TWO

Carth forced himself to walk at a measured pace from the residential sector to the station commander's office. It wouldn't do for the local Admiral to be tearing though the station like the Sith were attacking. He did, however, take every shortcut he knew and wave off an earnest young officer who wanted to show him some paperwork. The Exile had to—had to—know something about Case and Dustil. Pellek Tran wouldn't have returned otherwise.

In truth, he had begun to think that she wasn't going to return at all. His network had kept watch on Pellek's activities since she left Citadel Station a year ago to fight Darth Traya on Malachor V. She had defeated Traya, but at the cost of three of her companions—the ex-Sith assassin, the Zabrak, and the bounty hunter had died on the surface of the dead planet. From what Carth could piece together from his sources, it had been Canderous—Mandalore now—who pulled the Exile from the ruins of Malachor and saved her life. Carth's spies soon reported that she had sent her remaining crew away and taken up mercenary work on the Rim when she wasn't drinking or bedding the best available woman. Carth had just about written her off as another dead end.

Carth had managed to keep decent tabs on Case and Dustil for the first several years after they left for the Unknown Regions. His spies would lose track of them for a while, then pick up a story about two Jedi cleaning out a corrupt government, or a mysterious pair living in a cave near a planet's ancient ruins. Then the reports became more and more sporadic, until finally they stopped altogether. The last thing Carth's sources discovered was that Case and Dustil had found something and were heading for a remote planet orbiting an ancient star. That had been six months ago, and Carth was about ready to take off after them, Fleet commission be damned.

Never, not once in five years, had he received a message from Case or Dustil directly. Some days, he couldn't keep the anger inside its box. But now, after months of fear gnawing at his stomach and keeping him awake at night, hope had reappeared. Carth took a deep breath and palmed open the door.

Commander Dol Grenn was speaking urgently to the Exile. They both looked up when he entered, and Grenn walked toward him, hand extended in greeting. "Admiral, it's good to see you again. It's a lucky coincidence that you happened to be on the station when Jedi Tran arrived." The man kept shooting nervous glances at the closed conference room adjoining his office.

Carth shook his hand out of habit but spoke over the man's shoulder to Pellek. "Well? What do you know?" The words came out in his "command" voice, the one that got soldiers moving without argument.

Nonetheless, the Jedi didn't seem to hear him at first, like she was listening to someone else in the room. But then she shook her head and finally looked at him. "No pleasantries, Admiral? But I guess you've never been interested in my health, have you?"

Carth crossed his arms and didn't respond. He and the Exile had no love for each other—she had gotten a lot of his friends killed under her command in the Mandalorian Wars—but he wasn't going to rise to her bait.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I haven't found Revan, but someone claiming to be your son tried to kill me a week ago."

"Dustil? Where is he? Is he all right?" he demanded. He saw Grenn eyeing the conference room door again, and Carth realized he must be in there. If she had hurt his son—

"Admiral, wait!" Grenn protested, but Carth ignored him and palmed open the door.

The small room was empty except for one chair and the holoboard against the far wall. Dustil was slumped down in the chair, eyes half open and head hanging low. He was wearing tattered clothing and a metal collar around his neck.

"What the hell have you done to him?" he asked. The fear in his chest was almost paralyzing, but he walked over to his son and kneeled in front of him. The boy—man—didn't even glance up. The collar gave off an unpleasant electronic hum.

Grenn piped up. "Admiral, it's for his own safety. Jedi Tran tells me he was quite agitated—"

"Get it off of him," he said flatly.

"I really recommend that you don't—" Grenn protested from the doorway.

"I said, get it off." Carth repeated, his voice low and hard.

Pellek hit a button on a datapad and the metal collar fell in two. Dustil blinked slowly and looked up. Carth let out a sigh of relief.

Then, without warning, Dustil snapped out a hand and Carth felt himself flung backward into the thin plasteel wall. Dustil leapt to his feet and held his open palm like a ward in front of him. He looked around wildly. "Where is she?" he hissed.

Carth pushed himself upright. Pellek had been thrown into the next room and Grenn was sprawled in the doorwary. "Dustil, it's me, you're safe—" he started.

Dustil looked past him without recognition. His eyes were yellow. He made a fist and Grenn gagged. The station commander scuttled back against the wall, hands clawing at the invisible bands crushing his throat.

Carth leapt to his feet, blaster out. Pellek ran into the room with her lightsaber blazing but stopped short at the scene before her.

"Drop your weapons, or he dies," Dustil said.

Grenn's eyes were rolling back in his head. In an oddly detatched thought, Carth realized with a curious mix of relief and guilt that he still couldn't fire on his son. He holstered his blaster and put his hands slowly in the air. After a tense moment, Pellek did the same. Dustil made no move to unclench his fist, however. "Take me to a ship," he growled.

"Enough of this!" a new voice shouted, and Dustil crashed backward into the wall. Grenn gasped painfully for air.

Bastila Shan strode into the room, a blue Force Shield crackling around her. With a gesture, she picked Dustil up and held him a meter off the ground. "Look at who you're fighting, Dustil!" she commanded.

Dustil glanced over and blinked a few times, his eyes slowly darkening to brown. He visibly paled. "Father?" he whispered.

"Everyone's okay, Dustil, it's fine," Carth said, his voice almost normal. His stomach was clenched—what the hell had happened to his son? And where was Case?

Bastila lowered Dustil to the ground. "Keep yourself calm, Jedi," she said warningly, hand on her lightsaber hilt. The woman turned to Carth and smiled. "Admiral, it's a pleasure to see you." Her cheerful tone was wildly incongruous to the tension and confusion rippling through the room. Carth wouldn't have been more surprised if Malak had walked through that door.

Pellek managed words first and echoed his thoughts. "I heard you were dead!" she exclaimed.

Bastila inclined her head. "I'm pleased to see that my ruse was successful," she said in her lilting accent. She turned to Grenn, who had picked himself up and only looked a little pale. "I believe there is much to discuss. Would you be so kind as to show us to a more private room, one with perhaps a few more chairs?"

"Er, yes, of course, Master Jedi. Please use my office," Grenn said, ushering them back into the room.

"We will need privacy, Commander. Will you see that the four of us are not disturbed?" Bastila asked.

"Oh, of course, of course. Please take as long as you need. I'll be, er, elsewhere. Good day, Admiral, Masters." Grenn backed out of the room, looking like a man who had just escaped his own execution.

Carth couldn't help but envy him.

Pellek made a show of nonchalance, stretching her legs out from her chair and folding her arms across her chest. In truth, she was exhausted, having run non-stop back from the far end of the Rim to get Onasi's boy back before he worked himself out of the collar. She hadn't expected the Admiral to actually be on the station—she was going to just leave the boy with Dol Grenn and go back to collect her fee from Talia. But now here she was, sitting in council with Bastila Shan, of all people, and it didn't look like she'd be getting a nap anytime soon.

Bastila was going on about how she escaped the Jedi massacre on Katarr, something about being in seclusion on Coruscant and Master Vrook asking her to come to Dantooine at the last moment. Pellek mostly tuned it out. Bastila had barely started her padawan training when Pellek left to join Revan and Malak in the Mandalorian Wars. The girl had been far too young to join them, but to hear her tell it afterward, she had pleaded with all of them not to defy the will of the Council. Sanctimonious schutta. Pellek had heard that Bastila had been part of the battle for the Star Forge with Revan, and she could only hope the woman had learned a little something about real life along the way.

"Hey, the Jedi princess there could teach Kreia a thing or two about long, boring lectures," Atton whispered in her ear.

Pellek glanced over to see the scoundrel glowing faintly beside her. "Bastila and Dustil can hear you, you know," she whispered back.

Atton grinned. "Nah, not unless I want them to. But they can hear you talking to thin air."

Everyone in the room was staring at her. Dustil, who had seen Atton already, looked amused, while Bastila and Carth just looked suspicious.

"Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on here?" Carth asked. "Bastila, I respect you, but I'm running out of patience. I want to know what the hell just happened in that conference room, and I want to know what's happened to Case." He turned to Dustil. "Where is she?"

Dustil looked panicked for a moment, eyes darting toward the door. He shook his head. "I don't know. I know where we were, but—"

"Well, you were with her, weren't you? What happened? Where is she?" Carth demanded, his voice raising with each question. Pellek could see Dustil starting to pant, trapped by his father's accusing stare. The young man's aura, blue-gray, flickered red around the edge. Pellek put her hand on her lightsaber hilt.

"Dustil," Bastila said quietly, "you must control yourself." The words were weighted with the Force.

"We can always put the collar back on him," Pellek drawled. She could feel Carth's dark glare on her.

"You are not being helpful," Bastila told her, gaze still locked on Dustil.

"Yeah, no kidding, Pel," Atton said. "If the Admiral had the Force, I'm pretty sure you'd just be a pile of ash by now."

"No, she's right," Dustil said. He took several deep breaths and pressed his hands hard against his eyes. His aura settled back to a light slate color. "I'm all right now."

The tension in the room dropped several degrees. Bastila nodded approvingly and tried to regain control of the meeting. "Perhaps you should tell us how you came to arrive here," she said to him.

Dustil shook his head. "There's no time for long stories. Case and I were in the Unknown Regions, we found the True Sith, and she was captured. I've been—"

"Captured?" Carth asked. "How long ago?"

"Weeks. I got back to our ship but ran out of fuel near Onderon. I was trying to get another ship when that woman and her pet ghost caught me."

"Hey, who're you calling a pet, padawan?" Atton growled. Dustil flicked his eyes over to him but didn't respond. Pellek frowned. Just how far into the Unknown Regions were Dustil and Revan, anyway? She'd never heard of any hyperspace trip taking weeks.

"Why did you come back to known space?" Carth asked sharply, interrupting her train of thought. "You just left her out there by herself?"

"I was coming back for help!" Dustil protested. "You weren't there—there were hundreds of them. I thought if I could find Master Jolee, or Master Kavar, we could go back and rescue her."

Pellek sighed. "They're both dead. All the Masters are now." Three because of me, she reminded herself cruelly.

Carth stood, apparently having had enough of all the talking. "My ship is ready to go. We can finish this conversation on the way back out there."

"I will come with you," Bastila said firmly.

Carth shook his head. "Sorry, sister, but my ship's barely big enough for two."

"Then we will take the Ebon Hawk," she replied.

Pellek, already busy planning her route back to Onderon, jerked her head up at Bastila's words. "What? Oh, hell, no. I don't work for you or the Admiral, never have, and I'm not going off on a fool's mission to find Revan. Hell, we don't even know if she's alive."

"She's alive," Dustil said quietly, his eyes on the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's dark, and she's afraid and in pain, but she's alive." He brought his eyes up to her. "We're going to need all the Force powers we can get."

Pellek was already shaking her head. "No way." She was not doing this again. Too many people had already died because of her—she was a hole in the Force, and everything she touched became corrupted.

"General," a soft voice said beside her.

Pellek covered her eyes with her hands. "No, don't ask. Bao-Dur, please don't ask—"

"They need you, General," he said. "And you need this."

Pellek looked up finally at the faint glow from her friend. Atton was standing beside the Zabrak. He shrugged. "The one-armed-wonder's right, Pel. Isn't this what we've been waiting for?"

Pellek looked from her friends to the rest of the room. Bastila was staring at the ghosts, mouth open like she wanted to comment but couldn't think what to say. Carth was frowning at Pellek, no doubt wondering why she was talking to empty space. The line of his jaw was tense, and she could tell he was already tired of waiting on her equivocation. Dustil kept wiping his hands on his pants like he couldn't find another place for them.

"General," Bao-Dur prompted.

Pellek threw up her hands. "Fine! Fine, I'll go with you." Bao-Dur smiled and disappeared.

She paced along one side of the office while Carth put in a call to someone at the High Command and Bastila consulted with Dustil about—Jedi things, she guessed.

Atton sidled up to her. "I guess I'd better tag along in case you run into trouble, huh, babe? You never know when you'll need a Force ghost to get you out of a jam."

She smiled weakly at him and rubbed her forehead where a headache was starting. It was like the beginning of a bad joke—a jittery padawan, an anxious admiral, a haughty Jedi, and a wisecracking ghost, all looking for a missing Sith Lord on a planet full of Sith. And there was something else, just a sliver of something that made her think that Dustil hadn't told them everything about this mission. She didn't know what it was, but she had a bad feeling about it.

Hell, she had a bad feeling about the whole trip. Pellek checked her lightsaber, rearranged her pack, and took a deep breath. She only hoped this adventure would turn out better than her last one.