Chapter Twenty-Seven
AITHNE
You could never be safe on Korriban. Even the spirits could be enemies and turn against you. The very air burned. Scientists blamed the planet's gas composition; they claimed the balance was just slightly out of the comfort range for humans and near-human organics. Force Sensitives knew: the whole planet was rife with the Dark Side. Anger, rage, fear, lust to power, the will to survive against a universe doing all it could to extinguish you. Resentment and a killer instinct: that was Korriban. The planet was rich in possibilities; it restricted Force Sight but strengthened those who could withstand it.
Still. Best to be careful.
Malak stood guard outside the door—against beasts, spirits, cave-ins, or whatever came for us.
I examined my surroundings. The Sith Lord who had built his tomb around the Star Map obviously hadn't known the nature of the artifact he had unearthed. If he had, the Sith of Korriban would have spread throughout the galaxy like the Builders centuries ago. But he had sensed the power of the Star Map, its age and the darkness and brilliance of the creators, to make something which had endured for so long. And like the guardian beasts he had chosen to hoard his treasure, even in death. I would leave his other treasures; I had never had the taste for despoiling the dead that some of my compatriots had had, no matter what could be gained. Fine armor and fine weapons had never helped my enemies. Better to make new things than to take the trophies of the defeated.
But this—this information I would take. I activated the map, memorizing its every detail, and added the information to the coordinates I had in my mind already.
One step closer to the Star Forge.
When Aithne woke up, she spent some time just staring at the ceiling. She'd been more than halfway expecting it this time. She felt almost numb. Revan had mentioned spirits that turned against you: was that what was happening to her?
Do you think you could get out, maybe? she thought rather hopelessly at the place in her mind where whatever remnant of the spirit of Darth Revan might be lurking. It's crowded enough in here with just me, most days. I don't need you here too.
Predictably, she got no answer.
Aithne kicked her bedclothes aside and got up.
"You have awakened," Juhani observed. She was making her own bunk down the dormitory. "Carth landed us on Korriban a little less than an hour ago. Bastila has gone to breakfast. She will want to speak with you."
"Naturally," Aithne muttered. She opened her foot locker first, took a look at the comfortable collection of tunics, shirts, and trousers on the left. She sighed, grabbed a comb and a collection of hair pins, and started braiding her hair back tightly into a crown around her head. The style wasn't one she particularly liked; a million baby hairs escaped every time. On her own, she usually adopted looser updos. Paradoxically, her hair was neater that way. Today, though, she had to tamp down the volume. Then, she started equipping the undergarments she'd requisitioned back on Dantooine—ones that protected her skin from chafing under plate armor.
By the time she was finished, she wore a full set of black Echani fiber armor. Light enough to move in, but with defined plates over the thighs and torso underneath the mesh that made its silhouette and protectiveness notably different from that of a combat suit. There was an optional hood attachment; she'd foregone this as too reminiscent of Jedi fashion and instead purchased a black bucket helmet, a knockoff of Mandalorian design that Canderous and one of Dorak's assistants had assured her was frequently used by bounty hunters and Exchange thugs. It wasn't beskar and wouldn't stop a lightsaber blade, but it was good protection against your average vibroblade and insulated against electrical attacks. It also obscured her peripheral vision and adversely affected her hearing, and she hadn't laid down the extra credits to outfit it with a virtual threat-detection system. For the purposes of disguise, it'd have to do.
She eyed the helmet with distaste, then elected to carry instead of wear it, at least for now. She made her own bunk then headed for the dining room.
Bastila was just finishing her meal, alongside Zaalbar and Jolee. Bastila paled a little as Aithne entered.
"I take it I look dangerous enough, then," Aithne said.
"Different," Bastila said diplomatically. "And that is the point, is it not?" She assessed Aithne more clinically. "Yes, you look exactly like the kind of mercenary you wish to portray on this world, or will with the vibrostaff. What's more, you look very unlike the bounty sketch we found upon the Sith assassins on Kashyyyk. Breakfast?"
"I suppose I should," Aithne agreed, helping herself without much enthusiasm. "This is the whole go-over-the-vision bit?"
"The Force is guiding us, Aithne. We have some direction upon our primary mission. It will help us retrace the steps of Malak and his old master—along with our . . . other objectives." Her cheeks went pink as Carth entered as well.
"We'll want to pinpoint the location and status of Dustil Onasi before we do anything else," Aithne said, without beating around the bush. "For instance, if he's due to leave Korriban soon, we may need to act more quickly; if he's safe, relatively stationary, or likely to be hostile, we may not want to approach him until we've already secured the Star Map."
She looked at Carth, challenging him a little, but his face was grave, and all he said was, "I understand. I don't—Jordo said he was a Sith. A Force-user too. If that's true, you may—would you find out where he is, before going in with me? I want to find him. I don't want to be the one who gives you away."
"They're looking for you too, Carth," Aithne pointed out. "You're in danger as much as we are."
Not strictly true; the bounty on Carth was decent, but it wasn't anything like the motivation the Sith had offered for Bastila's capture or Aithne's assassination. Still, she inclined her head.
"The recovery of the Star Map must remain our primary objective," Bastila said. "Still. We should be cautious. There are some who believe Korriban is the birthplace of the Sith. This planet is an evil place. There are secrets here best left uncovered." Her eyes, which had gone distant as she thought of the vision she had shared, suddenly refocused on Aithne, and Aithne felt a press of warning in her mind.
"You shared the vision," she said. "The Star Map's underground." She didn't elaborate further than that. She guessed they were looking for the tomb of some ancient Sith Lord, a male, but Bastila thus far hadn't demonstrated any awareness of Revan's thoughts during the memory visions they had shared.
Nor did she this time, but she had observed more than Aithne would have guessed, because she seemed troubled. "During the vision I felt cold and trapped, almost as if I was buried alive. It felt . . . it felt like we were in some kind of tomb."
"I don't want you leaving the ship while we're here," Aithne told her.
"With that holo circulating, I fear you may be right," Bastila agreed reluctantly. "With your image only a sketch based upon a description, you are relatively simple to disguise. Carth and I will have more difficulty."
Aithne shrugged and looked at Carth. They'd discussed it, and he'd been growing out his beard since Dantooine. It was still more stubble than beard proper but already had changed his look somewhat from the official fleet image in the bounty posting. He'd also stopped slicking his hair back, giving him an overall untidier, younger appearance, as well as lightening the color of his hair to a more neutral brown. They'd agreed it might be important for him to be recognizable—but not immediately so. He would also be switching to a melee weapon for the duration of their stay on Korriban and going by an alias: Card Natthias, a mechanic and not a pilot aboard Addison Bettler's vessel. Carth had enough working knowledge of ships to make it work. They were depending on the thoroughness of Aithne's disguise to cover him, a bit, but mostly, people saw what they wanted to see, and Carth was at the end of the day a normal person. Everything about Bastila screamed 'Jedi.'
"Easier if the three of us aren't together at all times, though," Aithne said. "And easier if you're here, meditating to help us succeed."
"Indeed," Bastila agreed. "Very well. I will remain with Ebon Hawk while the two of you—"
"Mostly me, at least at first—"
"While you pursue leads on the Star Map and Dustil Onasi. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
"Nothing I can't say to everybody," Aithne answered. She shoved most of her food at Zaalbar, taking only her fruit with her to the cockpit, hit the intercom button, and said, "Welcome to Korriban, boys and girls. Up in the briefing room for breakfast and the gameplan."
She returned to the briefing room and slouched down beside Zaalbar, happily finishing her breakfast in addition to his own. The rest of them filed in one by one: Ordo, Mission, Juhani, T3-M4. If they hadn't eaten yet, they grabbed something from the synthesizer or the dwindling fresh supplies and took their places around the table. They were quiet, expectant.
Aithne looked around, seized with worry for all of them. This was the most dangerous planet they could possibly have visited, and whatever they did here, they were almost certain to bring at least some of that danger down on themselves before they left. "Right," she said finally. "This is a Sith world—Malak's primary public stronghold, in fact, if not his headquarters, and where most of his new Force-wielders train, at least for a little while. There are armies just down our boarding ramp, and most of them are young and just itching to prove themselves. I need all of you to understand that."
"You mean they're like the Sith back on Taris, but worse, because they all still have to show they're good at killing or pushing folks around," Mission summarized.
"Always assume both," Aithne confirmed. "These Sith are bored. They're waiting around for an assignment, and they get better ones if they can prove they better adhere to the Sith ideals. Assume they're looking for a fight. If you draw their attention in any way, assume they will want to humiliate you at best and quite possibly kill you—not because they bear you any particular ill will but because their buddies and superiors are watching. Don't give them that excuse."
She looked around the table, making use of Bastila's own mental warning technique herself—the Force Sensitives would all feel it, while the others would just understand she was particularly serious about this. "I don't want the Sith getting any idea of how many off us are here," she said, "and I'd like to avoid the groupings in that Sith bounty where we can. Bastila's going to be staying on the ship, and Teethree, I'd like you to stay with her. Your long-range communication abilities could come in handy if she runs into any trouble back here."
Teethree beeped an affirmation and wheeled away to work on the ship. A little rude, maybe, but it made Aithne smile. The rest of her instructions didn't apply to him, so what was the point of him staying to hear them?
She turned back to the others. "When Carth's with me, I won't be me—" she held up her helmet to demonstrate— "and most of the time, at least to start with, I want him with those of us who haven't been fingered at all in the reports. Jolee, Juhani—I want you two to pose as Dark Jedi. We picked up some robes on Dantooine to help, and either of you will be able to make it convincing. It should help a little with ordinary soldiers who want to pick fights." Juhani looked troubled; Jolee unfazed, but both nodded.
"Good," Aithne said. "Mission. Zaalbar. Exchange affiliates, like I'll be. You can say you serve on Ebon Hawk if anyone asks; name-drop Davik, whatever. Everyone knows Ebon Hawk used to be an Exchange vessel, and as far as we know, knowledge that she isn't anymore hasn't gone public. You two can argue with the Czerka drones or play pazaak til Korriban's dry, but I want you with Juhani or Carth at all times."
Zaalbar started to protest, and Aithne looked hard at him. "I don't want Mission tagged with me on this planet," she said firmly. "I don't want her involved in whatever kind of trouble we kick up. Not here. Not when the Sith outnumber us more than a hundred to one. As your employer, as your life debt, as your friend, I want you two to stay together. Look out for one another the way you did on Taris, in the company of one of our other friends. Tell me you understand."
Zaalbar roared a soft agreement.
Mission looked unhappy. "I get it," she agreed. "These Sith want you dead, though. It feels scummy not to back you up. But I understand you don't want me and Zaalbar to get bounties on us too. And that it might be easier for Carth to pass if he's with us instead of you mostly, like he is in the bounty. But I'd like to help Aithne, and help you too, Carth. To find your kid, you know?"
"I know," Carth told her. His voice was hoarse. "And I appreciate it, Mission. But honestly, this isn't a place I'd send most ten-year Republic vets, let alone a couple of new recruits. We need to keep you two—both of you—safe."
Mission still looked unhappy, but she nodded finally. "All right. Zaalbar and me stay together, and with you or Juhani."
"You're not going to be useless, Mission," Aithne told her. "I don't plan to head back to Dantooine for a while if we can help it, and we may not always be in a position to receive a wire transfer from the Order. We need an income independent of our Order stipend. Here, I'm putting you two in charge of getting it. Negotiating more supplies for moving forward too. Zaalbar, you've been involved in food and water supply from the beginning; Mission, Bas has shown you about accounts. Think you guys can handle it?"
Mission brightened up at this. "Sure!" she said. "So, you're not just leaving us. We're actually important! While you guys find Dustil and that Star Map, we'll be getting Ebon Hawk ready to leave, any time we have to! No problem! You can count on us! The pazaak, obviously, but those Wookiees gave us a lot of stuff back on Kashyyyk we probably don't really need. I could probably get us some really good deals. Might be fun to sell Czerka some of their own stuff back." She grinned, and Aithne frowned at her.
"As long as you do it under a low profile," she reminded Mission. "I don't want you caught cheating. I don't want you ticking off some Czerka officer who decides to send his drinking buddy the Sith lieutenant after those scavenging spacers. No mauling, no maiming, no murders, no attention if you can possibly, possibly help it."
"Alright, alright, we get it already. Sheesh, Mom. Anything else?"
"Yeah," Aithne retorted, "Shut up."
Mission smiled at that. "We'll be careful, Aithne. That's a promise. Anyway, it can't be worse than tiptoeing through a rancor den."
"That's the goal," Aithne said. She turned her head again. "Canderous, Jolee? For the first couple days while we're getting our bearings and digging up information, I want you two with me. You all know I'll be posing as an Exchange captain named Addison Bettler. Master Dorak made us up some papers and even released some contraband for us to sell to make us look more authentic. It wouldn't be out of character for someone like that to take on a passenger for pay, so that's your story, Jolee. Canderous, you actually were Exchange, so you shouldn't have trouble pretending you never left."
"This is a place of great danger," Juhani observed. "Are you certain you would not be better off here with Bastila, Padawan?"
Aithne sighed. "Not at all. Carth and I probably both would, actually. But Carth's the only one here who's met his kid, and only Bastila and I have even the faintest idea of where to look for the Star Map, so we both have to be groundside at one point. I take comfort in the fact that if the Sith penetrate my cunning disguise and decide to kill me, it won't lose the Republic the entire war the way it would if they captured Bastila. And I figure, if we go in expecting trouble, and Bastila's back here using her Battle Meditation for us, we have a shot at least. Canderous, you eaten?"
"I was up an hour ago," Ordo grunted. "Let's go already. Korriban's not getting less dangerous while we talk here. We sit here much longer, and whatever docking flunky is in charge outside might just charge up the ramp to demand the fee."
"Right. Let's pay our dues and go. The rest of you—wait an hour or so before following us, maybe? Should help hide how many of us are onboard and who we are, in case anyone's watching."
Aithne sighed, looked at her helmet. There was nothing for it. She wrestled it over her head and buckled it to her armor's neck attachment. She stopped by the cargo bay, grabbed a dolly of weapons and other various contraband as well as the vibrostaff she'd chosen to use groundside, and headed out with Jolee and Canderous.
On Kashyyyk, she'd paid the Czerka docking fee. Here, she negotiated, because Addison Bettler did. She bribed the officer with twenty credits for his own pocket and a flask of one of the liquors they'd brewed on Kashyyyk, one of the hallucinogenic ones made with the tach glands. He marked her as checked in and waved her through. As she'd suspected, Ebon Hawk was well known on Korriban, and within three minutes of leaving the docking bay, she'd been approached by a shifty Duros who alerted her to some spice she hadn't even planned to trade away here, locked in that hidden storage compartment she'd noticed before in the cargo hold but hadn't been able to open. The Duros knew what had happened back on Taris and accepted she hadn't been in charge of Davik's ship before the attack; he gave her the codes, she went back and collected his spice, and she was able to turn a tidy profit in the sight of several citizens of the desolate world.
They'd landed at Dreshdae, the settlement on Korriban closest to the ancient Sith ruins where Malak had his Dark Jedi academy, the place where, according to Jordo's information, Dustil Onasi was likeliest to be found. Fortunately, it also had the readiest access to the known ancient tombs on Korriban's surface, and thanks to Aithne's dream, she now knew it would be closest to the Star Map too. She was a little encouraged to see that the port was mostly a Czerka outpost and supply station to the Dark Jedi academy, rather than a city where the majority of the Sith army was housed as she had feared; most of them lived in other settlements across the planet.
The proportion of Force users was depressingly high, however. The port was nearly overrun with hopefuls—young idiots who had decided to come to Dreshdae to try to make it at the academy. Everyone else tread on eggshells around them, as well as the academy students themselves. Civilians, the bar owner, merchants, and dock workers all walked around with their heads on a perpetual pivot, watching their step and their mouths, and there were one or two bodies in the streets as they passed, freshly charred with blaster fire or lightsaber wounds. Occasionally, she'd see children with hooded, haunted eyes dart out of the alleys to loot the pockets of the corpses.
It didn't take long before Aithne ran into some of the civilians involved in a dispute with an academy student herself—just outside the port proper, near the Czerka outpost building. There were three young people in civvies—two human males and one female Twi'lek, groveling in front of a young human in a gray Sith officer's uniform. He had a lightsaber on his hip, but no insignia, indicating he was still in training.
"No, that is the wrong answer," he was saying to one of the three civilians accosting him. "Again! You pathetic hopefuls can't possibly all be this stupid, can you?"
"P-please, Master Shaardan!" one of the men begged, "Give us a chance! We'll do anything to get into the academy!"
Aithne snorted behind her visor. Exactly the wrong approach, she thought. The Sith aren't after whining toadies. At least not in the Dark Jedi academy. She was tempted to move on but stayed. If Shaardan was a student at the academy, he might know something about Dustil.
Shaardan, though, stroked his chin at the hopeful's flattery. "Hmph. I'm no master . . . yet. But I like the sound of that. Alright. One more question, though the lot off you are trying my patience." He considered a moment, then spoke. "Alright: Let's say you become a Sith, and I am your commanding officer. I give you an order to spare the life of an enemy. Do you do it?"
The same flattering hopeful who'd spoken before jumped right in again. "Oh, of course, Shaardan," he cried. "Anything you command us!"
A second hopeful, a female this time, chimed in. "We would never oppose you!"
Aithne shook her head. In an aside to Jolee she said, "Idiots. If they actually were Sith, they would first kill their commander for weakness and then kill the enemy."
Shardaan heard her. She'd intended him to do so, though she'd pitched her voice low like she might just be an opinionated bystander. She saw his eyes flick to her, saw him take in her high-grade armor, her friends, and the vibrostaff on her back. But he addressed himself to the hopefuls. "Do you honestly believe the Sith are in need of such sniveling cowards?" he demanded. "Mercy is a weakness. If your leader shows weakness, it is your duty to kill him and show true authority, true power. That is why the Sith are strong."
The third hopeful spoke up now. "Th-thank you, Shaardan," he stammered. "We, uh . . . we understand now!"
Shaardan sighed, almost regretfully, though his eyes held a sheen that told Aithne it was all theatrics. "No," he said, "You don't understand. And you probably never will. You wouldn't survive five seconds in the Academy. The other students would tear you apart. I can't be bothered with fools. Perhaps I should . . ." he trailed off, then turned to Aithne abruptly.
"You!" he called, beckoning for her and her companions to join him. "You there!"
Let the games begin, Aithne thought. She walked forward slowly, casually, adding a little swagger to her gait, as if completely unbothered by being called out by a Sith.
"I heard you earlier, spacer, and I see your company," Shaardan told her. "You have the look of someone not quite as dense as these hopefuls. I require your aid for a moment. Let me pose a question to you. These hopefuls will never survive in the academy. A lesson must be taught here, but I am at a loss as to what form it should take."
"Well," said Jolee reasonably, "if you can't think of anything cruel you really shouldn't be out here, young man, should you?"
Shaardan's expression of pleasant inquiry twisted into a snarl. "I wasn't talking to you!" he spat, but Aithne allowed herself a low, earthy chuckle, as if Jolee's comment had been a good joke instead of an ill-timed barb for a man pretending to be a Dark Jedi himself.
The chuckle worked, and Shaardan replaced his polite expression, wearing it like a mask, and readdressed himself to her. "I'm thinking to spare them the effort of being killed and do it myself," he said. "Perhaps I shall turn their skin inside out? Or Force Lightning? It is a most impressive display. Or perhaps a bit of humiliation is in order? I could easily strip off their tunics and make them run through the colony. Or they could lose all control of their bodily functions . . ." he trailed off, delighted with his own gruesome visions. "What do you think?" he asked deferentially. "I just can't seem to decide."
It was a flex. Shaardan wanted to demonstrate his superior power—not just to the hopefuls, who he was showing now that he had no fear of their escaping him, but to Aithne, who had correctly answered the question he had wanted to stump the others. Now Aithne would have to flex in turn, not enough to threaten him, but enough to win his respect. On the other hand, she thought, she didn't exactly relish endorsing the outright murder of three unarmed civilians by this conceited boy, not even to get her own in to the Sith academy where Dustil was.
Controlling her voice, she finally answered, "You can't just kill them."
One hopeful, sensing mercy, fell to his knees. "Please! Help us!"
"Silence!" Shaardan shouted, casting all three hopefuls into a Force Stasis. He turned to Aithne, laughing a little. "Of course I can kill them. The Sith can do whatever they like on Korriban, and frankly these worms rather deserve it. That's for you to decide, however."
Aithne didn't flinch. "Even squashing a worm makes a mess," she told him. "And it doesn't say much about you to squash them, does it? Anyone could do it. Let them go."
Shaardan had been smiling. Now he frowned. "Let them go? What could possibly convince me to do that?"
Somehow, Aithne knew instinctively what to say. She put on a high, breathy voice and placed a hand over her breast. "But killing them is wrong!" she cried.
The effect probably wasn't as impressive in a full helmet. Or else the irony was even more pronounced. In a moment, Shaardan had burst out in a full belly laugh. "Now that has to be the funniest thing I've heard all day," he said, as soon as he caught his breath. "Well fine, whoever you are, since you've proven such a good sport." He disabled the Force stasis and waved the hopefuls away. "The boys can run off. I'm sure your little lesson will give them something to chew on."
"I hope it does," Aithne said insincerely. The hopefuls looked from her to Shaardan, then fled. Shaardan sniffed, then walked away in another direction. Aithne knew she should stop him, introduce Addison Bettler, ask for directions. Something. Instead, she let him go, pushing down her feelings of disgust.
Jolee was watching her. "You did that particularly well. The way you knew exactly what to say was impressive, to say the least. Almost as though you knew what he had to be thinking."
"He's as weak as they are," Aithne answered. "Did you see him preen when that hopeful called him master? People like Shaardan run on flattery and the delusion of their own superiority. Makes them that much easier to take down, and more amusing. You just compliment them. Oblige their wish to think themselves rulers supreme, and while they're busy thinking how clever they are, you pull the rug out from underneath them."
Jolee made a face. "Oh, you're going to do just fine, lass."
Aithne paused, noting the disapproval in Bindo's tone. "I'm sorry, do you like bullies who throw their weight around just to do it?" she asked.
"I went along with your bit of justified homicide on Kashyyyk, didn't I?" Jolee replied. "Even set you on the poachers. I won't tell Bastila you think about the best ways to take these guys down and how much you enjoy it, if that's what you're worried about."
Aithne pressed her lips together inside her helmet. "Let's eat," she suggested. "Cantina's usually a good place to pick up some information."
"You do know you'll have to take off that helmet if you do any actual eating," Canderous pointed out. Aithne considered this, decided he had a point, and stopped at a health and beauty store inside the marketplace. She purchased some cosmetics and a bit of her own hair gel, and she stopped by the cantina toilets before they ordered. By the time they sat down, her hair appeared two shades darker and was slicked close to its braid. It wouldn't hold all day, but it would hold long enough. She'd also used contouring to emphasize the length of her face, emphasize the hollows under her cheekbones and make her look a little older, make it seem as though her eyes were smaller and closer together. The bounty sketch wasn't that detailed. She hoped she'd pass.
They ordered, but as soon as the waiter had taken their request, three more Sith came over. "Look here, my dear friends," the tall blonde in the lead told the others. "We have a group of newcomers to our little colony. I don't believe I've seen any of them before. Have you?"
Canderous removed the safety on his big gun. "You should turn around and move along, kid," he advised. "You don't want the trouble we'd give you."
The blonde laughed merrily. "Smart-mouthed newcomers to boot," she said to her friends, still not addressing Aithne and her companions directly.
One of the others chuckled. "Look pretty fresh to me, Lashowe."
"That's what I thought," Lashowe said. She put her hands on her hips, and her friends fanned out to partially encircle the table. "Well, strangers, I don't know whether you're aware of this or not, but here on Korriban the Sith do as they please. And we are Sith."
Aithne made a show of looking the thee's uniforms up and down. "Really now?"
Lashowe's eyes flashed. "Quite literally, whether you live or die depends upon our whim. What do you think of that, hmmm?"
Aithne stood, obliging one of Lashowe's companions to back up to avoid a collision. She didn't bother pulling her vibrostaff, however, and folded her arms instead. "I'm not too impressed," she said. "You can try to kill us if you like. You'd fail, but you can try."
"Those are very brave words for such an insignificant person," Lashowe said in a low voice. "Do you not realize how many Sith are here in Dreshdae?"
Jolee raised his hand like a child in a classroom. "Twelve?" he asked eagerly. "No, wait, thirteen!"
"Nice one, old man," Canderous complimented him.
"Thank you," Jolee said. "It takes effort to be properly irreverent at my age."
The Sith had been gradually turning red in the face throughout this exchange. One of the men with Lashowe turned to her now. "Oh, give me the old man, Lashowe. Give me him at least."
"Now, now," Lashowe clucked, still eyeing Aithne. "Let's not be hasty. Perhaps our friend here could yet offer up some amusement. What do you say, spacer? Amuse us. Make us laugh, and we just might consider allowing you to live."
Aithne stared back into the blonde's blue eyes. She was within a few centimeters of Aithne's height, but Aithne still had the edge on Lashowe, and she let the younger woman feel it too. "We're here to eat. We're not looking for trouble, but we're not here to amuse you."
Lashowe seemed to size her up. "Oh, I see. We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"
There was a tense silence, then one of Lashowe's friends, the man who hadn't spoken yet, chuckled. "Looks like this one's not afraid of you at all, Lashowe," he said.
Lashowe glared at him. "Are you going to let us be insulted?!" she demanded.
The other man, the one who had originally wanted to kill Jolee, seemed to give it up. "Oh, they're just a few lowlife spacers. We can let them slide today. Get over yourself. I'm tired of this."
The other man nodded. "Yeah, they've got some backbone, at least. Let's go." The two men turned and began to walk away. Lashowe snarled, but her eyes showed her sudden loss of confidence. Without her friends, she'd have to take on Aithne and the others alone.
"Fine." She shot Aithne a glare as she walked past toward the exit. "You slide. Today. But watch your back."
Aithne turned her back deliberately, climbing back onto her seat, and she heard Lashowe's incredulous, furious scoff. The Sith left. To their right, a Rodian near the pazaak tables clutched a drink, whining about how some Twi'lek child had beaten him. Aithne smiled but ignored him.
Instead, when they'd eaten lunch and had hold of their after-meal beverages, they found seats with two others talking about the academy. They were kids, really, a little older than Mission, but the bartender didn't care, and they were happy enough to chat with Aithne—or Addison—when she offered to buy the next round.
Aithne didn't bother giving Canderous or Jolee aliases—Malak's death order had contained no mention of Canderous, and she'd figured if Canderous's reputation in the Exchange had spread off Taris, it could only help them. As for Jolee, no one had heard from him in twenty years at least.
The kids introduced themselves as Thaddeus Nelson and Leni Cooper. "So what brings you to Korriban?" Nelson asked.
"A bit of this and that," Aithne answered. "Buying. Selling. You know how it is. The folks here don't tend to ask a lot of questions."
"Ah," Thaddeus said, taking a sip of his drink and edging ever so slightly away. "I see."
"What about you and your friend here? You looking to get into the academy?"
"Yes," Leni answered. "We both hope to become Sith soon."
Aithne nudged Jolee under the table, but he was already playing along, asking the next question. "Seems like the galaxy's changing, doesn't it? The Sith might rule it all soon. What can you tell us about the academy?"
"Why don't you tell us?" Leni asked, eyeing Jolee's lightsaber. "You're one of them, aren't you?"
Jolee shrugged. "Oh, I've left the Jedi. A few years back now. But I wouldn't say I'm sold on joining the current establishment just yet. I'm just an old man, doing some not-so-honest work for a living, and interested in the current state of affairs."
Leni eyed him suspiciously. "It might be important to know about the Sith if they take over the galaxy, don't you think?" Aithne added. "Another round?" She reflected that while Jolee might have been helpful in discouraging Sith violence in Dreshdae—she couldn't say—he wasn't really very good at pretending to be a Dark Jedi himself. They might need to adjust his cover.
Fortunately, the two hopefuls were more interested in Aithne's free drinks than in Jolee's dodgy backstory. They were young enough that the novelty of drinking themselves into a stupor hadn't worn off yet, especially on someone else's credit. They shared what they knew, which turned out to be pretty helpful.
The academy was situated at the entrance to the valley which housed all the best-escavated Sith ruins on the planet. It was theoretically possible to land directly in the valley and avoid the port, its fees, and the guards in the academy proper. A couple smugglers and treasure hunters had tried. But the Sith guarded the ruins and the secrets and artifacts they had inside zealously: the ruins formed a large part of their studies. There were AA guns in the hills that were manned at every watch to keep adventurers from sneaking into the valley without dispensation, and no one but academy students and their slaves and servants received dispensation.
"Getting into that academy is near impossible," Thaddeus told them. "You only get in by receiving a medallion from one of the Sith already attending the academy, or if Master Yuthura approves you."
"Who's Master Yuthura?" asked Aithne.
"She's a Twi'lek Sith master in charge of admissions," Leni answered. "She comes in here every few days to scout for new recruits, but she's tough."
"Have you talked to her?" Jolee asked.
"Only about seven times," laughed Thaddeus. "She said the next time either of us came up she'd skin us alive and hang us from the rafters. It's either medallions or bust for us now. But we'll get in."
"We have to," seconded Leni.
"When's she coming in next?" Aithne asked.
Leni shrugged. "She came in yesterday, so I'd guess tomorrow at the earliest."
"Have you met any of the other Sith?" Jolee asked.
"A few," Thaddeus admitted. On further prompting, he and Leni gave up what they knew willingly enough. Lashowe, the woman who had confronted Aithne and the others upon their entrance, was well known as a bully and a braggart, but she was also relatively harmless for a Sith. She didn't like to go anywhere on her own and rarely actually hurt anyone. Shaardan, the other Sith student they had met, did engage in the occasional casual killing or bit of torture, but it usually played out the way they had seen, Leni said, as a cruel bit of instruction for a hopeful who had asked for it, and Shaardan sometimes gave out medallions. They knew of another Sith in the same class with the others, Kel Algwinn, and Leni was particularly preoccupied with the question of how Algwinn had got into the academy at all.
"It should have been me," she spat. "Kel never talks to anyone. He's spineless. I never saw him hurt an insect out here. I don't know who gave him a medallion, or why. I figured the least he could do was pass on his bit of freak good luck, but no dice. He's not helping any of the rest of us now. Probably scared we'll kill him after class. Prove he never should have been there in the first place."
"He probably came with some study on those ruins they're always digging up," Nelson reasoned. "They don't always take on the best fighters, Leni—"
"—They should!"
"I mean, sometimes they want more than somebody who's decent with a sword, or strong in the Force, or whatever. Your favorite shining star's one of that type, isn't he?"
"Dustil threw someone twenty meters into a wall once when they were rude," Leni corrected. "You weren't there."
"Twenty meters? I didn't hear about it," Nelson objected, even as Aithne, Jolee, and Canderous tried very hard not to look like they were any more interested in this than anything else the two hopefuls had said.
"It wasn't one of us, it was someone who'd come with him from the academy. They fought or something; I don't know. Anyway, he's got all the guts a Sith needs, trust me."
"He never hands out medallions either, though," Nelson said.
"Maybe he used to," Leni argued. "Maybe he's over it. He's our age, but he's a couple classes ahead of the others, you know. Probably due to be shipped out to the war soon."
Nelson shook his head. "They'll train him a couple more years. Make him an officer."
"You've got us at a bit of a disadvantage," Aithne pointed out reasonably. "We're strangers here, remember? Who's this Dustil? Anyone to watch out for?"
Nelson waved a hand, dismissive. "Nah. Like I said, I think Dustil Onasi got in on more than what Leni calls Sith guts. He's studying to be a historian or a logistician or something. Maybe a pilot or a mechanic. Think I heard he was good with ships. Anyway, they like him—must be strong in the Force or something, but he doesn't act much like the others either. Like Algwinn."
"He's nothing like that coward," Leni protested. "He's amazing."
"Good-looking, you mean," Nelson snorted.
"Well, he is," Leni muttered.
"I'm saying," Thaddeus said expansively, swinging his hand out and almost knocking over Ordo's drink. "If you think he's so great, you should be asking him how he got in, since Algwinn's not talking. I guarantee you: it had to be something like the same way, and Onasi probably won't kill you just for asking like Mekel."
"Mekel?" Aithne asked, moving on, so as not to seem overly interested in Dustil Onasi. They'd heard what they needed to know: he was a student at the academy, in among the older classes. Not particularly vicious, but definitely Sith and not a prisoner.
Leni swallowed a gulp of her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Another one of the apprentices up for testing this month," she said. "In with Algwinn, Lashowe, and Shardaan. He's been torturing Bart and some of the others outside for a few days now. You seen it?"
Thaddeus nodded. His jaw twitched, and his eyes were haunted. "Starving them, until he thinks they're worthy to be Sith."
"I bet it's just another trick," Leni said. "But if they get into the Academy!" Her eyes shone, and it wasn't just the alcohol.
Aithne tamped down her disgust. Again.
"Does Mekel trick your friends and compatriots out here often?" Jolee asked.
"All the time," Thaddeus confirmed. "He thinks it's 'dreadful fun' to take the stupid ones and trick them to death, promising he'll let them into the academy. Anyone who tries to interfere gets murdered outright for interfering with the recruitment process."
"Mekel doesn't do anything worse than the idiots deserve," Leni said. "Less competition, anyway."
But the mood had turned dark. Aithne called for one final round, shook both the kids' hands, and stood. "Well. We better get going. Thanks for the conversation. Maybe we'll see you guys around."
Leni and Thaddeus waved, then turned to one another, debating the best strategies for obtaining their medallions once again. "Will you seek them out again?" Jolee asked as they left.
"Not if I can help it," Aithne answered. "Tomorrow morning, they might realize what we were doing back there. I don't want Ms. Cooper deciding she'll gain her entrance to the Sith academy by exposing or destroying the Jedi spies." She eyed him meaningfully. "You think you could act a little less like you think the whole lot of them are contemptible, vicious idiots?"
"Aren't they contemptible, vicious idiots?" Jolee asked.
Aithne rolled her eyes. "We're Exchange affiliates. We like that. They don't care if we sell drugs and like our contraband weapons and upgrades. They're always looking for power, and so they're susceptible to bribes and intrigue." Canderous chuckled, and Jolee smiled.
"Alright, lass," he said. "I'll tone it down. You want to tell me why we're heading toward the valley?"
Because Aithne had left the cantina in the direction that Thaddeus and Leni had told her led to the academy, rather than heading back toward Ebon Hawk to report to Carth and Bastila. She made a face.
"Going to do something a lot stupider than poking Sith with sticks or admitting to hopefuls looking for an edge that I'm not a Sith already while dressed as a Dark Jedi," she confessed. "I didn't like the sound of what Thad and Leni said was going on out here."
A few blocks past the cantina, outside the Dreshdae walls, the academy rose up like a headstone in the middle of a slash through the mountains. The expanse outside the walls was barren. The air was dusty, and the sun glared down from overhead. There wasn't a patch of vegetation anywhere to absorb it, nothing to relieve the eye from the stark ugliness of bare rock all around or the frowning face of that building in the chasm.
At the academy's entrance, an armored guard stood watch, but to the left, out in the open, three men stood in a line. They were pale and sweating, with rings under their eyes and chapped, bleeding lips. Not too far from them, in the shade of the academy, another man stood, watching, arms crossed and smiling in satisfaction.
Three other bodies lay on the ground, insensate. Or worse.
Aithne, helmeted again, strode up to the man in the shade of the academy without a preamble. He turned hardened eyes to look on her with a bored expression. "Is there something you want?" he drawled.
"Yeah. Heard about this back inside the cantina," Aithne said. "Addison Bettler. You're Mekel."
"And what if I am?" the man asked, in the same bored, drawling tone.
Aithne clenched her fists. The whole atmosphere of the planet was starting to get her. All the casual cruelty, all the pressure of keeping up the subterfuge. "Then do something about those idiots over there," she replied. "They're dying."
"That is the whole point," Mekel spat. "Personally, I think it's dreadful fun." He eyed the line contemptuously. "Those fools actually think that if they stand there long enough, I'll let them become a Sith. A Sith is not a bantha, all endurance and no brains. A Sith would fight for his life, no matter the odds. If these rotgrubs are as stupid as they seem, then they deserve their fate!"
Aithne could sense the mindless, senseless hate, curling off him like heat waves off the rocks. An anger in her rose up to match. "So. The others were right. This isn't a real test for them." Her right hand twitched. She wanted to take off Mekel's head right there just like the murderers on Kashyyyk, but Jolee took a single step forward, and it reminded her this was a very different situation. The academy guard was still in sight. There were probably several more lookouts on the walls. She didn't have a ready story for why she wanted to murder Mekel; not one the Sith would accept. And she was going to need them to accept her.
Mekel gave her the same once-over Lashowe had. "Oh, it's a test alright," he answered. "It's a test to see if they're actually fool enough to die. If they don't however, I certainly won't admit them to the academy just for that accomplishment."
Jolee forced a smile. "Why not just shoot them where they stand?" he suggested. "It would at least be more direct."
Canderous shrugged. "It's what I would do."
Jolee looked at Canderous with disgust. "Of course that's what you would do."
Mekel considered for a moment. "It is a bit boring standing out here all day," he admitted. "I think I'll go in for some dinner. It'll be fun to think of them while I gorge myself."
His eyes darted to Aithne's hand, and his lips curled, and Aithne knew that he had seen her fingers twitched, that he could sense her anger, was daring her to do more than she had done. When she stayed still, he shrugged, disappointed. "They'll still be here in an hour or two, surely. I suggest you run along before I decide to make you a part of the fun."
"One problem with that," Aithne said, stepping aside to let Mekel pass. "Making me part of the fun, that is." He turned back to her, and Aithne paused, letting the silence stretch. "I'm no idiot. Enjoy your supper."
The statement was tantamount to a threat, and just about proved its reverse, but Mekel let it pass. He left, passing into the shadows of the academy. Aithne turned on her heel and marched over to the line of hopefuls. The first one to see her struggled just to stay upright.
"You . . . you talked to Mekel?" he rasped. "I . . . saw you. Have I . . . proved my worth? Did he . . . say anything?"
Aithne looked him up and down coldly. He really was an idiot. And he was close to death in any case. "He said you should go home," she lied. "The Sith aren't for you."
The man's eyes widened. "Go . . . home?" he stammered. He crumpled. Aithne caught him, but it was too late. He was gone. She dropped him, kicking the wall angrily.
"We should've killed him," she growled, meaning Mekel. "Forget the guards. Might've even impressed one of them, here."
"Or they might have seen you did it out of righteous anger and compassion for that man's victims," Jolee answered. "Not exactly Sith material, that. I'm guessing you'll be wanting into the academy to save the pilot's son, and to access the valley with the Star Map?"
Aithne didn't answer him. Simply kicked the wall again. "I hate this place," she muttered. Revan had been right, in her dream. The very air here burned. The Dark Side ran through the very marrow of this rock. It was itching beneath her skin. She could feel it like a virus. Intoxicating, demanding. Powerful. Urging her to give into her rage and anger, her contempt for those she had met here. How quickly would righteous anger turn to something darker here? She remembered how easily she, Zaalbar, and Mission had killed the slavers back on Kashyyyk, the numbness she had felt striking down the dar'Manda in the Shadowlands. The edge between light and dark could get thin, thin, thin.
She turned to the two survivors of Mekel's test. One refused to abandon his efforts, but she was able to convince one to go back to the settlement, the same Bart Leni and Thaddeus had mentioned back in the cantina. "Let's go," she said in a toneless voice.
They went back to Hawk in silence as the sun dipped low behind the mountains. Carth met them at the door, searching their faces with eager eyes. "Well?" he demanded.
Aithne sighed. "Jordo had it right. He's here. A couple of classes into the academy. One of the hopefuls we spoke to thought they might keep him until he's older, send him out as an officer when he's less likely to get killed by his first subordinates. It's what I would do. But since when have the Sith been sensible? The other hopeful thought he might get an assignment any day. We should hurry."
Carth's face twisted into an agonizing mix of hope and disappointment, and Aithne felt the emotions behind his face like he'd shoved a spike into her brain. Half of him had hoped that Jordo had been mistaken, she knew. Almost better that Dustil had died on Telos with his mother than to find him a Sith.
"Did you see him?"
"No," she said. "He's a Sith. All the Sith are in the academy most of the time. And only Sith are allowed in the academy—Sith, and their slaves and servants. Might be time to get you back for that time you went to the Undercity in Yun Genda's armor and I went as your paid companion."
Carth shook his head, dismissing this. "Fine. Whatever we have to do. What's the plan?"
Aithne closed her eyes. Jolee had said it. The solution was obvious, really. Easy to say. But execution was going to be . . . problematic. "I'm going to do the only thing I can, Carth. I'm going to become a Sith."