Chapter 22 – Close Call
Soundtrack:
Duel – Live Free or Let Me Die (B-Side Album Version) by Skillet, Move by Thousand Foot Krutch
Not-so-happyReunion– Never Too Late by Three Days Grace
Getting proof…Ninja Style - Phenomenon by Thousand Foot Krutch
The two combatants circled each other, clouds of dust and tension alike doing nothing to break the intense gaze sparking between them. Grimy stone walls were lined with bystanders from corner to corner, filling the stuffy air with their raucous cheers. Tiny rivulets of light peeked in from vents beneath the stone floor, almost taunting the occupants of the dim, crowded dueling ring with the concept of sunlight and fresh air.
Dustil was the first to charge. He started with a classic diagonal strike, trying to gauge the strength and agility of his opponent. Xana batted it away almost instantly, nearly striking him across the stomach with her retaliation strike. She executed a series of twirls, during which her dual sabers struck in tandem with the steps of her feet. The result was a graceful whirlwind of light and dust, floating across the ancient floor in an almost ethereal fashion.
Struggling to block the constant barrage of strikes, Dustil began to analyze her combat style. Her footwork was too light, and her strikes came too quickly. She moved with grace and agility, true, but her style lacked the substance that would allow her to defeat much stronger opponents.
He retaliated with a series of strong, precisely-aimed strikes meant to hammer away at the weak points in her technique. The effect was just as he had expected; she was eventually caught by surprise, trapped in the extremely awkward position of having to block a strike over her shoulder. Her thin arms were no match for his superior strength, and the locked sabers began drifting toward her back.
Xana disengaged at the last moment, twisting around rather clumsily and just managing to dance around the strike he'd aimed at her shoulder. He shot her a triumphant smirk, and she quirked an eyebrow in response.
Is this really how you want to play it?
He narrowed his eyes in a challenge. Bring it on.
Xana twirled each saber in a smooth, but adrenaline-charged circular motion, as if they too were restless to resume the fight. With a fearsome war-cry, she charged forward, boots pounding against the stone floor as she made her attack run. She slashed at Dustil with a scissor motion, forcing the apprentice to jump out of the way and give up the offensive. Not wasting a single moment, she began to assail him with double-sided strikes – left, then right; high, then low – that slowly worked their way past his defenses. However, her strikes were once again focused on speed, instead of power, and he managed to break past a single swing.
She abandoned the attack, straining to bend backwards in the nick of time. Just as it felt her spine had reached its' breaking point, she opened her eyes to see a shaft of red light passing right over her nose, as if in slow motion. Just a few more seconds, she thought, struggling to remain perfectly still. In mere moments, his defense would be completely gone, and she could duck behind him and disable him with ease.
Already, her muscles were tensing as she prepared to swing back into the fight and end it with a single glorious stroke…
Her heart nearly stopped as she felt her feet being kicked out from under her. Before the surprise and dismay could even register in her mind, she was slammed flat onto her back, wincing as she impacted the solid stone floor. A plume of dust billowed up around her, choking her even as she tried to force air back into her winded lungs.
Laughing and jeers filled the room as Xana struggled to get back onto her feet. Her back was practically numb with pain from the impact, but there was no way that she could let it show. She glanced back at her companions, who were dutifully observing the match from a corner of the worry written all over her face, Canderous looked impassive as usual, and Talon…well, Talon pretty much looked like he wanted to strangle Dustil. Xana shot them a quick, subtle look of reassurance before turning back to the duel.
"Give up yet?" Dustil called.
"You wish," Xana shot back. "I'm just getting started!"
He shrugged nonchalantly and assumed a classic attack stance. "It's your funeral, babe."
"We'll see," Xana replied, taking her place at the end of the dueling ring. She took a different stance this time; feet distanced and knees bent, with one saber readied for his oncoming attack and the other in a backwards grip, already poised to strike.
Dustil let out a war-cry and charged, obviously expecting to win with brute strength once again. He was taken by surprise when she twisted her saber to the side, easily deflecting his strike, and he was hit full-on by one of the strongest Force pushes he'd ever seen. He skidded across the training room floor, knees bent and weight centered forward as his feet dredged up a steady stream of dust.
By the time he looked up, Xana was already right in front of him. She ran up and pushed him again without a moment's hesitation, slamming him into the central terminal dividing the two sparring areas. He barely had time to duck before her saber was sailing mere inches over his head. Thinking quickly, Dustil dropped to his knees and attempted to kick her feet out from under her again.
Xana was too quick this time. She jumped back and rolled, grinning smugly as she landed in a crouch. Before he could even try to figure out her next move, his world was suddenly lit up in a cacophony of blinding light and voltage. The torrent of Force lightning halted a moment later, followed by Xana's taunt, "Give up yet?"
Now this was just ridiculous. Dustil seethed as he slowly rose to his feet, singed and aching all over. His hand shot out, and he almost smiled at the look of confusion that came over his opponent's face. Xana dropped her stance and brought her hand to her mouth, coughing as she struggled to regain her breath. He took the window of opportunity and charged once again.
However, Xana managed to recover in time and brought both sabers back up. Dustil's attacks were blocked once more and, thoroughly irritated, he began to strike with fearsome speed and power. Refusing to be backed up and cornered, Xana dodged around the brutish flurry of strikes and twirled, switching to a backwards grip as she brought both sabers down like a pair of fangs. Dustil attempted to twirl and dodge as she had done, but was not nearly as nimble. He stumbled back, dodging the blow…but not the roundhouse kick that came afterward.
Another invisible grip formed around him, yanking him forward. He was promptly met with a knee to the stomach and an elbow striking across the back of his head. Finally, two small hands gripped the back of his collar and sent him tumbling onto the cold, hard floor.
Through the fog of pain and disorientation, he heard the thrum of a lightsaber; though it was much louder than it was supposed to be…
Dustil's eyes slowly fluttered open. Xana was standing above him with three lightsabers poised to deliver the final blow; her purple saber held in her right hand and both of their red sabers clutched in her left.
He mentally smacked himself for not even noticing that Xana had seized his own weapon during the hand-to-hand combat. Now, he was lying on the floor like a hapless gizka, completely at the mercy of a smart-mouthed, happy-go-lucky hopeful.
For a few moments, all was silent in the dueling chamber. Everyone simply blinked and stared, unable to believe what had just transpired before their eyes.
Finally, Dustil let out a concessionary sigh and called out, "Fine, I give!" He tapped the floor of the dueling chamber three times to signal his surrender, and then slowly got up as Xana released him.
The crowd erupted into cheers, milling around frantically as Xana raised her lightsabers in triumph. Mission was right alongside the lot of them, whooping and clapping with excitement over her friend's hard-won victory. Even Canderous contributed his own subtle applause; it had been a good fight. Talon, playing the role of the dutiful servant, could only grin like an idiot as he went to usher Xana back to the sidelines.
That's my girl, he thought proudly as she shrugged a cloak over her black tank top.
Dustil sauntered up just as Xana was fastening her fingerless gloves. "Very nice fight, Dakari," he drawled. "Didn't know you had it in you."
Talon narrowed his eyes at the younger teen. Ever since Xana had introduced them this morning, he'd found Dustil's attitude to be slightly off-putting. But now, his irritation was definitely starting to manifest. Did even the kid's compliments have to sound snotty and condescending?
Xana just shrugged it off and smirked, "Yeah, well, I think you'll find I'm full of surprises today."
"You do realize I'm just going to keep challenging you to duels until I get my title back, right?" Dustil asked.
"You can try," Xana quipped.
Dustil just rolled his eyes, and, after donning his own cloak to cover his black t-shirt, turned to exit the room. Xana followed, keeping pace with him. "Hey, how about we hang out on my ship today?" she asked randomly.
"Yours is that new smuggling vessel, right?" Upon seeing her nod in affirmation, his face twisted into a thoughtful grimace. "I don't think so," he said. "I've got some philosophy homework – and sparring practice – that I need to catch up on."
"Just an hour, then," Xana persisted. "I swear, you'll thank me for it."
"Alright, fine," he snapped, already irritated at the embarrassing loss and at the end of his limited patience. "I'll walk to the docking bay with you after class…although I don't see what's on your ship that could be so kriffing important."
Unbelievable. Unbe-freaking-lievable.
First he had lost in a duel with a hopeful. Then, he had been cajoled by said hopeful into wasting his precious study time so he could go see her junk heap of a ship. And then, his long-lost 'father' happened to be on board said junk heap, and was now proceeding to crush the living daylights out of him with the galaxy's most unwanted bear hug.
The half of Dustil's face that wasn't being smothered by the shoulder of Carth's jacket was currently arrayed in the most venomous glare Xana had ever seen.
Off to the sidelines, Xana andMissionlooked at each other quizzically. They had bolted for the swoop garage as soon as Carth had made his timed entrance. Talon, Canderous, and the rest of the crew had made themselves scarce, but the two girls preferred to watch from a distance, silently grinning in anticipation of the heart-warming reunion that they had worked for a month to see.
Xana had to admit, she was a tad bit disappointed with the initial reaction. They'd expected Dustil to look a little less…furious.
"I-I can't believe it's you; for so many years I thought you had died on Telos. For me to find you after all this time…it…it's like a miracle!" Carth rejoiced tearfully, holding his son out at arm's length so he could get a better look at him.
When he saw the expression on Dustil's face, however, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's the matter, son? Aren't you happy that we can be a family again?"
"Oh, 'family', that's a good one," Dustil snapped. He stepped away from Carth, adopting an expression of mock happiness and raising his arms in a melodramatic fashion. "Hey everybody, look! It's Father, come to rescue me at long last!"
Carth looked like he'd just been slapped; his expression belied a colorful combination of bewilderment, helplessness, and a little bit of panicked nausea. "But…but I don't-" he trailed off weakly.
Dustil cut him off, "What, you expected me to be happy to see you again? Even after you abandoned me and Mom on Telos? After all these years of having to fend for myself, with nobody but the Sith to look out for me?" The teenager's voice had gotten louder and louder with each word, and now he was practically roaring at the top of his lungs.
Carth seemed to snap out of his shocked stupor, and retaliated just as fervently, "Dustil, I went away to fight the Sith so I could keep the Republic safe! So I could keep you safe! I-I can't believe you would…this is just…" The soldier shook his head and abandoned the train of thought, stepping toward his son with desperation in his voice. "The Sith are evil, son! They're the ones who bombed our homeworld, and they're the ones who wanted to take you away from me!"
"Yeah, and they were also the only ones who would take me in when your precious Republic never came through!" Dustil yelled. "Like it or not, the Sith are my family now! This is where I belong!"
Suffice it to say that Xana and Mission's hopeful grins had all but deflated. The Twi'lek nudged her companion, disappointment and alarm pooling in her blue eyes, and whispered, "Xana, get out there and do something!"
Xana spared a quick glance at the other girl. "Now what could I possibly do to fix this, Mish?" she whispered impatiently.
"A lot more than I could! You're the one with the lightsaber, here!"Missionshot back.
"Yeah, but…oh frag." Xana's retort dissipated into thin air, as she turned back to the scene unfolding in the common room. Dustil was visibly seething with anger, and his hand was ever so slowly inching toward the hilt of his lightsaber. Carth, of course, was so focused on imploring his son to see reason that he didn't catch the slight movement.
Xana's eyes widened and she acted on a split-second impulse. "Stop!" she yelled, throwing out her hand and slamming the Sith apprentice against the wall. Her own sabers were activated and pointed toward him in a heartbeat.
"What are you doing?" Carth demanded angrily. "Put those down, Xana, I can handle this!"
"The hell you can!" Dustil retorted, glaring daggers at the both of them as he cradled his arm. "I'm done listening to the both of you. Word of advice – you better be far, far away from this spaceport by the time I finish reporting this to Master Uthar, or else-"
"Enough," Xana repeated, stomping her foot in frustration and sending out an involuntary Force-push. The light shove was enough to make both men quiet down and look at the exasperated girl in front of them. "Carth, he's obviously too angry to listen right now, so will you let me try and talk to him?" The pilot relaxed fractionally, indicating his acquiescence, and Xana turned her attention to Dustil. "And you…I beat you pretty soundly in that dueling ring and I'm not afraid to do it again, so you better let me say my piece before you go storming back to the Academy."
"Or what?" Dustil challenged. "You'll lock me in the cargo hold?"
"If I have to," Xana replied matter-of-factly. The younger teen opened his mouth to make a retort, but apparently thought better of it, as he simply closed it again and settled for another venomous glare.
"Now," Xana breathed, relieved to have averted a disaster, "Dustil, it's obvious that your dad is trying to protect you by getting your angst-ridden arse off this planet, but for some reason, you won't comply because you're convinced that the Sith are somehow benevolent. What if we brought you proof that the Sith are evil? Would you come with us then?"
Dustil simply stared back at her for a few minutes, contemplating the choice she had just given him. Joining the Sith had always been just a contingency plan – one that he'd only agreed to for Selene's sake, he might add – and, deep down, he had always considered the possibility of leaving Korriban. Not that he would ever admit it to Xana or his father, though. "Fine," he replied at length, his eyes still narrowed in distrust. "If you can get me proof in forty-eight hours, I'll consider it."
Xana managed to retain her composure, save for a single raised eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me," she deadpanned.
"Take it or leave it," Dustil shrugged. "If you can't get me the proof by then, don't expect a warning before half the Academy is kicking down your door." Xana shifted her weight from foot to foot, considering the offer, and Dustil rolled his eyes in impatience. "Better hurry, Dakari. They're going to notice that I'm missing soon."
"All right, you've got a deal," Xana finally gave in. After all, this was the Sith they were talking about; how hard could it possibly be to prove that they were evil?
To someone who's been desensitized to all their evildoing for the last four years…yeah, that might be an issue, she reminded herself. Letting out a sigh through her nose, she glanced at the ceiling exasperatedly. Why can't things ever be simple for once?
"You're distracted," Bastila noted matter-of-factly, as she regarded the sullen pilot over her handful of pazaak cards.
Carth fixed her with an even gaze, fingering a card from his own deck and then laying it on the table. "Nothing gets by your Jedi senses, huh?"
"No, though that's not the entire reason I was able to pick it up so quickly," she replied, her lips turning up in an amused smile, "I've actually won the last four games, in case you haven't noticed." Her prim, elegant fingers singled out a card and placed it on the table; poise visibly saturating every movement even after countless rounds of the repetitive cantina game. "Make that five."
"Huh, I didn't notice," was the pilot's mumbled reply.
"Because you are distracted," the Jedi repeated, her usual tone of superiority carrying a mild tinge of playfulness this time.
"Really, Bastila, what would I ever do without your amazing powers of introspection?" Carth said, barely suppressing an eye-roll as he shuffled the pazaak deck yet again.
As the weeks had gone by, the simple game of cards had gradually worn away the walls of formality separating the two unlikely friends. There had been little to do outside their normal duties, with their respective protégés both gone, and so it hadn't been long before Bastila and Carth finally gave in to boredom and put Xana's old pazaak deck to good use. Inevitably, they managed to eke out a comfortable rapport amidst win-streaks, tactical plays, and mock-bets of ration bars. They established amusing little inside-jokes, and talked about everything from cooking to combat to childhood games.
Of course, the ebb and flow of easy conversation sometimes transitioned into more dangerous waters, as it was doing now. This time, however, there would be no guarded aversion, no subtle changing of topics; this was visibly eating away at Carth, and Bastila felt a strange responsibility to set their easy camaraderie in motion again.
"Carth, honestly, why do you insist on worrying yourself so?" she asked with a disapproving frown. "I should think it was obvious enough that the situation lies out of our hands; stressing yourself like this can't possibly help things, such as they are."
"What, you don't think I know that?" Carth shot back. "I can't help it, Bastila! That is my son out there; the future of my family on the line, and where am I? I've just been sitting here playing pazaak for weeks, helpless to do anything about it, while a seventeen-year-old girl heads into a nest of Sith to solve my problems for me! How do you think that makes me feel?"
"I am well aware of how the situation makes you feel, but the fact still remains that we simply cannot do anything to change it!" Bastila insisted. "The best thing to do right now is simply to calm yourself. Xana is a capable and resourceful girl; she has handled the mission on Korriban quite well to this point, and I expect that this obstacle will be no different."
"It's not Xana that troubles me," Carth said, taking time to collect his thoughts as he busied himself with dealing out the cards. "It…it's just that…I'm a kriffing failure, okay? At protecting my family, at keeping the Republic safe, even at dealing with my own problems. I mean…what do I do with that?" He slid Bastila's cards across the table, eyes firmly refusing to meet her own.
"Nothing," she said simply. "I know I don't often let it show, but one of the most humbling lessons I've learned as a Jedi is that it's not always possible to protect things we care about. Failure is a part of human nature, and as painful as it may be sometimes, we must simply move forward and accept it." She gently removed the cards from his grasp and, after a moment of hesitation, placed her hand on top of his own in a sympathetic gesture. "Do you remember on Dantooine, when I mentioned that I had once…cared for a Knight very much?"
Carth nodded, and Bastila continued, "When he and I were both younglings, he was always, always the one to protect me. I never once imagined that the day would come…when he would need me to protect him from himself. But when that day did come, and he chose to go to war rather than obey the Council…he stood his ground; so sure, so strong in his beliefs…and I backed away." He finally looked up then, surprised to behold her icy-blue eyes swimming in thoughtful regret. "Perhaps if I had acted differently, he would not have been lost in the Mandalorian Wars."
Her gaze strengthened then, as did her grip on his hand. "But he is lost to me, and I must accept that. You, on the other hand, still have a chance to make everything right. I suggest you appreciate that chance accordingly. Do not tarnish it with doubt, but rather celebrate it with hope."
The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, each both comforted and shocked by the degree to which they perceived the other's pain.
Bastila gazed down uncomfortably at the sight of her dainty, porcelain hand atop his rough, calloused one. A Jedi's role was that of a compassionate helper, true, and she was obligated to help this man however she could. Still, she had not wanted, nor intended, to reveal so much of her past in the process. Her former friendship with Alek was a treacherous subject; one that she had never discussed with anyone until now. So why had she chosen to discuss it with him?
Much as she tried, she could not think of a single answer.
"Well," she breathed, withdrawing her hand with a forcedly cheerful smile, "I do believe it is high time for me to retire. Perhaps a slight bit of meditation before bed shall do me some good." She turned on her heel, cursing herself for the bluntness of her departure.
"Bastila, wait," Carth called out softly.
She stopped in her tracks and turned ever-so-slightly. "Yes?" she asked.
"I, ah, just wanted to say thank you," he replied. "Nobody's ever really tried to help me through this stuff and, well…" Carth let the sentence trail off, reaching up to nervously run a hand through his hair.
"Not a problem. As they say, what are friends for?" Bastila replied smoothly. "Pleasant dreams, Carth."
Carth allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. "Goodnight, Bastila."
She was right; he supposed he could let Xana handle things for just a bit longer. In the meantime…he would just continue to hope.
A myriad of noises wafted through the academy's halls, bouncing off the grey stone and interlacing together to form an eerie, unsettling orchestra. Drops of condensation fell from the ceiling, tiny creatures scuttled around in dusty corners, the ever-present footfalls of the academy guards echoed constantly, and even an occasional scream reverberated through the halls from time to time.
All of these, and more, formed the quiet cacophony that kept Xana awake at night.
She stared at the ceiling in trepidation, shivering under the thin blanket that never kept her warm. Between that, the noises, and the rock-hard bunk beneath her…sleep was most definitely out of the question. There was nothing else to do but sit tight, wait for morning to come, and try not to imagine what was lurking in the shadows.
She curled into a ball, trying to warm herself with her own body heat. The academy was cold and drafty even in the middle of the day; at night it was just downright miserable. Xana had no idea how her crewmates could stand sleeping on the rudimentary benches that had been provided for her room. Even if they did have a good three-fourths of her allotted bedding, it was still nothing short of a miracle.
Xana rolled over to the edge of her bunk and peered over. The footlocker beside her – and all the extra clothing inside – beckoned tantalizingly. But, as luck would have it, Talon had chosen to drag his makeshift bunk right next to said footlocker. Xana bit her lip in consternation. By the looks of things, he had just managed to fall into a light sleep, and sleep didn't come easily around here. If she opened the locker, she would probably wake him up in the process.
She sighed and rolled onto her back, abandoning all hope of getting any rest that night. Let him sleep, she decided. I owe him one anyway.
"Just open it. I'm not really sleeping anyway," he murmured, shifting his forearm so his wrist covered his eyes. Well, so much for that.
"Thanks," Xana whispered back, wincing at the grating creaaaaak that sounded when she opened the ancient footlocker. She quickly withdrew a black sweatshirt and slipped it over her head. As she struggled to get her arms through the sleeves, she looked at Talon curiously. "What are you still doing up?"
Talon's chest rose and fell slowly, leaving Xana wondering if he had fallen asleep for real. At length, he did speak, but the hollowness in his tone chilled Xana even more than the cold and the terrifying noises combined.
"I just…got to thinking about Telos. My parents…my sister…what I could've done to save them," he said, cracking a wry smile. "You'd think I would learn not to dwell on it …but no." He lifted his arm then, opening an eye so he could look at Xana.
"Why are you thinking about that?" she asked confusedly.
"Why not?" he shrugged. "What happened at Telos really isn't something a person can walk away from. Sometimes you think about it because it brings you closure. Other times, you think about it because you can't help it. Then your mind starts to wander, reminding you of all the things you could've done differently; all the lives or memories or keepsakes you could've saved. But no matter what, it always leads to the same thing: no…kriffing…sleep."
"You can't blame yourself…you know that, right?" she reasoned. "You were thirteen then. There was nothing you could've done."
"Yeah, there was," he replied almost immediately.
"What do you mean?"
Talon sighed brokenly. "I'd left my sister in the house that day. Mom had told me to watch her for the afternoon, but she'd been getting annoying, so I just…locked the door behind me and went out to play in the fields for a few minutes. Turns out, the Sith chose those 'few minutes' to bombard my hometown." Talon shifted to the side, tilting his head up so he could meet her wide, shocked gaze. "I could've gone back for her, too. But I was stupid; I just stayed where I was, stomach-down in the grass, hundreds of yards away from town. I figured the house would stay standing.
"I was wrong."
"Why are you telling me this?" Xana breathed, completely taken aback by the suddenness of his confession. "Why now?"
"Because, Xana, it's this place," Talon spat. "It's Dustil and Carth throwing away a perfectly good second chance. It's the fact that any other Telosian survivor would kill for that opportunity, and those two don't even care. And, above all, it's us being in mortal danger over something as stupid as that." He sat up then, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared distantly ahead. "None of it is right."
Xana rose silently, crossing the distance between them in a single step. She hesitated for a moment, her heart nervously skipping a beat as she looked down at his blank, emotionless face. Finally, though, she stooped down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in an awkward hug; clinging to her broken friend as if the very gesture would protect him from the searing pain he felt.
She stepped away then, quickly scuttling back to the cold, unforgiving bunk that made her miss the warmth of the hug moments ago. Taking a deep breath, Xana collected her thoughts and whispered, "What happened at Telos might be over, but you and I can still give Carth his happy ending. I know that everything is really fragged up right now, but I need your help to set it right again. Can you do that?"
"Let me guess," he deadpanned. "You have no plan whatsoever for finding Dustil's proof."
"Not a one," Xana muttered, letting herself fall sideways into her pillow.
"What are we going to do?" Xana asked, looking into Talon's azure eyes from behind the rim of her pillow. "We are running out of time here, and I've got nothing."
"Okay, okay," he relented, sitting up on the stone bench that doubled as his makeshift bunk. "We'll think of something; we always do."
"If only it were that simple," she sighed, burying her face in the pillow again. Raising her head again to stare despondently at the wall, she continued, "I don't even know where to start looking for proof, much less how to get it."
Talon seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "Well…who's the most likely person to keep official records around here?"
"If I could make a guess, I'd say it was Master Uthar. Still, that's pretty much a dead end in itself, because every computer terminal in this academy – save for his own personal terminal – is restricted-access-only, and his quarters are guarded and sealed tight." Xana let her face plop back onto the pillow, dispelling a long breath into its' cold softness. She hated having to brainstorm in this place. Even with a sweatshirt on, Xana felt like the cold was simply soaking through the fabric and attacking her thin frame with as much tenacity as before. She tried to curl up tighter, silently cursing the archaic ventilation system.
A tiny little lightbulb suddenly clicked on in her head.
The archaic ventilation system.
Xana shot up and scrambled out of bed, ignoring Talon's puzzled look as she began rummaging through her footlocker. Having found what she was looking for, she motioned Talon aside. He dutifully scooted aside so she could perch on the edge of his makeshift bunk.
Xana grinned as she powered on the datapad. Talon just groaned at the blinding light and moved to hide under his covers. "Perfect," she said, pointing to the screen. She had brought up a list of local-time chronometers, and apparently, it was now four in the morning in their time zone.
"Why?" he rasped, still attempting to block the light with his blankets. Xana just rolled her eyes and snatched the covers away in one fluid motion, eliciting a very irritated glare from him.
"Because," she said slowly, "This is around the same ungodly hour that all advanced Force-users get up and start meditating. Meaning, of course, that Uthar's quarters are empty. However, it's also highly convenient for us, because there aren't as many guards patrolling at four in the morning, and I can guarantee you that the current ones are probably dead on their feet."
"I still don't follow," he muttered, curling into a ball of cold, unhappy soldier.
"You will," Xana said flippantly. Moving off the bunk, she laid stomach-down on the floor and peered down the open shaft that encircled the room. "Mmhmm, just as I thought."
He tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding what she was up to. "What are you-"
"Shh!" She held up a finger to silence him, then used the same hand to motion him forward.
Reluctantly, Talon left the once-warm sanctuary of his bench and settled down next to Xana. He almost hissed as the cold floor made contact with his belly, but stifled the reaction, as Xana seemed to be faring just fine. He hooked his fingers across the vent's opening and looked down, just as she seemed to be doing.
The ventilation system, which served the double purpose of circulating both light and air to the entire academy, looked dangerous at best. For about twenty feet down, there was nothing but a straight drop lined by solid, unforgiving stone. Then, at the very bottom, the walls sloped together to meet at a very narrow opening, where rivulets of light and a distinctly frigid current emanated from some sort of underground source.
"You're not thinking of actually going down there, are you?" he asked incredulously.
"Yep," she drawled, popping the 'p' at the end of the word. "But before I can do that, you're going to have to do a bit of recon."
"Why do I feel that I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear?" he sighed.
Xana rolled her eyes, "Oh, shush. All you have to do is sneak down the hall and peer into the central chamber to see if Uthar is meditating."
"Aaaaand I was right," Talon deadpanned. "Seriously, what am I supposed to do about the guards? Or worse, what if Uthar just – oh, I don't know – happens to look up and see a 'slave' watching him from the dorm hallways at four in the morning?"
Xana opened the footlocker once more and pulled out a canteen. "As far as anyone is concerned, you're just fetching me a drink of water from the mess hall. Nothing out of the ordinary for a 'slave', even one who just so happens to steal a glance at Uthar as he walks by."
"You think of everything, don't you?" Talon asked dryly.
"Part of the job description, snipertard," Xana replied with a smile. "Although I can't really take credit for everything…a certain Republic soldier did come up with this crazy, death-defying scheme I'm about to undertake, if you recall."
"Oh yes, I remember," Talon replied, playing along. "Do tell me more about this Republic soldier. I'll bet he's dashing, talented-"
Xana nodded, "Dashing, talented, and about to go on his fragging recon mission."
"Okay, fine!" Talon relented, taking the cantina from her hands and fixing her with an accusing glare. "But if I get killed with a lightsaber at any point, I'm never speaking to you again."
"Sounds fair," Xana teased. As he turned to go with an amused shake of the head, she called out quietly, "Just…be careful, okay?"
Talon stopped and gave her a reassuring smile. "Aren't I always?"
Xana sighed and sat on her bunk, watching him walk away. Frag it, that boy is going to be the death of me one day.
Meanwhile, Talon was already making his way down the main dormitory hall. He tried to stick close to the walls, so as to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, but the wary looks of the guards had him wondering if they could sense how fast his heart was beating. They probably could; this place was chock full of Force-sensitives, and it wouldn't be surprising if the guards were Force-sensitive too.
He tried to calm his mind and slow his breathing as he approached the central chamber. It was difficult enough to do recon in a building filled with people who could literally smell fear…but here was the master who orchestrated the whole thing. If he sensed Talon's apprehension…
No. He wouldn't allow himself to think of it.
Steeling his mind, Talon strode out into the central chamber, keeping his footsteps quiet yet purposeful as he approached the nearest corridor. As he passed by, he dared to sneak a momentary glance at the middle of the room. Just as they expected, the Sith's kneeling form was barely visible through the early-morning darkness and the eerie dust-smog that seemed to permeate his meditating grounds.
Talon let out a breath as he sneaked into the kitchens and turned on the water-tap. So far, so good, he thought, purposely trying to keep his mind from imagining the very real possibility that Uthar would appear right behind him when he turned around.
He really didn't want to go back out there, but Xana was counting on him, and he would have to cross that expanse of cold stone and unadulterated dark-sidedness sooner or later. As he walked and attempted to busy his mind with contemplation, the irony of their roles was not lost on him. He was supposed to be here to protect her, but he really only felt safe when he was in her company. After all, what could he do against even one Sith apprentice, much less an entire horde of them?
The thought almost caused a rush of fear to spike in his mind, but he caught it just in time. Even so, he couldn't help but feel relieved when he finally turned down the hallway that led to Xana's quarters.
Xana had obviously taken advantage of the momentary privacy to change into a pair of black skinny jeans and put on a stealth generator. She had been putting on her boots just as he turned the corner, and she immediately looked up at Talon when he entered the room.
"You're all clear," he said.
"Guess it's go-time, then," she murmured. "Stay next to the vent and be ready to haul me up when I come back, okay?" Xana looked very reluctant all of a sudden. Talon couldn't blame her. She was breaking into a Sith lord's quarters, after all, and they had no idea what the scope of his power or sensory abilities was. He could potentially detect her presence and kill her right away, if she was careless enough.
The very thought sent chills down his spine, and it was obvious from the look on her face that she'd been thinking the exact same thing. "Hey," Talon said quietly, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. "You'll do fine, and I'll be right here when you get back. Just…please be careful?"
She just gave a pensive nod, and he gave her one last reassuring smile as he stepped away.
Xana took a deep breath and set her gaze firmly on the vent. It was now or never.
She took a running start and dropped down the mouth of the vent in one fluid motion. With only nanoseconds to spare before her legs impacted the brutal stone slope at the bottom, she activated her lightsabers and plunged them into the walls to slow her descent. Two long, nasty-looking scorch marks followed in her wake, but hopefully, she would be long-gone before anyone noticed them.
Xana arrived at the bottom of the vent with only the gentlest of nudges, her feet unceremoniously sliding on the steep slope as she tried to steady herself. Deactivating her lightsabers, she very carefully bent down to inspect the opening along the base of the vent. It was barely large enough for a human to squeeze through, but Xana could probably manage it.
Beyond the opening was a large, sprawling room that seemed to span the dormitory's length. It was dominated by archaic, barred ventilation shafts and wide light-panels set into the floor. Narrow stone pathways snaked between these light panels; no doubt, so maintenance personnel could repair the light sources and ventilation system when they broke down.
She looked up when she heard Talon walk over to the vent's edge. Meeting his worried gaze with a smile and thumbs-up, she gestured toward the maintenance room. He nodded in response, and his figure withdrew back to the safety of her quarters.
Xana held her breath and wriggled through the vent's opening, silently praying that there wasn't some type of nasty vermin waiting inside the maintenance chamber. She barely managed to contain a shout of surprise when she finally tumbled to the floor in an ungraceful heap. Luckily, there were no mutant, Sith-like rodents or insects waiting to ambush her; the chamber was completely bare, if not incredibly creepy.
Here, she would have to be careful. If she cast a shadow or made a noise, it would most likely project to the nearest room and alert somebody to her presence. Pulling the datapad from the pocket of her sweatshirt, she powered it on and accessed a map of the academy. She then proceeded down the stone catwalk silently but quickly, the soles of her boots making only the slightest of noises.
Two rights and a quick left soon led her to a dead end. The room ahead, however, was more spacious than the students' quarters, and Xana's map indicated that the locked maintenance gate in front of her was directly underneath a much larger door. This had to be it.
The 'gate' in front of her was really a heavily-secured durasteel door, obviously added in the later centuries of the academy's existence. Xana couldn't help but feel her stomach sink with anxiety. Even after studying the art of bypassing security underMission's experienced tutelage, her skills were average at best. Still, this had to be done.
She fished a security spike from her pocket, suddenly glad that she'd had the foresight to anticipate something like this, and got to work on the door's panel. It took a few tries, and a lot of conscious effort to keep her tampering from alerting the guards directly above her head, but she finally broke the lock. Carefully, she dug her fingers into the gap between the durasteel plates and pushed one end aside. It wouldn't do to palm the door open; the resulting swoosh would be just as bad as setting off an intruder alarm.
Once she was directly underneath Uthar's quarters, Xana held her breath and listened. Not a sound emanated from the room above.
Taking this as her cue to move, Xana jumped and hooked a leg over the maintenance opening. Silently cursing whatever 'brilliant' architect had made the gap so small, she nonetheless managed to squeeze through and roll out into the vent.
Xana scowled as she eyed the ascent in front of her. There was no way she would be able to make the climb with just her bare hands and feet; the walls were made completely out of smooth stone. So, there was only one alternative.
Her heart started to hammer as she gripped her lightsaber hilts once more. The sound of the blades activating echoed like thunder in the hollow chamber, and Xana hoped beyond hope that the guards had not heard it. If they had, however – and Xana had no idea to tell whether or not this was true – she needed to be quick about getting the information.
Failure was not an option here. She would either get Dustil's proof, or die trying.
Xana jammed her purple blade into the wall and jumped up, sinking her red saber into the stone just a little bit higher. She scaled the wall in this manner, using her lightsabers like ice-picks as she ascended higher and higher. Her thin arms pulsed with pain from supporting her entire weight, and the pads of her fingers grew red and angry from the intense pressure, but Xana pushed on stubbornly, refusing to loosen her grip for a second. It seemed like an eternity before she was able to get her arms up onto the edge of Uthar's floor and hoist herself up.
She rolled over on the grungy stone and stared up at the ceiling, her limbs feeling numb from the climb. The earlier duel with Dustil had already taken its toll on her not-so-impressive musculature, and she was not doing her body any favors by taking on impromptu ninja-training in the same night.
Suck it up and get moving, chica, she berated herself. Grudgingly rolling over and getting to her feet, Xana forced herself to stumble over to Uthar's terminal. Her fingers gently grazed the screen, causing the computer to whir to life and display the database's login screen. Xana synched her datapad with the terminal and got to work.
Using the tiny tablet, she quickly located the database, bypassed the security measures, and ran a search on Dustil. Columns of information ran down the datapad and terminal screens in tandem, Xana's eyes darting to and fro as she absorbed every line with a practiced concentration. Eventually, both machines finally displayed a short list of files: Dustil's student profile, some archived test scores, and, curiously, a number of personal journal entries with his name in them. Xana grinned and quickly copied the files to her datapad. Mission accomplished.
Suddenly, a voice sounded from outside. "I'm telling you, sir, I heard a lightsaber in there!"
Oh, frag. Xana's eyes widened to the size of saucers and her heart leapt into her throat. She raced to desynchronize her datapad and power down the terminal, mentally ranting at the academy's slow, outdated technology. Uthar's footsteps could already be heard echoing down the dormitory hall…
Xana was out of time; she had to hide. Thinking quickly, she sprinted across the room and dove under the bed, activating her stealth generator as soon as she hit the floor. The stone door slid open with a foreboding sound, and Xana unconsciously scrunched up into a ball; trying to make herself more inconspicuous despite the fact that she was already invisible.
She could hear Uthar's footsteps clacking slowly, deliberately, across the stone floor. With all the mental strength she could muster, she tried to hide her presence in the Force, shutting her eyes and imagining a blanket of pure nothingness protecting her trembling form.
The footsteps stopped right in front of her hiding place, and her heart seemed to stop right along with them. Xana could practically feel the Sith lord's calculating eyes roving over the room; his mind scanning the area with practiced precision.
Xana huddled even tighter underneath the bunk's stone frame. Her heart was wildly beating with anticipation of her impending discovery. She knew what would occur next, and she knew it was not going to be pleasant. She would be captured and interrogated as a Republic spy, along with the rest of her crew, and the lot of them would likely die on this planet.
Mostly, though, Xana was afraid for her crew. Her heart ached to think of innocent littleMissionand sweet, caring Talon at the mercy of these ruthless monsters…Carth being sold out by his own son…Bastila and Juhani looking sadly at Xana like the failed protector she was…
Just as Xana was steeling herself for a pair of gray, ice-cold hands to reach under the bunk and drag her out from her hiding place, Uthar spoke up again.
"You incompetent fools, there is no one in this room!" he shouted, storming away to mete out his wrath to the unfortunate guards. Xana clamped her eyes shut as the sound of Force-lightning echoed through the hall. Even though she had used that very same ability countless times before, it chilled her to the core to know that she herself had almost been on the receiving end of it.
Five, then ten minutes, passed before Xana felt safe enough to crawl out from under the bunk. Wasting no time, she scrambled for the vent opening and levered herself over the edge. She couldn't risk activating her lightsabers again, so she would just have to free-fall and hope for the best.
Still, she didn't care. She just wanted to get as far away from Uthar's quarters as possible.
Steeling herself for the fall, Xana braced a foot against either side of the vent and let go. She slid down the smooth walls much too quickly and, unable to control her descent, she stumbled at the very bottom and twisted her right ankle as her left leg slipped through the maintenance opening. Xana hissed at the sudden spike of pain, but she forced herself to keep going. She didn't have any medpacs on her, but Talon certainly would, and right now all she truly wanted was to get back to him.
Xana maneuvered down into the maintenance chamber and dropped down onto the catwalk once again. Her mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as the impact jostled her ankle. She promptly reached over and attempted to do a Force-heal on the injured limb, but it was no use. The pain was disrupting her concentration too much, and all she succeeded in doing was numbing the pain ever-so-slightly.
It would have to do. Adrenaline began to fully numb the pain, and, as quietly as she could, Xana darted across the light panels and toward the end of the sub-level. The draft almost seemed to toy with her, sending rivulets of fear shooting up and down her spine. Every slight gust felt like cold fingers closing around her arms, the soft roar of the wind sounded eerily like the thrumming of a lightsaber, and the frigid drafts seemed to permeate her very being. With no small amount of effort, she forced the treacherous thoughts to the back of her mind, choosing instead to focus on the end of her perilous escapade. She gritted her teeth, leapt up into the dormitory vent, and sunk her lightsabers into the wall.
It didn't matter anymore if she was doing even more damage to her injured ankle. There was no way for Talon to come and get her, and she would not stay trapped in a vent like a wounded animal. So she scaled the wall little by little, ignoring the waves of pain washing over her and focusing on the calm respite at the end of this insane escapade.
Her strength finally gave out a few feet short of the top. There was just no way she could climb anymore; she was simply too tired and too hurt. She let out a strangled whisper, "Talon!"
The soldier, who had been watching the hallway for incoming guards, quickly rushed over to the vent. He got down on his stomach and offered a hand to her, which she gratefully grasped. With her free hand, Xana deactivated her lightsabers and clipped them back onto her belt. Then, she finally gave her other hand to Talon and let him haul her back up to ground-level.
She collapsed in his arms as soon as she was safely situated on the familiar stone floor. Before he had a chance to ask any questions, though, she gasped, "Never…again. I do not fragging care how cool those spy holovids are, I do not want to reenact one of them ever again. Now please get me a fragging medpac."
Still supporting the exhausted Jedi with one arm, Talon reached over to the footlocker and dug out a medpac. His brow furrowed in concern as he looked her over for any injuries. "You okay? They didn't catch you, did they?"
Xana shut her eyes and shook her head, "No, but Uthar almost did. It's okay, though…I got the information." With a trembling hand, she dug around in her pocket and produced the datapad. "That's what really matters, right?"
"No," Talon said quietly, taking the datapad and setting it on the floor. "No, it's not. You kriffing scared me half to death when you didn't come back after thirty minutes. I thought…" He trailed off awkwardly; she knew what he was going to say anyway. Remembering the hypospray in his hand, he held it up and asked, "Uh…where exactly are you hurt?"
"Ankle," she said simply, pointing at her right foot. "I had to free-fall down Uthar's vent, and I slipped when I hit that weird slope thingy at the bottom. Pretty lame, huh?" She scooted away and held out her foot, grimacing, "Just get that boot off and inject the hypospray real quick. It's gonna hurt like heck either way."
Talon tugged off the boot as gently as possible, though it still elicited a hiss of pain from the injured Jedi. He winced sympathetically once he saw the purple bruising around the ailing limb; she had sprained it pretty badly.
A wave of righteous anger washed over him then – he simply couldn't abide the fact that Dustil had treated her so callously, even though she had been willing to go through so much to rescue him from the Sith. Quickly, he injected the hypospray into the wound, muttering, "I swear, when I get my hands on that ungrateful little Sith-spawn…"
"Talon," Xana cut in reprovingly. "Look, I know the kid's acting like an arse right now, but it was my decision to help him out like this. I'm willing to accept the consequences for my choices, and you need to respect that."
"I realize that!" Talon retorted, leaning back against the bunk's edge in an exasperated fashion. "I just can't comprehend why you're putting up with all of this. I know you, Xana; well enough to know that you don't take this kind of crap from anyone. So, why?"
"Because I made a promise," she said quietly, taking off her other shoe and shifting so that she was sitting beside him. "And, I mean, I just wanted to do something right for once. This whole time, I've just been playing everything by ear; the heroics, the plans, the rescuing of innocent civvies..." She smiled reflectively, looking up at the boy beside her, "Maybe saving a broken-up teenage boy from the Sith is what I need to prove that I can really be a hero."
Talon just shook his head with an amused smile and drew her into a one-armed hug. "But you don't have to prove yourself…at least, not like this. You're already a hero to me, Mish, and just about everyone else on the Hawk; whether you mean to be or not."
Xana sighed and leaned her head back against his arm, using it as a pillow. "Some things you just have to prove to yourself," she replied quietly, closing her eyes. "One of the worst things about human nature is that you're always your own worst critic. But thanks anyway…it really means a lot to me, especially coming from you." Ordinarily, she would've winced at the blunt honesty she was regarding him with, but right now she was too tired, and she just wanted to put the world on hold and simply regard something, anything, with the brutal clarity of one who simply didn't have the strength to throw up barriers anymore.
"Anytime, Thunder," he yawned. Talon hadn't allowed himself to feel sleepy in days – the entire planet just kept him on edge, looking around every corner and shadow for hidden dangers. But for once, disaster had been averted and there was simply nothing more to do than wait until sunrise and brace himself for the next crisis to come. For the moment, he was safe and so was Xana; they would live to see another day, and given the circumstances, that was all he could really ask for.
The two fell into a comfortable silence then; one that seemed to settle gently over their worn nerves and soothe away their sleep-deprived anxiety. It was such a contrast to the constant chaos and danger surrounding them, that they couldn't help but just sit back and pretend time had stopped for a few moments. It was a welcome respite just to be able to sit with each other and listen to the academy slowly come alive around them. They managed a few short, stunted conversations about inane things like errands and holovids and shipboard gossip, but they usually fell silent after a few minutes – either because the silence seemed too precious to taint with such superficial talk, or because either one became too sleepy to remember where the conversation had been going in the first place.
Before they knew it, a half-hour had passed, and then another. Talon didn't even mind when his arm started to fall sleep; he simply shifted so it was settled more securely about her and retreated back to the peaceful twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. Xana had been too drowsy to even notice the movement. By then, her breathing had long since slowed to a steady lull, and her eyes hadn't opened once since she had sat down next to him.
All too soon, the room began to brighten as the sun's piercing rays dawned and shone through the chinks in the stone wall. Talon winced as the bright light fell onto his face, shifting to get out of the sunbeam and then recoiling from the neck pain that resulted. He received a swift but light punch to the chest for the movement, along with a grumbled, "Stop moving, snipertard."
Still squinting against the morning light, Talon looked down at the half-asleep Jedi sitting next to him. He must have also fallen asleep at some point, because Xana was now huddled in a ball; her knees and arms cradled against her torso as she rested her forehead on his shoulder. He almost considered just resting his head against the bunk's stone frame and going back to sleep, but a conveniently timed sun-glare reminded him that, one hour of sleep or no, a new day had begun and they needed to get moving.
Talon nudged his drowsy Jedi companion as gently as possible, not looking forward to the backlash that would follow. Even after a solid twelve hours of sleep, Xana Dakari came out of her slumber like a gundark emerging from hibernation. Her current reaction promised to be ten, if not a hundred, times worse.
Xana sat up unsteadily, running a hand over her face as she blinked the overwhelming tiredness away. Folding her arms on top of her knees and then burying her face in her sleeves, she muttered, "Ungh…somebody is going to have hell to pay this morning."
Talon cringed as she turned her weary, bloodshot eyes to him. He wouldn't dare admit it out loud, but as adorable and harmless as she looked when she was asleep, she did not wear mornings well. Not that he was one to judge; he was willing to bet that he looked identically run-down and haggard.
Xana stood up all of a sudden, motioning for him to do the same. Wearing a sinister smirk on her face, she said, "But before I drag through this day on caffa grounds and pure awesomeness alone…I'm going to need to do something first."
"Shall we?" Xana asked, looking over at Talon. The two were currently standing over Dustil's sleeping form and clutching identical pillows.
"You do the honors," Talon replied.
"Thank you, m'dear, I shall make the most of it," Xana said. Without further ado, she promptly raised the pillow over her head and brought it down on Dustil's face with all the strength she could muster. Talon stepped in then, sideswiping the Sith apprentice so hard that he actually tumbled out of bed in a mess of flailing limbs and blankets.
"Best idea ever," Talon said, exchanging a quick high-five with Xana.
Dustil scrambled up and scowled at the two older teenagers, his face crimson with fury. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?" he demanded.
"Keep your shorts on, you little angst-muffin," Xana snapped, rolling her eyes. She promptly dug a datapad out of her pocked and tossed it into Dustil's lap. "There's your fragging proof. And just so you know, I expect full 'I told you so' rights for the duration of your stay on my ship." With that, Xana and Talon promptly turned around and strode down the hallway.
Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Dustil picked up the datapad. He'd only issued the challenge to get Xana to leave him alone; he certainly hadn't expected her to actually succeed at getting some information.
Dustil scoffed at the very idea. In all truth, he reasoned, she'd probably just compiled a bunch of Republic propaganda from the HoloNet and copied it to the datapad. He would just breeze through her poor excuse for an argument and turn the lot of them in as soon as sunrise came…
With a self-assured smirk, he climbed back up on the bunk and powered on the datapad. As soon as his eyes fell on the words, however, his smug grin promptly fell and was replaced by a look of grave concern. "How did she-" he muttered to himself, almost not believing that she had really gotten a hold of Uthar's personal journal. But the file source was legitimate, and anyway, it didn't matter. Selene's name was on this document, and he had to find out what it contained.
As he read on, his concerned expression faded to a blank stare, and then transitioned into a look of complete, unadulterated horror. He scrolled back up and read the journal over again, just to make sure the information before his eyes was truly real. Eventually, he simply let the datapad fall from his fingers and clatter to the floor, too shocked and ashamed to do anything else.
He let himself fall back onto his empty bunk, staring at the ceiling as the amber rays of sunrise began to dance in ironically cheery patterns on the academy's ancient walls. In the distance, he could hear students beginning to move about and prepare for the day. Still, he couldn't even bear to make himself move, much less get out of bed.
Xana had been right. The Sith had merely been playing him all along.
He needed to get out of here.
AN: Hey, well, I'm back! :D Sorry for the obscenely long wait, but it only makes sense that I make up for my longest hiatus ever with my longest chapter ever, right? This one JUST WOULDN'T QUIT until it hit 22 pages (gah...), and between school, work-related stuff, and holidays, you can probably see how this would be such a beast to write...
BUT ANYWAY, thank you to writtenrhythm for beta reading this mega-chapter almost overnight! Totally made my day to see that file sitting in my inbox that one morning. :D
So now that we've got the intros and fluff all out of the way, it's time for me to write the tomb-raider chapter and introduce our little angst-muffin to everybody's favorite blue Twi'lek! Say it with me now: YAAAAAAAAY! I've been waiting to get to this part forever, Dustil and Mission are great in stories together, so I don't know why there is a distinct lack of fics with them both in it.
Anywho, please leave a review; tell me what you think of the little ninja-like spin I put on Dustil's sidequest (sweet fracknuggets, that was so fun to write), how the pairings are coming along, ideas for what you'd like to see in future chapters, et cetera. Thanks! :)