Archive of Our Own

Privilege

Is not for the weak

When the walls start cavin

It’ll be ours for the taking

-Sam Tinnesz, “Tear It Down"

***

The holocron was strangely warm beneath Trilla’s fingers, warm enough that should could feel it through the fabric of her gloves. She sat quietly in the jumpseat of the transport, both pilots remaining silent and still in front of her as if they were switched-off droids. Bogano’s entire surface had sung with that same strange heat, and it wasn’t entirely the doing of its little yellow sun. No, it was something else thrumming beneath the ground, something that was entirely repulsed by her existence. The nuisant creatures scattered as she walked, the flora wilting away by simply being in her presence. 

She had sensed the same warmth humming throughout the Vault. Most of all, a new light had shone itself through all that. 

Cal Kestis, as he wanted to call himself now. Perhaps he was even foolish enough to claim the title of Jedi. The Jedi were like Cere. Corrupt and weak, worthy of being destroyed by a stronger, more powerful force. 

Oh, there was no denying that there was something decidedly different about him now. Something so far removed from the rabid, angry creature that had trailed after her for so long. She once thought of the Fourth Brother as a gift, an opportunity unlike any other. A rabid animal that she could train, shape, and mold into being the perfect pet. He was everything the Emperor could want out of his Inquisitors. All he needed was some guidance. Should Trilla be the one to provide that, then perhaps she would earn favor with the Grand Inquisitor. With Lord Vader, and even the Emperor himself. 

Her grip unconsciously tightened on the holocron. Kestis had spat at her that there was no favor with the Empire. That they did not care, that everyone was disposable in the grand scheme of things. 

I don’t have to be, Trilla thought bitterly. I’m not. Cere had labeled her that, but the Empire and the Inquisition had treated her anyway but such. She led the missions to find survivors. She was assigned to oversee the other Inquisitors. She had been given the tasks of dispatching the ones who decided that there was something more than this miserable existence. She was important to them, in some way. 

At least she had been once. She would still be, if the Fourth Brother had not decided to take that all away from her. 

She had asked for reinforcements and more Imperial efforts toward her hunt since she found Kestis on Bracca. But every request was denied. She had gone as far up the chain to Lord Vader himself after the Grand Inquisitor refused to allot anymore to her, but Vader’s say had been the final one. 

“Your failure on Tatooine three years ago is the reason why we are in this position,” the Grand Inquisitor told her, relaying Vader’s words. “You should have ensured he was dead before you left him. Or maybe you should have killed him better. Either way, you have dug this grave, and you will lie in it.” 

Trilla’s step fell as heavy stomps as she stalked out of the transport, breezing by any officer or trooper who tried to approach her. Her grave to lie in? They were on the cusp of catching two other Force users: a former Jedi, and a traitor. How could they choose this opportunity to teach her a lesson? Trilla had proven herself over and over and over, more than any other Inquisitor had. They never understood what she was trying to do. 

Cal Kestis had never understood. The Fourth Brother had never understood. The others would have taken terrible advantage of him. They would have treated him like a toy, a fighting dog to throw into the arena. Without any sense of training or manners, Vader or even the Emperor himself may have ordered him to be put down. Trilla may have pushed him to the brink time and time again, but it really was for his own good. Maybe she should have let the others use him, just so he knew how good he had it. He would have understood then. He would never had tried what he did. 

An ungrateful brat, a pititful traitor. Just the kind of people Cere drew toward her. 

What Cere replaced you with, a nasty little voice in the back of her head supplied. A do-over. One Inquisitor for another. 

Trilla shook the voice away. They were both traitors. Why should she worry herself too much with them? Inevitably, whatever sorry sob of a bond they had formed would crumble. Maybe Cere would betray Kestis as she had done to Trilla. Maybe Kestis would snap and kill Cere. That would be a good show. 

She bit back a grin and a derisive laugh. Once a dog, she said to herself as the doors slid open in front of her, always a dog. Kestis, the Fourth Brother, it did not matter what he called himself. He was never going to change. He would always be a dog who needed a master. 

He was inveitably going to come for it. The lives and livelihoods of every child on the list within her fingers were counting on him. If he was going to fancy himself a Jedi, then he would fall to the same weaknesses as the rest of his pathetic order. 

Jedi could not help what they were. They could not help that shameful, undying compassion, the desire to protect and guard the meek and innocent. 

Trilla looked up into the smoky void. Somewhere through the haze, she saw it: the chair. The thing that finally pushed Jedi into becoming Inquisitors. 

She had never seen his face before Bracca, but she had heard his voice a time or two. The memories were mostly distorted by the sound of his helmet’s vocoder, but she could remember once when they weren’t. 

All Inquisitors were afraid of the chair. Even Trilla buried a shameful part of herself away years ago, refusing to relive those memories. None showed it. 

Except the Fourth Brother. Like an abused dog seeing a raised hand, he fought going back to the chair. He lashed out, dropped heads and limbs, and killed. She may have never seen his face or heard his real voice, but she could recognize him by the sound of his screams. 

Trilla could never forget them no matter how hard they tried. It was not just that they were scared or pained, awful noises tearing from his throat so that he may lose the ability to speak. 

They were young. Young, like the Younglings and children held in the Fortress’s cells, the life slowly seeping out of their eyes every day. Pieces of their souls shattered and tossed among the many corners of the Fortress, never to be whole again. 

She never pitied him. How else was he to learn? 

“Well, Jedi,” she said aloud, spitting the word as if it were a slur, “can you face your fears now?” 

Cal Kestis would be back — and she would be waiting for him. 

***

“She’s got it?” Greez said incredulously. “The witch has the holocron?” 

Merrin shot him a confused look from her place at Cal’s side. BD tilted his head and whistled. 

“Not witch as in you.” Greez waved her off. “Witch as in… “he shook his head. “Nevermind. It’ll take too long to explain.” 

“The Second Sister,” Cal finished from the couch. Trilla’s lightsaber sat forgotten on the table in front of him. “She has the holocron.” He pulled the cloth away from his nose and winced at the splatter of blood. A small droplet fell onto his lip, and he tasted copper in the back of his throat. He folded the cloth to a clean side, then placed it back.

“Geez, kid, let me get you another. Before you bleed all over my floor.” Greez passed Cere, who was pacing back and forth fast enough to wear a hole through the Mantis’s floor, a wild look in her eyes. 

Cal’s mind flashed to Trilla’s memory, of Cere tightly bound in the chair. A terrible scream that barely had any form tearing from her throat as she realized what they had done to her Padawan. She had had that same wild look, only tinted yellow, when she escaped.

“Cere?” Cal went to stand up, but the world dropped out from behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merrin’s hands reaching for him as his knees buckled, and he collapsed back onto the couch. 

Cere abruptly stopped, then faced Cal. Another distant memory, of an angry yellow-eyed woman facing him down, suddenly resurfaced, but Cal shook it off. Perhaps he had picked a few other residual memories of Trilla’s. 

“I’m responsible for the path Trilla is on,” she said, “and what she does next is the cost of all my mistakes.” 

Cal swallowed back a wave of nausea then forced himself to stand again. Merrin’s hands over near his waist. He wiped any excess blood off his face. “Our mistakes are in the past. It’s all of our responsiblity. What we do next is what’s important.” 

The wild look softened, back to the same determined Cere that Cal had become so familiar with. Her eyes narrowed in confusion when she saw the hesitation sweep over his as he spoke again: 

“She’s going to Nur.” 

He went ice cold just at the thought. Cere’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Nur?” Cal’s attention was drawn to where Greez had reentered, a clean cloth in his hand. “Where’s that?” 

Cal opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was no simple way to describe Nur. A place of torture. Of screams and blood and pain and brokeness. The darkest part of the galaxy, pulled out of hell itself. Where the lost souls of innocents wandered, never to find a true resting place. A place where Jedi went to die and where Inquisitors were born. 

He found himself grateful when Cere spoke for him. “It’s where they take Jedi,” she said simply, a slight wobble to her words. Sharp cold fear pricked at the base of his neck. 

Greez’s eyes widened, the clean cloth falling limply from his fingers. His gaze darted between Cal and Cere. “Oh.” 

Cere let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Truth be told, I never thought I’d have to go back… “ 

“Well, you won’t be going alone.” Greez stepped over, taking one of Cere’s hands, then one of Cal’s. “Neither of you will.” 

“You will have friends with you,” Merrin added. She placed a hand on Cal’s shoulder. BD hopped up onto the table in front of them. “You will never have to be alone again.” 

BD warbled in agreement. 

“So!” Greez said, clapping with his two unused arms. “Let’s get to it!” He gave Cal’s hand an affirming squeeze before heading over to the holotable. Merrin and BD followed, but Cere caught Cal’s wrist, holding him back. Cal raised an questioning eyebrow. 

Cere lowered her voice. “They’re wrong, you know. I won’t just be going there with a friend — I’ll be going there with a Jedi.” 

Cal’s voice died in his throat once more. Jedi. He would be lying if he said if he felt no joy in hearing that. In knowing that word was associated with him, of all people. Still, he shook his head. “No. Someday, but not yet.” 

Cere smiled sadly, then turned to join the rest of the group. Cal drew in a deep breath, then released it, steadying himself. 

Nur. He was going back to Nur. 

“Alright,” Greez began as Cal came up to the holotable next to Merrin. A holographic diagram of Nur rotated in front of them. “Tell me more about this place.” 

“The entire surface is covered in water,” Cal explained. “No naturally occuring land masses. The Fortress is about… “he surveyed the diagram. “Here.” He pointed to a spot in the northwest hemisphere. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find on a radar.” 

“Most of it is under the water,” Cere added, “anchored into the moon’s surface. Not a lot of people, even in the Empire, are not aware of its existence. They all believe it is nothing more than a rumor.” 

“The only way you know it exists is if you’ve been there,” Cal said. 

“How is it guarded?” Merrin asked. 

“Anyway you can imagine,” Cal answered. The memories of the dark halls came rushing back. “Shields, lasers, gates and bridges that can only be accessed from a single point, stormtroopers, Purge Troopers, Inquisitors themselves. That’s all just in the base itself. As for the outside, I’m not quite sure. That was always changing.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “It won’t be easy getting in.” 

Greez hummed. “So, I take it our usual tricks won’t work?” 

Cal shook his head. 

“I can help with that,” Merrin piped up. “A ritual that will hide the ship.” She shrugged. “I hope.” 

“A ritual? Wait, wait, hold on.” Greez waved his hands as Merrin started toward the cockpit. “Now, what is this ritual going to require?” 

“A sacrifice.” She grabbed one of his arms, studying it. “One of these will do nicely.” 

Greez yelped and pulled away. He flashed Cal and Cere with a terrified look. It shifted to confusion when he saw the grim, amused grin on Cal’s face. 

Merrin tapped him on the head. “Do not be so serious. Come with me.” And with that, she pushed past him into the cockpit. 

Greez looked at Cal with a dumbfounded expression, then followed. 

Cal glanced at Cere, but his smile quickly dropped when he saw she was still staring intently at the diagram. “The holocron. Do you know where Trilla will take it?” 

“I do.” The one place she knew that if he were in his right mind, he would never set foot in again. 

She nodded. “You and I will be the ones to go inside. When we get closer, I can program the escape pods to take us right where we need to be. Once we’re there, I’ll engage their defense level and sabotage their sensors so the Mantis can extract us. You’ll find the holocron.” 

“Shouldn’t we stick together?” 

“No.” She stepped away from the holotable toward the couch. “I feel the pull. The lives of every child on that list are at stake. Whatever happens, just get in and get out.” She stopped a few paces away from the table, then reached out. Trilla’s lightsaber shudder, then flew into her hand. Something warm sung across his chest, like the suns rays soaking into his skin on a chilled day. 

“The Inquisitor uniform,” Cal suddenly remembered. Cere turned to him with a questioning look. “Is it still on the Mantis?” 

“It is? Greez washed it. Why- “ 

“What if I wore it?” 

“What?” She shook her head. “Cal, I don’t want you to ever have to put that thing back on- “ 

“No, no.” He held up his hands. “Just listen. I stand out right now, wearing these.” He motioned to himself. “The uniform might buy us both some more time. I don’t see us getting in and out without someone knowing we are there. Trilla will be waiting. Once you sabotage their defenses, that will tip them off.” 

“So, what?” Cere waved to him. “You think the uniform might give you a fighting chance? Trilla could have everyone on alert for you.” 

“No,” Cal said. “She wants to take the holocron to the Emperor, but not yet. She doesn’t want everyone to find me.” This was personal. It had to be her who brought him in, not some random officer or trooper. 

Cere’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t ask you to do that.” 

He shrugged. “Then I guess it’s good that you aren’t. I can do it.” 

“One more thing.” Cere spun to face him. “The Inquisitor uniform.” I need to do it. He could be more than that. They both could. 

The journey was mostly silent, with a few back-and-forths exchanged between Merrin and Greez. Cere remained quite from her place at the comms, scanning through the same three frequencies. Judging by the other two’s sideways glances, Cal knew they could tell she was not actually hearing anything. 

He tried to keep himself calm. One breath in, then out, then the next, in a constant rhythm. BD-1 butted his shoulder with his head every-so often, as if reminding Cal that he was still there. That he would be there through it all. 

Cal put a reassuring hand on his head. I don’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve any of them. 

He tugged on the collar of the Inquisitor’s uniform. When questioned, Greez claimed that Cal had never thrown it away. He also said he could not stand known that the clothing was stained with dried blood and was mucking up the air on the Mantis. 

“I wasn’t expecting that you would wear it again,” Greez continued, “but you know, the other clothes you got are yours. We might find ourselves on a mud planet one day. You might be grateful to have something extra to wear there.” He shrugged. “Or we could burn it.” 

Cal had laughed. “Sounds like a good idea.” 

“Arriving in Nur’s airspace,” Greez’s voice cut through his thoughts, “in three… two… one.” He pulled back on the throttle. Cal jolted forward as the Mantis dropped out of hyperspace. Through the viewports, he laid eyes on Nur for the first time in three years. The unnatural chill, the one had filled him for so long, washed over. 

Cal shook himself, and the cold quickly began to retreat. 

No, he said, grabbing the void’s hand and yanking it back. You got me through once, right? I may need you there again. 

For once, the void remained silent. Yet, he sensed its acceptance. It would not fully control him as it once had, but that did not mean it would leave entirely. 

“The Destroyer.” Greez pointed to the mighty pointed vessel orbiting the moon. 

“It will not be a problem,” Merrin said. She grasped a shimmery white talisman in her hands and began to chant. “Mother, sisters, lend me your strength. Sisters, mother, lend me your stength… “Her voice faded, replaced by an eerie echoing chant. A second wave of cold, different from Cal’s own, filled the cockpit as Merrin’s eyes flashed with green fire. The magick spread from the talisman and across the Mantis. 

Cal glanced around. He could still see everything and everyone around him. He waited with baited breath as they closed in on the Destroyer, but the comms never rang. The ship never raised it cannons.

They were safe. 

For now. 

“Whatever she’s doing, it’s working,” Greez commented. 

“What do you think the odds are?” Cal said. 

Greez fixed him with a solemn look. “My money’s on you, kid.” 

Cere touched his shoulder. It’s time.

“Thank you,” Cal whispered to Greez, then turned and followed Cere through the Mantis. 

“I’ve programmed the escape pods to land not far from the Fortress,” Cere explained. “I’ll have to swim to get in, but you should be able to drop closer to the sight. I’ve also adjusted the weight settings on yours to be more buoyant, so you should float.” She dipped her chin. “Good luck, Cal.” Without another word, she stepped into the escape pod, the door hissing shut between them. 

“Good luck,” Cal said, even if she could not hear him. “You ready?” he asked BD, and the little droid whooped. 

I can do this. He needed to do this. He stepped into his escape pod, and before he could even given himself the chance to feel regret, closed the door between him and the Mantis. 

The world dropped out from beneath him as the pod was released from the Mantis, plummeting toward Nur. He felt the moment gravity took over, yanking him down through the moon’s atmosphere. Flames licked at the pod’s window as he soared closer and closer to the oceans. He might have blacked out from the G-forces at one point because the next thing he knew, he was sharply awoken by an electric shock from BD. 

Cal shouted in surprise. A curse slipped from his lips before he realized he had landed. He unlatched the door and pushed it open, emerging onto Nur’s stormy surface. To his left, a vast expanse of ocean, dark purple storm clouds looming over the horizon. To his right, the hulking structure of the Fortress Inquisitorious. 

Cal let out a shaking breath. “I can do this,” he said to himself, “I have to do this.” He dropped his eyes from the Fortress’s towering peaks to a spot lower on the wall. 

There. He spotted a closed exterior door, likely somewhere that waste was dumped out into the ocean. That would be his way in. Even after years away from the place, he could still navigate it like the back of his hand. Better than he had ever been able to navigate the Jedi Temple. He scanned across the wall, and when he saw no surveillance system, he leaped toward the ledge, grabbing on tight. A few shifts to the right, and he was close enough to hop inside. 

“Think you get get it open?” he said to BD, who hopped over toward the door controls A few twists and turns later, and it was open.

“Thanks.” BD hopped back onto his shoulders, and Cal swung inside. He landed on a thin catwalk as the door slid shut behind him. Voices floated up to him from below. He had found himself in an airlock for vehicles coming out of the water. 

“Airlock Eight clear,” a trooper was saying. Cal peeked over the ledge and counted three. Two normal and one scout.  “Listen to that water dripping. How can you handle that? I’d be running to the ‘fresher every couple minutes.”

Neither trooper reacted. 

“Hey!” the scout trooper shouted in one’s face. He jumped. “You daydreaming or something wrong with your equipment?” 

“All good, sir,” the other piped up. “We turn our mics down in here. The water can be, uh… distracting.” 

“What a riveting conversation,” Cal muttered to BD. With a final, ground sigh, he stepped over the ledge.

The stormtrooper lets out shocked bleats as Cal landed at the edge of the walkway. The scout trooper spun. “Intruder alert!” he shouted. 

Their Force signatures weighed on his hands. He thrusted them out, sending all three trooper flying back into the wall. They collapsed like puppets with their strings cut, unconscious. 

Cal stood up and gave a small laugh. “Not bad.” He started toward the door, and his comm crackled. “C- Cal? Are you there?” 

“Loud and clear.” 

“It’s good to hear your voice again. I’ve located the holocron. I’m sending it to BD now.” BD warbled. His holoemitter flickered, then displayed a diagram of the Fortress in front of Cal. A yellow dot indicated their current position. The holocron’s location — the exact spot Cal had expected it would be in — was highlighted in gold. 

“I see it,” Cal reported. “I’m on my way.” 

“Airlock Eight.” Cal jumped, hand flying to his saber, as a voice filled the room. “Airlock Eight, this is Fortress Command.” A button on the control console flashed red. “Airlock Eight, this is Fortress Command. TK-9218, do you copy?” 

The scout trooper grunted, rolling over to his side. 

“Hey,” Cal said. 

The trooper only spared a moment to glance at Cal. Cold fear tingled at the base of his neck as the trooper slowly dragged himself toward the console. 

“Hey,” Cal said again, hand outstretched, “you don’t want to do that.” 

“Intruder,” the trooper grunted, nearing the console which was still asking for Airlock Eight and for TK-9218 to copy. “Intruder alert.” 

I could kill him, Cal’s mind supplied. That would be the easiest thing to do. Even without the Fourth Brother’s presence, he could still so easily recall his voice. But I don’t think you do that anymore. 

I don’t. He tilted his head. There is something else I could try. He vaguely recalled seeing the older Younglings try on the younger ones when they wanted to be left alone. Maybe his Master had done it a time or two. 

Cal latched onto the cold fear, reaching out to the peripherals of the trooper’s mind. For lack of a better word, it was… soft. Like unbaked bread dough. Easy to shift and mold to his will. Must be the reason why the Empire chose him. 

“Airlock Eight, this is Fortress Command,” the console spoke again. “TK-9218, do you copy?” 

Cal grabbed a hold of his mind just as he pressed the response button. “I copy.” 

“We received an alert that the exterior door was opened down there. I am to remind you that door is strictly not to be opened unless otherwise instructed. Report.” 

Intruder alert, the man’s mind wanted to say, but it was quickly washed away. 

“It was an accident,” the trooper replied, explanation supplied by Cal. “An maintenance worker who had gotten lost. Thought it was a different airlock. The situation has been handled.” 

A pause, then — “We copy. Ensure that it does not happen again.” The communication line cut off. 

The trooper released the button, then rolled over and slumped with his back against the console. “What- what did you do to me?” he wheezed out. 

“You don’t want to report anything has gone wrong here,” Cal said, ignoring the man’s question. 

“I- I don’t want to report anything has gone wrong here,” the trooper repeated. 

“You want to keep a watch over these men.” 

“I want to keep a watch over these men.” 

“You will not let them out.” 

“I will not let them out.” 

Cal released his hold on the man’s mind. “Holy shit,” he whispered. It worked. “Come on, BD. We don’t have to worry about them anymore.” He hurried over to the door controls. BD hopped over his shoulders and sliced through, letting them through into the Fortress. 

“Cal,” Cere said as he sprinted through the halls, “I’m seeing if I can redirect any troopers away from your path. I can’t promise I can remove them all, so stay vigilant.” 

Cal came up to a diverging path, then quickly ducked behind a corner as security droid came stomping down the corridor. 

Idea, BD-1 whistled. 

“You have an idea?” 

The droid’s head moved up and down in a semblance of a nod. 

“Go for it.” 

The droid hopped off Cal’s shoulder and skittered across the floor. He scampered up the droid’s back, then whistled. 

The droid’s head whipped around. “Intruder alert,” its robotic, feminine voice said as it grabbed for BD. BD dodged its groping hands, then drove his scomp link into the back of the droid’s head. It stiffened, then went limp, hands falling to its sides. With a few flashes of white in its eyes, it straightened again, then turned to face Cal. 

His breath caught in his throat, hand going for his saber, but BD whistled to him. Friend now. 

“Friend?” Cal tilted his head. “This is a friend?” 

BD-1 considered this. Ally. 

“More like it.” He motioned with his head. “Come on.” With BD-1 tucked safely behind the security droid’s towering figure, they were off through the halls once more. 

They climbed through the lower levels to the main floors. Slowly, but surely, the place started to look more recognizable. He remembered each twist and turn, the paths he had once walked every day. He passed no troopers, but the hulking mass of the security droid behind him gave him a sense of comfort. When they came to a stopping point, BD-1 showed him the map again. There were only a few more levels they needed to cross before they made it to the holocron. 

Almost there. He repeated it to himself as he hurried through. The dark shadows of the Fortress crept at the corners of his mind. A place of pain and toture and death, designed to shatter one’s spirit until it was nothing. No, he would not allow it to do that to him, not ever again. He refused to give the Empire that satisfaction again. 

Cal hurried up a set of spiraling stairs, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs in an open chamber. Around him, smoke vents from the lower levels filled the air, and the walls were tinted with glowing orange light. “The prison cells,” Cal said aloud, scanning across the laser-red walls. “Are there any prisoners in here?” 

BD’s scomp link turned on the droid’s head. Its eyes flashed. No, the droid warbled. Not anymore. 

“Right.” Cal shook off memories of the cells. “Right… “Whether that was good or bad, he did not have time to decide. They were narrowing in on the holocron’s location, and he did not have a second to waste. 

They crossed the bridge, across a familiar path, closer and closer. A left, then right, and left again. His feet carrying them as they had in the vision in the Bogano Vault. Stopping at the end of a massive chamber, closed doors on the other side. The security droid moved to the control console to deploy the bridge. The Fortress Citadel, the home of the interrogation room. The place where everything had changed. Dread had slowly crawled his way up his throat, and he found himself unable to push it down. 

He could almost see the Purge Troopers dragging the small red-haired Padawan away from him. He had reached out, unable to do anything then. Now was different. 

“Leave it here.” Cal held out his arm to BD as the bridge locked into place. “It can stop anyone from coming after us.” 

BD hopped onto Cal’s shoulders, and the security droid stepped over to the control panel. Cal closed his eyes and drew in another breath. In his mind’s eye, he saw the red-haired Padawan and the Fourth Brother, hand-in-hand. 

Cal released the breath and opened his eyes. “You ready?” 

BD-1 whistled in agreement. 

“Then let’s go.” He placed one foot on the bridge, then the other. A third step, a fourth. Before he knew it, he was already halfway across. Then three-fourths. Then all the way on the other side, up to the door. 

Even from this side, he could hear the echoes. Screams and pleas, tears and begging. Pain prickled and stabbed in every facet of his body. The chorus of voices was crying, crying for it to be over. Please, please, make it stop- weeping, sobbing, and whimpering, as spirts and souls were shattered- please, please, no, please- claws closing in on him, bearing down, electricity dancing across his body- it hurts, it hurts, it hurts- he would never get out of here, he would be here forever, why are you fighting it, why waste his energy- stop, stop, STOP- 

Cal? a whistle pushed through all the voices. Cal? 

Cal sharply came back to himself. Something warm had dropped onto his upper lip. He tasted copper in the back of his throat. 

Cal? BD-1 asked. Alright? 

“I will be.” Cal wiped the blood away. “I will be.” 

Deep breath in. 

Deep breath out. 

Trust only in the Force. 

The doors to the interrogation room opened, and he stepped inside. 

The interrogation room was exactly as he remembered it. The same smoky haze and blazing temperatures, the claws bearing down from above. The chair was isolated in the center of the chamber, empty and dormant for now. 

He studied it, afraid that it would suddenly spring to life and grab him, but it never did. It remained as immobile as over.

The moment of relief passed in an instant as the air moved behind him. The crack-hiss of an igniting saber followed by a war cry filled his ears. Cal dove out of the way as Trilla landed in the spot he had been in breaths earlier. 

She swung at his chest. Cal drew his own saber, catching her blade with his. She took a blow at his head, and he blocked it. With a frustrated yell, she shoved her hand out, an invisible force catching him in the chest and sending him flying back. 

He rolled back to his feet, activating the other half of his saber. “Trilla,” he started, “you don’t have to- “ 

“Enough talking!” she snarled, then threw herself at him. He dodged each other her blows, light on his feet, as she cut for his neck, then chest. “Stay still!” She jabbed at his stomach. Cal parried the blow, landing a kick on her stomach. She stumbled back, but recovered quickly. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he tried, parrying toward more blows. 

Trilla laughed derisively. “Oh, but it does,” she spat between blows. “You can’t win. It can’t be over until you reel in agony and writhe in pain. Until you remember your place!” She dashed away, tossing her saber. He dove to the ground in a roll, coming back to his feet. The saber caught one of the control panels, the top half sliding off. 

The next moment, she was right back in top of him, leaping into the air and driving her saber downward. He dodged, catching her next blow. He reached a hand out and grabbed the fallen console piece with the Force. He tossed it toward her. She sliced it in half in a shower of sparks. It gave him enough time to gain on her. 

She caught him in a bladelock. “I know what we went through, Trilla,” Cal tried. “It’s not too late to let go.” 

“Let go?” She sounded as though she were biting back a laugh. “I’m stronger now because of the pain. Of course it was you. It was always you. What is so special about you?!” she finished with a shout, breaking the bladelock shoving him back. 

They circled each other, two animals waiting to pounce. “Why was it you? What makes you so different?” 

Cal shrugged. “Luck, I guess.” 

“You guess?” Trilla actually laughed now. “Luck. Lucky that you never had to have a failure of a Master, that it was you who was the failure instead. Lucky that you still get to breathe despite everything this godforsaken world had thrown at you. Lucky that you got to be the one to escape. The one to live. Was it luck that brought you this?” She drew from her cape the holocron, holding it high for him to see. “Was it luck that led you to doom all these poor children?” 

Cal held his hand out to steady her. “Just give that to me, Trilla. You can give them the choice.” 

“Don’t play this game with me,” she sneered. “I know he’s in there. Just let him out. Make it a challenge for me.” 

“I’m not playing any game with you. Never again.” 

Trilla suddenly let out a frustrated scream and dove at him. Cal dodged back and took his opening. He stabbed her in the shoulder. The frustration turned to pain as she stumbled back, dropping both her saber and the holocron as she fell to her knees. Cal summoned the holocron to his hand, holding the point of his saber toward Trilla. 

She stayed on her knees, heaving breaths almost turning to frustrated sobs. Behind him, the doors slid open. “Cal!” Cere called. 

He deactivated his saber, holstering it. She came to a skidding halt beside him, her eyes wide as she took in her Padawan. 

“I have the holocron,” he told her, then stepped aside. 

Cere’s eyes lingered on Cal for a moment before she turned to her Padawan. “It’s over, Trilla.” 

Trilla turned her gaze up to Cere, a fiery familiar hatred in her yellow eyes. “Nothing is ever truly over.” 

“This fight is over,” Cere continued. “I know the darkness that is eating you up inside, and every day we choose to either feed it or fight.” 

“It’s too late, Cere,” Trilla ground out, a barely concealed cry behind her voice. 

“No, it’s not.” Cere’s voice wobbled. “I know that all the choices I made took all your choices away. And I… I failed you, Trilla.” She fell to her knees. “And I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.” She reached a hand out.

Trilla’s eyes flickered to it. With a pained groan, she slowly pulled herself to her feet. Cere hovered to help, but Trilla would never take it. At least not yet. “I’ve carried so much hate for you,” she whispered. Her gaze flitted over to Cal. For the first time, he saw that her eyes were actually a soft brown color. “How did you do it? How can you do it?” A tear leaked down her cheek. “It isn’t possible.” 

It can be, Cal wanted to say. You can’t do it alone, but you can do it. I promise- 

He felt it, words never making it out. Trilla froze, shaking breaths and terrified whimpers escaping her. The unnatural, sharp, stabbing cold infiltrating every fiber of his being. Invasive, crowding into his mind. It would pick him apart piece by piece. Turn him inside out, know everything that made him tick, everything he was afraid, every way to cause pain. It was doom personified, and he would have no way to stop it. 

For he was the prey. He had always been the prey. 

The real monster was something far worse than he had ever been. 

The real monster was here for him now. 

Heavy footsteps echoed across the chamber. Trilla went ramrod straight, anchored to her spot by an invisible force. Cere reached out with one hand to her, her other shielding Cal, as it emerged from the smoke behind the chair. 

His arm burned where his flesh met the cybernetics. He believed he might choke over the mere presence. 

Vader’s landing shook the platform as he stalked up behind Trilla. Cere activated her bloodred saber, backing away, but Cal did not move. He could not. Vader had no physical hold on him, but it did not matter. 

He was fifteen-and-a-half years old again. A small child under the eye of an angry and vengeful demon. He could not kill his best friend. He wouldn’t. 

And for that, he was to be punished. 

“You have failed me, Inquisitor.” Crack-hiss. 

Cal’s arm fell. Over and over and over- 

Trilla’s soft brown eyes met hit. The face of a girl, failed by the world, all choices taken away from her, finally seeing the light for the very last time. “Avenge us.” 

She made no noise as the saber cut through her chest, extinguishing the life from her eyes. 

“Cal, run!” Cere ordered, charging at Vader with a raised saber. She leaped into the air, but with a half-hearted wave of his hand, she was sent tumbling into the fiery abyss below. 

Cal snapped back into himself, and a noise worse than a scream tore itself from his throat. His saber flew into his hand, activating, but he could not move, eyes trained on the spot where Cere had disappeared. 

“You would be wise to surrender,” Vader said. 

Wise. Not a word that had every quite applied to him. “Yeah.” He stood up straight, raising his saber. “Probably.” 

He had not even moved two steps before he was hoisted into the air by his throat. Vader clenched his fist, dragging Cal forward. He landed on his knees in front of Vader, throat closing in on itself. 

“You cannot escape,” Vader said. Black spots floated in and out of Cal’s vision, eyes rolling into his head. 

Behind him! a voice like the Fourth Brother’s said. In a moment of clarity, Cal reached out with the Force and grabbed a power generator from behind Vader. He pulled, sending it flying toward the Dark Lord. 

Without looking, Vader raised his other hand and caught it midair. He swung his arm sideways, sending Cal flying back across the corridor to the entrance. He hit the ground again, just in time to dodge the power generator as it soared after him. 

Vader thrusted a hand upward, and pieces of the platform lifted into the air. As he stalked toward Cal, they whizzed and sped toward him. Cal turned and sprinted. The droid had kept the bridge out, but that seemed to pose more of a problem than anything now. Pieces and panels peeled out, exploding into sparks, as the bridge started to raise higher and higher in the air of its own according. Cal leaped from debris to debris. Past the droid, past the prison block, there would be a turbolift. It was his best shot out of here. 

He tripped as he landed on the other side. To his left, the security droid crumbled as if it were made from a soda can. Its arm came flying at him, then a leg. Cal dove and doged out of the way, bolting past the prison block, into the lift. 

“Come on, come on,” he pleaded, fingers messily flying over the controls. 

Watch out! a voice like the Fourth Brother’s said. Cal wheeled in time to see Vader standing at the entrance to the lift. The doors shut, but a crack-hiss sounded behind them, a red saber shoved through the metal. Cal stumbled back with a surprised shout. The lift jolted as it began to move, and he fell to the ground. The saber dragged down, down, down, until he could no longer see it. 

Cal stayed on the ground, catching his breath. Trilla. Cere… 

There was not time to think about it now. Just the Second Sister, he could handle. Vader… his only chance of suriving Vader was escaping. 

The lift came to a stop, and Cal sprang to his feet. He searched for the cold presence. It was still there, somewhere in the Fortress, but it was nowhere near him at the moment. 

Cautiously, he stepped out of the turbolift. He looked left, right, left again, then sprinted out. 

He was on the upper levels of the Fortress now. He could see lightning flickering through the glass halls as he ran. He must be somewhere near the surface now. 

“Cal?” his comm crackled. “Cere? Do you read me? I don’t think they do.” 

Greez. 

“They will,” Merrin replied. “I am certain of it.” 

“Greez, I’m here.” Before giving him the chance to respond, Cal continued, “I have the holocron, but Cere… she didn’t make it.” 

A pause. “Just get out of there, Cal. We’ll be ready.” 

Cal had made it to the end of the corridor when he felt it again. The doors hissed open, and Vader bore down upon him. He brought his saber down heavy, sending Cal stumbling as he parried it. The second upward cut tripped Cal. The final downward blow, Cal caught in a bladelock. It only lasted a breath as Vader shoved him downward, his strength overpowering Cal’s. 

BD let out a war cry and jumped onto Vader’s shoulders. He shoved his scomp link under Vader’s helmet and delivered an electric shock. The Dark Lord stumbled with an annoyed noise, only midly inconvenienced, but it gave Cal enough opportunity. He lunged forward, driving his saber into Vader’s torso. 

Vader let out a strangled noise and tossed BD aside. He backhanded Cal, sending him flying through the air, saber from his hand, and holocron from his pocket. 

Cal landed on his side and rolled back over. His eyes darted between the two before he reached out for the holocron. It soared toward him, then stopped, shaking midair. 

Vader was also reaching for it. “Surrender it, Fourth Brother. And perhaps your death will be merciful.” 

“I’ll never give it to you!” 

A wave of scorching anger seared over him. Cal’s saber activated, then slowly turned toward him. 

Then, it plunged into his torso. 

A pained cry tore from his throat. It burned bright and red hot, so hot that it was almost cold. It spasmed throughout his entire body, but he refused to let go of the holocron. He reached into the void, then yanked it into the light. 

There was pain, yes, but it was nothing he had not experienced before. Vader had already taken his arm. His soul. There would be nothing left for him to take, the Fourth Brother decided as he clenched his fingers tightly. Cracks sprung from the corners of the holocron, spreading across each face. His fingers clenched tighter and tighter, and the cracks only grew. 

The pain was starting to overwhelm him now. With one final push, he curled his fingers all the way in. 

The holocron shattered. 

The saber deactivated, dropping to the ground. He was hovering somewhere between the Fourth Brother and Cal as his hands went to the wound. The scars on his chest burned bright as the day they had been born. His flesh was charred and burned, beyond saving, the fabric of the Inquisitor’s uniform melded to the wound. 

“What have you done?!” Vader demanded, angry in his voice unlike anything he had ever heard. 

He pulled himself to his feet, saber in one hand, the other on the wound. He drew his shoulders up and held his head high. “You- can’t- do it,” he said between pained breaths. “You can’t hurt me anymore.” 

Vader’s head tilted. “We shall see.” 

Cal Kestis, the Fourth Brother, spread his arms wide. “Go right ahead.” 

Vader suddenly turned, deflecting a spinning saber that came flying at him. From the dark behind emerged Cere. She leaped up onto the wall and kicked off, catching the saber before it hit the ground. She swung upward, catching Vader in a bladelock. 

“I won’t let you take those children,” she snarled. 

They dueled, and he backed her closer and closer to Cal. He slammed a hand into her chest, sending her soaring back toward Cal. She quickly recovered and was back to her feet. 

“Such hatred,” Vader commented. “You would have made an excellent Inquisitor.” 

The same scorching anger hit him again. Only this time, it was from Cere. She reached out, then brought her hands together. A blast of air swept through the hallway, and Vader fell to one knee. Above, the windows began to crack, the metal warping and bending, sparks flying. 

“Yes,” Vader said, starting toward them. “Strong with the dark side. I can feel it.” 

“Cere,” Cal said, igniting his saber. The hand of the void waited, hovering on the edge of her consciousness. “Cere, listen to me. You still have a choice.” 

The scorching anger vanished, replaced by an emotion Cal could not place. Vader swung his saber down, but Cere raised her hands. In an instant, they were surrounded by a translucent white shield. It met Vader’s saber. He reeled back, as if suprised, then stabbed with the tip. Cere wavered. 

Cal’s eyes darted toward a cracked window. He grabbed Cere around the waist, then reached toward the window and pulled. 

The glass shattered, and water came crashing into. They were swept again into the ocean, away from the Fortress, away from Vader. Cal swallowed a lungful of air as he dragged an unconscious Cere closer and closer to the surface, to the light. 

His vision was starting to black out. He dug around in Cere’s pockets, finding her rebreather. He placed it into her mouth, then starting kicking towards the light again. Each kick, each stroke, became weaker and weaker. The darkness crowded more and more. He wasn’t going to make it. Neither of them would, and it would be his fault… 

A flash of green, and a hand was reaching out. Or was it? He really couldn’t tell… 

He could take the chance that it was. He hauled Cere up toward the outstretched hand. She had the rebreather…. she had the better chance of surviving… 

He sunk farther and farthest through the abyss… what did it matter if he did not survive… they couldn’t hurt him anymore… he would die on their planet, but not by their accord… they couldn’t hurt him anymore… no one ever could… 

Cal? 

He knew that voice. 

Cal, what are you doing? 

It’s not time yet. 

…Prauf? 

Wake up, Cal. 

Wake up!

Cal jolted awake with a loud gasp, shooting up. He almost immediately regretted the action as the wound on his torso screamed in agony. He collapsed back down. 

“Whoa, whoa, kid!” Greez appeared over him, hands on Cal’s arm. “You gotta take these things slowly. Go through all that work just for you to die right here… “

“Fine, I’m fine.” He pushed Greez’s hands off. “Cere. She- “ 

“She’s alright,” Greez assured him. “She’s alright. But you won’t be if you keep this up.” 

“Move.” Cal gasped as he sat up again. The Inquisitor’s upper torso of the Inquisitor’s uniform had been cut away, his stomach wrapped tightly with gauze and bandages. He could almost laugh at the strange sense of deja-vu. 

“Glad you had that extra set of clothes, huh?” Greez laughed. 

“Please, move.” 

“Kid, slow down, you’ll- “ 

“I’m okay.” Cal swung his legs off the cot and stood, one arm wrapped around his torso. BD whistled reprovingly by his feet as Cal limped toward the Mantis’s common area, Greez shouting behind him. 

He caught sight of both of them sitting on the couch. Merrin saw him first, flying off the cushion and throwing her arms around him. A small squeak escaped Cal as the wound on his side gave a pang. 

Merrin quickly stepped back. “Sorry.” 

“No- hard feelings,” he ground out. “That was you in the water, wasn’t it?” 

Her eyes dropped from his, a slight red tint coming to her cheeks. “I’m glad your okay.” She motioned to Greez. “This one wouldn’t leave your side.” 

It was Greez’s turn to blush. 

The world started to turn before Cal, and his left knee buckled. Merrin caught him, Greez’s hands hovering, and helped him to the couch next to Cere. She only offered him a grim smile before turning to the collection of shattered pieces on the table in front of her. 

“That’s it, right?” Greez pointed at the pile as he slid in on Cere’s other side. “The holocron?” 

“It was.” She looked to Cal. “Was this you?” 

“Yeah.” He reached out to take a shattered piece and turned it over in his fingers. “It was.” 

“The lives of every child on that list,” Merrin said, “what will happen to them?” 

“I suppose we will never know.” Cere pushed the pieces closer to the center of the table. BD hopped up next to them and prodded them with his foot. “Their destinies will be trusted to the Force. They won’t be changed by us or the Empire.” She turned to Cal for approval, and he nodded. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Greez said, “we just risked out butts across the entire galaxy for this thing. Why would you destroy it?” He did not sound accusing. Just curious. 

He looked to Greez, then Cere, Merrin, and BD-1. He had all of them. Ben, on Tatooine, who had chosen to rescue hm from death’s door. And, somewhere out there, he still had Prauf. Master Tapal, who would always be with him through the Force. 

They were his. He had done nothing to deserve any of them, and yet, they were all still here. No matter where they went, where they were, or what they did, they would never leave. 

His hand drifted to his saber on his belt. The small red-haired Padawan, the Fourth Brother… somehow, he knew they had finally found peace. 

Cal set the piece back. “I gave them a choice.”