Disclaimer: The universe STILL isn't mine. The characters STILL aren't, either. But where the story's gone and going, that I can claim.

Chapter Forty-Six

DUSTIL POV

The entire moon was probably in the cantina to watch the transmission, Dustil thought. The news had gone out about a month and a half ago: Malak was dead, the Sith had scattered, and the war was over. The Republic had won. No one knew exactly how it had happened, but word was that the Republic transmission being broadcast all over the galaxy was going to explain today what had happened that day when the challenge of the Sith Empire had gone down in flames.

Everybody wanted to know. Dustil figured he had more personal interest than anyone, though. They said a freighter had been mixed up in all of it. A freighter stolen from the Exchange boss on Taris. A freighter known as the Ebon Hawk.

Dustil had been surprised, of course, when he'd found out that the war was over all of a sudden. When the rumors had started trickling out, though, he hadn't been surprised at all that the ship his father, Bastila Shan, and Aithne Morrigan had been on had been in the thick of things.

After Korriban Dustil had gone to Telos, like he'd said. His buddies had jumped ship at Nar Shaddaa. They were eager to lose themselves in the scum there; they wanted to forget the Sith and the war and just live, for a while. Dustil couldn't. He'd made a promise to his father, and anyway, something inside drove him on. The Sith had still been a valid threat, and after Selene…well, he wasn't going to just opt out and let them lie and burn their way through the galaxy. He guessed that his father would eventually show up, and sure as hell the quickest way to the thick of things was along with his goody-good father and his Jedi friends. It would have been a very bad idea to join up back on Korriban; the Sith would've been on all their backs before even Aithne Morrigan could activate her lightsaber.

Still, the past few months working to clean up a weapons shop after hours on the temporary Telosian lunar base, and going home to a slummy one-room apartment off the docks, Dustil hadn't been able to suppress a wish that things had panned out a little differently for him. For sure he didn't wish he'd stayed a Sith, but at least they had eaten better in the Academy on Korriban. And he couldn't help but think that there might have been some feasible way that he could have switched sides when the old man had found him there, and regret that he hadn't found it.

Dustil had felt it when the Star Forge fell: a great shift in the Force. He had felt the deaths, the desperation of the Republic soldiers as the Sith shot them out of the sky, and heard the screams of hatred and despair in his mind when the tide turned in the battle, when the Sith ships began to burn instead. There had been a last cry of defiance, and then a great weight seemed to lift off the galaxy, like a veil or shroud had been removed. He hadn't known what it all was about at the time. But when the surprising news came out that the war was over, that the Sith factory the Star Forge had been found and burned and that Malak had been killed, he had felt in his spirit the truth of the report.

Ever since, Dustil had been practically haunting the cantina every night, hanging onto every word of the news broadcasts on the holos. The bartender and waitresses knew and greeted him by name every afternoon from noon to six, and then after he got off work from midnight to around two in the morning. It had come out pretty early on that the Ebon Hawk had been crucially involved in both the discovery and destruction of the Star Forge, but to Dustil's immense frustration, there hadn't been any in-detail reports for over a month and a half.

It had been established that the Ebon Hawk's ten-man crew had all survived, at least, so Dustil knew his father had survived. They'd been set up in a residence on Coruscant, but the swarm of reporters that had stationed themselves around the house had been unable to extract any information from any of the crew. He'd seen the representative they'd sent out on the holos: a scary-looking protocol droid with an enormous blaster rifle. He couldn't recall Aithne or his father mentioning the droid back on Korriban. The droid had gone on and on about battles he'd fought in, in gory and explicit detail, but as far as Dustil could make out, he really hadn't been involved in anything crucial, and all the HK-47 unit would do otherwise was lament the fact that someone he referred to only as "master" had forbidden him to use his blaster rifle on the crowd. Funnily enough, the reporters had stopped trying so hard a couple days after the crew had sent the droid out.

Dustil drummed his fingers on the cantina countertop. Would that holo broadcast never come on? He growled at the chattering people around him. Didn't they care? This was important! Just then, though, the Republic seal appeared over the holo transmission, and the trumpets sounded in a flourish. Everyone in the Telos cantina turned towards the field. The Bith stopped playing, and the noise quieted to a murmur. How had the Sith surrendered? Dustil rolled his eyes at some of the opinions of the idiots in the crowd. Malak had exploded from the force of his own evil. There had never been a Sith threat, and the Republic was spreading vicious propaganda to increase taxes. Dustil snorted. Yeah. Right.

The cameras zoomed in on a balcony, and a uniformed and decorated woman emerged from a building, walking under an ornamental arch. She was accompanied by a few sophisticated-looking Jedi. The text on the holo pointed out the woman as an Admiral Forn Dadonna. Dustil nodded; his father had told him stories about her. A good commander, apparently, and a good woman. The most important Jedi in attendance seemed to be a little green creature known as Vandar, a master that had escaped Malak's destruction of Dantooine. Dustil took in a breath as the crew of the Ebon Hawk emerged.

First came that droid. A few murmurs and some laughter sounded in the cantina. Dustil scowled. He still wanted to know where the hell that thing had come from. Next the camera focused on a beeping astromech, and then a Wookiee. Dustil remembered his dad had mentioned them; the names escaped him just now. Next, limping slightly on what appeared to be a newly attached prosthesis came a tall Cathar woman. She was dressed in Jedi robes.

Dustil smiled at the next person through the balcony archway. It was that old Jedi he'd met back on Korriban: Jolee Bindo. He smirked. Dressed like a slave and infiltrating a Sith Academy, Bindo had looked much more at his ease than he did now in formal Jedi attire at an honorary ceremony.

That made five, Dustil counted. Five out of ten. The next guy had to be that Mandalorian the old man had mentioned, he thought. The merc whose ship his father was flying. He was bareheaded, but the scars and armor he wore attested without question to his warrior's heritage.

"A Mandalorian being rewarded by the Republic," snorted a blonde woman a few feet away from Dustil. "Why, his kind were tearing up the galaxy not ten years ago! Thugs and murderers, the lot of them. They ought to shoot him where he stands."

Dustil's fists clenched. "Right," he called over to her, "Lady, when it comes to allies, beggars can't be choosers. The Sith would've won if the Republic hadn't been willing to use everyone that offered to help, whether or not they met your meticulous moral standard."

"What do you know about it, boy?" the woman demanded.

Dustil's eyes didn't leave the screen. "Probably about as much as she does," he said, smirking, as a well-dressed, well-armed, but clearly teenaged Twi'lek came through the archway. It had to be that Tarisian refugee: the stealth op and tech.

The woman forgot her indignation. "My goodness, she's just a child," she remarked. "I can't imagine what the Republic was thinking."

"Hell of a diverse group," the bartender, Yooba, agreed. "Wouldn't be too surprised if a bantha came through that door next."

"Wonder who their leader was?" someone else asked.

Dustil grinned. "Woman by the name of Aithne Morrigan," he said. "You're welcome. And that—" he swallowed, blinked suddenly, and cut off. His father was there. He'd known that his dad had made it; there'd been no word of any deaths, but there he was, and Dustil realized that he'd been worried nonetheless that his father would just disappear again, go off to fight another war and leave Dustil cleaning up shop on Telos. But he was fine. He stood tall, in a ridiculously decorated formal Republic military uniform. He was alive, uninjured, and a Republic hero. Again. Which meant that he'd be coming back. Dustil didn't know exactly how he felt about that.

The woman that immediately followed his father had to be Bastila Shan. Dustil hadn't ever seen her, but she matched the description on the wanted datapad he still remembered. About five-six; around twenty two or twenty three years old. Blue eyes, brown hair. Dustil heard a few murmurs around the cantina. It figured a few people would have heard of her. She had killed Darth Revan, after all. Maybe Malak, too, since she was here.

Aithne was the last one through the archway. Dustil frowned. For such a formal occasion, she was dressed incredibly casually. She wasn't even wearing Jedi robes. And while she lined up next to the others on the platform beside Admiral Dadonna, it was impossible for Dustil, with his trained-Sith observation skills, not to notice that she stood a little apart, a little back from the others. She looked different from when they'd met on Korriban. Harder, more serious, and he thought- a little sadder, too.

Then Admiral Dadonna stepped up to the platform. The cantina quieted entirely as she began to speak.

The beginning of the story she told Dustil already knew. The old man had told him that the crew of the Ebon Hawk had been flying around the galaxy searching for Star Maps. Dustil had known, too, about the assassins the Sith had sent after them. He'd almost been one.

Admiral Dadonna told the rest of the story now in long, eloquent words and phrases. At the end of the Star Map quest, the crew of the Ebon Hawk had found the Star Forge, the alien factory Malak had been using to manufacture all his ships and operations. The crew had reported the Star Forge's location to the Republic Fleet, and there had been a battle.

In the battle the Ebon Hawk had, with a few fighters of Jedi Knights, penetrated the Star Forge and turned the tide of the battle in favor of the Republic. One of their number had killed Malak himself. The Fleet had been able to knock the Star Forge out of orbit. It had fallen to a fiery doom and a planetary grave. The Sith were scattered and beaten, and it was all because of the Ebon Hawk, and her crew.

Then Admiral Dadonna went through and recognized each member of the crew, calling them by name and listing their achievements.

Dustil frowned when she got to the Twi'lek kid, that Mission Vao. Apparently, Vao's most notable service to the cause had been assisting the crew to escape when they had been captured by the Sith ship Leviathan. Dustil swallowed as the cantina erupted into murmurs. Leviathan had been Saul Karath's flagship. Saul Karath had been the man that had ordered the attack on Telos: the man responsible for his mother's death and his own kidnap by the Sith. Dustil remembered that his father had sworn revenge on Karath, and wondered if he had gotten it. He grit his teeth. He hoped so.

"Hey, Dustil?" said Yooba.

"Huh?" Dustil said. "I mean, yeah. What do you need?"

"Your surname's Onasi, isn't it?"

Dustil shifted. "Yeah."

"That guy up there, the pilot. His name's Carth Onasi. Apparently he's from here. Helped save Bastila from Taris and got the whole crew going, and landed 'em on the Star Forge in the end. He's your pop, ain't he?"

The people in the cantina shifted their gaze from the holo broadcast. Dustil felt suddenly uncomfortable. "Um…yes, Carth Onasi is my father."

The man beside Dustil clapped him on the back. "Your dad's a hero, kid! Now I know why you've been hanging around here so much. You look like him. Bet you're proud, aren't you?'

Dustil didn't know exactly what to say. He…he was proud of his father. Carth Onasi was a good man. Always had been. So good he couldn't help from rushing into war after war, no matter how much Dustil's mom had missed him, no matter how much Dustil had wished his dad could've come to Career day at school, so all the guys would know exactly how amazing his father was. Still, Dustil guessed that his father had come to Korriban despite the risk. He'd kept Dustil from keeping company with a bunch of liars and murderers. That was something, at least. Dustil shrugged, and the man turned away.

The admiral had finished going on about Bastila and her Battle Meditation. "These heroes," she was saying, "have well-earned their reward. Each of them shall receive the Cross of Glory, the highest honor the Republic can bestow, for services rendered ending the war." There was overwhelming applause, both in the cantina and played over the speakers all the way from Coruscant, as Admiral Dadonna hung medals around the necks of the crew, even the droids.

Dustil didn't clap. Something was wrong. He realized Aithne wasn't getting a medal. The admiral hadn't mentioned a thing about her. Hadn't she led the mission? She had, hadn't she? What was up? As Admiral Dadonna stepped back up to the podium, though, Dustil distinctly saw Aithne Morrigan square her shoulders, as if preparing for a blow.

"Yes," the Admiral said, "These heroes: Bastila Shan, Carth Onasi, Mission Vao, Canderous Ordo, Jolee Bindo, Guardian Juhani, the Wookiee Zaalbar, and the droids T3-M4 and HK-47 deserve all praise, and we will forever be grateful, and honor their names. But they did not achieve this great task on their own. These were led on their mission. Aithne Morrigan, stand forth!"

"You mentioned her, didn't you, kid?" Yooba said, turning to look at Dustil. "How'd you know she led them? I thought she was a guard or something, dressed like she is."

Dustil shook his head. "Shh!"

It had been hours since the broadcast had gone off, and the Telosian lunar cantina was still packed with people wildly debating Admiral Dadonna's revelation of the true identity of Malak's killer and the savior of the Republic, and her subsequent sentence.

Dustil sat in the corner by himself, cradling his third drink. The waitress, Geri, had noticed his shock after the announcement and bustled him off and fetched him something. Dustil didn't know what it was, but it was strong. He was still underage, under Telos law, but he guessed Yooba knew this was a special occasion, and by the Force, he wasn't going to complain.

He shook his head yet again. Revan. The lady on Korriban had turned out to be Revan. Hindsight really was twenty-twenty, Dustil thought. He felt like he should've been able to tell, somehow. He'd been a Sith. Back there at the Academy, she'd said, I think I'm better at this than pretty much anyone. Yeah. No kidding.

Aithne Morrigan had made a big impression on Dustil back on Korriban. Her compassion had contrasted so sharply with her ruthlessness. He'd seen how completely calculating and capable she could be, but she'd still been so very vulnerable, too. He'd liked her. A lot. He'd seen her love for his father, his father's increasing attachment to her, and he'd gone so far as to approve it. And the lady was Darth Revan, by the Force! Queen of Evil!

Dustil wondered how his father had taken it whenever it had all come out after Leviathan. How had she felt? Of course, the whole Star Map quest and incredible training rate made complete sense now. And why Malak had been so afraid. Damn it, Dustil was a little afraid, now.

Sure, he got it. People changed. Especially when their brains had been wiped by the Jedi Council. But…Revan. Darth Revan!

She'd been stripped of her place in the Jedi Order and forbidden to use the lightsaber. She had been banned from service in the Republic military, and denied the Cross of Glory. For her heroism this past year as 'Aithne Morrigan', Revan was not being killed or imprisoned for her crimes against the Republic. Instead, she was being sentenced to a lifetime of rebuilding the planets she had destroyed.

About half the cantina was of the opinion that the Republic hadn't been nearly harsh enough. The blonde lady that had been going on about Canderous Ordo was still in the Pazaak den ranting about how they ought to have thrown Revan into some black pit at the end of the universe and let her rot for all time there.

Geri and the guy that had congratulated Dustil for being the son of Carth Onasi were outraged, too, but for the opposite reason. Along with the other half of the cantina, they were of the opinion that Revan oughtn't to have been penalized at all for her crimes. They railed against her expulsion from the Jedi Order and declared their intention to contact the Republic and ask that she might receive the Cross of Glory, too. After all, she had been the one to take down Malak. No one seemed happy with Revan's identity and sentencing.

Dustil didn't know what he thought. All he could think of was the remorse Revan had shown back on Korriban after she'd murdered Lashowe and the trouble she had gone through for him and his father. And he couldn't get it out of his head that not a single one of Aithne's- damn it, he just couldn't put the name 'Revan' with the personality of the woman he'd met- not one of her companions had looked the slightest bit bothered by her sentencing. They weren't all blank-faced Jedi. He'd looked towards his father, especially. The old man had looked…Dustil thought he might have looked a little excited, actually. It didn't make sense. Aithne herself had accepted Admiral Dadonna's harsh words without complaint or defense. She'd bowed when that Master Vandar had expelled her from the Order and calmly informed the crowd that she'd already relinquished her lightsaber. And though on the holo the abuse some of the Coruscant crowd had hurled at her could be clearly heard, Aithne had taken it with equanimity. Dustil didn't get it. If he'd done even a fraction of what she'd done for the Republic, and they'd treated him like they were treating her, he couldn't have stood for it.

What happens now? The Republic was done with the crew of the Ebon Hawk, but Dustil knew it could be months before they made it to Telos. If they even decided to come at all. Loose ends had to be tied up. And, well, Dustil's dad had never been around before. He'd said he regretted, but Dustil guessed he'd just see. Would he come with Aithne? Would she even be allowed?

The very next day Sergeant Azle called Dustil to the base, though, the center of the Telosian lunar settlement and the hub of Republic operations. Dustil was escorted to the Sergeant by two soldiers. The sergeant was a short, gray-haired woman in her fifties. She greeted Dustil with a firm handshake when he was brought to her.

"Yooba down at the cantina told us where we could find you," she said. "Our soldiers have been trying to track you down for a couple weeks now."

Dustil froze. Did they know that he used to be a Sith? Was he going to be arrested, or killed? But Sergeant Azle smiled at him.

"We've found you now, though. My assistant is putting the link to Coruscant through. Someone wants to talk to you."

Dustil was dumbstruck. A call? He hadn't expected that. He felt…grateful. Happy. It was weird. Very weird. The holo interface in the center of the base beeped, and an image of Dustil's dad appeared.

"Dustil! Good, you made it. I was worried that something might have happened to you."

"Father," Dustil greeted him. "Yeah, I'm here. I'm fine. I'm working at Ipsi's weapons shop on the lunar base here. I have an apartment. I- uh- I saw the broadcast last night. Congratulations on the medal and all."

"I'm just glad it's over," Carth said. "We're wrapping things up here on Coruscant. The ship has to be dealt with, and pretty much everyone has to decide where they're going now. I know, though. Dustil, I promise you, I will be there as soon as I can."

Dustil looked at the image of his father. He nodded, and smiled a bit. "I know, Dad. Um...you coming alone?"

Carth shifted. "You mean, is Aithne coming with me?"

Dustil nodded, somehow relieved to hear his father calling Revan 'Aithne'. "Yeah."

Carth looked very troubled. "We…we haven't talked about it. I'd like her to. Dustil- I'd like her to stay. I promised her that we could have a future together, but…in the end it's going to be up to her."

Dustil frowned. "Thanks for contacting me. I'll be here. Um…good luck. With Aithne, I mean."

Carth nodded. He turned to face Sergeant Azle. "Thank you, Sergeant. I'll be seeing you soon."

A/N: Yeah. So this chapter is ENTIRELY new. Originally I'd framed this part of the story (the ceremony and public Revan-reveal) in third person omniscient. Then I thought how much more interesting it would be to take a hike to Telos IV and hop into Dustil's head to see what he was thinking. I hope I've written him realistically. I imagine he's pretty confused at this point, but trying his absolute best to do what's right. Still, he has some guilt, and a lot of anger and puzzlement.

Please tell me what you think.

May the Force Be With You,

LMSharp