Chapter Text
Cal listened to the soft hum of Mantis, floating in the never ending silence of universe. It’s been four days since he decided to destroy the Holocron. His wound has almost been healed with the constant care and bacta gel provided by Cere, Greez and Merrin. They all took turns by his bed, urging him to rest.
The first day was easy enough; every movement took him surprising amount of energy he did not expect. He slept through most of it. The next day, his companions came in turns to cheer him up. Cere shared stories from her time with Master Cordova. Greez had always some grand tale of his relatives prepared, but they always drifted back towards his great-grandmother, the famous Pyloon. Cal was almost sure he exaggerated most of the time, but he hadn’t the heart to stop him. And then there was Merrin.
When the Nightsister took her turn by his bed, she was silence for a few moments before she started to ask him about the binary language of his droid, about Cal’s scrapper life, about the galaxy surrounding them. He obliged, the conversations almost stretched into long hours but he got tired sooner than he would’ve liked.
The third day came. He felt more rested. He stretched his legs by going to the common room. They all had lunch together after which Cere ushered him back to bed. He complained, trying to prove he was better. But at the end of it, he followed her orders.
It’s been four days since he destroyed the Holocron and Cal grew restless. It was getting worse by each hour he’s been awake. He tried to silence his mind by listening to the sounds of Mantis’ engine, by trying to eavesdrop on the conversation of his companions, but they were all out of reach.
He slowly stood up and opened the door to the engine room which became his own somehow; maybe because it was near the work bench where he got used to tweak and improve his lightsaber and sometimes get new upgrades for his best friend. Or maybe, because there was enough space for the meditation circle Cere prepared for him the first day he arrived. Or it was the closeness to the engine, which reminded him of his time on Bracca.
Cal took a deep breath and tried for the last time to fall asleep. He heard the voices of the crew accompanied by BD’s beeping. They were all safe, drifting in the deepest corners of the universe, far away from the Empire. At least for now. That should’ve given him some peace, but all he felt was restlessness. He waited until Greez left the Mantis on autopilot and went to his cabin. He heard Cere talking to Merrin, they both went to their respective beds after their short conversation.
The Mantis grew even quieter.
Cal shuffled on his bed and sat up. Gently, he touched his wounded side. It was still sore, but the worst was thankfully healed. All the better for his plans. He stood up, picked his tool belt and quietly went through the hall to the main room of the ship.
There were only a few lights left lit apart from ship’s controls. Cal went to the side where his little droid friend “slept” for recharging. He gently tapped BD’s head. One rounded eye slowly lit up.
“Hey, buddy.”
BD beeped in question.
“Yeah, I feel better. Thank you for looking out for me,” he smiled at the droid.
BD’s blue light scanned Cal’s toolbelt. Beep. Boop. Beep?
“I know it’s the middle of the night, BD. But I’m well rested.”
Beep.
“Promise, okay?” He tapped BD on his side. “Now it’s time for you to rest. I’ll be alright.”
Boop.
“Don’t worry. If anything happen, I will call.”
The droid didn’t look much assured.
“It’s only maintenance. I won’t go into spaces I won’t be able to squeeze myself with this,” Cal pointed to his wounded side. He patiently waited until BD processed his worries with quiet beeps and thrills, and then gently beeped once more before he shut down into charging mode.
Cal smiled at the sleeping droid. His best friend. Cal was always amazed by the amount of emotions his little friend was capable of. What kept surprising him even more was how much BD cared for him. And how easy it was to adjust to the additional weight on his back whenever they went adventuring together, how he grew to love the excited beeps, boops and thrills. As a scrapper on Bracca, he was always surrounded by people, humanoids or others, but at the same time always reminded that everyone there was by themselves. That he couldn’t trust anyone, not really.
Except for Prauf.
A familiar stab near his heart, the wound still fresh and painful. Prauf. He wished to tell him that he listened. That he found his destiny, that he can never go back to the life of a mere Bracca scrapper now.
A soft sigh escaped his lips. He reminded himself what he came here to do.
Cal took one of the chairs by the dining table and put it near one of the vents above the sofa. If he had been at his full strength, he would’ve easily jumped and pulled himself up. Even though he knew Cere and Greeze wouldn’t be happy about his actions, at least he decided to be careful. For once. As if his wounded side gave him any other choice. He thought about getting hurt again by his own impatience and the thought of having to rest and heal for next few days kept his recklessness in check.
Cal opened the vent and slowly pulled himself in, adjusting his body so the wounded side wouldn’t take much of his weight in the process.
He took his time to get where he wanted. There was a cool stillness surrounding him, the quiet grew a little bit louder once he got closer, almost above the engine room. There wasn’t much space, yet he was already accustomed to tighter places.
This wasn’t the same as escape pods.
His scattered mind went to full focus, while his hands almost trembled with anticipation. He started to tinker with the insides of spaceship.
He knew he could’ve just meditated to slowly go through the previous events, but Jedi meditation meant being still, kneeling, breathing deep. And Cal had enough of being still. He knew he had come a long journey from the moment Cere and Greez rescued him from Trilla on Bracca, that he grew his powers and connected fully to the Force. Yet there was a part of him that longed for being useful, for the quiet an focus of his work with mechanics.
For now, he wasn’t a Jedi trying to save the galaxy, but a mere scrapper.
In the long hours he has been resting, he noticed that Mantis shook a little too much whenever Greez landed her. There was probably something in the circulation of breaks, leading towards the engine. He couldn’t find better time than the middle of the night when the rest of the crew slept to seek out the problem.
When he finally found it, he started to work his magic with skilled and precise hands. His mind calmed down completely and he slowly tapped into his memories, the emotions still fresh – the facedown with Trilla, and then with one of the most powerful creatures he ever faced. The right hand of the Emperor himself.
Chills ran down his spine, he felt the ghost of sharp pain in his side when his own lightsaber pierced it.
Embrace your failure. Learn from it. Be better. The voice of his Master didn’t sting as much as it used to when he remembered him.
Cal took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn’t have imagine what would’ve happen if the Holocron fell into Vader’s hands. He knew he did the right choice, and yet… there were doubts that lingered, still. The children were safe for now, but he didn’t have doubt that Empire will try to find them, sooner or later. One by one.
He shivered at that thought. All those innocent younglings, suffering at the hands of Siths, becoming ruthless killers, dark users of the Force. You did the right thing, he reminded himself over and over again. You did the right thing. Now… they have a chance.
He took a slow, deep breath again. Trust only in the Force.
For a moment, he almost felt too lost in his thoughts. For a moment, he felt as if they’d swallow him whole. His mind went from Trilla to Cere, to the broken trust of the Master and their Padawan, of countless Force users slaughtered or turned into Inquisitors, to the blurred edges where the Dark side began.
Cal tried to go through all of his decisions from joining the Mantis crew to helping out the Rebels up to the point he met Merrin, and then Malicos.
In the times of war, the lines between what was right and what was easy were almost intertwined. The worst thing was he understood the choices all of those people he encountered has done. He knew he was only one decision, one step away from becoming who they were.
He wished for simpler, peaceful times, and yet… He probably wouldn’t met Cere who became his mentor, his second Master and teacher. He definitely wouldn’t met BD and Greez, not to mention Merrin, the Last Nightsister of Dathomir.
His thoughts lingered when he pictured her. The first time they met, the moment she decided to stop fighting against him and instead, after a few moments of peril, helped him beat Malicos. She saved his life when it mattered and then led him to the tomb.
Cal lived through the memory where he felt the rush of excitement when he got one step forward to get the Holocron. The look on her face, the heaviness of her words.
I am happy for you. And your Jedi. But nothing can bring back my people.
At that moment, he felt sudden rush of emotions; strange mix of guilt, understanding, compassion. He saw himself in her at that moment. He’s been alone for so many years, passing by as a mere scrapper, living from day to day, not being able to face what he left behind. He understood her anger towards him and the Jedi, the cold loneliness that came with the thought of being the last one left, frozen in place, not knowing what to do next.
How to even exist, when all of your people has been gone, and not all of them buried, just left out in the darkness that consumed them in the end.
Cal had Cere and Greez and BD.
Merrin had… nothing, only her Magick, the legacy of Nightsisters on her shoulders, their dead bodies preserved by her own rituals. How horribly wrong it must’ve been, to bury ones friends? Ones family?
No! No, she had him, he decided. He wanted to make sure of that. Someone who understood.
Were there different circumstances, they probably wouldn’t have met. It was the strangest string of thoughts he got from fear and worries to not being able to imagine his life without the Mantis crew.
Trust only in the Force.
Adapt.
He sighed and finished his work. He knew he needed more time to process, to heal, not only the physical part of himself. If he didn’t took care of it, he was sure his previous Force blocks would’ve come back.
The question was whether he had the time. The plan was to lay low for a few days for him to heal, and then… Well, he was almost sure Cere had already a new plan brewing in her mind. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to get back into the bleak reality of the Empire rule, of Inquisitors and the Resistance, even though he was already living in it for the past five years.
Adapt.
He slowly stepped back towards the entrance. He was almost out of the vent, his feet hanging out in the air, trying to find the chair he left behind. He panicked for a moment, his left foot found the chair, but immediately knocked it aside.
He could pull it back with the Force, but that would put a strain on his wound. With an annoyed sigh he realised he was stuck, dangling from the vent.
Then he heard a soft scoff.
For a second he froze, feeling like a child getting caught in doing mischief.
“You should be resting, Cal Kestis.”
The chair was being put back to its original place. He lowered himself down, thankfully without straining his wound. He got off the chair and turned to the Nightsister. She leaned against the holotable in her grey shirt and trousers, arms crossed against her chest, looking at him expectingly.
He took a sharp breath, finally composing himself to speak. “Merrin…,” he sighed. “Please, don’t tell Greez about it. Or Cere.”
She arched her brow. “Why do you think I won’t give you hard time for…,” she gestured to the vent. “…fixing the ship in the middle of the night, when you should be resting?”
They spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to wake the rest of the Mantis crew.
“Well, technically it’s not middle…,” he tried to buy himself some time, to make up an excuse. He shook his head. That wouldn’t be fair to her.
He shrugged. “I felt better. And I couldn’t just sit down anymore. I wanted to… do something. Gather my thoughts.”
Merrin studied him with her dark eyes, not a single muscle moved in her face. He noticed she kept her hair loose for the night. It was strangely domestic look on her, one he would not expect from the Nightsister.
“Did it help?”
He breathed out. “Yeah. Yeah, it did. Not with everything, but… I feel calmer, now.”
She nodded, her gaze never leaving his face. “I thought you use your Jedi meditation for that.”
Cal closed the vent, unclasped his toolbelt and sat down on the sofa. “I probably would in normal circumstances.”
“What changed?” Merrin took place next to him. Her voice was little bit gentler now; if he didn’t know her, her words would’ve been delivered with the same deadpan tone as before, but Cal knew better.
He ran right hand through his hair.
“I… survived, Merrin. And Cere, too. You saved us and I will be forever in your debt for that.”
“No need for forever, Cal Kestis,” the corners of her mouth lifted up slightly and Cal felt a sudden rush of gentle warmth spreading through his body at the sight of her small smile. He noticed she did that more often; not only she made deadpan joke on Greeze’s expense, but here and there she cracked a small smile towards him, as if she waited whenever he would smile, too.
Of course he did. Always.
Cal chuckled and gathered his scattered thoughts.
“Fine, fine, for whatever time will be best suited for you. Regardless, what happened with Trilla… and after that, when I destroyed the Holocron…”
“You saw the path you would’ve taken if you would’ve kept it, Cal Kestis. Although yours and Cere’s intentions were noble, you would only train those children to be soldiers, ready to be slaughtered by the Empire. You gave him a chance for better life, as much as it seems unlikely in these times. I know not much of your Jedi order, only from your stories, but… I don’t think that this is what your Order stood for. Do you?”
“I don’t.” Cal sighed. “I know, Merrin, that what I did was… necessary. And yet, I am worried about them,” he lifted his head towards her, studying her stern features. “What you would’ve done? In my place?”
She blinked, for a moment taken aback by his question.
“To have my family back? Or to continue the teaching of Nightsisters?”
Even though she composed her expression, he sensed that he was threading on her old wounds.
“If I knew war would come for them… I would have done the same thing you did, Cal Kestis. I would rather die as last Nightsiser than want the same suffering I went through. The thought of them fearing the next day, fearing the loss of their loved ones, being left alone with the thought that another danger might come for them… Why add more misery and desperation to the world that is already in shambles?”
Even thought her words seemed matter-of-factly, he knew with how much emotion they were carried. He couldn’t speak for a moment. They all did what they knew best at their circumstances. They survived.
Adapt.
It must have been enough.
She was right.
“I did not bring much peace to your mind, did I, Cal Kestis?”
He shook his head. “No. No, quite the opposite, Merrin. You’re right. It wouldn’t have been for the right reason.”
She moved closer. To his surprise, she lifted her hand and rested it on his shoulder.
“But…. I think your intentions are noble, Jedi. It’s not an easy feat, trying to decide the future for the whole new generation of your kind in the midst of war and despair. I know the feeling well.”
And there it was again, the feeling of being understood, of being seen. He felt something similar to Cere, but his mentor was older, with much more experience and less emotions. Cere mostly saw the goal of their journey, but in the process grew closer to Cal and did not repeat the same mistake as she did with Trilla. He loved and respected his teacher, but it was something else with Merrin.
They were closer in age and similar experiences than the older Jedi. He sensed her struggles through the Echo in the Force, he felt her desperation and loneliness when she decided to ally herself with Malicos. He heard the Echoes of her prayers to her sisters, to the Mother of her kind. Their answer was only silence.
His insides tightened. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant feeling, yet he felt strangely vulnerable.
“Merrin, if there was any way…”
She shook her head and put her hand away, the ghost of her touch lingered on his skin under the shirt.
“It was not an invitation for a pity.”
Cal felt a sharp pang in his chest. “Hey, that was not my intentions. Truly. What happened to your planet and people is… unforgivable. I… felt you through the Echoes. What happened to you after… I just wish you weren’t alone. And… I want you to know that you are not alone, nor will you ever be, if you wish it. I can’t speak for Cere or Greez, but you have my word.”
Her face fell apart for a mere second before she composed herself once more.
Cal wished she didn’t have to put her stern mask so often, even after all events they went through together. But he understood. It was her way to survive. Were it not for Prauf and those few kind souls on Bracca that helped him when needed, he would’ve been the same, if not worse.
“I am not sure if promise of a Jedi has left any meaning to me,” she said quietly.
Cal nodded. “Noted. But what about my word, Merrin?”
She sighed and shifted her legs slightly as if she were somehow unsure what to say next. For a moment, she avoided his gaze. Then she lifted her head and met his green eyes. “You are obnoxiously persistent, Cal Kestis.”
Cal chuckled. “People tend to say that about me.”
Merrin nodded. “Alright, then. I trust you, Cal.”