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Cal is sitting on the Mantis’s couch, bundled up in what he thinks is every blanket on the ship. Cere is sitting next to him, trying to rub some warmth back into his hands. He can hear Greez banging around in the kitchen. He’d said something about warming Cal up from the inside out.
Despite their best efforts, Cal can’t stop shivering. It’s not as bad as it was before, only a small tremor left running through his body.
Through most of his trip on Ilum, he was able to regulate his body temperature using the force. His concentration failed, though, when he fell through the ice. The shock of icy water on his skin and the sight of his younger self waiting at the surface prevented him from regaining control until after he’d rebuilt his lightsaber. By then, he was frozen to the bone, not much body heat left to regulate with.
Greez walks around the kitchen counter and stops in front of Cal, offering him a steaming mug. He glares at BD who is perched in Cal’s lap, on top of the mound of blankets. Cal removes his hands from Cere’s grasp to take the mug, holding it close to his chest to draw in as much heat as possible. His hands shake slightly, liquid threatening to slosh out over the sides.
“You still cold, kid?” Greez asks.
“Only a little. Greez, you really don’t have to–”
But Greez is already walking further into the ship, probably to dig out another blanket. Cal heaves a sigh. Cere grins from her seat on the couch.
“He’s just worried about you. You really scared us there.”
Greez walks back into the living room, blanket in hand. It’s older than the others. Faded colors weave together into intricate patterns. It must have taken someone ages to make.
Cere takes the mug from Cal’s hands before Greez carefully shakes the blanket out and drapes it over him, BD jumping out of the way with a squawk.
“Thanks Gr–” his hands land on the blanket’s edge and he isn’t on the Mantis anymore.
His hands fly across the knitting needles. He glances down at the pattern, making sure he’s getting the stitch order correct before continuing. Affection swells in his heart. Greez is going to love this.
Cal comes back to himself, the warmth spreading from his chest finally kicking out the last of the tremors. He rubs the blanket gently between his fingers, picking up the final threads of comfort as the echo fades.
He’s smiling as he looks back up at Greez and Cere, but what he sees on their faces makes the smile fade.
“Cal…” Cere says hesitantly. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be wandering around these hostile planets with your abilities?”
Cal gives her a bewildered look.
Greez speaks up from where he’s still standing over him, “I don’t know what you just saw, but you checked out. It was freaky, your entire body went still and your eyes glazed over. You looked completely defenseless, kid.”
“How were you ever cleared for combat during the Clone Wars?” Cere’s eyes have gone wide. “What if you picked up an echo on an active battlefield?”
“Oh…Umm.” Cal lifts a hand to run it through his hair. “I used to be able to delay the echoes. Just long enough to find somewhere safe to hole up until the vision was over.”
Cal chuckles weakly, “Master Tapal made me meditate for hours in the Temple. We weren’t deployed until I could get from the gardens to our quarters without stopping. Even then, we were mostly tasked with aerial defense.”
“And is this something you can do now? Delay the echoes?”
He looks over at Cere, “Kind of? I’m pretty rusty. I can’t hold it as long as I used to, but I’ve been working on it. There wasn’t much opportunity to meditate on Bracca.”
He sighs, leaning back further into the couch. “You guys don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. I know what objects are more likely to hold an echo and avoid them unless it’s safe. The gloves help a ton, too.” He gestures at the table where his gloves have been discarded. “Besides, I’ve got BD with me.”
BD trills where he’s perched on the coffee table.
“Yeah, exactly.” He nods in BD’s direction. “If something goes wrong, he can just shock me out of it.”
Greez looks at him warily, “I’m not sure that’s a good Plan B. I don’t know how all this Jedi stuff works, but it didn’t look like you were holding anything back just now.”
“It’s harder when I’m not actually in any danger. I don’t really have a reason to delay the echo since I’m already safe here, y’know? It’s almost like an instinct. If I’m in a dangerous situation and I pick up the wrong thing, holding off the echo to get somewhere else is easier.”
Cere and Greez both nod, but he can tell they’re still worried.
Holding off echoes was such a key part of his training when he was a padawan, and as a youngling to an extent, that the ability really does come naturally to him when he’s in life or death situations. He can’t remember the number of times he came back to himself huddled in a house, away from the battlefield. Holding them off when he isn’t in danger is what’s harder, but he’s getting better at it just in case.
He hasn’t needed to hold off any echoes since starting this journey with Cere and Greez, and he hopes to keep it that way.
–
Cal can see the holocron floating in the center of the room. Its blue light reflects off the mirrored walls.
All he can focus on, though, is Trilla. She’s standing right in front of him, flaunting her victory.
“You’ve failed. Can’t you see? After all this work, you’ve led me right to them. The children of the force.”
Her gaze shifts to the holocron. She takes a step toward it and Cal launches himself across the gap between them. Water splashes under his stomping feet. He ignites his lightsaber and attacks. Their blades meet in the space between their chests, light flashing white where they connect. Cal backs up and tries again, but Trilla is moving, rushing his right side in a ferocious attack. He throws his arm up just in time to block her blade from severing his head off his shoulders.
Cal knows he’s outmatched. Trilla has more traditional training than he does. Not to mention the years training as an inquisitor. His training was sparse in comparison and his years on Bracca were spent trying to forget he was a Jedi.
Cal and Trilla dance around each other, white light flashing across the room as they block each other’s attacks. Cal is starting to slow down, arms growing heavy against the force of her ‘saber against his. Trilla, again, launches at his side, Cal bringing his arm up to block so they meet, staring face-to-face.
If there’s one thing he did learn on that backwater planet, it’s how to fight dirty. Cal shifts his body and deactivates his lightsaber, throwing Trilla off balance. He gathers the force and shoves it at her in a strong push that throws her across the room. She lands with a splash against the floor, lightsaber tumbling from her grasp and clattering across the stone.
He pulls on the weapon with the force so it comes flying across the room and into his waiting hand. Cal knows it was a mistake the second the metal touches his flesh. His vision wavers, knees going weak as emotions start spilling into Cal’s mind from Trilla’s lightsaber.
Alarm bells start going off in his mind as he registers the panic and anger and cold, cold, cold flooding his chest. His hand is freezing where it’s gripping the weapon for dear life.
A distant part of him sees Trilla smiling at his hunched over frame.
“Be careful with that thing.” She chuckles, moving toward the center of the room. “It’s been through hell.” She grabs the holocron and leaves.
He should be concerned. He should go after her and get the holocron back.
But all he can focus on is holding back the torrent of echoes threatening to invade his mind from Trilla’s lightsaber. Not safe, not safe, not safe, his mind screams at him and his feet start moving on their own. He stumbles out of the temple, squeezing through the slim doorway, and starts running toward somewhere he knows is safe.
The world rushes by him, vision threatening to split in two any second. He only recognizes where he is when he trips going up the Mantis’s ramp. He leans heavily against the door, hand slapping clumsily over the access hatch. When it finally slides open, Cal falls across the ship entrance, body shaking with the effort of holding back the visions.
Safe, safe, safe his body seems to sing with relief.
He hears Cere’s voice from somewhere near the galley, “Cal? Cal!” Footsteps rush to where he is, but he can feel his mind finally slipping.
Muster Junda stands in front of him, expression frantic. “You stay here. I’m going to get help.” She turns toward the hut’s doorway, braids whipping over her shoulder with the force of it.
She’s leaving me here. The panic that grips him has him reaching out towards his Master, “Wait! You ca–”
“Stay here.” his Master throws over her shoulder, and then she’s gone.
Cal feels arms squeeze around his midsection and he looks down at the youngling gripping him tight.
“Where is she going?” The youngling asks in a timid voice.
Cal isn’t sure what to say. He doesn’t know where Master Junda is going, doesn’t know when she’ll be back, doesn’t know what’s going on outside the hut they’re huddled in.
He raises a hand, cupping the back of the youngling’s head. “Shh. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
Nothing is okay.
Cold metal bites into his back. He’s strapped down, the leather digging into his flesh. Two officers stand in front of him, asking questions he doesn’t have answers to. The metal probes flare to life, electricity arcing between them.
“No, no, please!” He begs them to stop, but the probes come closer anyway. Fire races through his entire body, muscles locking up and shaking as the current runs through him. All he can do is scream.
He’s on the other side of the table. His Master lays strapped to the table this time. Anger sits heavy in his chest. She left him there. She betrayed him. He can feel the force swirling around him, more powerful than ever in the wake of his fury.
A helmet is offered to him from one of the other officers in the room. He watches Cere’s face carefully as he takes it into his hands. Sees the grief wash over her features as he slides it over his head.
“Trilla?”
Sees her grief morph into anger behind the red tinted glass.
“No…NO!”
A wave of power washes across the room. It sends any loose equipment flying and knocks him onto his back. The restraints have broken under the force of Cere’s anger. He watches as she stumbles out of them and flees. Dazed, Cal is powerless to stop her as she leaves him again.
Cal shivers into the cold, metal floor. Where is he? Is he still strapped to that metal table? Are they going to shock him again? But wait. That already happened, didn’t it?
A hand lands on his shoulder and Cal jerks away with a ragged gasp.
“Don’t touch me!” Panic overwhelms him and he drags his hands closer to his chest. He realizes he’s still gripping Trilla’s lightsaber and drops the weapon. Watches it roll across the floor to where Cere is crouching in front of him, hand still hovering over his frame.
But, Cere isn’t supposed to be here. She left him. The anger comes racing back, flooding his mind like before. It leaves his body cold, another round of shivers running through him.
This isn’t right.
Cal’s brain feels foggy, like someone’s stuffed it full of cotton. He leverages himself up so he’s sitting against the ship door, careful not to touch anything else. He brings his knees up against his chest and covers his face with his hands.
Okay. Start at the beginning. What does he remember?
He remembers the temple, the holocron floating right in the center of the room. He remembers Trilla. They fought. She was winning. He remembers her stumbling, his force push sending her further back. Her lightsaber falling from her grasp and he–
Her lightsaber.
He lifts his head, dropping his hands so they’re wedged carefully between his legs and his chest, to stare at the weapon lying discarded on the floor.
These aren’t his memories.
They’re just echoes. Traces of Trilla’s memories stored in her lightsaber. They felt so real. In a way that most echoes don’t anymore.
He thinks back on what Master Tapal used to tell him when an echo would overwhelm him like this. He starts to take deep, measured breaths. Like he’s meditating. He carefully separates Trilla’s memories from his own, acknowledging the feelings they evoke in him and carefully releasing them into the force. He walks them over to a doorway in his mind. The one he created a long time ago. Cal opens the doorway and tucks the memories inside. Not to be forgotten, just so they’re separated from his own. He shuts the door and heaves a sigh of relief.
He comes back to himself, eyes focusing again from their 100 yard stare, to see Cere still crouching in front of him. BD is perched on her leg, mechanical gaze unwavering where it’s locked onto him. Greez is on his other side, carefully holding his gloves in one of his hands. Noticing Cal’s change in focus, he holds them out. Cal takes the worn leather and slips them onto his hands, grateful for the added layer of protection.
“Cal?” Cere asks softly. “What did you see?”
Cal feels something shift at the question. His eyes start filling with tears as the unfairness of everything hits him.
It wasn’t fair of him to be so mad at Cere for something he didn’t fully understand. It isn’t fair that the Jedi were betrayed during the Clone wars. That they had to go through so much just to survive. It isn’t fair that Trilla didn’t have as much luck as Cal. That her Master wasn’t willing to die for her the same way Master Tapal died for him. It isn’t fair that Cere had to watch her Padawan fall and cut herself off from the force when she had a completely reasonable reaction to it.
Most of all, it isn’t fair that, after all of it, they’ve still lost. Trilla has the holocron. They will not rebuild the Jedi Order. They have no chance of keeping those children safe from the Empire.
Cal’s breath stutters over his next inhale and the tears spill over, running down his cheeks.
Cere’s expression morphs into one of sympathy.
Greez scoots closer to him, arms held open wide, “Oh, kid.”
Unlike before, Cal leans into the embrace. He winds his arms across Greez’s back and clings to his shirt. Cal hears the soft pattering of metal against metal before BD head-butts him in the chest in his own version of a hug. He feels Cere shift on his other side to join the hug as well and his chest breaks open into full-on sobs.
“I’m so–, Sorry!” He gasps out between cries, ducking his head further into their arms.
“Shh, Cal. It’s okay. Whatever you saw, it was just an echo. You’re safe here.” Cere says comfortingly.
Cal shakes his head, tries to explain that he isn’t upset about the echoes, but he can’t get a word in around the sobs racking his body.
“You’re okay, kid. You’re safe with us.” Greez brings one of his hands up and cups the back of Cal’s head, gently running his fingers through the hair there.
BD just presses harder into his chest, trying to smooth out his shaky breaths.
They keep up the flow of comforting words and soothing touches until Cal’s sobs have tapered off. He slowly untangles himself from their embrace to lean back against the door again. BD follows so he’s leaning against his side and he drops a hand onto the top of his head.
“Thanks, you guys.”
He looks at Cere, “I saw what happened.” Her face pinches. “I’m so sorry, Cere.”
She drags in a deep breath, “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
Cal lets the statement fill the silence for a moment, before he breaks it. “Trilla has the holocron.” The admission leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t know where she went with it, either.”
He glances up at their faces before continuing. “I would’ve followed her, but when I grabbed her lightsaber…” His eyes shift back to the discarded weapon on the metal floor, “The only thing I could think about was getting somewhere safe before the echoes took over.”
“You did the right thing, Cal.” Cere says. “We’ll find her. We’ll get the holocron back. We’re just glad you’re safe.” Greez nods from beside her.
Bolstered by their confidence, Cal slowly gets to his feet. “Well, we better start looking for her, then.”