"Then you are saying the Empire won't last?"

"I'm saying you should be grateful. Without the Empire, there can be no new Republic. One must exist for the other to be born." The Grand Inquisitor took a dramatic step forward. "I'm a gardener. Pruning the galaxy of the mold allowed to grow into the foundation by a stagnant Jedi Order."

For some reason, Cal found himself rooted to his spot, unable to move. He was torn between conflicting feelings. There was a storm of savage emanations coursing through the Force from Trilla, overrunning his senses. "Who said the galaxy needed a gardener?" he asked.

"Who gave you the right to render others free against their will?"

"You aren't getting inside my head," Cal said, raising his lightsaber.

"But I already have." The Grand Inquisitor raised his hand and, with a vacant expression, he forced images of horror into Cal's mind. Some old wounds. The death of Jaro Tapal as Order 66 came down. The silence in the Force which followed the rise of the Empire. Then Cal witnessed the nightmares to come. Those fears that left him gasping for air in his cot, clamping onto his chest like a vice until it felt as though his bones would crack under the pressure. A Mantis in flames, its crew massacred. Where he donned the black mask of an inquisitor, just as Trilla did.

"No." His voice emerged as a hiss from his throat.

"What you see frightens you, does it not?" The Grand Inquisitor opened his hand. "None of it has to come to pass. I can offer you absolution."

Cal's thoughts were scrambled, messy, and difficult to sort through as he slowly returned to reality. His sense of the Force became aggravated, as Trilla's primal rage fell on the most intimate connections, coating them in a sheathe. Like having a swollen boil, Cal kept twinging until, desperate for the sensation to go away, he threw himself at the Grand Inquisitor. Who, in turn, reacted with the precision of a machine, deftly avoiding the erratic swings and stabs. Until an opportunity presented itself as Cal overextended, and the Grand Inquisitor slammed his palm straight into Cal's forehead with a dull thud.

"I say again. None of it has to come to pass." The Grand Inquisitor held out his hand again. "But not while the Jedi code controls you."

The bonk knocked Cal out of his stupor. He gave his head a quick shake. "No thanks, the dark side really does not do any favors for someone's complexion." Cal paused, slapping his cheek. "And look who I'm telling."

"You're not ready," The Grand Inquisitor said, dismayed. He pulled his lightsaber from his belt. A different make than the traditional double-sided variant preferred by his organization. This sword sported a thick crossguard made from two side vents, and upon being ignited, produced a coursing dark maroon blade. "But that is okay, Cal. I forgive you."

On the walkway leading to the train depot, Trilla sent two more Stormtroopers to oblivion. She was heard the whir of spinning blades overhead, looking up to see the Ninth and Seventh sister descending on her. She always found using her lightsaber as a method of locomotion an uncivilized practice. Trilla prepared herself as they dropped. She sought to reclaim her love for the dignified and regal Makashi form which had been consumed by the bloodthirsty drive of the Second Sister's mechanical method of killing. A method which lacked passion or love for the art.

There was never a better time to start over. The Inquisitorious had instilled in her that only through trials could one improve their skill. Learn or die was her philosophy as well. Trilla pointed her lightsaber from one face to the other. "Sisters." She gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Still content to be pawns of old fools, I see."

"Quiet! You murdered our brother!" The Ninth Sister roared. She was never one to beat gums, and charged to meet Trilla head on.

Trilla let it happened. She was tackled hard before she jammed her vibroknife into her sister's side, right above the belt. "Gotcha." She twisted the weapon, listening to the scrape of bone against metal. Breaking free, Trilla swung around, blocking a swing from the Seventh Sister outright.

"Just like old times," The Seventh Sister smiled. Her eyes conveyed an inkling of regret, or maybe disappointment, that they were no longer on the same side. While being sparring partners meant a degree of respect for each other. It was the times spent laid up in the medical bay, swapping war stories, the Seventh Sister remembered fondly. The three women had even a competition going as to who would kill more Jedi by year's end. But none of that matter now.

"Hardly. This time I'm not fighting with a handicap," Trilla snarled, bringing her knee up into the sternum of the Seventh Sister, who bucked. Trilla slashed her lightsaber across her sister's black carapace, then bent her arm, shoving her toward the Ninth Sister.

"Surely you both realize, the Grand Inquisitor intends for me to kill you both," Trilla said with a lack of inflection in her cadence.

"Yeah, yeah. We know," the Ninth Sister growled, making a fist. "You were always his special project."

Trilla hated that specific choice of words. Grinding her teeth, she frowned deeply. "I was nothing of the sort. I have the broken bones to prove it."

"Boo hoo," the Seventh Sister replied mockingly. "His favoritism saved you from Lord Vader too many times." She pointed. "And even after you bit off more than you could chew! You survived! Explain that!"

"Hah! I have neither the time nor the desire to enlighten you, sister."

The Seventh and Ninth Sister split apart, aiming to pincer her, but the narrow walkway impeded their movements. She met them eagerly with a gleeful smile on her lips. She matched both women blow for blow, keeping pace with her attackers.

But overconfidence often precedes a fall, and the Ninth Sister, grabbed Trilla by the neck, hoisting her upward. "I'll start with your legs. The Grand Inquisitor doesn't think you need those." She wrapped a meaty hand around Trilla's calf, yanking.

"Agh!" Trilla kicked the hilt of the still embedded vibroknife with the side of her foot. "Useless ogre!" She slipped free and thrust her lightsaber forward. The blade tagged the Ninth Sister along her abdomen beneath the rib cage, causing her to groan. It did not bother her, but the shock was there.

The Seventh Sister swung, slashing over Trilla's back, who pushed off the ground. A hard kick connected with the Miralan knocking her away. Trilla bore teeth. "Why are you content to suffer from teachings that weakened us!?"

She had a growing sense of dread, knowing the Grand Inquisitor had to be nearby. Her connection to Call wavered, suggesting he was also engaged in the thick of combat. Good. Trilla thought to herself. She was not keen on facing her old tormentor, at least not yet. She more than welcomed Cal taking the brunt.

The Seventh Sister's brow furrowed as she ruminated on the question. The Ninth Sister punched her in the head. "Don't listen to her!"

"Think about it! What happens when you capture me?" Trilla asked, pacing. "Sure, whatever they do to me will be bad, but who of you walks away?" She moved her lightsaber from one to the other. "Two minutes in the ring! Those are the rules! Last woman standing advances in rank!"

They had all killed others to advance. Their triumvirate had formed originally to have more control over who they faced in the ring. An arrangement that benefited Trilla the most, as it allowed her to focus on him alone. The Ninth Sister stomped her foot, using the Force to rip one of the lamps on the side of the walkway out by the bolts. She hurled it at Trilla, who successfully avoided having her entire head taking off.

She turned away, falling back. Grabbing her comminicator, Trilla shouted, "Collot! We're leaving!" There were several impassioned squeaks on the other end. "I don't care that you want to buy Cal's droid!"

"Stop running!" The Ninth Sister screamed, throwing her lightsaber.

Trilla jerked left, slashing the weapon into pieces. When the Seventh Sister closed in, Trilla pushed her off the walkway entirely. The Ninth Sister reached her, letting fly a barrage of punches, her heavy fists connecting with anything in her way.

The unrelenting assault dizzied Trilla, who lost her balance when her head whipped right, her ears ringing from being clapped. But the Ninth Sister was not finished. She crashed her cybernetic foot down onto Trilla's knee, causing her to buckle. Its metal toes clamped hard, biting into bone.

"You're weak, sister!" The Ninth Sister growled.

"Haven't died yet!" Trilla brought her lightsaber upward in a short motion, slicing clean through mechanical appendage, then she used the Force to push the hulk to the ground. Breathing heavily, she approached. "Look at me."

The Ninth Sister complied with the demand, fighting to stay upright, missing her leg. She fell back to the ground, glaring. "This isn't over."

Trilla loved the sense of serenity that came with taking a life. The entire world became little more than an oily painting, as everything focused on the breathing of her and her victim. A pure moment where two people confronted each other as expressed individuals. She met the Ninth Sister as Masana Tide, and the latter met her as the Second Sister and Trilla Suduri. Two women who refused to die quietly when their lives were ruthlessly uprooted. She hesitated. Just as the Grand Inquisitor predicted. Only for a second. Trilla's eye twitched; her lightsaber came arcing down for the decapitating strike.

Reemerging, the Seventh Sister kicked Trilla in the back, knocking her forward. The Ninth Sister capitalized on this by driving her clawed fingers into Trilla's thigh. She laughed, digging into the squishy mass.

Trilla groaned, dragging herself free. A trail of torn skin and gored viscera dangling through her ripped pant leg. She turned, her face creased with murderous frustration.

"Sister. You're coming with us," Seventh readied herself for another round.

"I am afraid I am going to decline the invitation," Trilla said, amused. A shot deafened the scene; a sniper in the dark had fired. Trilla knew this hunting pattern well. Instinct taking over, she dropped to her stomach, the bolt careening over her head. Thirty seconds. That is how long Trilla had to get out of the zone of suppression before the Purge Troopers corrected their aim. Despite the objections of her pride, Trilla rushed for cover, shouting at Collot to hurry.

The Grand Inquisitor fought with a tempered brutality. Unlike other duelists, he was willing to sacrifice an advantage if it meant wounding his opponent. An inescapable death drive that meant for every successful hit Cal landed. He was tagged in kind. As they fought, he developed the discomforting sense it was all a performance by the Grand Inquisitor. He was carefully choreographing a tempo to their duel. At least, Cal thought. His inner monologue was still garbled by the earlier intrusion. Knocked back, he clutched his smoldering forearm. Was it all an elaborate game? Or just the seeds of uncertainty the Grand Inquisitor had planted while rooting around in Cal's mind.

"Don't panic. There is no bigger picture," the Grand Inquisitor said, his eyes becoming set; "I'm only testing a few unorthodox forms." He did not elaborate, unsheathing his off-hand weapon. A short vibrosword with a hooked tip. "Now, let's see how you handle this."

Cal blocked the immediate lightsaber swing, but his poncho was hooked by the Grand Inquisitor, who wore a toothy grin on his face. He jerked on his wrist, pulling Cal closer, who found himself assaulted by a wave of warm breath.

"Ugh. No wonder your inquisitors wear those ridiculous masks." Cal gagged, jumping to the adjacent strut to spare himself the odor. He looked down, dejectedly poking a hole through his poncho's newest battle scar. "Aww come on. This one was my favorite."

Ignoring his frustration, the Grand Inquisitor stopped. " Jaro Tapal, hmm." He pursed his lips, thoughtfully. "Yes, I do believe he called on me once."

"Weird he never mentioned a six foot tall skeleton."

"Oh no, I doubt anyone in the Order would acknowledge my service." The Grand Inquisitor smiled. "Yet they always welcomed my skills when they were required."

Cal's brow furrowed. "You're lying."

"Maybe, but that's for you to determine. Or perhaps I preferred the quiet comforts of prison work instead of heroics on the battlefield." The Grand Inquisitor scraped his vibrosword against the metal below their feet. "Who do you think had to make sure those Separatists prisoners of war cracked?" He pointed his lightsaber forward. "Victory was made possible by men like me. I did what was necessary, not moral, in the name of the Republic."

"Some Jedi you were."

"Once," The Grand Inquisitor said, his face contorting with disgust. "The Order and I parted ways pretty early in my career. Because I chose the people and order over arrogant idealism."

"You mean you were exiled?"

"Sure, those like me were always an inconvenient truth." He laughed bleakly. "I wasn't the only one, of course. "Do you have any idea how many turned their backs on the council before the coup was attempted?" The Grand Inquisitor's eyes flicked away. "Considering the temple bombing was carried out by a disgruntled padawan, I was justified in my decision to stand with the Emperor against galactic anarchy."

"You kidnap younglings. Forgive me if I don't take morality lessons from you." Cal jutted his finger at the Grand Inquisitor. "Were you the one who tortured Trilla and Cere?"

"The former. Not the latter." The Pa'un's eyes flicked back. "Also, torture is such a dramatic accusation. I merely offered her absolution."

"Just… You're heartless." Cal was at a loss for words. "Why?

"It's my job."

There was nothing for Cal to say. Not that he would get the chance. As from somewhere a bolt of red pierced the darkness. Cal noticed it too late, and a burning fire scrawled over his leg, right above his knee. He grasped the smoking hole, groaning as the Grand Inquisitor seized on his distraction rushing toward him.

Before the lightsaber brought a quick end to Cal, he felt Merrin's soft hands on his chest. Her voice was gentle in his eye like an angelic cloud. "We're leaving." An emerald flash followed, engulfing them both. Then they were gone.

The Grand Inquisitor lowered his lightsaber, alone on the railing. He looked around, disappointed to have his prey snatched from under him. Sighing, he put away his weapons, then raised his communicator. "Excellent shot, trooper. Don't pursue that Jedi. Focus your efforts on our sister."