TWO

Mission looked after Case's departing figure. Something weird was going on—Jolee was not his usual cranky self. She pushed down her fear, getting stronger every day they spent on Coruscant, that things were falling apart. Zalbaar had already left, and she worried that she was going to lose Carth and Case, too. The Jedi and Fleet weren't just going to let some kid hang around while they went off on assignments—they weren't her parents, after all. She could take care of herself, of course, but where would she go?

"You look like your pet gizka died, Mission," Dustil broke into her thoughts.

She flushed again. Dustil was a nice guy, but he acted like they were friends, and they'd really just met. He'd been so mean to Carth on Korriban, and she just wasn't sure that she was ready to pretend like nothing had happened. "No, I just wonder what's going on. Can't you tell that something is?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you're right. The Force feels different today than it did yesterday—people are worried about something." He was breaking tekka chips into tiny pieces and absently pushing them into piles.

"You're ruining the chips, Dustil," she pointed out with a smile.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Look, Mission," he changed subjects abruptly, "what's the deal with you and my father?"

Mission was startled. "What do you mean? I'm not—he's—it's Case that—"

"No, don't be stupid. Not like that. I mean, why are you hanging around him all the time, acting like he's responsible for you? You're not his kid."

Mission didn't know what to say. Dustil's expression hadn't changed at all—he didn't look angry, but that just made his words more confusing and. . .scarier, sort of. She tried to choose her words carefully "I don't know—he's just a nice guy, that's all, and he trusted me on Taris like a grownup, you know? Not like a kid, even though he sometimes treats me like one. You know how he is. And, plus," she continued, "he knows what it's like when your homeworld isn't there anymore. Like you do, too." She ducked her head a little, tried to get him back to his usual easygoing self.

Dustil leaned across the table, eyes narrowed. "He's not your father, Mission, he's mine." He held up a hand and made a fist, and Mission suddenly couldn't breathe. She couldn't even gasp. She tried to stand—her vision slid to red—

—and everything was suddenly normal again. Dustil was leaning back on the bench, smiling. "—I think that I have a chance to get on the baird team here. I used to play a lot on Telos, and then again on Korriban. What do you think?" He looked at her expectantly, no trace of hatred on his face.

Mission gaped at him, completely confused. Had any of that just happened? Did she imagine it? Or had he really used some kind of Dark Force power on her? But here he was, chatting about baird ball. So maybe she'd just lost it for a second. "I, um, yeah. I think you'll be great on the team. Look, I have to go. But thanks for the chips." She stumbled away from the table and ran out of the room.

She was panting and shaking by the time she got back to her apartment. She didn't know what was going on, but it was bad. Very bad.

The door to their apartment was slightly ajar, which most likely meant that Carth had returned. Case bit her lower lip and tried to squash the nervousness that filled her stomach. She had to leave, had to find out what the threat was beyond the Outer Rim and stop it if she could.

And she had to do it alone. The Council had commanded her to take Dustil with her to the Sith Academy. He could get them both inside. She would do what the Council required of her, but Case knew that she would have to leave Dustil there and go on by herself. Once she rediscovered whatever it was on Korriban that she had found before, she would leave to find the threat and meet it. Carth would insist on coming with her if she told him, and she knew that she could never allow him to do that. The thought turned her courage to water, but she knew what had to be done, and she couldn't risk Carth's life, or his new relationship with Dustil. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. You faced down Darth Malak, idiot! You can handle one Republic pilot.

Carth was standing at the window with his back to the door, hands crossed at the small of his back. She took a moment to admire the view, the sturdy soldier's stance, the lean muscles of his forearms. She would miss him so much. "I've decided to let all of the first-year Padawans walk by me in a line and bash me in the head with their practice vibroblades," she announced with false cheer. "I think that might knock some sense into it."

He turned, smiled. She got a hint of discomfort from him, but quickly shut off her connection to his emotional state—she couldn't let herself be persuaded by his feelings. He crossed the room and kissed the top of her head. "Can I be at the end of the line?" he asked.

She ducked away and swatted him in the rear. "Hey! You're supposed to be horrified at my penchant for self-flagellation, not enabling it." She continued, "Seriously, Carth, I'm sorry. I should never have let you go into the Council room unprepared." It seemed like years ago that they had been in front of the Council, but it had only been that morning. So much had changed in just a few hours.

"But you agree with the Council."

"Dustil is unbelievably strong in the Force, Carth. He's a danger to himself and to us if he stays half-trained. Believe me when I say that I would never do anything to hurt him, or you."

Carth looked a little sad when he smiled. "I know. It's just hard, knowing that I'm going to lose him again, at least for a while. But at least he'll be safe on Coruscant, and that's something."

She edged onto the bed. He'd forgiven her, as she knew he would. But she knew his forgiveness was short-lived and she desperately wanted one last memory of him before she destroyed their love. She forced a wide grin and leaned back on her elbows. "Wanna make up?"

Carth waggled his eyebrows at her leeringly. "Maybe you need some punishing first."

"Oh, no! What ever will I do? Who will save me now?" She wailed as she pulled him onto her.

An hour later, she rolled away from Carth's weight on her chest and fumbled for her clothes. He cracked open one eye, growling. "You always do that right when I start to fall asleep."

She pulled her shirt over her head. She could put it off telling him until that night, but it wouldn't be any easier then. She ought to just get it over with.

"Carth, I—" she started.

"Case, I need to ask—" he said at the same time.

She laughed. "Okay, you go first."

He got his own clothes rearranged and stood up, suddenly agitated. He ran a hand under his hair. "Case, the Fleet is sending me on assignment to Telos. I don't know how long it will be, but Admiral Dodonna thought it wouldn't be more than three months."

Case struggled with her surprise. But she was supposed to be breaking the bad news to him! "I don't know what to say, Carth," she started.

He sat back on the bed and took her hands in his. His eyes pleaded with her for understanding. "I'm sorry, Case, I tried to get out of it, but when the Admiral told me it was Telos. . .there's something going on there, people going missing, and the Sith are probably behind it. It's in one of the repaired sectors on the surface, near Marne, where I lived before—before everything. I have to do what I can to find out what's going wrong. Will you come with me?"

"I, er, well, actually—"

"I'm supposed to go back and help run the reconstruction as a liaison from the Fleet. When I find out what's going on, I can report back to the Admiral. But it would fit, if you come with me. As—as my wife."

Her breath caught. No, not this. Not now. "Are you asking—"

He got down on a knee next to the bed, hands still intertwined with hers. "Will you marry me, Case? I know we have things to work out, but we love each other, and I know we can do this together. I want to spend my life with you, whatever we decide to do."

Tears filled her eyes. There was no justice in the Universe. "I—I love you, Carth, you know that."

The hopeful smile on his face faded. "But."

She couldn't bear to look him in the eye. "I just got back from another meeting with the Council. They've ordered me to Korriban. Intelligence says there's a new threat, not a Sith Lord yet, but if we don't stop it—they don't know what it is, but they think it may come from Korriban, from the new headmaster at the Academy. We're losing young Jedi, and there are few enough as it is. I have to go, and we can't risk non-Jedi going with me."

"But what does that have to do with—"

"They've ordered me to take Dustil," she said.

Carth abruptly let go of her hands, rocked back on his heels. "Why?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

She shrugged. "They need us to get back into the Academy. Dustil didn't tell anyone that he was leaving; he just left. He should be able to get back inside, and I—well, I'm the Dark Lord Revan, remember?"

"You're not." He was angry now.

"I am, Carth. Yes, I rejected her, but I still have part of her inside me. The Sith will believe that I've turned against the Light, because they can't conceive why I wouldn't. If I can use that to help the Republic, how can I refuse?"

He stood and paced away from her. "We should be invading the Academy, not sending people inside it! Why allow a known enemy encampment to stand? If you insist on throwing your life away, I can't stop you, but I can stop you from taking my son with you!"

She realized that this was the opportunity that she had been waiting for. She had to do it now, and do it so well that he would never want to see her again. "You can't, Carth. He's already agreed to go. He is an adult, and a Jedi." She closed her eyes briefly to gather her courage, then filled her voice with Persuasion and reached for him with the Force. "You know it's for the best."

His eyes glazed over for a moment. "Maybe you're right, maybe it's for the—" he shook his head suddenly. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

She flushed with shame and pretended embarrassment. Nothing would push him away like the fear of betrayal. She fumbled, "I—I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"You thought you could just control me?" The anger and fear he projected nearly knocked her over. He pointed at her, hand shaking with the intensity of his outrage. "You—you keep away from me." He turned on his heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Case maintained the pretense of calm just long enough for him to get out of the main hallway before she collapsed back to the bed. What kind of a monster am I? She had lost him forever now, she knew. And she had done it on purpose. She didn't try to stop the sobs that seemed to come straight from her soul.

Dustil watched Mission's departing figure with a bit of a smile. He'd scared her, probably, but she would never reveal him to the Council. She was one of those types that would blame herself, try to figure out why she made him do it, rather than start with the assumption that she did nothing. He pushed away the thought that she didn't deserve his abuse. She shouldn't act so. . .comfortable with everyone, treating him like he was the outsider to her little messed up family. It was her fault.

Three days of Jedi evaluation, and those sticks never figured out that he was keeping a little stash of his old Dark powers in reserve. Not for general use, of course—he wasn't about to become a Dark Jedi—but just to give him a little edge when he needed it. Something more powerful than that "Force Aura" nonsense they taught Padawans. Hopefully, having some unexpected skills would let him catch up to his own age group quicker. He wasn't looking forward to being shown up by the ten-year-olds in his Initiate classes.

His special assignment would help, too. It was a nice boost to his ego to be chosen to accompany Revan to Korriban and find out what they were digging up in the Academy. You didn't find many Initiates asked to do important missions like that. His prestige would certainly increase. And maybe he could learn a thing or two from Revan, making him that much more powerful when he returned.

Dustil brushed the last of the tekka crumbs into this hand and dumped them into the closest trash can. He made his way back out into the bright sunshine of Coruscant and made for the living quarters. He needed to tell his father about his trip. He had only a vague idea where his father's apartment was—there might be more light and privacy in the Enclave, but it was no less confusing that the arrangement on Korriban. At least there, he'd worked his way into a nice room at the end of the hall. Here, he was stuck with quarters smaller than those on the ship that had brought him to Coruscant, and tomorrow, he'd lose even that luxury. Initiates bunked ten to a room, with only a chest for their personal items.

He approached the door to his father's apartment and could see that it was ajar. He listened outside for a moment—a habit he had found very useful on Korriban—and heard the unexpected sound of laughter from the room. Revan must be in there. They were rooming together, he knew, but he didn't often see the two of them alone together. Usually one of them was with Mission or part of a group. He listened for a moment more and realized suddenly what they were doing in there. Not telling jokes, that was for sure. His lip curled and he struggled to push down the sudden flare of anger that shot up inside him. His hand was in the air and pointed toward the room before he realized it. He jerked it down quickly and practically ran from the hallway. Jedi whore! She wasn't worth his Dark powers.

He made his way blindly from hallway to hallway and found himself outside again in a courtyard. It took him a second to realize where he was—it was the "welcome" area between the spaceport and the Enclave. There was a greeting area to his left, manned by a bored-looking Padawan girl. She was calmly trying to explain to an irritated visitor that he was not authorized to enter the Enclave.

Dustil left them to their arguing and found a bench under a tree near the wall. There was a small arrangement of trees and a pond next to the bench. There was probably some cosmic significance to the order of the plants and the fish in the pond, but Dustil could care less what that was. He was just glad to be away from the living quarters.

Well, did you think they were rooming together to save space? he taunted himself. Stop acting like a five-year-old. But Revan, of all people? Who the hell did that woman think she was, anyway, showing up and insinuating her way into his father's life? She might make his father forget his family, but she couldn't make Dustil do it. He pulled a small stone from his pocket, almost perfectly round, and flecked green with crystallized minerals. He'd found it on Telos the day before the attack, and somehow he'd managed to keep it with him for the last four years. It was worn smooth from turning it over and over in his hand.

That had been a terrible day. The day Telos was bombed.

He had been camping with the Valenta boys at a lake near the colony. The twins had managed to crib some Tarisian ale from their parents' stash, and they'd passed the bottle around most of the night. Dustil mostly mouthed the bottle and avoided drinking much because his mother had promised to keep him off the baird team if she ever caught him drinking. He didn't want to come home smelling like alcohol. The twins were pretty tanked, though, and they all made fun of their teachers and rated the local girls in comparison with the holovid actresses. It was a good time. He could still remember the way the sand felt under his sleeping bag and the smell of salt in the air.

They woke up late the next morning to the sound of the emergency klaxon.

"Tornados?" Jirin asked, nervous. The boy's freckles stood out against his pale skin.

"Nah," Jan replied. "It's totally clear out. Maybe it's just a drill." The colonies were still relatively isolated from each other, and they ran readiness drills every few weeks, for invasion, for dangerous weather, for earthquake.

Dustil started gathering up his sleeping bag. "Well, if it's a drill, guys, we'd better get to our DMLs or we're going to catch it from the Director. I don't want to pick up trash in the square next week." Each colony sector had a designated meeting location for minors and nonessential adults.

"Fine, let's go. Stupid drills." They all hustled back on their scooters and made it back just as the gates were closing. The guard looked terrified.

"What's goin' on, Tally?" Dustil asked. He didn't like the look on the sentry's face.

"Get to your DMLs!" he shouted. "Hurry! It's the Sith! They're here!"

Dustil's stomach dropped. The Sith? On Telos? The Sith had been the bad guys in all their history lessons and make believe stories their whole lives, but they were always "out there" somewhere, not exactly real. Different than Mandalorians, scarier, because they had Jedi powers. Dustil could never get his father to tell him stories about his battles with the Sith, or any battles, for that matter, but some of the retired soldiers had told them all a few. They wore black armor and would kill you as soon as look at you. They could control your mind with a gesture and make you kill your friends. Even the Jedi could be killed by them.

Jirin started whimpering beside him, and Jan was frozen to his spot. Dustil grabbed Jirin by the arm and dragged him roughly toward the town center. "Come on, idiot, we can't just stand here!" Jan found his feet and ran ahead of them.

The town center was strangely silent. Usually, even in real emergencies, people were chattering or moving around. The little kids were always shrieking in excitement. This time, though, people were standing around in small groups, whispering or just staring at the exterior walls. No one seemed to know what to do.

The twins ran toward their mom, who started crying with relief and hugged them both. "Boys! I thought you'd be trapped outside!" she cried. She smiled at Dustil, who was standing by awkwardly. His mother was one of the emergency management leaders, so she was never at a DML. He could see her a few blocks away, blaster rifle in hand, guarding the armory. She was craning her neck to see into the crowd, so Dustil waved to let her know he'd returned. She waved back, and then returned her attention to the person speaking to her.

Jirin's mom said to the woman next to her, "I heard Carth Onasi's task force is on its way back, and the Fleet is sending a Capital ship to repel the invasion."

The other woman looked relieved. "That's good news. Captain Onasi's team should be able to hold them off until the Capital ship arrives. He won't let us down."

Dustil's chest filled with pride despite the nearly palpable fear in the air around him. His father would keep them safe. Maybe he'd even get to stay a while and help with any repairs. He'd been gone a lot, lately, and Dustil sometimes heard his mother crying in their bedroom at night. He didn't like it when she cried.

Five hours later, nothing had happened and everyone was starting to get bored. Dustil had beaten Carrine Nela at Pazaak four hands in a row, and she wouldn't play with him anymore. The twins were doing something complicated with dice, and the tension in the air had lowered greatly. People started grumbling that the warning was wrong, that they had work to do. Even the guards were looking at their chronos.

That was when it happened, of course. It was a different sound than Dustil expected, not the high-pitched whizzing that he saw on the newsvids, but a whishy pop, like air coming out of a ball all at once. It was only when he saw the smoke that he realized what was happening.

"They're attacking from the air! Everyone get under cover!" someone shouted.

Despite all of their drills, everyone panicked and ran in a different direction. Dustil dashed for the infirmary—it was close by, and its walls were reinforced titansteel in case of bad weather. It was the strongest building in the colony. He looked back for the twins and couldn't find them, but he saw Carrine standing stupidly in the center of the now deserted square. She looked lost. "Carrine!" he shouted. "Over here!"

She looked in his direction with the terrified, empty stare of a halick trapped by a kath hound. She took two steps in his direction when there was another pop and she disappeared into dust. There was just a crater where she had been.

Dustil stared at the now-empty space for a moment, until another explosion reminded him to duck. He crouched low against the wall, shaking in fear. He tried to see across to the armory, but there was so much smoke and dust that he couldn't see a meter in front of him. His mother was smart, she'd be fine, he told himself over and over. She'd be fine.

An hour later, he was still huddled in the door frame of the infirmary, and the smoke had started to settle. At one point during the attack, the back wall of the building had collapsed with a screeching crash. Dustil had thought he was dead for sure, then. But the roof tilted back and stopped two feet above his head. It was dark and dusty, but it was safe. When it had been silent for almost half an hour, Dustil crawled out from the rubble on his belly and looked around. The town center was black with char, and most of the buildings nearby had collapsed. He could hear wailing and screams all around him, but the silence underneath it was worse. Something was gone in the town, and he belatedly realized that it was the lives of most of the people. He had never been conscious of feeling them before, but now that it was gone, the loss was like a heavy silence pressing on his ears.

He decided to get across the square toward the armory. He had only gone twenty meters when he heard a low moaning near him. He turned and saw one of the guards under the rubble, blood coming from his nose and mouth. "Help. . .help me," he whispered.

Dustil went to him, reached out a trembling hand, but the man stopped breathing before he could touch him. Dustil felt his life force go. The smell of burning hair and metal was everywhere, and he gagged. Where was his father? Why had he not come to save them?

"Dustil," he heard ahead of him. His blood froze and his stomach lurched again. He knew that voice. It was his mother.

He could hardly make his legs move toward her, but he could see her, dark hair a cloud around her head. She was pinned under a beam, heavy metal pushing on her stomach and legs. "Mother," he said, and tugged at the beam. It was too heavy to move.

"Dustil," she said again, reaching her hand to his, and he held it.

"Mother, I'll get this off of you—"

Her eyes widened as she saw something behind him. "Look out!" she cried.

Dustil turned but was suddenly swept off his feet and held with his head parallel to the ground. "Get his ID band," he heard, in the muffled voice of an armored Sith soldier. He struggled, but there were more than one, and his arm was wrenched behind him.

"Kid's name is Onasi," he heard.

"He's on the list. Take him."

"No, let go! Let go!" he shouted, desperately trying to break free. He could hear his mother's cries below him.

"Don't take him! Leave him alone! Dustil!"

One of them must have had a shock stick, because the last thing he saw was his mother's terrified, tear-streaked face, and then everything went painful and black.

On the bench in the Enclave, Dustil methodically turned the rock over and over in his hand. He'd relived those hours every day for a year before he refused to let himself think of it again. His discipline was nearly absolute—he had almost convinced himself to forget about it when his father showed up at the Academy with Revan. It all came flooding back then, along with all the anger and hatred he'd built up over the four years. He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. He had to stop doing this. He had to stop moping and get on with his day. He had to pack some things before he and Revan left tomorrow, he needed to say goodbye to his father, and he hoped to download some music for the trip. Dustil turned and started back toward the Enclave entrance.

Unexpectedly, he saw his father walking from the Enclave with a pack thrown over his shoulder. His blasters were holstered to his belt, which meant he was leaving the compound—weapons were forbidden inside. He must not have seen Dustil, because he walked straight past him toward the door, a grim expression on his face.

"Father?" Dustil asked.

Carth turned and saw him. "Dustil! I looked for you inside, but no one knew where you'd gone. I'm glad you caught me." The cheeriness in his voice struck a false note with Dustil.

"Caught you? Where are you going?"

"Back to Telos, actually, for a few months. The Fleet wants me to act as liaison to the reconstruction. I thought you and Case might come with me, but I was told that you're. . .busy." His knuckles were white around the strap of his shoulder pack.

"Well, I was going to come talk to you about it, but Revan—"

"Don't call her that," Carth snapped, his voice full of command. Dustil instantly wanted to apologize, and that made him angry.

"That's her name, isn't it?" he countered snidely.

"Not to you, it's not. Do you understand me?"

Something about the strained look on his father's face made him not want to start another full-out fight about Revan. "Yes, sir." He couldn't quite keep the sulk out of his voice.

Carth grasped his shoulder tightly. "I know you're a man now, but you're still just sixteen to me. Be careful on Korriban, and—and take care of Case."

Dustil nodded. "See you soon."

Carth held him for just a moment longer and then walked out the Enclave door. He didn't look back.