TWELVE

As promised, it was a bumpy ride to the surface of Telos. Case sat on her bunk and let Dustil use the jump seat in the cabin. They jolted left and right in a way that made Case sure that their pilot was dodging blaster fire. He issued a quick warning over the ship's comm that gave Case just enough time to grip the sides of the mattress as they tipped into an impossibly sharp dive. She clenched her eyes shut and tried not to think about the bile rising in her throat. They eased level again and she could hear the ground scraping against the ship's belly before they rocked to a surprisingly gentle stop.

She heard something suspiciously like laughter from the jump seat and cracked an eye open to see Dustil grinning and hanging onto the seat straps. "Hell of a trip, eh, Case?"

She muttered something nonresponsive under her breath. Dustil had been different since their fight at the cave pool—or was it she who was different? It was hard to tell without the Force. It was like being half asleep, not having the Force near her, and Case wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to stand it if she didn't find a way to reach it soon. You'd better figure it out, or else Carth—she cut off her thoughts, which would only serve to reignite the terror that bubbled up in her stomach whenever she thought of the task in front of her.

The pilot came back wearing much the same exhilarated expression as Dustil. "We're here, Master Jedi." The way he said those words made it the sarcasm apparent. He looked at his chrono. "I'm waiting for one hour, and then to hell with the rest of your credits. It's almost as bad as Malachor V down here." He stomped back to the cockpit before Case could even thank him for getting them to the surface safely.

Dustil bounced to his feet. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

What was she waiting for? She had agreed to do a job, and now she had to gird up and do it. She swung off the bunk and swept past Dustil toward the exit ramp. The pilot had left it on manual control, so she hit the keypad for it to drop down. She tried to exude confidence as she strode down the ramp and out into—

She could only describe it as Hell. She had seen the vids of Telos after the attack, the long gouges of shipfire across the fields, the piles of rubble where towns used to be. But even amidst the ruin, there had been a blade of grass or two determinedly fighting back. Now, there were just empty stretches of dead fields to the horizon. The air itself seemed thin, without life. She heard Dustil's gasp behind her. She turned to see him frozen in place, a stricken expression on his face.

He said slowly, still staring at the horizon, "I—I didn't think it would be like this." He shook his head roughly. "Come on, let's get inside the base."

They went inside the unlocked doors and Case followed Dustil through seemingly endless identical hallways. He seemed to be following a scent, and she trusted that he knew where he was going. She fingered the hilt of her lightsaber but they passed no one. A few open rooms showed datapads scattered on desks and half-eaten meals on tables. The base had obviously been evacuated in a hurry. What kind of a virus was loose here?

They came, finally, to a softly lit reception area with no one at the desk. They had a bad moment when they reached a set of strongly-secured doors, but Case hunted around on the desk and found the door release. They went inside an area with a whoosh of air. Quarantine control, Case realized. As they approached another locked door, Case saw a man standing outside at a monitoring console. He was so still that she thought for a moment he was dead on his feet. He finally looked up, and she was taken aback by the terribly sad expression on his face. He was wearing medical garb.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Everyone's been evacuated."

"We're here for Carth Onasi. We were told he was here."

The man shook his head. "I can't let you in there. You're not protected from the virus."

Case asked, "Why are you still here? Are you sick?"

The man looked back at the monitor. "I'm a medic. Garon Pel. Two hundred got the virus here and at Marne. My—my friend, Payna Kartor, she was the receptionist here, she got it and—I lost her two days ago. I can't do anything else for the rest, there's only three left now—but I can't leave. It's my duty to stay here until—until it's done." His voice broke and he turned quickly away.

Case reached out a hand and tentatively touched his shoulder. He turned back to her, eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. "Let me try to help. Will you let me in?"

Garon looked at her for a long moment before finally nodding. He hit a button on the monitor and the lock light turned green.

Case and Dustil entered the doorway. "How do you do that?" he whispered.

"What?" she asked, scanning the blue-lit cells ahead of her.

"Get people to do what you want. You didn't even use Persuade on him!"

She smiled sadly, still seeing the medic devastated face. Payna must have been more than just a friend to him. "I guess I'm still enough Jedi to believe that most people want to help their fellow sentients." She saw that the quarantine field was off in the last cell. "There," she said.

She ran forward and saw him. Carth was propped up against the wall on the bunk in the back of the cell, his legs stretched out in front of him and right arm hanging off nearly to the floor. His fist was clenched as he struggled for breath. Case ran up to him while Dustil hung back at the front of the cell. Carth's closed eyes were smudged dark and his lips had a blue tinge that sent fear shooting through her limbs. "Carth?" she called, placing one hand lightly on his heaving chest. "Carth, can you hear me?"

He moved his head a little at the sound of her voice but his eyes remained closed. He was nearly gone. Case gripped his hand in hers and reached out for the Force. She strained and strained toward it, could almost see it in front of her, but she couldn't reach it. She sat back on her heels, out of breath and sweating. It had been like this every time she had reached for the Force on the ship. She had hoped that the need being so close would help, but she was wrong. You couldn't use it to save Iman, she thought cruelly to herself. Why would it help you now?

"Case?" Dustil asked. He was still at the doorway, as though afraid to come closer.

She shook her head, eyes too dry to tear up. "I can't reach it."

"No! You have to try again!" he said sharply. He came toward her and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. "He didn't give up on me—we can't give up on him!" He held out his hand. "Take it."

She looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Take my hand and concentrate, woman!" he growled.

She tentatively took Dustil's hand. She reached for the Force again and could suddenly, faintly, feel Dustil's presence. He was pulling a thread of something out of her, taking her Life Force out and putting it into himself. She gasped and tried to pull her hand away but he held it with a grip that her rapidly failing strength couldn't break. "What are you—"

Abruptly, Dustil reversed the flow and threw her own Life Force back to her, pushing it back into her by sheer strength alone. She reached out for the thread and suddenly the Force sprang back to life around her. She gasped again, this time for the wonder of it. It was like she had been color blind and now could see rainbows around her. Slowly, for fear that she would lose it again, she let go of Dustil's hand. He fell back on his rear, pale and exhausted, but smiling. "Go on!"

She turned back to Carth—had his chest stopped rising with breath?—and reached for him again with the Force. This time, she found herself in the middle of a dim room full of gray smoke.

She had been here before. This was the Leviathan from Carth's nightmare. She ignited her saber and cleared a little space for her to breathe, but she knew, as before, that it wouldn't last long. She had to get out of this room and find Carth. She knew that he was trapped here somewhere, too.

"Carth!" she shouted. "Carth, where are you? It's Case!"

She chose a direction and walked blindly in the hopes of reaching a door, but several long minutes went by without her finding anything but more smoke. She could be walking in circles, for all she knew. Panic welled up inside of her. How much time did Carth have left? She had to find him! "Carth? Carth!"

Only silence met her calls.

Carth didn't remember it being so cold on Telos. It must have something to do with the Sith attack. Or maybe it was the stims he'd been on for so many hours that he couldn't keep his hands steady anymore. The town was a graveyard, dust hanging low in the air, buildings collapsed and unrecognizable. He'd found so many people, some alive and some not, but he hadn't found his wife or son. He was getting desperate. Too late he'd remembered that Ana had been assigned to guard the armory. By the time he dragged the metal beams and collapsed roof away from the square, she'd been underneath too long. Her curly dark hair was stiff with blood, her tunic torn. Ana glared at him through dim eyes. "You gave up on me," she whispered harshly.

Wait, this wasn't right.

He was standing in the cave on Korriban. But he was alone. Case and Canderous had been with him then, hadn't they? Dustil appeared, hair too long and in need of a shave. He was pale against his dark uniform.

"The Sith are my family now, Father," he sneered. "Do you know what happened to me when the Sith came? You attacked the ship I was on less than a week after the attack. You'd already given up on me. That's when I gave up on you. I knew you'd never come for me." Dustil ignited a red lightsaber. He smiled. "I'd like to see you try now, old man."

Carth shook his head, tried to think around the nagging pain in his chest. This wasn't right. This wasn't what happened.

He was on the Leviathan, standing outside of his quarters. He could see his breath fog in front of his face. Ships were always cold, but not like this. His breath echoed loudly in the hallway. He opened the door, saw the same gray smoke as always. He held his breath and went inside, or was it that he no longer needed to breathe? He waded through the gray smoke until he saw a pale haze of yellow light surrounding a lone figure. It was Case. She was alone. She seemed surprised to see him. "You found me," she said. "I couldn't find you."

"Come out with me, Case," he said, voice oddly hoarse. "I promised you I'd save you."

She smiled. "We saved each other, love. But I need you to wait for me outside of here. Help me find my way out."

He was standing outside the locked door. He pounded on it to no avail. "Case!" he shouted.

He felt a hand on his arm, turned—

—and opened his eyes to see Case leaning over him.

"Hey, beautiful," he tried to say, but it came out as a bare whisper.

Case burst into tears and slung her arms around his neck. Over her head, he could see Dustil sitting on the floor of the quarantine cell with a huge grin on his face. Carth tried to make sense of what was going on. The last thing he remembered clearly was Mission and Jan leaving. Everything after that was hazy. It seemed like there was a medic, and maybe some Diplomatic officials, but he didn't really remember.

He gently dislodged Case's arm from his neck and pushed himself upright. The effort made him pant, but at least he could take a full breath. His brain didn't feel like it was swimming in gel, either. "Did they get everyone off planet?" he asked.

Case sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Who?" she asked.

"Mission and Jan," he said, more urgently now. "They left to warn Marne to evacuate. Are they all right?" He'd never forgive himself if they'd gotten hurt or worse because he'd been too weak to do his own work.

Dustil and Case exchanged glances and he could tell they were trying to decide how much to tell him. "Tell me, dammit!" he growled, which made him cough. "Are they all right or aren't they?"

Dustil shook his head. "We don't know. We came here directly from Korriban. I saw you in a kind of, well, vision and I knew you were ill. They were there, but that was several days ago. I don't know where they are now."

"Are you talking about the missing Twi'lek and the boy who was here before?" asked a new voice. A man in medical garb walked into the cell. He looked as exhausted as Carth felt. "They were evacuated with the others. Everyone had to be scanned for the virus before they were taken to Citadel Station, and they're both on the clear list." The man looked desperately at Case. "Master Jedi, I don't have any right to ask, but could you—would you please—look at the other two patients? If you can do anything for them—" he trailed off, looking desperately hopeful.

"Of course," Case agreed without hesitation. Carth was reminded of all the times she had said exactly that before helping someone while they were looking for the Star Maps. Even when he thought they didn't have time, he was always proud of her for helping. She put a hand on his arm. "Are you okay for a few minutes?"

He waved her out. "Fine, I'm fine." He didn't like being fussed over. Carth was suddenly alone in the cell with Dustil, who was still sprawled on the floor. For the first time, Carth noticed that he was wearing a Sith Academy uniform. "Are you—did you, I mean—your uniform—" he didn't know how to ask. He was afraid of the answer. He didn't really know his son that well, and if he had gone back to the Sith—

Dustil's hand went briefly to his pocket. He smiled a little, looking far older than Carth remembered. "I won't be going back to the Academy." Dustil abruptly pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to Carth. "Come on, Father, let's get you back to the ship. Our pilot isn't exactly reliable."

Carth had commanded enough junior officers to know when his question had been dodged, but he didn't have the spare breath to follow up. By the time they got back to their ship, a sharp little smuggler, he was leaning heavily on Dustil and panting. Case and the medic followed them more quickly, each carrying a patient. Case handed off her burden, a young boy, to Dustil and went to negotiate with the pilot watching them suspiciously from the nose of the bird. Normally, Carth would have gone over with her. For all that Case was good at talking people into what she wanted, she didn't know the first thing about ships and made terrible bargains for supplies and transport fees. But he wasn't sure he had the energy to walk all the way over there and back.

Instead, he looked out past the ship to the ruined landscape before him. He had thought that he would be angry again—angry at Wann, at the Ithorians, at himself for failing Telos again. But he realized, looking at what used to be rolling plains of grass, that these nearly five years had just delayed the inevitable. He had thought the people of Telos could bring the planet back on their own, but all they could do was watch the fields of hifa get smaller and the seas give them less fish every year. Wann deserved a blaster bolt for unleashing a virus on sentients he was supposed to be protecting, but he hadn't killed Telos—he'd only finished the job that the Sith had started. Carth had expected to be angry, but he felt only a deep regret for things lost. Telos was gone, and it was time to move on.

He turned away from the planet and started up the boarding ramp. Case was waiting for him, arms crossed over her chest. Her lightsaber hung from her belt. She was watching him closely. "Are you ready?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "Let's go."

Mission slid onto a bench at a large communal table in the Ithorian compound and started to methodically eat a bowl of something mushy that tasted like the hifa mash she'd eaten on Telos. She stared fixedly at the pinkish goo and determinedly thought of nothing.

"It is customary, herdling," said a warbly voice beside her, "to greet your neighbors when you break your evening fast."

Mission looked down the table to a smallish Ithorian watching her reproachfully. "Yeah? Well, consider yourself greeted. And knock it off with the 'herdling' stuff, anyway. I ain't no kid, and you can't all be two hundred years old."

The Ithorian laughed and slid itself, its tray, and its stack of datapads down to her. "Indeed, I am only seventy-eight of your standard years, and just out of the Learning Herd, myself. I do not think our relative ages are so different. You are just. . .small. And blue."

Mission laughed out loud before she could stop herself. "Just call me Mission," she said.

The Ithorian sobered. "Her—Mission, I am sorry for the loss of your Herd Leader." The creature looked unbearably kind.

Her nose started to get stuffed up again at that thought, and her eyes pricked with tears. She ground her knuckle into them ruthlessly. She was so tired of crying. She didn't want to do it anymore. "Yeah," she said finally, "me too."

The Ithorian stood and picked up its tray. "I am Kaxtrax," it said. "I hope we may speak together again." The creature left Mission alone with her thoughts.

The Ithorian had forgotten one of its datapads. Mission scanned the room for the alien, but it had already left the common area. She scrolled idly through it, head propped on one hand and elbow. It turned out to be a kind of layman's description of what the Ithorians were planning to do to repair Telos, but it was full of acronyms and chemical structures and it was hard for her to decipher. She was glad for the difficulty, though, because it kept her mind off everything else.

She didn't really remember the rest of the night Chodo Habat told her about Carth, but she woke up alone in a room in the Ithorian consulate. It took her half the day just to get herself out of bed, and then all she did was use the fresher and get back in. She cried until she was sick to her stomach, and then cried until she was dry heaving over the side of the mattress. She cried until she was so dehydrated that there was nothing else to cry. It hadn't been like this with Griff, or when Zalbaar left for Kashyyyk. She knew they were out there in the Universe somewhere, but Carth was gone. It was like losing a part of herself.

Today was the third day, and her stomach had finally forced her out to the common area. She was already regretting coming out. The article on the reconstruction project ended with a plea for skilled and unskilled workers of all kinds. The restoration would be the largest civil engineering project the Republic had ever undertaken.

"There you are," a soft voice said.

Mission looked up to see Jan slide onto the bench across from her. His eyes were red-rimmed, too, like he'd also spent at least some of the last two days crying. "Hey," she responded, trying and failing at nonchalance, "What's goin' on?"

He reached for the pitcher of caffa in the center of the table. "I tried your room a few times yesterday, but you didn't answer. I thought you might have taken off already." He kept his eyes on his cup.

Mission reached across the table and caught his wrist. "Hey. Do you think I would just leave without telling you?"

Jan twisted his hand around and caught hers in his. He finally looked up at her. "I'd hoped not." He paused again, then blurted out, "I'm sorry about Captain Onasi. I remember what it was like after he told us about my Dad. Everyone kept trying to tell me it was going to be okay, but it just made things worse. So I won't say that. I don't know what to say."

Mission nodded, glad that someone understood. She just couldn't talk about it right now. "I know. Thanks." She took a deep breath and couldn't take her eyes off the hand around hers. "So, um," she fumbled, "what are you going to do now?"

Jan looked back at the table. "I enlisted yesterday."

She jerked her head up. "Enlisted? In what?"

"The Fleet."

"But you're not old enough to enlist!" she cried. "You're not eighteen yet!"

Jan shrugged, a smile catching the corner of his mouth. "I lied."

Mission yanked her hand back and used it to go back to eating breakfast. "I don't know why you'd want to join the stupid Fleet, anyway," she mumbled through a mouthful of mash.

"Oh, what, you have a better idea? Go be a farmer on the colony of the week? Join the Exchange? Or maybe I could be a Jedi. I don't have the Force, but, hey, you have connections, right?" Jan threw back a swig of caffa and glared at her.

Mission kept eating her cereal.

"Well, what are you going to do, Mission?"

Mission's spoon paused for just a second on the way to her mouth. What was she going to do? She hadn't really thought much further than getting through the rest of the morning without turning into a blue ball of tears again. Here she was on a space station, and she could go anywhere she wanted.

Mission cast around desperately for an idea. Her eyes caught the datapad. "I'm joining the Telos Reconstruction Project," she blurted out.

Jan stared at her, mouth open. "Really? You're staying here?"

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. The idea felt good to her, felt right. She didn't have a home now, but maybe she could build herself one. "I think I am."

The way Jan was continuing to look at her made her acutely uncomfortable. She wanted him to slug her in the arm and call her kid. Or take her hand in his again. Or something. The silence between them got awkward. Mission finally couldn't take it any longer.

She stood, scraping the bench behind her loudly. "Okay, I guess, I'll, um—" she trailed off. She just didn't know what to say. "When do you leave?" Jan didn't say anything. "What?" She looked at him. He was staring past her to the doorway. She looked over her shoulder. "Oh, you have to be kidding me—"

She started running toward the door. "Carth!"