FOUR

It wasn't her dream. She didn't know how she knew, exactly, but as Case wandered around the empty spaceship, she knew that she wasn't supposed to be there. The ship was familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. It had the titansteely smell of a new vessel.

"Hello?" she called. "Anyone here?"

Her words echoed back to her. She tried not to worry. She'd had dreams like this before, when she was still bonded to Bastila. It was the same sense of displacement, of not being where she belonged. People shouldn't be in other people's dreams. But she knew that she would wake up eventually—at least, she always had before.

Was it Bastila's dream? She didn't think so. Bastila's dreams always had a hazy feel to them, like they were old memories. This dream had a much sturdier feel. She could almost smell the panic, the terror, that wound its way through the empty ship. Whosever dream this was, it wasn't a pleasant one.

She approached a door and entered. Three stasis chambers were stacked against the wall, their yellow fields glowing faintly in the artificial light. She realized with a sinking stomach where she was. The Leviathan. Case sternly suppressed the memories of this room that came flooding back to her.

No. I will not suffer here again. She turned on her heel and walked out of the chamber, the memories fading already, as if they had been attached to that room. She needed to find the owner of this dream and get out. The air seemed thin here, as though something was consuming it. Suddenly, in the shifting way that you move around in dreams, she was standing in the crew quarters of the ship. She had never been in this room, but every ship's quarters looked the same. "Hello?" she called again.

Carth was suddenly in front of her, but he didn't seem to see her. "Carth?" she asked. He was trying to get into the nearest quarters. The door was locked. He pounded on it. "Case!" he shouted. The panic haunting the ship was coming from him.

"Carth, I'm here," she said. She was beginning to fear that she couldn't get out of this dream, of what was obviously his dream.

Carth turned finally and looked in her direction. The panic emanating from him slid dangerously to despair. "I've lost her again," he said dully.

He still didn't recognize her. "Carth, it's me. I'm here." She reached out to touch him, but she was suddenly in a room full of smoke. She couldn't see anything, could hardly breathe. She used the Force to clear herself a small pocket of air, but even that was being rapidly consumed by an unseen fire. She ignited her lightsaber, the glow making eerie shapes in the smoke. "Carth?" she called.

"Case!" She could hear pounding in the distance, but couldn't tell from which direction it came. The smoke was starting to crowd in around her face. She had the sudden fear that she wouldn't be able to get out of Carth's dream in time. She closed her eyes, tried to see with the Force. Someone was approaching, but it wasn't Carth. It was—

Case startled awake, hand reaching for her lightsaber. A second later, she realized that she was on her bunk on the transport ship to Korriban. She was safe.

What the hell had that been all about? She didn't like the idea of sharing Carth's dreams—certainly not his nightmares. She'd heard him, sometimes, in the men's cabin on the Ebon Hawk, muttering or tossing in his sleep. Mostly, she noticed, he just didn't sleep much. That had changed, she realized, after the Leviathan. After Saul was dead. Apparently, whatever nightmares haunted him had started up again, and this time, she was attuned to them, even half a galaxy away.

She scrubbed a hand across her face and swung her legs off the bunk. This was exactly the kind of distraction she thought had ended when Carth left her on Coruscant. She didn't want to be connected to his mental state, and he, no doubt, didn't want her populating his dreams.

But he was looking for you, her mind insisted.

She shook her head and made for the observation deck. She'd have to start putting herself in a trance or something if this kept on. Carth was gone, she'd done it on purpose, and she needed to get over him and get on with her mission. She ignored the tightness in her chest she'd been getting every time she thought of Carth.

"You look like a rancor with a hangover," Dustil greeted her as she entered the room. He was seated with his back against the starboard wall, legs stretched across the bench. The observation window showed a mass of stars and a yellow-gray ball to port. They had dropped out of hyperspace yesterday and were approaching the Korriban system.

"Watch it, kid," Case growled. "I'm a lot like a rancor until I've had some caffa. You should know better by now." They'd been traveling for five uneventful days.

Dustil laughed and turned back to the window. "Get some, then," he ordered. "The captain says we'll land at the Czerka base in six hours."

Case tried to suppress her shudder as she fumbled with the caffa dispenser and chose a nearly-ripe mala fruit from a bowl. She didn't want to go back down there. The Dark side tainted everything on the planet, even the Czerka port, and it got in her head, distracted her, made her jump at the slightest sound. Canderous had been ready to knock her out and carry her back to the ship when they were last there, she had annoyed him so.

She joined Dustil at the table and started peeling the spines from the blue fruit. He looked thoughtful as he stared at the approaching planet. If it was hard for her to go back, imagine what it was like for him—he'd spent the better part of two years at the Sith Academy. Now he had to pretend like he hadn't left on his own, hadn't joined the Jedi, hadn't rejected the Dark side.

But did he? The Council wasn't so sure. They'd felt him hiding something at his Evaluation; part of her job on this mission was to watch how he behaved when reimmersed in the Dark side. She desperately hoped, for all of their sakes, that he had truly turned to the Light. The boy was powerful enough to be a true threat to them all.

"So, Revan," he said languidly, "do you think you can convince them you've turned back to the Dark?"

She suppressed the urge to Force Push him across the room. He was doing it on purpose, she reminded herself. The entire five-day trip had been nothing but a series of trials in teenage behavior. "I told you not to call me that, Dustil. It's not my name."

He sneered. "It will be down there. You might as well get used to it again, Revan."

What little patience she had snapped. "Were you always a brat, Dustil, or did the Sith do that to you? I don't see your father putting up with your crap."

"My father might, but my mother would not have. But she's dead, isn't she, Revan? Whose fault is that? Oh, yes. It's yours."

They were glaring at each other across the table, tension coiled between them like a hot fuse. The mantra of the Code seemed to slip away from her as she tried in vain to calm herself. She Force Boosted her hand across the table and grabbed the boy by the collar. She jerked him toward her.

"Hey!" he shouted. He fumbled for a weapon of his own, but she easily deflected his Force Choke. It looked like the boy had some Dark powers stashed away, after all.

Case brought her face an inch from his. "Now, you listen here, kid," she growled. "I am not Revan, and I'm not going to apologize for anything she did. I'm not going to wallow in guilt for things I didn't do just to satisfy your childish need to blame someone for your misfortune. You can hate me all you want, but that's not going to change anything about me." She shook him hard, banging his teeth together. "I am stronger than you. That's something you Sith brats respect, isn't it? Remember that next time you want to be smart with me." She dropped him heavily to the table. She stood over him, anger still choking her.

The boy slowly pushed himself up. He held up a fist and she braced herself for a Force attack, but he lowered it again. "You're something else, Case." He said her name in a tone that made it sound exactly like he was saying Revan. "And I do respect your strength. No doubt the Sith will, as well." He smiled in a way that made her blood freeze, bowed, and walked out.

A sudden pain in her hand made her look down. She was still holding the mala fruit, clutching it so tightly that one of its spines had been driven into her palm. Dark red blood trickled around the pale blue skin of the fruit. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't have let a bratty teenager goad her to such a wasteful use of her powers. Case took a deep breath and resolved to meditate more. She had to get herself under control before she went down among the Sith. She threw the stained mala in the recycler and wiped off her hand. The fruit was ruined now.

The Drunk Side was packed, as usual. The lights were dim and tinted purple, giving everything in the bar a ghoulish hue. A band in the corner was putting out some kind of bass-heavy offworlder music. Dustil straightened his Academy uniform and sidled up to the bar. It wasn't the usual bartender, but a Rodian female he didn't recognize. "Hey, barkeep!" he barked.

The Rodian jumped and turned his way, nervously eying his uniform. "Y-yes, sir? What can I get you?" She was actually trembling.

Dustil rolled his eyes. She was going to get killed in here. "You got Corellian whiskey back there, Rodian?"

"Um, well, I don't—let me check." She bent under the bar, clanking bottles as she looked for the whiskey. One of the Academy hopefuls on the other side of the bar reached over and grabbed her rear. She jumped, banging her head on the underside of the bar and knocking a stack of glasses to the ground. The crash caused everyone in the bar to look her way. She stood, pale and trembling.

The kid who had grabbed her sneered. "What's wrong, Rodian? You seem pretty jumpy tonight." His crowd of admirers broke into laughter. The Rodian looked like she was going to faint.

"Hey, wannabe, why don't you find someplace your level to drink, like the sewers?" Dustil called across the bar before he could stop himself. Great. Way to blend, Dus. Dustil wasn't sure why he was getting involved.

The kid looked his way and slowly drew a knife. "That doesn't sound like a proper Sith thing to say." He already had a bit of the patrician accent that most of the Sith picked up after a while. "Maybe you have an Academy medallion I can take." His group clapped and whistled in approval. The bar crowd watching the bartender turned its attention to him. Dustil was going to find himself in a noisy fight in another second if he didn't get control of this situation quickly.

Dustil gestured, and the kid flipped up into a Whirlwind. It was a Lightside power, but close enough to neutral that it wouldn't draw any attention. Lots of Academy students learned it. The kid spun, shouting at his friends to get him down. They looked from their friend to Dustil and back but didn't move to help him. He let the kid spin until he got white around the eyes and looked like he might pass out. Dustil dropped him with a thud, and the kid crashed to the ground, toppling the stools around him. Dustil stood at the bar and addressed the now vomiting wannabe and his friends. "Don't mess with the bartenders, idiots, unless you want to mix your own drinks. And don't mess with me. Now, get the hell out of here while I'm still feeling generous." He let a little lightning trickle from his hand to emphasize his point.

The kids hauled their friend to his feet and dragged him from the bar. The bar crowd lost interest and settled back down. Dustil breathed a sigh of relief.

The bartender set a glass of whiskey in front of him. "Here you are, sir, and thank you for your help. My name is Kaltona." She spoke heavily accented Basic.

"Dustil. Those brats will be back home with their rich parents next month, I bet. They aren't Academy material." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Listen, Kaltona, you don't exactly fit in around here. I'd get the next Czerka transport out, if I were you. The next guy might do more than grab your ass."

Kaltona stared at the bar. "I'd like to, but—"

"But what?"

"My husband is here at the Academy, and I'm waiting for him. He went in about nine months ago, and I ran out of credits last week, so I had to find a job. I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."

Dustil's sympathy for the woman was rapidly turning to disgust. No one should be so stupid. "Er, Kaltona, I don't want to burst your bubble or anything, but your husband's not going to be the same guy when he comes out of the Academy. You ought to think about cutting your losses and leaving now." Dustil threw all the Force Persuade he had behind his words, hoping to convince the fool to leave before someone killed her.

He was surprised, then, when the Rodian's fist came down in front of him, shaking his glass. Her face was tight with fury.

"You don't know him! Don't you speak of him like that!" she shouted.

Dustil picked up his glass and took a swig, trying to look nonchalant. He choked on the whiskey and coughed as it burned its way to his stomach. Kaltona laughed at him.

"How old are you anyway, child? You haven't seen enough combat to drink whiskey at all, and certainly not Corellian."

Dustil was inclined to agree with her. He pushed the glass away. "Kaltona, I'm sure your husband is a great guy and all, but I've never met a Dark Jedi who's married. It's just not what being Sith is all about. Besides, what are you going to do, hang around in this bar for another four years? It's a five year school, you know."

Kaltona looked around her, then leaned in closely. "I feel I can trust you, Dustil."

Dustil threw up his hands. He didn't want a confession. "No, listen, I—"

She went ahead like he hadn't spoken. "My husband is not a regular student. He works for Republic Intelligence, and he was only supposed to be inside the Academy for six months." Tears brimmed in her giant eyes. "I'm afraid something terrible has happened to him, but I don't know how to find out. Will you look for him and tell me? Even if he is dead, I just need—need to know."

Dustil sighed and wished he was still fighting with Revan on the transport ship. It was safer. "Fine, fine," he said hurriedly, just to get her away from him. Someone would overhear and that would be the end of him. "I'll see what I can find out. But I can't promise you anything."

Kaltona smiled and wiped her face with a towel. "I knew you were different than the others, Dustil! Thank you. Now," she smiled, "can I get you something besides that whiskey? A mild ale, perhaps?"

Dustil smiled ruefully. "Sure." She brought it to him and went back to attending other customers. He stared morosely at the bar. What had he gotten himself into? As if he didn't have enough to do in the Academy, now he had to look for this woman's husband, who was probably either dead or Dark by now.That's what being helpful got him, trouble.

He looked around impatiently. He was supposed to meet Revan in here half an hour ago. Where the hell was she? Maybe if she'd shown up on time he wouldn't have gotten himself into that mess to begin with.

"That was an impressive handling of the situation with the Sith pretender," came a silky voice next to him. An Echani hunched over the bar on the next stool. Her white hair was hidden under a gray cloak.

"Uh, right," Dustil replied, and went back to his drink. Echani were not a people to mess with—he didn't want her attention.

"I am in search of someone," she continued, "and I thought you might have seen him here. You obviously frequent this cantina." The woman was glancing around the room impatiently.

Dustil suppressed a groan. Not another lost spouse, or brother, or son. What was he, some sort of roaming savior? "You know, I don't really have time—"

"He is a Jedi killer."

Dustil paused. "I thought they were just a rumor." He had heard stories at the Academy of an elite force of Sith who could sneak up on Jedi without them even knowing they were there. They were supposed to be expert assassins who could make a Jedi fall before killing him.

The Echani laughed, an oddly pleasant sound, considering their topic. "No, not rumor, just rare. And he was one of our best. He was supposed to meet me here on Korriban but he has not arrived. A thin Human, dark hair, pale? Usually carries blasters. Have you seen anyone like that, perhaps at the pazaak table?"

Dustil shook his head. The fact that such people even existed made him wonder how the Sith could be defeated. The Jedi had nothing to compare.

The woman put down a credit for her drink and stood. "I was afraid of that. I think he may have left the profession." She leaned in close to Dustil and he resisted the urge to back away. "You know," she said silkily. "you could be a Jedi assassin, I think. I can tell that you're a Force user, but you can hide that from others, can't you? And your orientation, too, I think. You could make Jedi think you're one of them, and they would be easy prey. Your prestige would be very high, very quickly." She flipped him a holodisc and swept away. "Think about it," she whispered.

Dustil turned the holodisc over in his hand, shaken. Somehow, the woman knew about him. And her offer. . .to be the best at something, not just someone's Padawan learner, to have his gifts appreciated. . .it was tempting.

"Looking for me, kid?"

He jumped and stuffed the holodisc into his pocket before Revan could see it. He turned and choked on his drink for the second time that night. "Are you insane?" he sputtered. Revan was dressed in full Jedi regalia—long blue robes, headband, and gloves, with her obviously lightside saber on her belt.

She grinned darkly. "I didn't think there was any point in pretending to be a Sith."

"But you're going to get both of us killed!"

"Probably not. You're going back to classes, and I've already defeated the Academy's management once—I imagine I can do it again if I have to."

Dustil rolled his eyes. "You had help last time, remember? And a lot of medpacs."

Revan waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not worried. Now, remember. We're not working together here. You talk to the other students and see if you can find out what they've found in the ruins. I'm going to start at the top and work my way down. The new headmaster is a Twi'lek named Huntak. We'll meet back here in two weeks to regroup. Got it?"

Dustil nodded. "You have my personal comm passcode. Give me a heads-up before you leave the planet, hey? I don't want to spend the rest of my life here."

She grinned again in a slightly disturbing way and brought her hands together. "Ready?" she asked.

Dustil nodded. He stood and shoved her away as far as he could. "Get the hell away from me, bitch!" he shouted.

Revan drew herself up. Dustil swallowed hard—she was very imposing, and he could feel the Force literally swirling around her. "That's it, brat. I'm taking you in there myself!" She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the bar. Dustil put up a pretense of struggling to get away from her, but he wasn't actually sure that he could have gotten away from her if he'd wanted to. Her fingers were like steel around his bicep.

They continued in that way, him shouting obscenities and Revan stoically ignoring him, out of Dreshdae and across the orange path. Nigel the protocol droid and TD-18 the service droid were roaming around as always. As they approached the door to the Academy, the usually lethargic guard perked up in interest. "Hey, what's going on here?" he asked, voice mechanical through the reflective mask.

Dustil opened his mouth to complain, but Revan didn't give him the chance. "This Academy student has been bothering me. I insist that Headmaster Huntak see me at once," she said haughtily, the Force Persuasion strong enough in her voice that even Dustil believed her for a second.

The guard sounded dazed. "You may enter," he said slowly and stepped aside. "Welcome to the Academy."

They walked through without trouble. "They ought to put stronger-willed people at the front door," she whispered.

They entered the main hall, the door behind them closing with a heavy scrape. The smell of stone and the low hum of voices was familiar to him—the most familiar thing, in fact, that he'd had around him in months. The air was cool and the light was dim. Dustil relaxed a little—here, at least, he knew what to expect.

Revan squeezed his arm hard. "Pay attention!" she hissed.

Dustil shook himself out of his reverie. It was time for phase two of their act. He spotted a group of students in the entryway and yanked himself away from Revan. He drew his lightsaber and bent it menacingly toward her. The red glow reflected in her eyes.

She ignited her own saber, its yellow glow seeming to bleed into the dim light around them. Dustil felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. This was where he learned to wield a saber, where he could feel the Dark giving him strength. Standing before him was a Jedi, but also a Sith. She had been weak and Malak had stolen her crown. He could do the same. He shouted and lunged.

Revan's eyes widened and she brought her own saber up just in time. "Dustil, what are you doing?" she cried.

He didn't answer, just continued to slash. She parried his attacks but did not move offensively. He didn't care how long it took—he was stronger than she, was younger, could last longer. He would defeat her.

"Enough!" a shout boomed through the chamber. He and Revan were both flung to the ground by a Force Push from behind. The back of his head hit the stone, and his rush of adrenaline faded as quickly as it had come. What are you doing, fool? he thought dazedly. Did you just attack Revan?

Dustil pushed himself to his feet slowly. Revan was already up, a Force Shield crackling around her. A blue Twi'lek was striding toward them, followed close behind by a group of older students holding unlit sabers. Dustil kept his hand near his saber but did not reignite it.

"What is the meaning of this display? Identify yourselves!" The Twi'lek shouted. He was the largest Twi'lek Dustil had ever seen, over two meters high and solidly built. He was a dark blue, almost black, and the scowl on his face sent Dustil's stomach to his knees. This had to be Huntak.

Dustil found his voice, and was pleased to hear it steady. "Dustil Onasi, Academy student."

Huntak's eyes scraped over him and turned to Revan. "Revan Lanatal," he growled.

Revan smiled. "Master Huntak. It's a pleasure."

Huntak lit his own saber. The pale gray blade didn't glow so much as it absorbed the light around it. There was a snap in the air as every lightsaber in the room ignited. Huntak spoke very quietly. "Why should I not kill you both immediately?"

"Because, Master," Revan purred, "you would die first."

Dustil started sweating. The silence was deafening. It stretched out forever. Suddenly, a smile cracked Huntak's face. He extinguished his saber with a hiss. "Come with me," he ordered.

Revan swept past him without so much as a glance as they followed Huntak to his office. Dustil had never felt so much like a disobedient child as he trailed behind them. He saw out of the corners of his eyes students he knew watching as he passed. What had he been thinking? He had actually wanted to kill Revan. He shook his head and clenched his nails hard into his palm. He had to pull it together or he'd never get off Korriban alive.

They entered Huntak's office. He swung the door shut with a wave of his hand and indicated the chairs in front of his desk. Dustil sat cautiously on the edge of the chair, trying not to stare at all the Dark artifacts scattered around the room. A map of Korriban covered one wall. Revan, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease, one arm thrown across the back of her chair.

"This is a nice change from Uthar's dungeon, Huntak," she remarked.

Huntak grunted. "The man was a masochist at heart. He refused himself pleasure because he thought it made him strong, but it only emphasized his weakness. He deserved to die. By your hand, Revan?" He smiled coldly but continued when Revan made no response. "I see. This is how it will be played. Dustil Onasi—"

Dustil sat up sharply in the chair, then cursed himself for showing his fear. He forced himself to sit back in a more relaxed pose. "Yes, Master?"

"Tell me why you left Korriban." Huntak held his palm toward him.

Dustil felt a cold tendril wrap around his throat. He had his story ready—he had left Korriban because he had been told that Selene had gone to Coruscant. He had returned when he realized Selene wasn't there. But when he opened his mouth to say the words, he found they wouldn't come out. He couldn't make his voice leave his head. Dustil shot a panicked glance toward Revan, then jerked his eyes away.

Huntak smiled. "You will find that you cannot lie to me, Dustil. A particularly useful form of Force Persuasion for a Headmaster, is it not?"

Dustil didn't know what to do. He wasn't strong enough. He was going to betray them both. He was going to tell Huntak everything. The cold wisp around his throat seemed to harden into a titansteel band. He opened his mouth to speak, but a warm tendril of Light reached him first. Revan was looking at him with the detached amusement appropriate to a Sith Lord, but he could feel her tiny stream of Force flowing silently to him. Enough of the Dark cleared away from his mind that he could think again. He couldn't lie, then, but he could tell the truth selectively.

"I left to follow Revan." He forced the words out.

"Indeed? Tell me more, student. You went to Coruscant, we know. You have spoken with your father, the Fleet hero. Is this not true?"

"Yes." He had no idea he had been watched.

"And you were Evaluated by the Jedi Council? Were you selected for training?"

"Yes, Master." He saw Huntak's brow furrow. This was not going well at all. He had to salvage this, somehow. "I hid my Dark Force Powers from them, Master," he gasped. "They do not know my power."

"Yes, I can see the Dark in you," Huntak said contemplatively. "You are strong, boy. But you no longer follow Revan?"

Dustil needed no prompt from the Force Persuasion. He snarled, "The whore does not deserve my strength."

Revan's cool demeanor cracked slightly. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Huntak chuckled. "No, indeed. Your hatred makes you stronger, student." He abruptly clapped his hands together, breaking the band around Dustil's throat. "Go back to your studies, Dustil Onasi. We will speak again later."

Dustil hesitated a moment before bowing. "You have but to call, Master." He yanked open the door and practically fell out into the hallway. This was part of the plan, he sternly reminded himself. He was to get inside however he could, and Revan would be on her own. But he winced at the words he had spoken in Huntak's office. He had spoken the truth. He did hate Revan.

And it did make him stronger.

Case breathed a sigh of relief when Dustil finally escaped the room. The Headmaster was powerful, much more so than Uthar had been. Malak had been stronger, but Huntak had more self-control, and that made him dangerous. It had been a near thing with Dustil. She ought to be grateful for the boy's apparent hatred of her—it was the only thing that had allowed him to speak the truth and still gain Huntak's approval.

She forced a slow smile to her face. "You see the boy's power, then, don't you, Huntak?"

Huntak waited for the door to close behind Dustil before replying. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Indeed. He will be an asset. How is it that the Jedi did not take him for training as a child?"

Case shrugged. "You expect me to know?"

"You are mated with the boy's father, are you not?"

"You're underpaying your spies, Huntak. You think because I warm my bed with a partner that I'm mated to him?" She smiled slowly. "Perhaps you should join me for a night or two and really surprise them."

Huntak laughed in a low tone. "I do not find. . .your kind. . .attractive. But the amusement I would gain almost makes the four days of ritual cleansing I would endure palatable."

Case let out her breath slowly. Huntak was softening up. She might survive this encounter, after all. Dustil hadn't realized how dangerous this phase of their operation truly was. She thought she could probably defeat Huntak if it came to a fight, but success was by no means guaranteed.

"Why have you come, Jedi Revan? You mock us with your Jedi robes and saber."

"I am no Jedi, Huntak."

"You are no Sith, either."

She Force Bursted across the desk and clenched his hand in hers. Surprise flashed across his face. "You can feel the Dark in me, can't you? As well as the Light. I am no one's servant, Huntak." She grinned hard. "I am my own master."

Huntak filled his palm with Lightning. It snapped between their hands, a closed circuit. "You wish to stand alone, Revan. But even the loneliest stone touches the ground."

Revan concentrated and absorbed the Lightning between them. The space between their hands went dark. The Lightning was cold inside of her. "I wish to teach fencing at the Academy. My affiliations are irrelevant."

Huntak nodded. "You are welcome, mercenary. We have lost several instructors of late. See Tamal on the practice grounds. She will assign you a class."

Revan inclined her head in a bow of equals and left the room. Dustil was nowhere to be seen. She shook the surplus Lightning from her hands and made her way to the back of the Academy. She was on her own again, for the first time in a long time. She should be happy about it, excited to make decisions without thinking about others. Why, then, did she feel so terribly afraid?