Inside the Stinger Mantis, Cal Kestis leaned over the holographic display, planets and star systems orbiting in a silent dance before him.
"This is the vicinity of the signal's origin," Cal said, his finger hovering over a cluster of lights.
"The Lothal Sector?" Zane queried; his tone laced with skepticism.
Cal nodded. "Precisely. But the nature of this signal… it's unsettling. How did it find its way to us? And why? It has the Empire's shadow written all over it."
A heavy silence fell, punctuated only by the hum of the ship's engines. "Do you believe Vader is behind this?" Zane finally broke the quiet.
"If it's a trap," Cal mused, "then it's one we must approach with caution."
Zane's scoff was almost lost in the ship's ambient noise. "You know why I'm here, Cal. I'm not one to shy away from confrontation."
Cal fixed him with a steady gaze. "And what would that achieve? I'm not about to feed your vendetta."
Zane bristled at the implication. "I'm not—"
"Listen," Cal interjected, his voice firm but not unkind. "This obsession with Vader, it's a path to nowhere. Remember what we're fighting for."
Zane's defiance wavered, replaced by a reluctant nod. "I understand."
Cal stood; his decision made. "You'll stay with the padawans for now. Three days," he said, flipping switches on the cockpit console. "Make them count."
"And if you don't return?" Zane's question was tinged with genuine concern.
Cal's expression softened. "Then the mantle falls to you. But I have no intention of dying. Noy yet, at least. Trust in that."
"You fuckin' better not." Zane stepped out of the ship and back towards the temple. He watched as Cal piloted the ship skyward, a silent promise hanging between them.
**********
"Thank you so much," Blake said, "you saved us. Really, thank you."
Saw Gerrera, a figure as imposing as the darkness itself, merely nodded. "Gratitude is unnecessary. I did what was required," he said, his voice gruff. "I am Saw Gerrera. And you are?"
"Blake," he replied, swallowing hard, then gesturing to his right where his friend lay covered on the floor, "and that's Claire."
Saw's response was a noncommittal grunt.
"May I ask… where are we? What is this place?"
"A refuge," Saw stated flatly.
"A refuge? For whom?"
Saw rose, his movements deliberate, and walked towards a makeshift kitchen. "For those who fight."
"You mean you built all this?" Blake's voice trembled slightly, betraying his awe.
Saw spread his arms wide, encompassing the space around them. "Built, scavenged, repurposed. It serves its function."
"What purpose do you serve here?"
Saw took a mug and filled it with a coarse liquid. The dim light flickered above as he spoke, "I wage the same war you find yourself entangled in."
"You're a rebel then?"
Saw's laugh was short and humorless. "Rebel, freedom fighter, insurgent… the title matters little. The cause is everything. Now, enough questions. You're not here for idle chat."
"I understand, but… Claire. She's hurt. Can't I stay and help you? At least until she's better?"
Saw eyed Blake's disheveled appearance. "You're hardly in a state to offer help."
Blake's face fell.
Saw sighed, relenting. "Very well. You can assist me. But not out of charity—earn your keep."
Blake stood eagerly. "Yes, absolutely!"
"Do you know how to handle a blaster?" Saw inquired.
Blake nodded vigorously.
"Good. Tomorrow, we venture out. Be prepared," Saw said, taking a sip from his mug.
"I'll do whatever you say," Blake promised, his gaze lingering on Claire.
He scoffed, then pointed his thumb to the other side of the room. "Go get yourself cleaned up, kid. The only door on the right side."
Blake stood up, "we're in a damn tree, just how big could this place be?" He muttered, his tone making him sound like a wuss.
He followed the instructions, closing the door behind him. He didn't know what to expect, but it was definitely not a bathroom that looked like any other bathroom. It was pristine in every way, which only rattled Blake's mind more.
But he didn't care. He turned the water for the shower on, then looked into the mirror of the sink. He turned the sink on too. He cupped his hands and wet his face. Grabbing the ends of the sink, he bore into his own eyes; a deep, coffee-colored brown, rich and warm.
His skin, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
He slowly undressed, pain overtaking his legs once more. He gripped around the wound, "who'd have known he knew first aid." He stuck one foot into the tub, "or whatever the hell you call that."
**********
It had only been a few hours since Cal's departure, and it soon became apparent that he was the last one notified about his leaving. Everybody else, other than padawans, had gotten everything under control already.
"Master," a voice rung out, and Zane gazed down, "why do you wear this armor?" Asked Ken.
"You never heard of the Kryze clan?" Kali reprimanded. "They're one of the most well-known Mandalorian clans out there."
"W-well how was I supposed to know that?" Ken said, sticking a tongue out at her.
Zane facepalmed. Hah, there's no point in sulking. He thought, crouching down next to them. He put one hand on each, "listen, as my two apprentices... there is one thing that must be mutual between us all," he held a finger up, "respect."
Ken gulped.
"I understand, Master." Kali said.
Ken looked confused. And rightfully so, she did just switch her personality up. At least, that's how it felt to him, the twelve-year-old boy, one year younger than her.
"Good." Zane said. "Now, then," Zane unlocked two lightsabers from his waist, tossing one to both of them. He then grabbed something from his chest pockets, "wear these too."
The chilly wind brushed up against the children as their master wrapped their eyes with some sort of rag. "Let me ask you two something. What is it exactly you want to be?"
"A Jedi master." Kali answered.
"A hero!" Ken exclaimed, "one that everybody remembers." He held a fist to the sky, "but I don't have to be. Just as long as I can save people!"
Ambitious, this one. Zane thought, smiling from behind the mask.
"That's good but be more specific."
"I want to bring down the Galactic Empire." Kali said.
"A protector of the people!"
"That's... actually quite good, the both of you, good answers." Zane spoke, arms crossed. "As you know, the both of you are blindfolded. I want you to create a portrait of Master Kestis." Zane grinned.
"With our lightsabers?" Ken wondered whilst Kali had already begun planting hers into the desert ground.
Zane didn't answer.
"Master?" Ken expressed. "Master!?"
"Would you shut up?" Kali said, trying to focus on her artistic skill.
"Wait a minute... you already started," he lifted up his blindfold, "you cheater!"
Kali ignored him resulting in a loud unsatisfactory groan. He stomped his feet on the ground and put the blindfold back on, beginning the task set out by his master.
**********
The Lothal Sector, planet of Garel.
Cal's ship had already touched down on the outskirts of one of the cities. He hid it under one of the enormous rock formations, turning its invisibility on and into the city.
He was still a bit unsure of what to look for, but he knew that the signal was from this sector. He just had to collect information first, which he did for the first few hours, granting him some necessary knowledge.
Firstly, there were multiple criminal groups on the planet. Cal expected that; there was crime on every planet. However, crime here was much more prominent.
Innocent blood filled the streets, staining everything in its path. It wasn't weird to walk into somewhere with crimson on the walls or floors.
Cal was on the western side of the planet where one criminal organization was constantly named.
The Shadow Collective.
"Sounds like a whole lot of trouble." Cal said, walking across the streets, hoodie over his head. The rocks grinded against his shoes as he made way into one of the restaurants. He took a seat, "I'm surprised you came here personally." Cal stated.
The woman across from him; Juno, a human female with milky skin and brown hair tied up. "I know how important trust is for you." She replied.
"Yeah, I guess so." Cal said, leaning forward, "but, you got information for me, right?"
"How long are you planning to stay on this rock?"
He shrugged. "Depends on what I find—or don't find."
"Hmm, if you say so Cal." She brought out a backpack, "what've you figured out so far?" She asked, searching through it.
Cal interlocked his hands. "Not much. Only thing I really heard about is the Shadow Collective."
She smirked, "here it is," she slid a holograph across the table. It lit up and showed a man.
"An Imperial Officer?"
"He was," Juno confirmed. "Now, they call him The Phantom." The image shifted to a man donning a Mandalorian helmet, its surface a void of black. "Seems he grew tired of being a cog in the Imperial machine and chose to be a criminal overlord."
"How sad," Cal remarked, sarcastically.
"Should a Jedi Master act like that? Speaking of that, is the temple going to be fine? You know, since you're gone now."
"That's why I said I don't want to be gone too long. But this mission is too important to send anyone else."
"Your disciple, no?"
"I have my reasons."
She raised her hands in mock surrender before diving back into her bag. "Anyway, this is what you really need." She slid a datapad across to him, its screen displaying a map marked with four red circles. "They've got a grip on the city, but these four locations are key. This one," she tapped the largest circle, "is the heart of it all."
"I see. This type of layout..."
"Yeah, it's just what you would expect of an Imperial Officer. To have the entire city practically surrounded, then put yourself smack dab in the middle... he's not a nice person that's for sure."
Cal briefly laughed. "Anything I need to worry about?"
Before she could answer, a woman appeared next to them, two cups in hand. "Your drinks." She spoke.
"Ah, thank you." Juno voiced.
Cal grabbed one, held it up for a moment before taking a sip. "It's good, thank you." He smiled, which the lady reflected before walking away.
"So, the Jedi Master is nice to everyone but me?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean?" Cal jested, smacking his lips as he placed the cup down.
He had a short-lived cough as Juno spoke. "There is something you should be careful of." She began, Cal attentively listening, "other than the obvious Imperial Officer, who by the way... his real name is Dorian Voss, you should also be cautious about this person." She flicked the holographic.
This time, it showed a person dressed in dark clothes. "Another guy with a hoodie," she exaggerated, rolling her eyes, "what's with you guys and wearing hoodies." Cal casted a look her way, but didn't say anything, so she continued, "anyway, this person apparently can wield the force."
"Are you sure?" Cal asked, leaning back into the chair.
"Positive." She added. "There's multiple reports explicitly saying they saw a force wielder."
"Then--"
She interrupted, "no. My intel says all Inquisitors are busy, far away from him."
"Busy? Him?"
She shook her head. "Occupied elsewhere. Vader's off chasing ghosts on some desolate moon."
"Where?" Cal pushed.
But Juno wasn't having it. "Does it really matter? I told you that, so you wouldn't worry about them coming to you. You're safe here, for now." She sat back down, "you should still be careful, though." She sighed, "this place is still under their territory."
She got up, tossing the holograph back into her bag. "That's enough. Don't wanna bring in unwanted eyes." She locked eyes with Cal, "we meet here every two days, right at sunrise like this." She hinted out the window. "Got it?"
"Just tell me where I should go first."
"You're the Jedi Master, here. Figure it out. Best of luck and see you in two days." She waved, walking out from the building.
"Yeah," Cal palmed the tousled mop upon his head, chestnut locks unkempt from his rigorous schedule. Thoughts of a certain individual entered his head, Cere.
"Let go of my fear, huh?"