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It had been days since Nur, and Cal still hadn’t woken up.
Cere had spent most of that time sitting beside his cot in the engine room, her fingers carding gently through his sweat-damp hair. He’d developed a fever after the first day, most likely due to an infection from the ocean water that had entered the lightsaber wound in his side when he’d dragged her unconscious from the fortress.
His body had been fighting it, but not enough. His breathing was laboured, chest barely rising with more than a stutter. The fever hadn’t broken, and they’d barely been able to get any water into him, let alone anything to eat. Greez had been vocal about wanting to get Cal into a medical facility. He needed more care than they could give him on the Mantis , but finding one that wouldn’t look twice at a lightsaber wound was proving trickier than they’d hoped. Each planet Greez set a course for had a bigger Imperial presence than they could handle, and although no one wanted to say it out loud, it was looking more unlikely they would ever find somewhere that could help him without turning him over to the Empire.
“Have you eaten anything?”
Cere shook her head, not taking her eyes off the boy lying motionless before her.
“I’ll eat later,” she said.
Something knocked against her arm, and a bowl of soup was pushed into her hand. She looked round as Greez sat beside her, his own bowl cradled in his grip.
“You’ll eat now,” he said, not giving her a choice.
Cere smiled sadly, nodding in thanks as she raised the bowl to her lips. They hadn’t been on a supply run since before Nur, so the soup was mainly broth, but it was warm and flavourful. She drank greedily, keeping one eye on Cal the entire time. The slightest hitch in his breathing had her stomach doing somersaults, and she placed the nearly-empty bowl on the floor, having lost her appetite.
“He’s not getting better, is he?”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t know how to explain that she could feel his Force signature fading. Could feel as he was slipping away from them. Cal was a fighter. Had been fighting since the day they rescued him off Bracca. But maybe this wasn’t something he could beat.
Maybe this was his body giving up.
“We can’t lose hope,” she said, forcing a smile to her face.
“Cal needs proper medical care, Cere,” Greez continued slowly. “We can’t help him on the Mantis .”
She sighed. “I know.”
Cal’s breathing hitched once more, drawing Cere’s attention. She placed a hand on his forehead, cringing at how much he was burning up. Running her fingers through his hair, she bit her lip. There was one thing they were still yet to try. One way they might be able to get Cal the help he so desperately needed. She hadn’t wanted to suggest it, too worried about what the consequences would be, but they were beyond that point now.
Cal was beyond it.
“Captain,” she began, not taking her eyes off Cal. She placed a hand on his chest, needing to feel it rising and falling for herself. “I need you to make contact with Saw Garrera.”
She felt Greez tense beside her.
“Are you sure? I know Cal helped him out on Kashyyyk, but didn’t he ask the kid to join with his partisans?”
“He did.”
“And you’re willing to risk him bartering with Cal's cooperation in exchange for getting him medical care?”
“Saw won’t want to let him die.” She met the Latero’s gaze, could see the inner conflict reflected in them. “We have to get him help, Greez. We can’t just take him to any med centre. Saw will know of one that will be safe.
Greez hesitated only a fraction longer.
“I’ll see if I can make contact. Did you want to join me in the cockpit? It would probably be best if you spoke with him.”
Cere shook her head. “I trust you will be able to convince him.”
Greez gave her a sad smile, grasping her shoulder tightly.
“Try and get some sleep. You’re no use to Cal if you’re exhausted.”
“Thank you, Captain.” The Latero nodded once, both of them knowing full well she wouldn’t be sleeping. He left the room, and Cere returned her attention to Cal. He was shivering, his fever still too high. She smoothed his hair from his forehead, wishing she could do more.
“You need to hold on, Cal,” she whispered. “We’re going to get you some help, and you’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she remembered the last promise she’d made to a padawan. Trilla’s terrified expression flooded her mind and her heart broke with the knowledge that the young girl was dead. She hadn’t asked to be turned into an Inquisitor. Cere had made that happen. The choices she’d made had led to that inevitability, and now Trilla was gone for good. Lost to the depths of the fortress that had taken so much from both of them. Trilla had lost herself before she’d lost herself.
Cere had just lost.
If only she had been stronger. If she hadn’t broken, hadn’t told them where Trilla and the younglings had been hiding, maybe her former padawan would still be alive. Maybe Cal wouldn’t be fighting for his life with a lightsaber wound in his gut.
She leaned over, checking the bandage that covered the worst of the injury. Merrin had done her best to heal him. When Cere had come to on the floor of the Mantis after Cal had dragged her unconscious from the fortress, she’d found the boy enveloped in the green glow of the Nightsister’s magick. While Cere struggled to breathe, Greez told her what had happened. How Cal had given her his rebreather and had tried to swim them both to safety. How, if it wasn’t for Merrin, both of them would have drowned in that ocean, rather than just Cal.
Because Cal had drowned.
He hadn’t merely been injured and unconscious.
He’d been dead when Merrin brought him back onto the Mantis . She’d used her magick to revive him, stabilising the boy as best she could, but he wasn’t in the clear yet. Not even taking his fever into consideration, or the awful rattle she could hear from his chest whenever he tried to breathe, it was the lightsaber wound itself that was causing the most problems. It was very clear it had become infected, though Cere supposed she couldn’t be that surprised. Taking a dip in the freezing cold ocean hadn’t exactly helped matters.
A quiet trill beside her made her look down. BD-1 had entered the room and was gazing up at her expectantly. The little droid also didn’t like to leave Cal’s side, but it seemed he was incapable of doing so without scanning the boy every few minutes, unhelpfully announcing that his fever was not getting any better. If anything, it had been steadily getting worse with every passing day.
Cere hadn’t meant to lose her temper at the fiercely loyal droid, but after the second day running on no sleep she had finally snapped, and BD had scurried out of the room, presumably to go and bother one of the other members of the crew. She hadn’t seen Merrin much since that first day. Healing Cal as best she could had really taken a toll on the Nightsister, and the young girl had been resting in her bunk ever since, trying to regain her strength. Cere could feel her through the Force. Could feel as Merrin’s strength returned to her, and took comfort in the knowledge that the Nightsister at least was going to be okay.
Since opening herself up to the Force once more, it was like the floodgates had opened, and Cere was feeling everything all at once. She hated to think how many echoes she may have left on the Mantis , hoping none of them would be too much for Cal when he awoke.
If he awoke.
She pushed the thought away quickly, angrily swiping at her eyes. Of course he was going to be okay. He had to be.
“Cere?”
Turning to face Greez, she caught a glimmer of something they hadn’t had since escaping from the fortress.
Hope.
“Saw’s going to help,” she said. It wasn’t a question. The room had felt lighter the second Greez had entered. That flicker of hope reaching out through the Force and gripping onto her so tightly.
They made for some moon orbiting a lesser known planet in the Outer Rim. The partisan Greez had spoken to met them at the landing bay, ready with a med droid to transfer Cal into the facility.
“You’re going to be okay now,” she whispered into his ear, giving his hand a tight squeeze. “Everything is going to be alright.”
Cal was bustled away into the facility, leaving Cere with only Greez for company. Merrin had chosen to remain with the ship, still not up to her full strength, and they’d asked BD to stay with her. The small droid hadn’t been too happy about it, wanting to stay with Cal, but Cere had given him the task of guarding the Nightsister. Not that Merrin needed the protection, but they had required a way to keep him busy, and the best way to do that was to give the droid a job of importance.
As the hours trickled by with no news of Cal’s condition, Greez’s temper grew short, and he started snapping at people who tried to talk to them. Cere remained silent, sitting with her back to the wall and meditating. She called on the Force to keep her calm, taking comfort in seeking out Cal’s signature and knowing he was okay. It wasn’t getting any weaker, but he also didn’t appear to be getting any stronger.
It’s only been a few hours , she told herself sternly. Cal’s fever had been bad, one of the worst she’d ever seen. It could be days before it broke, giving his body the chance to heal.
“I can’t take all this waiting!” cried Greez, throwing his hands in the air. He rounded on Cere, throwing her an exasperated look. “How are you so calm?”
She gave him a sad smile. She was anything but calm. Years of training to take control of her emotions was all that was keeping her from storming through the double doors Cal had disappeared behind and demanding answers.
“Someone will come to us where there is news to be shared,” she said. “We just have to be–” she broke off as a surge of pure terror rushed towards her through the Force. Ignoring Greez, she was on her feet immediately, demanding to know what was happening to Cal.
It took far longer than it should have, but she and Greez were finally led to a side room where they were met by a very stoic med droid who informed them of Cal’s condition.
“The infection runs very deep,” said the droid. “His body is struggling to fight it.”
“He can fight it off though, can’t he?” asked Greez, panic in his voice. “That kid is just about the strongest person I know. He’ll pull through.”
Cere said nothing.
“He may pull through,” agreed the droid. “But there are no guarantees. A wound of this intensity is likely to have severe consequences in his later life. I expect he will grow to lose the use of his arm.”
“Arm?” Greez interrupted. “He didn’t hurt his arm!”
Cere placed a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly asking him to calm down.
“The chances of him waking up are slim. The injury is severe, the infection more so. The tissue surrounding the wound has already begun to decompose. We will need to keep him in a medically induced coma until the fever breaks, possibly for longer if there is no indication of the infection clearing.”
“Then we do that,” said Greez. “Keep him here until he’s better.”
The medical droid nodded, before beginning to walk away. Cere reached out, searching for Cal’s signature through the Force and feeling how badly it was battered and bruised.
“Is he in pain?”
The med droid stopped in its tracks. Greez was looking at her, confusion plain on his face.
“Yes,” replied the medical droid. “His vital signs do indicate that the pain receptors in his brain are firing. He will be in pain for a long while.” The droid paused, as if contemplating what to say next. “In my medical opinion, I do not believe your friend will wake up.”
Cere nodded, ignoring Greez’s noises of complaint.
“May I see him?”
The droid stepped aside, allowing her access to Cal’s room. She left Greez behind, stepping into the room and laying eyes on the Jedi for the first time since he’d entered the facility. She was struck by how small he looked in the bed, his red hair standing out against the white sheet. He was hooked up to a number of tubes with an oxygen mask strapped to his face. He looked much younger than eighteen. Too young to have faced every horror Cal had ever been asked to endure in his short life.
A sigh escaped her lips as she took a seat beside the bed, gingerly taking his hand in hers. He was burning up as she brushed the hair from his forehead, running her fingers through the sweat-damp locks.
Reaching out, she could feel his Force signature barely hanging on. She wrapped her own around him, holding it together and offering her warmth.
“It’s okay if you need to let go, Cal,” she said quietly. “You’ve been fighting for so long, and you’ve been so strong. It’s okay if you can’t do this anymore.”
She reached up, running her fingers through his hair softly. She stayed quiet awhile, holding onto him and tethering them together.
Cere felt the moment he let go.
Cal’s breathing hitched once, then twice. His chest stuttered as it rose, before falling still, and his breathing petered out with one final exhale.
She could no longer feel his presence through the Force. The absence was like a gaping hole in her heart. A heart already damaged by the loss of Trilla.
And now she’d lost Cal.
Life had given her the responsibility of two padawans, and she had failed to save either one.
Cere remained where she was, gently brushing her fingers through Cal’s hair even though he couldn’t feel it. Would never feel it again.
She didn’t know how long she sat with him. Eventually, she was joined by a med droid who took Cal away, gently untangling him from her grip. She watched as he disappeared, remaining put, not wanting to have to tell Greez what happened.
Not wanting to tell him what she did.
Greez took the choice from her, coming to find her when she’d been gone for too long. The moment he entered the room, she knew he had already been told. His grief was suffocating, filling the space and threatening to drown her. There was anger too.
“We’ll have to tell the droid.” Greez broke the silence, very purposefully avoiding her gaze.
“Yes,” she replied.
“And the witch.”
Cere didn’t respond. The guilt was pulling on her heart, settling deep into her gut.
It was her fault.
Cal was dead because she failed to protect him.
Trilla was dead because she failed to protect her.
They returned to the Mantis in silence. Cere left Greez to deliver the news, choosing to retreat to her bunk.
To hide .
The second the door slid closed behind her, she dropped to her knees, pressing a hand firmly over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs. She had barely allowed herself to feel these past few days, too worried about Cal to think about herself. And when her thoughts weren’t focused on Cal, it was Trilla’s face that filled her mind. The look of pure terror on the young girl’s face as she’d died, locking eyes with Cere one final time as if silently begging for her Master to save her. To right the wrongs from all those years ago.
But of course Cere had failed.
And now Cal was dead too.
A faint green glow caught her eye, and she looked up. The holocron was on the side table where she had tossed it haphazardly after retrieving it from Cal’s pack when he’d been brought onboard.
Taking it in her hand, she marvelled at how light it was. Such a small object that had caused so much damage. How many people had died in its pursuit?
How many would die if she used it?
Merrin had said as much. The Force-sensitive children on this list were safe with their families as far as she knew, growing up away from the fight against the Empire.
A fight they hadn’t asked to be part of.
Her thoughts were drawn once again to Trilla, and to Cal. Padawans–children really–who were taken from their parents and trained to be soldiers. Because that’s what the Jedi had been in the end. Soldiers in the war against the Separatists. A war she now knew they were destined to lose. It wouldn’t have mattered what the Order did. It would never have made a difference.
Cere opened the holocron, her eyes running over the list of children who could be a new hope for the galaxy. Perhaps they were the only hope any of them had.
“Cal died for that.”
She hadn’t heard the door slide open. Hadn’t heard as Greez entered the cabin. His grief and anger getting lost amongst her guilt.
“I’m sorry–” she began, but Greez cut her off.
“Just promise me one thing,” he said in a tired voice. “Promise me that this was worth it. Promise me that Cal didn’t die for nothing.”
Cere took a deep and shuddering breath. She wanted to tell him it was worth it. That they would honour Cal’s sacrifice by using the holocron in the way she’d always told him they would. The way he’d believed in, right up until the moment he’d taken his final breath.
But she couldn’t.
Because she no longer believed it.