SIX

"I thought you wanted to talk!" Dustil said to the alien marching him from the holding cell to—wherever they were going. As it had the last three times he had spoken to it, the alien guard grumbled something in its language and kept walking.

Dustil sighed and tried to ignore the panic that kept creeping up in his chest. The panic told him that he had to get out of here, that he was wasting his time, that Case might die before he reached her—but he could do nothing without his weapon or the Force, and he couldn't risk using the Force and betraying himself before he found Bastila. He and Bastila had been separated as soon as they reached the town, and Dustil had spent the last several hours in a small holding cell. Then, without warning or apparent instruction, the guard had dropped the forcefield and gestured for Dustil to walk.

Dustil checked surreptitiously through the Force again and was reassured that Bastila was pissed as hell and worried, but otherwise unharmed. If he could just find someone in charge, he was sure he could convince them that he and Bastila were harmless. It had worked two years ago on Tarkis II when he had gotten Case out of a very suspicious university's detention center. He just needed clear space, a little Force Persuasion, and enough time to get back to his ship.

The guard's comm beeped and the alien rattled something back to it. He stopped abruptly at a doorway, yanking Dustil to a halt. He opened the door and gestured. "What's inside?" Dustil asked. In response, the alien shoved him through the door and closed it behind him.

Dustil quickly regained his balance and examined the room. It was an office, dominated by a large desk in the center with two chairs. There was a seating area to the side with a holoplayer. Wide windows revealed that it was midmorning on the moon. A door hissed open to his right and his father stumbled into the room, barely catching himself on his hands and knees.

"Father?" Dustil asked incredulously. He stood rooted to his spot, too surprised to move.

His father groaned and put a hand to his head. "Frack," Carth muttered.

"He'll be all right, kid," a voice said beside him. Dustil looked over to see Atton Rand glowing faintly beside him. The ghost looked tired, if such a thing were even possible.

"What happened?" Dustil demanded.

Atton shrugged. "Near as I can tell, Pel and the Admiral fell for the old poisoned-hospitality trick. Dropped them both like stunned tulla birds."

"What's going on here? What do these people want?" Dustil asked.

"What, you think I'm all-knowing just because I'm dead? I don't know any more than you do, kid, which is that these aliens clearly have something against Force users, and some way to find them. They'd sniffed Pel out before she'd even done anything with the Force." Atton narrowed his eyes. "Come to think of it, Padawan, why haven't found you?"

Dustil didn't like Atton's accusatory stare. "It's none of your business, but I can shield my Force abilities. It's come in handy these last few years."

Atton snapped his fingers. "That's where I've seen you before. You were on that blocade run to Telos a few years ago, weren't you? The kid with the Sith Assassin holodisc?"

Dustil was vividly reminded of the pilot's calculating gaze and red-tinged aura. "Yeah," he agreed slowly, "but you weren't with the Exile then."

Atton's expression was unreadable. "No, that was before—a lot of things."

Carth finally noticed Dustil's presence. "Dustil?" he asked in confusion. "What are you doing here?" He got himself to his feet and leaned unsteadily against the desk. "I thought I told you to stay with the ship."

Dustil clenched his jaw on the smartass response he wanted to make. "These sentients are apparently afraid of the Force. They captured us out by the ship a while ago and they've been questioning Bastila somewhere else nearby. I assume that's where Pellek is, too."

"Why aren't you with them?" Carth asked. "You're a—" he glanced around and lowered his voice, "Jedi, too."

"I don't think they care about Jedi or Sith," Atton remarked. "I think they're afraid of the Force, period."

Dustil nodded. "That makes sense. There plenty of Sith out here in the Unknown Regions, but there's also ex-Jedi and untrained Force users. Most sentients don't care much about the philosophical differences."

His father frowned. "What?"

Dustil realized that his response to Atton must have sounded completely nonsequitur to Carth's question. He didn't quite know how to begin explaining about Force ghosts, though. "Well, you see, Pellek had a pilot, Atton Rand—"

"Oh, the ghost," Carth interrupted. "Of course you're talking to the damn ghost, too." He rubbed his forehead. "Tell him hello for me," he muttered irritably.

Atton grinned. "Howdy, Admiral." He glanced at the door. "Hey, I think you've got company. I'm going to check on Pel and the Princess. I'll let you know if I find anything." He disappeared.

As predicted, the door hissed open and two aliens entered. Their head fur was light gray and they carried themselves with an official air. The one on the right looked nearly identical to the other, except for a long scar that crossed its face from eye to chin.

"Greetings, sentients," the scarred one said in accented Basic. "I am Startol, the darjuk of this community. My mate, Tepai, and I welcome you to Vintar." The alien, who Dustil thought of as male even though it looked exactly like its mate, smiled at them. Dustil carefully extended his Force senses and could feel sentients outside the room in all directions. These officials wanted to appear unarmed, but there was no doubt that Dustil and his father would be killed immediately if they attempted anything.

His father's diplomacy skills must have kicked in, because his former disorientation evaporated. "Carth Onasi, from Telos. This is my son, Dustil." Carth held out his hand to Startol. The alien looked perplexed for a moment, but then his expression cleared and he shook Carth's hand vigorously.

"This is your custom, yes," Startol said cheerfully. "We do not see your kind here very often. Our apologies for the. . .circumstances under which you were brought here. Such unpleasantries are sometimes required, but never celebrated. You can be assured that you will be treated with dignity from this point forward."

"What about Bastila and Pellek?" Dustil asked. The aliens looked at him blankly. "The women?" The aliens looked sideways at Carth, as though questioning Dustil's sentience. "You know, the Force users?" he said finally.

That got a reaction. The aliens' head fur went white. Startol spoke quickly to Tepai in their language and then raised his hands. "They are unharmed, we assure you. Are they—are they your mates?" he asked.

"Of course n—" Dustil began.

"—Of course they are," his father said quickly over him. "And we would like to see them immediately."

Tepai spoke up. "How could you be mated to such abominations?" She cocked her head at them. "Perhaps you do not realize that they are controlling your actions with their Force powers."

Dustil didn't like the suspicion that flickered in his father's eyes before he blinked it away. "Bastila and Pellek are what we call Jedi," Carth explained. "They have sworn to use the Force only to defend themselves, and the Republic."

"Don't you have any Force Sensitive people on your world?" Dustil asked.

Startol glowered. "Come, we will show you." He walked to the seating area and indicated for them to sit. Dustil awkwardly sat on the too-low couch, his knees high in the air. Startol sat opposite them with Tepai and pulled up the holoprojector. "For all of our history, since before we learned to bend space, some children were born who were touched by the gods. Their powers were not great, but they were trained by our priests to use them in service of the people, making construction easier and healing the sick. They were honored by society. It was this way for thousands of years." The holoprojector showed old recordings of smiling children and serious-eyed adults who were clearly using the Force. "Then, one day, everything changed." Startol clenched his fists and his head fur darkened. "The Jedi," he spit the word, "came to us."

Tepai placed a hand on her mate's shoulder and took up the story. "Thirty years ago, your Jedi came, and they were wise and kind. They said that they would train our special children to use their powers, and they could do even greater good than they did on our world." The holoprojector showed what were clearly Jedi, brown robes and all, talking to crowds of the aliens. Dustil leaned forward and squinted at the projection. He could have sworn one of the young Jedi was Jolee Bindo. These Jedi hadn't meant any harm, then. He sat back and nodded to Tepai to continue. "All the darjuki and their mates met and decided that this was a good thing, and we would send our children with the Jedi." She dropped her eyes. "Perhaps we were just naïve, to think that they would return while they were still children. They did not come back in five years, or ten."

Dustil had an uncomfortable feeling where this was headed. Tepai continued, "Some of them did return, twenty years later, when even their parents had forgotten the color of their fur. They returned with a great leader, a Jedi who wore a mask, and—" she paused and brought a hand to her mouth. The holoprojector showed burning buildings. "These Jedi, including our own children, killed the darjuki council, leaving their mates to die alone. Our children put themselves in the place of the council and forced our people to build weapons for the Jedi."

"And they wanted to!" Startol burst in. "These—these Jedi made the people forget that their own families had been killed. We were no better than slaves—we, who had always been free."

"How did you defeat them?" his father asked. Dustil couldn't make anything out of his closed expression. He thought that was a bad sign, because Dustil knew they both realized that the masked Jedi had been Revan.

Tepai smiled and touched her mate affectionately on the arm. "Startol organized the other under-darjuki and they fought the Jedi. It cost many lives, but they defeated the Jedi and returned our freedom. We have been free for five years now."

"Those weren't Jedi, Startol," Dustil said. He wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince these aliens or his father. "I know they said they were, but they were Sith, a group of Force-users who don't use the Force for good. They were as much slaves to the Force as your people were slaves to them. The Jedi wouldn't do that."

He thought Tepai might be coming around, but Startol just shook his head. "There is no difference to me—I did not ask my daughter if she was Jedi or Sith when she attacked me with her light sword. She did not tell me if she was Jedi or Sith when I plunged my blade into her heart." Startol snapped off the holoprojector. "After the Children's Massacre, we built detectors in our cities to warn us if anyone uses the Force. Our children are no longer trained to use the Force, and to use it is a high crime."

Carth leaned forward. "Look, this has been a misunderstanding. I can repair our ship in a few hours and then we'll all be happy to leave your moon. I'll give you my personal assurance that Bastila and Pellek won't use the Force while we're here."

Only someone who was Force-blind would make such a ridiculous offer. Dustil could no more "not use" the Force as he could stop breathing. But he was sure Bastila and Pellek could at least be quiet about it until they got off this moon. Dustil couldn't help but be disgusted at a people so so terrified of themselves that they willingly blinded their children.

"What of your fourth companion?" Startol asked, jerking Dustil out of his thoughts.

"What companion?" Carth asked. "There are only the four of us."

Startol looked surprised. "We assumed you knew, as she is also Human." Startol pulled up the holoprojector again. "This was taken three weeks ago."

Carth made a strangled noise. The picture was grainy and dark, but it was clear enough. The blurry woman walking away from the recorder was none other than Case Lanatal.

Trayus Core was cold. Pellek knew she should be figuring out how she was going to defeat Kreia, or worrying about the increasing frequency of seismic rumbles under her feet, but all she could think about was how blasted cold it was. She paused before opening the door to the center of the Core and spared a last look to Sion, sprawled dead on the floor of the great hall. The Sith Lord had wanted to die, at the end.

Pellek shivered and then forced herself upright. She would not face Kreia with her shoulders bowed. She palmed open the door.

The walkway to the Core seemed to go on forever, but Pellek could see a figure at the end of it. Kreia would know she was coming, but Pellek thought the old woman would not attack her from a distance, despite the tactical advantage she had in the Force. Kreia still had something to tell her, she was sure.

A groan pulled her attention away from the Core. She saw the broken body a few meters ahead on the walkway. "Atton!" she gasped.

He was unbelievably, horribly, still alive. She could barely make out his eyes, swollen and bloodshot in his bruised and bloody face. His lips barely moved in a smile. "You're alive," he said. "Did I. . .save you yet?" He laughed weakly. "I let you down," he whispered.

"Shh, Atton, lie still." She felt their connection in the Force, and knew he was dying. No amount of kolto would save him now. Myfaultmyfaultmyfault, she screamed silently.

Atton grabbed her hand with his remaining one and pulled her to him with surprising strength. His voice was clear. "Loved you from the moment I first saw you, Pel. You saved me."

"There is no death, Atton, there is the Force," she whispered. The Force connection between them went slack and his hand dropped away. Pellek touched his forehead with hers, then stood and resumed her walk to the Core. Kreia would pay for this.

She thought she was prepared for anything. She should have known that Kreia would have something ready for her.

The old woman was standing calmly in the center of the Core, but Pellek didn't see her at first, nor did she see Bao-Dur's body, slung to the side like a child's toy. She didn't see either of them because she was transfixed by the wide eyes of Mira, staring terrified at her. The bounty hunter was a meter off the ground, hands tugging futilely at the invisible hold on her throat.

"The huntress was stronger than I thought, Exile," Kreia said. Pellek couldn't tear her eyes away from Mira's. "She tracked me very far. For you. And now she dies. For you." Kreia closed her fist.

The sound of Mira's neck breaking echoed in Pellek's head. My fault, she whispered to herself. My fault. Then she leapt at Kreia with her blade.

"General," a familiar voice called to her. "General, this is the wrong place."

Pellek forced her eyes open and saw Bao-Dur looking down at her. Her head was pounding like she'd been on a three day bender. "Bao?" she whispered.

The Zabrak smiled. "You have to live in the present, General. It's dangerous enough as it is. Be careful." He raised his hand to her hair and faded away.

Pellek forced herself to sit up in spite of the disturbing way the world spun. She'd been dreaming about Malachor, again. It seemed she would never escape that planet.

"What happened, Jedi Tran?" Bastila's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Where is the Admiral?"

Pellek squinted across the room and saw Bastila sitting on a low bench. They were in some kind of holding cell. Pellek hoped Bastila had gotten the drugged-roll treatment, too, at least for the headache. "You just left me unconscious here on the floor?" she asked. "Nice Jedi manners, Bastila."

Bastila actually looked chagrined for a moment before her features went frosty again. "I have no interest in babysitting a drunk."

Pellek laughed aloud at that and then wished she hadn't when the pain exploded across her skull. Maybe Bastila had a little spine to her, after all. "I wasn't drunk, at least not this time," she said. Pellek tugged on the Force and sent a little cooling Heal to her head. "Where are we?"

Bastila ran her hands over her hair and then clasped them tightly together. "We're somewhere in the town that you and Carth were headed toward. The inhabitants of this moon, the Vintari, found Dustil and me outside of the Ebon Hawk and brought us both here. I haven't seen him since I arrived. They questioned me at some length about our purpose here."

"Have they hurt you?" Pellek asked, seeing the way the younger woman's hands trembled. She instinctively reached for her lightsaber hilt and was surprised to find that it was still there.

"No, no, they were courteous once we arrived," Bastila replied. "But there is something in their auras which concerns me greatly. These sentients are full of fear." The Jedi ran her hands over her hair again.

Pellek narrowed her eyes. Bastila was lying, she was sure of it. But it was plain that she wasn't hurt, so—what was it? Pellek extended her Force senses, but there was no chance she was getting through the titansteel block Bastila had wrapped around her thoughts. Pellek filed her suspicions away for another time and stood. "Well, then I guess we need to get out of here," she said.

The cell was a featureless box with a solid door—no weaknesses to break through. Pellek stood in front of the door and considered her options. "Atton?" she called. She felt through the Force but didn't sense him nearby. "Atton—could you try being useful for once and tell us what's on the other side of this door?"

No response from the ghost. Pellek heard low laughter behind her. She turned and saw Bastila biting her lower lip. "What?" she asked.

"There is an easier way, I think." Bastila strode past her and opened the door to the cell. An empty hallway beckoned.

Pellek blinked at the open door. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she asked finally.

Bastila shrugged and seemed to be controlling a smirk. "You never asked."

"Hey, good one, Princess," Atton said, materializing in the middle of the room. "Too bad I didn't die with a holocorder on me—Pel's face is priceless."

Pellek shoved through him and out the cell door. Just what she needed on top of her headache—a snotty Jedi and a damn Force ghost ganging up on her. And why had the Vintari left them in an unlocked room with their weapons, anyway? There was something very suspicous about all of this.

They were at one end of a short hallway that ended in a heavy wooden door. The hallway was flanked by two doors on each side. Pellek started toward the door ahead. "Which way to the Admiral, Atton?" she called behind her. "I've had about enough of this planet."

A sudden jerk in the Force drowned out Atton's answer. Pellek stopped dead in the hallway and raised her palm to the door on her left. She could feel the pulse of someone inside. Without thinking, she opened the door and strode through.

A small Vintari was sitting on the bench with its knees up and chin resting on top. It broke into a wide smile. "You came for me!" It—she, Pellek thought—held out her palm toward them and Pellek was rocked forward on her toes by a weak Force Pull.

"Follani?" Pellek asked in confusion. She was sure this was the same alien child she had spoken to in the city, but that child had not been able to use the Force.

"Jedi Tran, what have you done?" Bastila whispered behind her.

Pellek looked from Bastila's frowning face to the alien child. "What? What do you mean?" she asked. How did Bastila know anything about her?

Bastila paused, and Follani spoke up brightly. "You made me a Force user, like you!"

Atton spoke over her shoulder. "Frack, Pel, could you meet a Sensitive, just once, and not make a Force connection with them? This planet is crawling with aliens who hate the Force, and what do you do? You turn their kids into Jedi!"

"Shut up, Atton," Pellek growled. She knelt in front of the child and felt the Force between them. Sure enough, there was a connection—not fully a Bond, but a tie. Pellek could feel the Force through the child, like she had been able to with Atton and Bao-Dur before they died. She had done it again—built a connection without realizing, opened someone to the Force without intending. "Where is your mother, Follani?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

Follani blinked at her matter-of-factly. "Using the Force is wrong. They said I have to stay here until I learn not to use it. But now I don't have to, right? You've come to take me with you to the camp in the north?"

Pellek was already shaking her head. "No, I'm not—"

Bastila interrupted. "Where is this camp, child?" Pellek wasn't sure why she was so interesed.

Follani shrugged. "Where the bad people go, the ones who use the Force."

Pellek raised her hands. "Come on, all of you, let's get out of here before someone realizes we've left. We can figure out where to send Follani when we're clear." She turned on her heel and exited the room, leaving Bastila to handle the child. She clenched her fists—how could she have done this again? If it hadn't been for her, Follani would be at home like a normal child, not newly Force Sensitive and sitting in a jail cell. And Mira wouldn't be dead. And Kreia wouldn't be dead. And the Masters wouldn't be—

Pellek shook her head roughly and cut off her thoughts. She could practically feel the hole in the Force pulsing inside of her. She had to get out of here, away from all these people who hated the Force.

Pellek took whichever turn seemed the most reasonable and soon found herself in a wide room full of chairs and holoprojectors. There were maybe ten Vintari in the room in various states of activity. A few were listlessly watching the holoprojector; two were playing a game of cards; others seemed to be doing nothing at all. All of them were wearing blinking collars. Attuned to the Force for direction as she was, it was almost a physical shock when Pellek ran into the Force barrier that permeated this room.

She slowed to a stop, staring around her. All of these aliens were Force Sensitive, but the collars were blocking them completely. She realized where they must be.

"This is a hospital," she whispered. A few of the Vintari looked up, then back down without interest.

"More like a mental insitituion," Atton whispered back.

Bastila caught up, now carrying Follani on one hip, and together they made for a locked doorway. It was all Pellek could do not to Boost them all out the door. This place terrified her. Bastila raised a hand and the electronic lock sparked and went dark. Pellek pushed open the door and blinked into the sudden sunlight.

"Well, that was easy," she said. As she said it, an alarm began to sound. Of course.

She extended her lightsaber and started to run.