6

In the cockpit, the four Inquisitors sat around a small table.

A hologram of a small terrestrial planet hovered before them. Several pinpoints of light highlighted major civilizations, including one that was quite bright. A city most likely. Beside it, Krell was speaking, pointing towards one of the smaller points with a hungry sort of anticipation.

Saedii couldn't hear a word he said.

Her mind was loud, echoing with Cid's last words.

Short Stack! Please! I'm begging you!

A last, desperate plea of a dying woman. The way Cid had looked at her, begging mercy – it was the fear in her eyes that Saedii remembered most. Fear that Saedii had never seen in Cid before.

The memories of what followed were soaked in blood.

They didn't feel like her memories, but like they belonged to someone else. Like she was watching as a stranger cut through four innocent bargoers. As a stranger looked down to find their hands sticky with blood.

Jek. Thrall. Cid. The four men in the bar.

In less than forty-eight hours of becoming an Inquisitor, she'd already taken seven innocent lives. It was seven too many.

During her time as a Jedi, taking a life had been her last resort. She'd shied from it when she could, and mourned it when she could not. But here, under Krell's orders, taking a life was not a sacrifice but a duty. Something expected of her. Yet another way for her to prove her loyalty to the Empire.

A chasm felt like it was opening inside of her. A hole that was slowly splitting and growing, eating her up. With every terrible thing she did, every life she took, the pit opened wider. Every piece of herself she lost split it a little deeper.

A hand grabbed her sharply above the elbow, yanking her out of her seat. When Saedii blinked back to the ship, Krell was looming in her face.

"You're not listening," he snarled, low under his breath.

Saedii held his gaze. "I'm sorry, Master. I'll do better."

"You will or your little friend will suffer the consequences," he threatened.

His fingers dug deep into the muscle of Saedii's bicep. When he released her, blood rushed back so suddenly that it hurt. She knew it would leave bruises.

Meekly, Saedii took her seat. Next to her, the Second Sister fought a smile.

"The planet of Celiph is in the Outer Rim. Isolated," Krell continued, turning a sharp look to Saedii as he continued whatever point he'd started. "It's last census reports only ten thousand inhabitants spread across three towns, one city, and eleven named villages."

At the mention of Celiph, Saedii was suddenly focused.

Krell tapped on one of the smaller faint pinpoints. "K'huin is one of these villages."

"That's the village that Cid mentioned," Saedii said before she could help herself.

The look that Krell flashed in her direction was full of violence. "Yes."

"You believe what she told you?"

"We wouldn't be here if I didn't."

A frown pulled at Saedii's brow. She wondered just how far she could push Krell and get away with it.

He gave a monstrous sigh. "Speak, Sister."

"I don't mean to question you, Master," Saedii said quickly, "but Cid isn't known for her honesty."

"You think she lied to us?"

"If she thought it would save her life, then yes."

The First Brother tipped his head back in agreement. "The Twelfth Sister may be correct. Inquisitors do not usually go sniffing after rumors. The only proof we have is the word of a liar."

"We don't need proof," the Second Sister argued. "If we want to search the village, that's within our right."

"I do not disagree. But is it worth our time?"

Krell rubbed at his chin, eyes on the hologram before him. It reflected on the surface of his bad eye, making it look electric blue.

Change your mind, Saedii silently pleaded. Don't go to Celiph.

"She said it was a child," Krell started suddenly. He glanced up at the others. "She was specific."

Without her helmet, Saedii had to work to keep her face carefully blank. To hide the panic that gnawed at her. If Cid had been telling the truth, then Saedii had to do what she could to persuade Krell away from Celiph. To protect the Jedi youngling that took refuge there.

The First Brother seemed unconvinced. "Many orphans have been left by the fall of the Republic. What do we care of this one?"

"It was not public knowledge that the younglings in the Temple escaped persecution. The only ones who know are the Inquisitors and the Jedi Master who saved them, and his body has long gone cold in the tombs," Krell said.

Saedii flinched at that. Master Kelleran Beq had been kind. He had often visited the younglings, and Saedii could remember many afternoons spent sitting in his lap as his deep voice told her stories from the field.

A part of her had known that he was most likely dead. But she'd dared to hope otherwise.

The Second Sister nodded eagerly. "It could be one of the escaped younglings."

"If it is the truth," Saedii pointed out. "As I said before, Cid was a known liar."

"And yet she told the truth about your friends. The Clones," the Second Sister said, sickly sweet.

Saedii ignored her. "Cid said she heard this from a contact. Her intel was often wrong when I was in her employ."

"Your friends seemed to trust her."

"Reluctantly."

"Again, I agree with the Twelfth Sister," the First Brother said slowly. "Even if Scaleback told you the truth, her information may be flawed. Rumor often gets stretched and fanned. We do not even know if it was indeed a Jedi that paid the child's fare."

Saedii nodded in agreement.

The Second Sister scowled at him. "But if it was a Jedi, then we will need to investigate. It is better than other leads we've had."

"Not all."

Krell watched the debate in stony silence, listening. Finally, he asserted, "You all make valuable arguments."

Please, Saedii prayed. Don't go.

"But I must side with the Second Sister on this matter."

That small flicker of hope in her stomach died like a flame doused in water. Quickly, she schooled her features into neutrality, even as worry began to take root, burrowing like maggots in her gut.

The First Brother and Second Sister both accepted this with a nod. No one ever questioned Krell's judgement. Not publicly, at least. If he ordered them to Celiph, then to Celiph they would go.

Saedii prayed that, if a youngling had indeed retreated to Celiph, they were well-hidden. Krell would lose interest if their search didn't turn up any more meaningful leads on the first day.

The younglings would have received training on staying hidden in emergencies, but their training had come from the schoolgrounds. In the classrooms and Jedi files. None of them would have the real-world experience necessary to avoid an Inquisitor for long.

All they needed to do was to avoid detection for a day. Maybe two. That would be enough to save their life.

"We should land in eight hours. I want you all to be rested for our arrival," Krell ordered.

At the command, the Second Sister got to her feet and saluted. The First Brother was close on her heels as she left the cockpit.

Saedii stood, too, but Krell stepped in front of her. Halting her.

"You're on flight duty for the night," Krell snapped.

Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders. She hadn't gotten much rest last night in the stiff landing chairs. Saedii had hoped to curl up on the floor and get at least an hour or two.

This was punishment, she knew. For spacing out during their briefing.

"Yes, Master," Saedii said.

"Keep an eye on our progress. When we're an hour out, wake the rest of us. And if something goes wrong, fix it."

"Yes, Master."

He regarded her coldly. "You displeased me today. If it happens again, there will be consequences."

It felt like cold water had been dumped down her back. Saedii's thoughts went to Omega as she muttered, "I understand, Master. I won't disappoint you."

"No, you won't," he agreed mildly. "Consider this your only warning."

Krell left then. At the sharp hiss of the door closing behind him, Saedii finally dropped the rigid hold of her shoulders and took in a deep breath.

The pilot's seat was made of the same stiff, uncomfortable leather as the landing seats. It creaked beneath her as she sat and pulled up their flight path to monitor their progress. The bright blues and silvers of hyperspace reflected along the monitors before her.

Saedii glanced back at the door. Then, once she was sure she was alone, she pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself.

Carefully, she let her mind slip into the Force around her. Let it melt into the flow of energy like falling into a current. Once she was well and truly wreathed in its power, Saedii began to push and pull against it.

Krell had taught her how to manipulate the Force to stay hidden. It was how the Inquisitors snuck up on their prey in the field – bending the Force around them so that it hid the darkness until it was too late. It was a skill that Saedii had picked up quickly, much to Krell's liking.

But she had a different reason for learning to hide in the Force. Now, she pulled it around her, scrambling its power until it was calm and gentle. Wreathing that serenity around her like a cloak.

Once it was in place, Saedii dropped her forehead onto her knees.

Emotion pushed at her throat, clogging it so that she felt like breathing was a chore. That tightness in her chest wound tighter, crushing against her ribs. A shudder ran down her as all the emotions she'd bottled up for the day crashed over her like a wave, pulling her down into its crest.

Saedii never let Krell feel her distress. It would only embolden him. Her suffering, after all, was his ultimate goal. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Hidden among the web of the Force, Saedii let herself grieve for the lives she'd taken. Let herself feel despair and anger and regret. She'd been forced to do terrible things in her past year here, but this had been the worst by far.

Her arms tightened around herself. For a moment, she allowed herself to wallow in the darkness cast in the space between her chest and her knees. To hate Krell, for what he'd made her do. To hate the Empire, for allowing the Inquisitors to run unchecked. And to hate herself, too, for being unable to stop it.

After a few minutes, Saedii sat up. That ball of emotion in her throat still felt tight, but she carefully pushed it back down, into that deep part of herself where her emotions lived and festered. With Krell so close, she didn't dare let herself dwell for long.

The empty seat next to her drew her gaze. Before she could stop it, a memory of a different cockpit came to her: of a messy console, soft and comfy chairs, and the figures of two men chatting quietly over the hum of the hyperspace drive.

Nights in the Marauder had never been lonely. Even when Saedii had a late watch, there was always someone willing to sit up with her. Tech or Echo – the usual suspects, lingering around the cockpit with mugs of steaming caff in hand – or Crosshair, who'd take the seat beside her and talk late into the night.

Saedii swallowed against that ball of emotion. Memories of the Batch were raw and sharp. As much comfort as they brought her, they brought equal amounts of pain and longing. She missed them so much that it physically pained her.

Slowly, Saedii reached a hand into her shirt, pulling out the necklace that she kept carefully hidden. The stone was as familiar to her now as her own skin as she wrapped it in the cage of her palm. Squeezing it as the emotions churned inside of her like a storm.

She let herself think of the Batch now – think of the nights she'd spent in the cockpit, talking with Cross as hyperspace stretched unending before them. She thought of the afternoons spent wandering around Ord Mantell with Wrecker and Omega, pockets full of credits.

She thought of Pabu, too. Of the two weeks they'd spent under the sun. Of the nights clustered around Phee's balcony, laughing over dinner and dessert. Or the mornings in the market, sipping on the strange iced caff Phee had introduced her to.

Her hand tightened around the stone in her hand. Shaking ever so slightly as she was filled with sharp and bitter longing.

It wasn't often that she allowed herself to wonder what the Batch were up to, but she let herself imagine it now. She imagined they had gone to Pabu, as Hunter had planned. That they'd bought a nice house by the sea with lots of windows that were always open to let in the breeze. She imagined Wrecker and Crosshair going down to the water every morning – Wrecker to toss out giant nets, Crosshair to try his aim at spearfishing.

She smiled as she imagined Tech and Phee getting married and raising children by the water who could spout a thousand different facts about the fish and fauna in the water. And she imagined Hunter settling down with a woman and having kids of his own. He'd had a lot of practice at being a dad. She knew he'd be good at it.

Omega was with them – far away from the Empire and their cells. Tan from the sun, she darted through the waves with Echo, found shells with Tech, and went for boat rides with Lyanna. She was happy and had never known the fear that came from being imprisoned. She got to grow up and live a normal life on Pabu's shores.

Deep down, Saedii knew that the Batch wouldn't be on Pabu. Knew that they were most likely out there, searching for Saedii and Omega. But it made her happy to think of. To imagine them safe and satisfied with a slow, quiet life on Pabu. They deserved it after all they'd been through.

Saedii dropped her head back against the seat and tucked her necklace back into her shirt. Wherever they were, she hoped the Batch were safe.

Carefully, she pushed her daydreams of Pabu down into that well inside of her, tucking it beside all of the emotions that she wasn't allowed to feel. Locking away all of her deepest wishes until she was left numb and cold all over again.

Until she felt nothing at all.