NINE
Dustil swallowed hard and forced himself not to back away from the hissing red blade at his jugular. "I don't know what you're talking about," he started.
Melan rolled her eyes. "Do you think I'm stupid? Revan shows up at the Academy six months ago, you disappear, and then you're both suddenly back here? Lie to me again and I will take off your head." Her voice sounded detached, almost amused, but Dustil knew she was anything but.
"Fine," he said finally. "We're going to kill Huntak, take over the Academy, and use it as a base to start a new campaign against the Republic. You know, just like we learned in Sith Tactics 301 last year." He hoped his sarcasm would throw her off the scent.
No such luck. "Are you her apprentice?" she asked.
Dustil decided he'd fooled around with Melan long enough and switched tactics. He popped her back a meter with a small Force Push and pulled himself to his feet. He ignited his blade and kept it between them. "I would never be that woman's apprentice," he growled.
Melan grinned and picked herself up from the cave floor. She dusted off her hands. "Too bad. That would have made it more fun when I tell you my plans."
Dustil looked around him, and was surprised to see Iman and Torvim still locked in meditative poses, glassy-eyed and staring at the pool. Dustil reached out and shook Iman a little, but the Rodian made no movement. Dustil looked up at Melan. "What's wrong with them?"
She smiled, and Dustil felt cold down his spine. "They're seeing what they want to see—what was it Iman asked for? 'The one I care about the most?' Torvim's probably seeing me without my uniform on, or maybe himself. I imagine Iman is seeing his wife—what, you thought I didn't know? Come on, Dustil, you're not the only smart kid at this Academy."
Dustil glanced around for an exit while trying to keep his thoughts shielded from Melan. She had trapped the other two, somehow, and he had to get out of the cave before she finished whatever plans she had for him. He forced what he hoped was a nonchalant grin. "I don't underestimate anyone, Melan. Everyone knows you're top of the class here."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Here? I don't care about the Academy anymore. It's crumbling, and soon it will be just empty caves and broken terminals. Master Huntak isn't strong enough to lead the Sith." She looked at him coyly through lowered eyelashes. "But we are, Dustil. Together we can unify the Galaxy against the Republic." Her voice was menacing.
Dustil's breath caught. They had thought Huntak was the threat, but it was Melan who had the power. Dustil could see it flowing off of her like oil onto water. She was drawing on the strength of Torvim and Iman, slowly draining them to make herself stronger, like some kind of Force parasite. "What are you?" he asked.
She stood, practically glowing with the Force. "I am power itself," she intoned, sounding for all the world like the ancient Sith lords they read about in school. "The pool taught me to use powers I didn't know that I had, and now I am stronger than everyone here," she paused, "except possibly you." She held out her hand to Dustil. "Join me, Dustil. We will be Master and Apprentice together."
Dustil looked at her outstretched hand and considered her offer. He could feel the Force so much more strongly now than he ever had before, and he knew with sudden certainty that he was more powerful than Melan, despite her newfound powers. He could defeat her and take the power of the pool for himself. The crystals from above chimed softly down to him. This is what you've been waiting for. He wouldn't have to wait for the Jedi Council to train him, wait for Revan to trust him, wait for the threat that he could feel out on the Rim—he could meet the threat head on and defeat it himself. He could save them all.
Dustil made a quick decision. He stood and grabbed Melan's hand.
She smiled in victory. Dustil felt her try to draw his strength from him, and for a second couldn't think what to do. He felt his knees weaken. Then he pushed back hard against her and she stumbled away from him, gasping. "How did you—" she started.
Dustil ignited his saber and strode toward her. He could feel the string she had established between them and reversed the flow. Now he was drawing strength from her. She put a hand to her heart, dropped to a knee. Dustil smiled and raised his blade above her. The crystals were loud in his head.
"No!" someone shouted behind him, breaking his concentration. He lost the flow from Melan and staggered from the sudden void. Melan collapsed to the ground, senseless. Revan dropped through the entrance and was running toward him, her yellow blade bright in the darkness. "Dustil, don't do it," she called.
Interfering as always. He snarled at her, "What do you have to say about it, Revan? I am more powerful than you now!"
"It's this place, Dustil," she said, standing just outside of his blade's reach. "It's using you, just like it was using Melan."
"No, I'm using it! It can't control me. You can't control me!" he shouted. He could hardly see through his rage, but dimly, as though from a distance, he could hear himself asking why he was so angry in the first place. He shook those thoughts away and ran at Revan, red blade raised above his head.
She brought her blade up to meet his, and the two crashed together with a scream of protest. Dustil pushed down as hard as he could, throwing all of his Force strength behind his saber. Revan twisted her wrists and dislodged herself from his blade. "Do you really want to fight me, Dustil?" she asked, teeth showing in a hard smile. "I've defeated every Sith lord this side of the Unknown Regions—a brat like you will hardly be a challenge."
Dustil furiously swung at her and she parried each thrust without breaking a sweat. He tossed his blade to his right hand and thrust his left palm toward Revan to Force Push her backward. She wasn't expecting the push and stumbled back on one foot. Dustil leapt high and brought his blade down with all of his weight behind it. Revan brought her blade in front of her but wasn't properly balanced to completely deflect him. He pushed his blade past hers and heard a satisfying hiss as he cut into the flesh of her arm. She grunted in pain and planted her boot roughly in his chest. Dustil landed with a crash halfway across the cave. The breath was knocked out of him and he stared at the ceiling, gasping. Why didn't she Force Choke him and be done with him? He realized then through his breath-starved brain that Revan hadn't used the Force at all in their fight. It was like she didn't have it to use--
Dustil flipped himself to his feet just in time to see Revan running toward him, a disturbingly blank expression on her face. Her left arm hung uselessly beside her, but she slashed effortlessly with her right. Dustil growled and parried, but he was forced backward, step by agonizing step, toward the pool. Sweat burned his eyes and his breath burned in his throat. He could feel his strength faltering. The crystals were still chiming down at him, but their sound was mocking him now. They had turned against him. Dustil threw yet another thrust to his right, and momentarily lost his grip on the hilt of his blade. Revan swung underneath his arms and knocked the blade out of his hand. It clattered to the ground across the cave, its red glow sputtering once before going dark. Revan leapt into the air to deliver what Dustil knew would be the killing blow. He shouted and leapt backward. His boots splashed in the pool. The crystals went suddenly silent.
Still in midair, Revan shook her head and pulled to the left. She came down, not on top of him, but a meter away. She kept her blade between them, chest heaving as she caught her breath. She still said nothing, only stared at him with that same blank expression.
Dustil caught his own breath. He kept his gaze warily on Revan, ready to leap out of the way if she were to make a move toward him, but he didn't sense any aggression from her. Come to think of it, he realized, he didn't feel anything from her at all. He squinted with his newly sharpened Force senses, but he couldn't see her aura. It was like she had cut herself off from the Force. He shook his head. No one would willingly do such a thing. But even non-Force users had an aura of some kind, and she didn't have anything, like she was a negative space in front of him.
"Revan—" he began hesitantly.
She looked at him. "So, Dustil," she asked flatly, "did you get your fill of the fight, or shall we go another round?"
"What have you done to yourself?" he asked.
She smiled then, and looked terribly tired. "Nothing can reach me where I am. Would you have me held in thrall by the crystals, like you? Or turned to the Dark here on this wretched planet? It's all I could think of to do." She laughed hollowly. "Not my best idea, I admit. I'm not sure I can turn the Force back on now that it's gone."
Dustil couldn't believe it, didn't know how she had done it. "But why would you cut yourself off from what makes you a Jedi?"
She didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared at the pool thoughtfully. "You have to be a Jedi to stop being a Jedi, I think." She clapped her hands together suddenly and strode purposefully toward the pool. "I've been here before, did you know that?" she asked.
Revan was wearing what Dustil knew through the rumor mill as her Star Forge robes, black and oddly luminescent. The students whispered that Revan could actually hear their thoughts when she was wearing it, not just the outlines of their minds. That was how she could anticipate their fencing moves so well. Dustil had seen Revan practicing with Master Jolee and knew better. She was the best fencer he had ever seen, and if the robes made her a little harder to hit, then all the better. Dustil was surprised to feel a little pride that he'd managed to hit her at all.
She looked up then and smiled a little more broadly. "You did well, Dustil. You'll beat me with a blade one of these days."
"I thought you couldn't feel the Force!" he said accusingly.
"No, but you're grinning like a Mandalorian in the dueling circle." She turned away from him and looked at the pool. She raised her arms over it. "You can feel the power here, even without the Force." She raised her voice. "Show me my destiny!" she ordered.
"No!" Dustil dove toward her and tried to pull her away from the pool. "What are you doing? Don't let it show you the future—" He was too late.
It was dark where he was.
Dustil looked around, blinking, trying to get his eyes used to the lack of light. He could hear his breath echoing loudly around him. The air smelled like sulfur and damp stone. He didn't even know who he was inhabiting, but he was suddenly afraid the person would call out and attract the wrong kind of attention.
Suddenly, an explosion somewhere nearby shook the ground and threw him down. Dustil tentatively reached out with his Force senses and was relieved to find that his host was Force-sensitive. He could feel someone on the other side of the near wall coming closer. It was still pitch black wherever he was—the smell made Dustil suspect that it was a cave of some kind, but he couldn't tell without light and his host didn't seem inclined to do anything about it. Maybe his host was blind, and that's why he couldn't see.
A crack of light to his right dispelled Dustil of the notion that his host was blind. The crack widened into a door shaped outline. Dustil mentally jumped when a red lightsaber suddenly flashed into existence next to him. In his own hand. The crack widened into a cone and Dustil blinked against the sudden intrusion of sight. A silhouette framed the doorway.
"Hello? Is there someone in here?" the person asked.
"Another vision, come to torment me?" Dustil heard his host ask. The voice was oddly familiar, but Dustil couldn't place if for several seconds. "Why do you come here, vision?" his host asked again. Dustil realized with a sinking stomach that the voice was his own. He was inside himself. Of course, he realized, he was seeing his destiny. Naturally, he would be inside himself. But why was he in this cave, and what nonsense was he talking about? Dustil looked down to see himself in black armor, but he couldn't tell how much older he was. It could be two years, or it could be twenty years. The red lightsaber and armor suggested he was Sith.
The person came farther into the room, a double-sided saber held warily in front of her. The blade had a silvery-green glow that Dustil had never seen before. Some kind of special crystal, perhaps. The person was wearing brown Jedi robes. Short red hair framed her face and she looked to be in her thirties. Dustil was struck by the hardness in her face, like she had seen hundreds of battles.
"You are a Jedi?" she asked. Dustil reached for her with his Force senses and was surprised at what he found. The woman was connected to at least four other people with Force bonds, but her aura didn't seem to be her own so much as it was the reflection of other auras. The feel of her mind was familiar, and Dustil realized that this was the General who ordered the destruction of Malachor V. Dustil was surprised she was still alive after what he had felt inside her at Malachor.
"Another vision! Don't think I can't see through this deception. The vision leaves, only to sneak up later when I am less aware. Better to silence it now." Dustil heard himself say. He stalked away from the woman and laughed, an odd, nervous cackle. He gestured wildly with his lightsaber toward the ceiling, and Dustil saw that it was lined with green crystals similar to the crystal in the pool cave. He concentrated and could hear them tinkling. She hates you. She's not real. She's just a trick, they whispered.
"I'm not a vision," the woman replied. She glanced upward at the crystals, then back to him. "How long have you been trapped in here with these crystals, Jedi?"
"'I am not a vision,' says the vision. Ha! Well then, I am not Dustil Onasi, son of Carth, no. I am not a Jedi either. I am Jedi. So proud, so proud to be. I escaped the Dark side only to return. Why did I return? Why? The other Jedi wanted to. They tricked me. Oh, they tricked me. I did not know then that they were all visions. Visions all." Dustil could hear his future self's breath loudly in the cave. Dustil was horrified. What the hell had happened to him? This was his destiny, to be stark raving mad in a cave by himself?
The General looked at him in surprise. "Carth's son? You mean Admiral Onasi?"
"The vision speaks of my father, not knowing I killed him twenty-two times, and he has killed me, but I did not die. He won't be coming back for me, not again. With his tricks." He crossed the room toward the General in five long steps, lightsaber raised as if to strike. The woman brought her own blade up to block, but Dustil pulled his blade aside suddenly. "No, vision, it won't help me to kill you, I realize that."
Dustil was desperate to get out of his own head. He couldn't stand to hear himself for a second longer. He struggled but couldn't extricate himself from his own insanity.
The woman backed toward the door, saber still ready. "Dustil, your father isn't dead. He's an Admiral in the Fleet, and I've spoken with him. He thinks you're lost again, just like Revan is lost. He's. . .sad, Dustil. Why don't you come with me?" Dustil could feel the Force Persuade pulsing through her words.
Dustil's future self paused, and Dustil thought he might actually come around. But then he let out an inhuman screech and launched himself at the Jedi. She looked terribly sad as she brought up her blade to protect herself. She slashed toward his neck—
--and Dustil found himself still holding onto Revan's arm. His prior momentum carried him backward and fell onto his back, pulling Revan down on him.
She lay there for a moment, apparently still lost in whatever vision the pool had shown her, but then she shook her head and pushed away from him. She winced as she moved her left arm. Dustil sat up behind her and let out a shaking breath. He had been about to die, he was sure. The General didn't have any choice once his insane future self had rushed her with his blade. That was how it would end, then?
Revan seemed equally affected by whatever she had seen. She finally got to her feet and reached her right hand down to help Dustil up. "The future. . .is changeable, Dustil," she said quietly. "You can take control of your own destiny, if you don't like what you see."
"Did you like what you saw?" he asked her.
She didn't look at him as she gathered her lightsaber and resettled her cloak. "I have seen it before. A long time ago. Nothing has changed, except now the need is urgent."
"The need for what?"
She finally looked him in the face. Her eyes were heavily shadowed, like she had seen a lifetime of dreams in the pool. "We can't go on as we have, ignoring the Darkness around us and huddling around a tiny fire. The fire will go out and we'll be left alone in the Dark unless we face it while we still have the strength of the Light behind us."
Dustil didn't quite know how to respond. He felt the menace from the crystals above him and just for a second—a flash, nothing more—he thought he understood what she meant. But then it was gone in a rush of dust and movement, and he lost the chance to ask. Revan was walking purposefully toward the entrance to the cave. She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Come on. We have to move before Melan comes back with reinforcements."
Dustil realized that the girl was no longer in the cave with them. She must have snuck away while he had been fencing with Revan. Torvim was gone, too, but Iman was still unconscious by the side of the pool. His bluish skin looked gray and stretched thin across his bones. "Wait, Revan," he called. "We have to get Iman out of here, too. He's not Sith."
Revan paused, the line of her back radiating impatience, and Dustil hurried to rouse the Rodian. "Come on, Iman," he said, shaking the nonhuman, "we have to go."
Iman groaned and blinked slowly, his huge eyes almost comically dazed. He put a hand to his head. "What—what happened?"
"Melan's a Sith Lord and we're going to be Sithmeat if we don't get out of here right now." Dustil hauled Iman's arm over his shoulder and the two staggered toward the entrance where Revan was still waiting.
"Master Revan—" Iman began, looking at Dustil with surprise and suspicion.
Dustil shook his head. "She's okay. I'll explain later."
Revan ignored them and started out of the tunnel. Her left arm still hung useless by her side, and she crouched along with her right side forward. Her yellow blade threw shadows backward and gave Iman's skin a greenish hue. The Rodian made his way slowly out behind Revan. Dustil brought up the rear, red blade ready. With a shudder, he remembered the way the red glow of his future self's lightsaber turned the whole cave red. On impulse, he scooped up a green crystal fragment from the ground and stuck it in a pocket. The chime of the crystals faded as he emerged into the dusty air of Korriban.
It was night now. The moons of the planet brought the rock formations between the canyon and the Academy entrance into sharp relief. The three moved wordlessly toward the Academy. Dustil was desperate to ask Revan about what she saw at the pool, what she had meant about a looming Darkness, but he could feel the menace throbbing from the Academy and knew that now was not the time. First, they had to survive.
Case held up her hand to bring Dustil and the Rodian to a halt behind her as they reached the high doors into the Academy. Out of habit, Case reached with the Force to see what was inside but was rebuffed by the wall she had built around herself. She clenched her jaw in frustration and tried not to worry that she would never get the Force back. She could work on it after she got off this Light-forsaken planet. But first, they had to get through the Academy.
Case turned to the two behind her. "The quickest way to Dreshdae is through the main entrance hall, but we'll be outflanked on all sides by students. We can't fight them all at once. In fact, it's better if we don't have to fight them at all. What grenades do you two have with you?"
Iman held out a concussion grenade and a gas mine. Dustil fumbled in the pockets of his Academy uniform and came up with a flash grenade, a small stone, and a bit of string. He shrugged. "What, do you think I have an unlimited inventory in my pockets?"
Case ignored him and tossed a frag grenade in her hand thoughtfully as she stared at the heavy double doors. "Okay. Dustil, do you know how to Force Boost a group?"
"Yeah, I think I can do that."
"Then here's what we'll do. We go through the doors and Dustil, you Boost us and keep us Boosted until we get through to Dreshdae. Czerka won't let the Academy destroy its outpost, so we'll have some reinforcements as long as we can get there. Iman, you do your thing with Stasis on anyone who gets within fifty meters of us. I'll take care of any forward fencing, and Dustil, you maintain the rear. Save your grenades for boarding a ship. We may need to take one by force. Both of you have that?"
They nodded.
"Then let's do it. Remember the goal is to get through the Academy, not fight every baby Sith inside. Let's go!" Case kicked in the door and they raced inside.
Dustil pushed his hand forward and surrounded all of them with the blue glow of Force Boost. They surged ahead and a second later were inside the main chamber. Case thought students would come at them from all sides, lightsabers blazing, but the room was unexpectedly dark and silent. Dustil lost his concentration and the group stuttered to a normal speed. There was some kind of dark object in the center of the room. It wasn't moving, and Case thought at first it was a statue. She got closer and swallowed a gasp.
Huntak was impaled on a Force pike. His lekku hung limply almost to the ground and his eyes were open and staring. He was dead.
Case was surprised by the sadness she felt. Huntak was Dark, dangerous, and a threat to the Republic. But he had recognized the neutrality in her, and respected it.
"Revan, look around the room," Dustil whispered.
She tore her eyes away from Huntak and saw the bodies scattered around the edges of the room. Academy students. Case recognized some of her students, Kella, Jahrentia, Pol, Landoharter, Jekta, and Maldo. And fifty others. They had been attacked, some obviously with lightsabers, others with what looked like animal teeth.
Dustil was clenching and unclenching his jaw like his father did when he was choked up about something. These had been the enemy, true, but Case knew he had also spent four years of his life with these students, ate with them, sparred with them. She knew it had to be sickening to see them slaughtered like this.
Dustil looked up to see her watching him closely. He sneered at her, all traces of shock brushed away. "What, do you want me to say something profound about the stupid death of all these students? Come on, we have better things to do than stand around looking at fools who couldn't defend themselves." He turned away from her and made for the door.
Melan was standing there. Her already pale face was starkly white, her eyes just dark holes in her head. Dark shadows under her cheeks made her look gaunt. Her black hair was streaked with gray. She smiled ever so slightly. "Did you change your mind about joining me?" she asked. Her voice was different—there was a high-pitched hiss underneath her words. Torvim walked in behind her with three other students, his double-sided blade blazing brightly. All of the students had the hollow cheeks and dark eyes of Dark side disciples. The silence between the two groups was like brittle ice.
Without warning, Iman threw his open palm forward and every Sith except Torvim and Melan was suddenly rigid in a Stasis field. Iman whipped out a blaster and fired a volley of shots which the Stasis-stricken students couldn't block. The three toppled to the ground, blaster holes in their chests. Before Case could stop him, he fired another shot at Torvim, who lazily brought up his lightsaber and deflected the bolt back toward Iman. Dustil leapt over and narrowly caught the end of the bolt to send it flying harmlessly away. He slugged Iman hard in the arm.
"Idiot!" he growled, eyes still on Melan and Torvim. "Blasters are worthless against Jedi!"
"He's right," Case said mildly. "But good shots against the weaker ones." Iman nodded curtly and holstered his blaster. He reluctantly reactivated his saber.
Case eyed Melan appraisingly, and knew the girl was doing the same to her. Torvim was irrelevant—he was strong only by association with Melan, and Case knew Dustil and Iman could easily handle him. It was Melan who was the problem. Even without the Force to help her, Case could see that the girl reeked with the Dark side, and it wasn't just the standard-issue Dark that Malak and Huntak had embraced. Melan had gone further, deeper, into the old ways of the ancient Sith, and they had damaged her, somehow. She seemed—hollow, almost.
"What have you done, Melan?" she asked quietly, her voice easily carrying across the echoing hall.
For an answer, Melan threw Force Lightning at them. Case brought her blade up just in time to avoid the red sparks. "I am no longer Melan," she announced. "I am beyond your simple human names!" The hiss under her words pitched higher, garbling her words.
Case knew that sound. She had dreamed it for months, had heard it again at the pool in the cave. It was the sound of the true Sith. "Melan, don't do this. You're still human, you can still come back to us." With no Persuasion in her voice, her words seemed to drop to the floor between them.
"Silly woman, silly Jedi, yes, I know what you are. Your aura is gray, but your acts are blue. And you've seen us before, haven't you? Long ago, before you were raped by the Jedi and turned into 'Case.'" Her eyes flicked over to Dustil. "The boy is stronger than you, I think. And also gray. But he will be stronger later and I'd rather have you now."
Dustil shouted across the hall, "Here that, Torvim? She's about to dump you for Lord Revan! How do you like being Melan's plaything?"
Torvim's face turned red, a refreshing change from its whiteness. "Shut up, Dustil!" he shouted. "You always thought you were better than us. I'm going to enjoy killing you."
Case ignored the taunting. "What are you now, Melan? Where will you go?"
"Oh, trying to turn me back to the Light, Jedi? It won't happen now. I've jettisoned everything about me that might be tempted by your dirty tricks and lies. There's just power inside of me now. And I hunger for more." Melan laughed and Case was chilled to the bone. The very sound seemed to suck the hope from the room. She knew then that Melan was not coming back to the Light. Anyone could be saved, Jolee had sworn to her once, but Melan was no longer there for saving.
Melan ran toward them, red blade held high. Iman threw a Stasis field toward her but it fluttered away like hifa chaff. Case raised her blade to meet Melan's, and the two crashed together with a scraping scream. Case lost herself in the dance of the battle, sliding left and right, now jumping to her toes to miss a low blow to her ankles, now ducking and swiping at Melan's calves. Her useless left arm made the maneuvers difficult. Melan, an indifferent fencer in Case's classes, fought now with the knowledge of every lightsaber form ever conceived. The part of Case's mind that was always detached during battles noted a few new forms that she filed away to try out on the practice floor herself. She would need them when she left here.
She almost laughed when she realized what she was thinking. Here she was, fighting for her life, doing every piece of fancy footwork she knew just to stay even with this Ancient Sith in girl form, and she was thinking about what she was going to do after she left. She might as well pick out her outfit for her funeral pyre while she was at it. Case forced her attention back to the battle. She noted approvingly that Dustil had pulled Torvim away from Melan and was handily forcing him back into a corner. Melan was sweating, her hair falling in front of her eyes as she moved. Through the dark tangle of hair, Case caught a glimpse of the girl's face. Her eyes were wide and staring, like a bantha caught in the lights of a speeder. She was plainly terrified.
Case drove forward with renewed energy, gritting her teeth against the white-hot pain in her left arm where Dustil had slashed her. She didn't need the Force to realize that Melan was being driven by whatever she had sold herself to. All the girl could manage to throw at her was a bit of Force Lightning here and there, not the really dangerous weapons that Case couldn't block without the Force, like Horror or Choke. Case had the chance to destroy her now, while she was still weak. Case banged her blade quickly up, down, and then up again. While the girl reached high to block the blow, Case snagged her foot around Melan's ankle and tugged. Overbalanced already, the girl landed heavily on her back, gasping and panting. Her lightsaber rolled out of reach, red blade pointing impotently toward the exit. Case grinned and felt suddenly that Canderous would approve. She raised her blade.
The next thing she knew, she was dizzily trying to raise her head off the ground twenty meters away. She dimly heard Iman shout her name. Only years of training brought her to her feet, but every muscle in her body screamed, and she could barely keep her lightsaber up. Melan was standing across the chamber with a nasty grin on her face, left hand outstretched toward Case, the right again clutching her blade. Case looked around to see Dustil and Iman also struggling to rise. Somehow Melan had recovered, and in a big way. But how?
Case realized that she must be drawing strength from Torvim just as she suddenly felt herself flipped up in the air and spun. Whirlwind! Second year initiates could block whirlwind, for Qel Droma's sake. But she had cut herself off from the Force, no better now than a deaf woman. Melan walked slowly toward her, blade raised and menacing. Case closed her eyes and tried to center herself. On her next spin, she flung her lightsaber toward the far wall where Torvim was standing. "Dustil!" she shouted.
Dustil, bless him, knew what to do. He reached toward the spinning yellow saber and Force Pulled it past him at an impossible speed. Case saw Torvim's glazed eyes dully register surprise just before the blade went through him.
Melan gasped and Case tumbled to the ground. She rocked to her feet, vision still whirling. She called her saber to her hand out of habit and cursed when it didn't come. Melan was backing away from all three of them, a keening wail escaping from behind clenched teeth. Dustil and Iman came up on either side of Case, and Iman handed her his blade. Case ignited it, noting distractedly how familiar the red glow felt in her hand.
Melan's eyes darted from left to right like a cornered animal.
"I'm afraid your host is dead," Case said quietly. "That's all he was, wasn't he, Melan? I think you loved him, once, as much as any Sith can love another. But now he's dead, and it's because of you."
The girl's eyes widened and she almost looked like herself again. She stared at Case, then at her pale hands. "What have I done?" she whispered. She looked back up at Case. "Revan, help me, please! Help me come back to the Light! I'm. . .afraid. . ."
Iman lowered his blasters. "If we can help her. . ."
Case looked hard at the girl, and saw in her place Juhani in the Grove, pleading for death, Bastila sobbing on her shoulder at the Star Forge like she would never stop, Dustil shouting in the cave on Korriban. She saw Carth's face, eyes full of shame and pain, just before he killed Saul. Case lowered her blade and extended her hand.
"Case, NO!" Dustil leapt in front of her and barely deflected the lightsaber spinning toward Case's throat. He Pushed Melan halfway across the cave. The girl shrieked, and there was nothing Human about the sound.
"You will see me again, Revan!" she screamed, then turned and ran out the door.
Dustil started to go after her, but Case held his arm. He glared at her. "What are you doing? We can catch her!"
The walls around them began to shake. "She's pulling down the Academy! We have to get out while we still can!" Dust rained down on them as they dashed for the door. A column near the door rocked off its pedestal with a groan and tumbled toward them. Iman threw up his hand and stopped it half a meter from their heads.
"Go!" he shouted. "I cannot hold it forever!"
Dustil and Case ducked around him and out the door. Case turned back and saw that Iman was still inside. "Iman!" she shouted, pulling desperately at her missing Force powers. She couldn't hold the column for him. The Stasis field around the stone flickered, and it crashed to the ground. "Iman!" she shouted again. She started to go back, but Dustil put his hand on her shoulder.
He shook his head. "He's joined the Force."
Case choked back a sob. Iman's sacrifice could not be squandered now. "We need to get a ship off-planet," she said finally, and started back toward Dreshdae. Now that the battle adrenaline was gone, she could feel exhaustion soaking her bones. The door was open and the crowd at the Drunk Side was staring across the rockfield wonderingly.
"We need to go to Telos," Dustil said.
Case shook her head. "No, you must go to Coruscant immediately to tell the Council about what happened here. Melan, or whatever she's calling herself now, will only become a greater threat as her hunger grows, and the Jedi have to be ready." They pushed through the murmuring crowd at the door and into the cool air of the Czerka station.
Case hadn't told Dustil that she would not be joining him. The call of the Unknown Regions was pulling at her strongly, and she had to force herself not to run for the nearest ship. Lost in her own thoughts, she realized she was walking by herself. She stopped and saw Dustil pull a Rodian woman aside and whisper something to her. The woman nodded gravely and hugged Dustil, tears pouring from her large eyes. Dustil held her for a long moment, then walked away.
He stopped in front of her. "Case." Case realized with surprise that he was using her real name, and that he had when he saved her from Melan. "We have to go to Telos first. You need to go to Telos."
"No, Dustil, I told you—"
"It's Father. He's dying."
Case's heart stopped for a second. "What—how do you know?"
Dustil pushed his hair away from his eyes in a familiar gesture. "I saw him in the pool at the cave. I can't Heal, Case, I don't know how. I'm not Light enough to do it. You're the only one who can save him."
She stared at the ground. "No, I can't, there must be some other way—" If she went back, she didn't know how she would be able to leave again. And he hates you, remember?
"Please, Case. If you love him, please."
Case looked up into the face of the young man in front of her, who looked both like and unlike his father. She nodded.