For several long seconds, Hunter stood motionless in the central room, staring first at Tech's wrist comm, then at Wrecker's, then at his own. All three had been sliced down the middle by one quick slash of Vythia's blade. Hunter's and Wrecker's helmet comms had been destroyed the same way, and Tech didn't have a helmet, which meant that Hunter had no way of contacting Crosshair or Quinlan. And if Vythia was after the Jedi for some reason . . . why would she be, though?
Hunter looked up the stairway, half-wondering if he should follow her, but he saw and heard nothing to indicate that she was in the stairwell at all – and he didn't want to leave his remaining teammates without a real reason. Every time they'd separated, so far, something had gone wrong.
Swallowing against the urge to cough, Hunter crouched down and pressed both hands flat against the floor. He felt nothing except the vibrations from the healing leviathan. If Vythia was nearby, she wasn't moving. Why not? Was she hiding, waiting to attack? Not likely. If she'd wanted them dead, she could have easily killed all three of them just now.
As Hunter stared around the vast room, looking for anything that would tell him where she had gone, his gaze fell on the main hallway – their way out, as soon as everyone was back together . . . Wait. Had Tech secured the Marauder before re-entering Trayus, or was Vythia intending to use it to get off-world?
Hunter ran back to Tech, who was still sleeping despite Vythia's attack, and shook him hard. "Tech!" he shouted, then coughed. "Wrecker, wake up!"
Tech jolted awake, scrambled to his feet, and nearly lost his balance. "What is it?" he demanded.
"Is the ship secure?"
When Tech nodded, Hunter felt himself relax slightly. Even if Vythia somehow managed to get inside the Marauder, she wouldn't be able to get through the locked-down controls.
"What happened?" Wrecker asked, rolling to his side. He pushed himself stiffly to his knees, then leaned against the wall, studying Hunter through narrowed eyes. "Uhh. . . Hunter, what happened to you?"
Rubbing a hand across his throat, Hunter held back another cough. "Vythia happened."
Tech's eyes widened, and he turned to stare around the massive room. "Why did we not wake up?"
"Probably the pain meds."
"That is likely." Tech blinked a few times, as though trying to force himself into alertness. "Where is she now?"
"I don't know." Hunter took a few steps away to where he'd last seen Vythia, then knelt and studied the floor. He could see traces of footsteps in the gritty ash that was scattered across the floor – but the entire team had run or walked across this room so many times that it was hard to tell which tracks belonged to which person, let alone when each set had been made. His own pacing hadn't helped, that was for sure. But Vythia gone to Tech and Wrecker after knocking him out. . .
Hunter went back to the outspread blankets and peered carefully at the floor. He couldn't distinguish her footprints here, either, even though she would most likely have stopped between Wrecker and Tech to destroy their commlinks, which neither of them had been wearing at the time. And from there?
Drawing his pistol, Hunter activated the tactical light and pointed it along the floor where Vythia would have had to run if she'd gone for the nearest doorway. He couldn't see any indications that she'd gone that way, or towards the other door. So . . . had she gone up the stairs? But why would she?
Once again, he had no answers; but something, maybe instinct, told him she hadn't headed upstairs.
Starting at the stairway this time, he pointed his light back towards Tech and Wrecker's position. Still no new tracks, at least that he could see. Now he was sure she hadn't gone towards the stairs after attacking him, and when he pressed a hand against the stairwell wall again, he still couldn't feel anything except the leviathan's slow, heavy breathing.
As Hunter straightened again, he exchanged a quick, confused look with Wrecker. "I can't feel her anywhere. Tech, anything?"
"No." Tech barely looked up from his datapad, which he was holding clumsily. "I am not picking up any life signs, not even from the leviathan. The range of my scans is incredibly limited, even considering earlier circumstances."
"You mean the storm?" Wrecker asked, still leaning one hand against the wall. He looked as worried as Tech sounded, and almost as worried as Hunter felt. After all this time, the sergeant still had no ideas as to what Vythia really wanted; but he was almost certain that both he and Quinlan had been wrong about her only wanting artifacts.
The illusions of Ghant were out of sight, at least from where Quinlan sat, but their voices, for lack of a better word, were still audible as they paced slowly away in either direction, pausing every so often to repeat their strange phrase. Quinlan stayed where he was, with Crosshair half-slumped against him, and waited while the faint vestiges of the Sith Lord's gurgling voice floated back through the halls for the seventh time. "You have – now earned . . . the title of . . . Mas . . . ter."
"I swear, if I have to hear that sentence one more time . . ." Quinlan spoke to fill the silence, but his voice sounded strangely loud and out of place.
He cleared his throat self-consciously, looking down at Crosshair's comatose form. The sniper wasn't in shock, apparently – at least, his pulse was fine – but Quinlan was worried about his mental state. "Crosshair," he said. "Are you going to wake up any time soon, or will we still be here by the time the illusions come back around? If you timed it right, we have twelve and a half minutes to go. And I don't know about you, but I'd like to leave before we have to listen to them again."
The sniper didn't move in response to his voice. With a sigh, Quinlan reached for his pack. "Well, I guess we can wait a couple minutes before moving. Sound like a plan?"
He tilted his head, listening for a reply even though he knew he wasn't going to get one, then opened his med pack. "Okay, great. Well, as long as we're sitting here anyway, I'm gonna patch up your hands a bit."
Picking up the disinfectant in one hand and Crosshair's left hand in the other, Quinlan grimaced a little at the look of the swollen splits in his skin. "Guess it's just as well you're out cold, huh?"
After a quick look in the general direction of the crypt, the Jedi set to work; but even while he focused on cleaning and bandaging the sniper's hands, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened shortly before. It was almost like something outside of himself was making him think of what he'd done.
He had deliberately used the Dark Side for his own ends. Twice. At least, that's what the masters at the Temple would have said – well, maybe not all of them would say it. After all, Quinlan hadn't found Crosshair for his own sake, just like he hadn't used it to help Tech for his own sake.
Sighing, Quinlan smeared bacta over the knuckles of Crosshair's left hand, which looked like he'd smashed them against a wall or two . . . or three.
"Wish I'd found you sooner," he mumbled, reaching for the gauze. It was too quiet here, with only his movements and Crosshair's slightly erratic breathing audible, and his thoughts were too loud. "I should have. I guess I always knew I'd have to use the dark side while I was here."
You don't have to use it. You never had to, his mind told him.
"Yes, I kriffing well did." Quinlan closed his mouth briefly when he realized he'd spoken aloud, but talking out loud quieted the other voice, so he kept going. "If I was going to use it anyway, I might as well have done it right off. I probably should have."
The result of using the Dark Side, whatever that result was, would have been – would be – the same for Quinlan whether he'd done it earlier or not, but if he had used it earlier, it would have been better for Crosshair, and for Tech. He could have attacked the presence and forced it back, and found the two missing commandos easily. He should have considered the possibility that he could use the dark to fight the presence . . . and if he were honest with himself, he had considered it, but then rejected the idea.
Instead, he'd told Hunter that they needed to try and kill the leviathan. Wrecker got injured because of that, which meant Hunter had to stay with him, which meant that the search for the other two had taken much longer than it otherwise would have –
I should've just used it right away, he thought again, shoving a wad of disinfectant-soaked gauze back in its torn wrapper. The Dark Side worked against that presence . . . it retreated from me a lot faster than it did from Bastila's crystal. I'd always heard the dark is stronger than the light, but . . .
But Quinlan had never believed it. He still didn't, not in the long run, but he was convinced that Sith had been right in their claims that the Dark Side was more immediately powerful. That was why it was such a temptation even to Jedi, who were absolutely forbidden from using it.
Quinlan glanced down, realized he'd stopped moving, and went back to work. I only used it to help them. As he deliberately quashed the guilt he'd been feeling with that internal statement, the strange, intensive thoughts that had been swirling around him like fog vanished. Something about that was wrong, but Quinlan ignored it and focused on Crosshair.
Fortunately – in one sense, anyway – the sniper remained unconscious, or maybe just unresponsive, for most of the time it took Quinlan to clean and bandage his hands. As far as the Jedi could tell, there weren't any broken bones to worry about, which was honestly surprising, given the level of self-inflicted bruising.
Quinlan was wrapping gauze around the knuckles of his right hand when Crosshair's breathing quickened. He shifted once, then froze and stopped breathing entirely. His gaze flickered around the room, not alighting on anything.
"There you are," Quinlan said, keeping his voice light. "About time you woke up. Are you ready to head down, or should we –?"
The sniper drew in a sharp breath, then sat up and turned away, yanking his hand from Quinlan's grasp.
Frowning, the Jedi set to work rubbing disinfectant over his own hands as he watched Crosshair a little warily. When the sniper showed no signs of immediate panic, Quinlan moved closer and finished tying off the bandage he'd been working on. At least he didn't get his wrist twisted, this time, though Crosshair did stare towards him – through him, really – as though not quite sure of . . . something.
I really hope he doesn't think I'm Ghant, Quinlan thought, glancing at the pistol in Crosshair's holster. Maybe I should take that, just in case.
Of course, taking it would probably gain him a broken wrist . . . if Crosshair even noticed him. The sniper seemed less aware now than he had before he'd passed out. At least earlier, he'd been talking, but now he was almost worse than he'd been when Quinlan opened the crypt.
Sitting back on his heels, the Jedi studied him. "Crosshair?"
No answer. Crosshair's gaze was aimed in the general direction of Quinlan's face, but it didn't look like he was registering what was in front of him . . . or what he was hearing.
The Jedi tapped his hand lightly against the floor beside him, and Crosshair jerked all over, making it halfway to his feet before he slumped to his knees again. He was responding to noise, but not to speech – and he was responding violently.
"Uhh – okay . . ." Shifting closer, Quinlan reached for Crosshair's pistol, and slid it carefully out of his holster. "I'm just gonna set this aside for now. I don't need you shooting me or anything."
He checked his chronometer. If Crosshair was right, they had seven minutes left before the illusions would come back around.
Quinlan opened a bottle of water and held it out. "Try drinking something?"
Crosshair's gaze shifted a little, but he didn't move to take it.
"Come on, Cross . . ." Quinlan set it in his hands and held it there for a few seconds, relieved when the sniper's fingers closed around it. "I really don't want to be here when those things get back. Apart from the obvious, I'm getting that hearing them wouldn't be good for you. Wait." He narrowed his eyes. "If you heard them when you were in Ghant's tomb – then just now, when you heard them again, you probably thought . . . Crosshair, you don't think you're back in there again, do you?"
The sniper narrowed his eyes slightly at the floor. If Quinlan hadn't known better, he would have assumed Crosshair was deliberately ignoring him. He sighed heavily, thought about comming Hunter, and decided against it. Hunter would probably come up, leaving Tech and Wrecker with Vythia – yeah, not a good idea. He didn't think Vythia would actively hurt them; why would she? She'd had plenty of opportunities by now. But there might be other enemies around, though, apart from the leviathan.
Maybe he should reach out into the Force one more time and check if the leviathan was close to healing itself. . . No. If the leviathan healed itself, they were all dead one way or the other. He would probably be able to fight of that second presence, if desperation was driving him, but there was no reason to take that risk. At least, not at the moment.
By now, there were five minutes left. Quinlan picked up Crosshair's rifle and slung it over his back, then shoved the pistol into his belt and straightened. Letting out his breath, he gazed down at the sniper, who was still holding the water bottle between limp fingers as he stared vaguely in the direction of the doorway.
Quinlan took the water, put it away, and pulled Crosshair to his feet. "Come on," he said, keeping his voice light. "We have to get downstairs before those Darth Ghant illusions come around to our side."
Finally, he got a reaction to his words. Crosshair shivered once, then took a halting step forward.
"There you go," Quinlan said encouragingly. He leaned through the doorway and checked in both directions. "All clear. Come on."
Crosshair took another step and paused, gaze drifting across the wall to his left.
"And . . . yeah. This is going to take forever," Quinlan commented. He went back, took Crosshair by one arm, and guided him towards the door. The sniper followed easily enough with Quinlan leading him, but just like before, he would move only hesitantly once he was let go. As they neared Ghant's tomb, Quinlan slipped between Crosshair and the sealed door.
"I really hope you're okay," the Jedi muttered as they reached the end of the hall. "I think you are, overall; I mean, I think you will be. I've seen this kind of thing before, with people who were in a fire, but they snapped out of it quickly enough." He sighed again, shaking his head. "Blast it . . . how'd you even get trapped in there, anyway?"
Crosshair stumbled once and didn't answer.
Quinlan patted him on the back and pointed towards the next doorway. "Look, we've only got that hallway and one more, and then we'll reach the stupidly long staircase, and then we can head down. . . And then we can get out of here. I dunno about you, but I'm so sick of this place."
Crosshair didn't answer, so after a few seconds, Quinlan went on talking. "I almost wish we had a few cruisers available to raze it to the ground, but that would probably destroy all kinds of artifacts and release tons of Dark Side energy. Hmm . . . I'll bet this academy counts as an artifact itself. What do you think?"
There was still no response, and Crosshair's eyes continued to be vaguely focused on . . . nothing particular, as far as Quinlan could tell.
"Hey, you know what," he said conversationally. "I just thought of something. Hunter's probably going to kill me. Either because I muted my commlink so he couldn't yell at me for trying to use the Dark Side, or because I successfully used it, or because I didn't use it to find you sooner. I'm taking bets, if you're up for that."
When Crosshair didn't even look at him, Quinlan huffed and gave up trying to talk. He could have thought up about a hundred inane topics to discuss with himself; he often did, on missions that were boring – or nerve-wracking. Either one worked. But usually, he had only himself to worry about. The way this place weighed on him, though – well, thank the Force they were on their way out. He'd never expected to be on Malachor this long, let alone in Trayus Academy itself.
They were nearing the stairs when Quinlan glanced down at his chronometer and realized that he'd missed his quarter-hour check in with Hunter – and that Hunter hadn't called him. Maybe he'd fallen asleep?
Yeah, right.
He activated his comm. "Hunter? Hunter, come in."
When there was no response, the Jedi stopped walking in alarm, brought his comm closer to his mouth, and raised his voice. "Hunter, come in! Wrecker? Tech? . . . Vythia?"
Not even a buzz of static answered him.
Quinlan muttered a vicious phrase in Huttese, took a quick step forward, then stopped short and spun to face Crosshair. Short of using the Force on him, he couldn't make him become aware of his surroundings – but the sniper needed to be aware, because Quinlan wasn't about to dash into a potentially dangerous situation with someone who wasn't responsive.
The question was, could Quinlan reach into the Force and draw Crosshair back without getting attacked and disabled by that presence? He clenched his hands at his sides and considered carefully before deciding that he could – if he was quick. He could put people to sleep easily, he should be able to wake them up easily. Of course, tricking people's minds like this often meant they had slower or delayed recoveries after, but Crosshair would have plenty of time for recovery on the Marauder . . . if they could ever get there.
Putting two fingers against Crosshair's temple, Quinlan mentally commanded him to come back from whatever corner of his mind he'd retreated into. Wake up, Crosshair, he thought. Ghant's not here, you're not in the crypt. We have to help the others.
The dark presence gathered itself in the distance and watched Quinlan, but the Jedi could tell it wasn't interested in what he was doing. Something else – no, someone else – now held its attention. But who, and why?
Before he could do more than let his attention shift towards the presence, Crosshair's eyes focused suddenly. He blinked once, looking startled as his gaze met the Jedi's. Then he took a quick step back and smacked Quinlan's hand away from his face.
Despite his worry over the others, Quinlan couldn't help a smirk. "There you are, sniper guy," he said, then turned and headed for the central room again. "Come on, let's get down there. The others aren't answering comms. It could be the storm . . . but we're not taking chances."
He could hear Crosshair following, but the sniper still didn't say anything. The weight of the rifle on Quinlan's back reminded him that he'd taken Crosshair's weapons, which he'd need – but Quinlan had no intention of giving them back if the sniper was about to slip back into that near-comatose state he'd been in just a minute ago. He was certainly not going to give them back if Crosshair was going to shoot at the nearest person when he heard Ghant's voice in his imagination . . . which he probably would. Still, it wasn't like Quinlan was any good at long-range battle.
Huffing, the Jedi cast a look over one shoulder and slowed his pace a little. "Hey, you alive there?"
There was a short pause, followed by Crosshair's usual cold tone. "Presumably."
His voice wasn't even shaking, though it was still strangely hoarse.
"Great," Quinlan said, feeling slightly awkward. "Not gonna lie, you were starting to worry me. Listen. I really need to know if you're going to shoot me in the back or not."
". . .What?"
"You do know where you are, right?" Quinlan looked back again at the silence. "Right?"
A slight look of scorn crossed Crosshair's face. "Yeah."
"Great. And you know who I am, right?"
" – yes."
Quinlan only noticed the pause because he'd been looking for it. He took a slight step to the left as he walked, focusing his awareness on Crosshair's intent, but his companion seemed simply watchful, not threatening.
"Okay . . ." Quinlan cleared his throat. "So who am I, then?"
Crosshair's gaze flickered impatiently to the side, then back to him. "You look like Quinlan Vos."
Oh, Force. The Jedi eyed him. "Uh-huh," he said. "And – what, I don't sound like him or something?"
"You do. But the other voices sounded like him, too."
"Yeah. That was because of the leviathan. Trust me, I heard three different Hunters all at the same time, and none of them were him."
No answer.
"You didn't see anyone else that looked like me, did you?"
There was another brief pause, but as they reached the stairs, Crosshair shook his head in reply. "No."
"Okay, good. So – I'm Quinlan Vos. Got that?"
Crosshair sent him a considering look, then inclined his head slightly.
"And you aren't going to shoot me. Wait, are you planning to shoot me?"
". . . If I were, I wouldn't tell you."
Fair enough. Quinlan sighed anyway. "Crosshair."
The sniper rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not going to shoot you."
"Okay, then." The Jedi slung the rifle from his shoulder, tugged the pistol out of his belt, and handed both weapons over.
"You said the others aren't answering comms," Crosshair said, checking his pistol's charge before holstering it.
"Like I said, it could be just the storm. Better be prepared anyway. Let's head down."
Crosshair wavered on the first step, ignored or didn't see the hand Quinlan held out to steady him, and kept going on his own.
"They were in the main room, first level," Quinlan told him. "As soon as we meet up, we're supposed to head back to the Marauder. I don't know if we can leave the planet right away, but we're getting off-world as soon as the storm lightens up. Of course, we'll have to drop Vythia off at the Phoenix first, and then we've got to worry about destroying all her Sithly artifacts, and there's still the Prince to deal with, and seeing if we can locate the secret Sith lord, and then –"
Crosshair, who had been keeping one hand on the wall as they moved downwards, shot him a look. "Why are you babbling?"
"Probably because I'm glad to be getting out of this place," Quinlan told him. "And also, I was hoping to annoy you into talking."
"What for?" He sounded skeptical.
"You've been being too blasted quiet, and I've been talking to myself a lot. Contrary to what you might think, I do actually get tired of my own voice. Eventually."
Except for a derisive scoff, Crosshair didn't answer. When they were on the last flight of stairs, he said, "You said you found Tech. Where?"
"Trapped by one of those statues on the second level." Quinlan dropped the cheerful act, finishing under his breath. "I should've found you both a lot sooner."
Hunter glanced at Tech, who was standing near Wrecker and staring at his datapad. Given that Tech hadn't mentioned finding Vythia on scanners yet, he probably wouldn't end up finding her. Wrecker, who sat with his back against the wall, resting while he still had the chance, looked up questioningly.
Replying with a shake of his head, Hunter turned. He stood at the bottom of the main stairway, gazing up at the patterns of dim illumination cast on the stairwell walls by the central pillars in each level, and thought about why Quinlan and Crosshair weren't back yet. Maybe Quinlan just hadn't bothered hurrying. Maybe he'd forgotten to check in, and so didn't know yet that the others' comms were destroyed. Hunter shifted. Maybe the illusions of Darth Ghant had attacked the Jedi and Crosshair. Or they'd run into stormbeasts, or the leviathan. Maybe Vythia had gone upstairs after all . . .
This wasn't helping. Spinning his knife between his fingers, Hunter turned to Tech. "Any signs of them?"
"Negative. I will let you know the moment I find something." Tech slid his goggles up on his nose and continued studying the screen.
Wrecker was frowning. "You don't think Vythia went after 'em . . . do you?"
"No. I don't know." Hunter studied the room again, noting where he and his team had gone across it, then wandered toward the right-hand corner. About halfway there, he stopped and turned in a slow circle, shining the light back and forth as he studied the area. Still nothing definite, but there was no reason not to keep looking.
He moved across the massive room towards the lefthand side, then dropped to one knee in the shadowed area and shone his light towards the center. Within ten seconds, he picked up a line of clear tracks that were definitely Vythia's. She had been running – only the slightly pointed toes of her boots had left imprints, which headed in a line for the corner of the room that was closest to the team's makeshift campsite.
Hunter stared. The four massive statues had been in each corner of the room before, but then they'd sunk into the floor, leaving huge, circular holes – and he'd never thought to check how far down those holes went. A pulse of fear shot through him and made him get quickly to his feet. What in the Force could Vythia want down there?
"Tech," he said in a low voice. "How bad is the storm?"
"It is still centered directly on the Marauder," Tech replied, but his gaze was fixed on the hole that Hunter had been staring at.
"On the Marauder," Hunter repeated. "Not – on the main door?"
"The Marauder is close to the door, but the storm is centered on the shuttle itself." Tech shivered and turned back to his datapad. "And the wind is now blowing straight into the academy."
Wrecker shifted. "It's like the storm doesn't want us to leave."
"It – yes. It would appear that way." Tech frowned, his gaze flitting suspiciously to the door. "I do not understand. . . I thought the storm near Adas Academy seemed angry. When I said as much, Quinlan did not discount my . . . suspicion. This storm is almost –"
"Evil?" Wrecker filled in, sounding nervous. "But, uh, we can leave through another door, right? Maybe there's one on the other side of Trayus that you just didn't see on your scanner. We could look for one, right?"
Instead of answering, Tech looked at Hunter.
The sergeant folded his arms tightly. "Tech, do you mean to tell me we won't even be able to get to the ship?"
"As far as I can tell, yes. We could still attempt it." Tech went to the main hall doorway and pointed. "However, I suspect that the moment we get within a hundred meters of the doorway, the winds will increase to gale force. In corridors such as these, the contained power of the wind will be harder to get through than it would be outside. In our current condition, even getting halfway to the door might well be impossible."
Hunter sighed, lowering his arms, and shook his head. "Well, once Crosshair and Quinlan get back, we'll have to at least try. If not . . ."
"We'll have to stay here," Wrecker finished in a low voice.
Hunter didn't answer, not wanting to agree with that statement. After a pause, he glanced at his chronometer. "It's almost oh-two-hundred. Maybe once the sun rises the storm will decrease."
Tech shook his head. "That is . . . decidedly unlikely. Our only choices seem to be to stay here and wait for something to happen; or to attempt to fight our way back to the Marauder."
"And either way, we have to wait for Crosshair and Quin –" A footstep from above made Hunter jerk around. "Quinlan? Crosshair?"
"It's us, yeah." The Jedi's voice sounded both relieved and tired as it floated down the stairwell.
"Hey! You guys are finally back!" Wrecker got dizzily to his feet and leaned against the wall. "You all set?"
Hunter reached the stairway just as they came into sight. He opened his mouth to demand where they'd been, but Quinlan beat him to it.
"Hunter, why weren't you answering your comms?"
"That can wait," Hunter said, moving up a couple of steps. "Crosshair?"
The sniper was walking a bit unsteadily, and his hands were bandaged, but he looked back at Hunter alertly enough.
The sergeant frowned in confusion. He wasn't sure quite what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. Once, after Crosshair had gotten trapped in a small cave by a rockslide, he'd been in a near-silent state of panic for hours. And yet after being trapped in a tomb with a dead Sith lord, he was almost his normal self? Hunter turned to the Jedi, who was just reaching the bottom of the stairs. "Quinlan," he said, and gestured at Crosshair.
"I had to use the Force," the Jedi explained wearily. "He wasn't even responsive, after he revived."
"And that just – fixed it?" Hunter asked, deciding not to ask how Quinlan had managed to use the Force.
"No. He's going to need to sleep it off, once it . . . wears off. Tech? You should probably take a look at his hands as soon as we're back on the ship. Let's get –" Quinlan cut himself off, eyes widening, and he leaped down the last couple of stairs. Twisting on one heel, he stared around the rest of the room, then snapped, "Where the kriff is Vythia?"
"She left," Tech said neutrally, from where he stood next to Wrecker. "After she attacked Hunter, she ran."
"She what?"
"She managed to knock me out," Hunter admitted. Turning, he pointed at the massive hole where the statue had been. "I only just found her tracks. She went down – there. I haven't looked at it, yet; I don't know where it leads."
"I . . ." Quinlan took a step back. His face had gone pale. "I didn't realize –"
"You didn't realize what?" Hunter eyed him warily, wondering if he should tell him to sit down. "What is it?"
Instead of answering, the Jedi asked hoarsely, "We need to get back to the ship."
"We cannot," Tech answered, and cleared his throat. He tried to keep his tone level, but the slight tremor in it was clearly audible. "The storm is of such a level of ferocity that we would not make it within three hundred meters. It is . . . continuing to escalate." He finally looked up, just briefly, at the Jedi. "Quinlan, do you think it is trying to keep us here?"
Quinlan didn't even seem to hear him. After staring between Hunter and the chasm in the floor, he sat on the stairs and buried his face in his hands. "Vythia went down there?" he said hoarsely.
"Yeah, but we're not going after her," Hunter said.
"But –"
Hunter raised his voice. "We are not, Quinlan. That's where the leviathan came from, remember?"
The Jedi looked up, fingertips digging into his temples as he said, "No, Hunter – that chasm – that's the Core. I didn't realize – I didn't remember. It's below the main room! The Trayus Core – what is she doing?!"
Crosshair, who had been regarding him, blinked and shook his head. "Vos, get a grip," he snapped in a low voice. Staggering, he leaned heavily against the wall. "What is it?"
By now, Wrecker and Tech had made their way over, and for some reason all four commandos simply stood and watched the Jedi, waiting for him to answer.
Quinlan took a deep breath and let it out, then straightened. "I didn't remember – not until you said she went down there, Hunter."
"Didn't remember what?" Hunter asked warily.
"I didn't remember about the Trayus Core. . ." His hands were shaking, and he wrapped one around the other before continuing. "It was rumored to be directly below the very center of the academy. It's the center of everything – the Dark Side presence, the experiments, the rituals – everything. Every alchemical experiment ever done here. Every monster, every illusion, every sacrifice – all of it was done in the Core."
