Chapter Twenty-Nine
JUHANI
It was a bit dull, simply standing in the room as Mission played pazaak, negotiated for supplies or services, or traded goods. Juhani wished she could talk with Zaalbar about it. He must have performed a similar function during their time on Taris. How had he learned to be content? Unfortunately, Juhani's skills in spacer sign were rudimentary. She could communicate with Zaalbar only on necessities—simple directions, simple questions. Nothing so involved as what she needed to converse on such complicated matters.
There was honor in the work Juhani had been asked to do. There was honor in being recognized as the finest warrior among the Jedi aboard Ebon Hawk, in being trusted to guard and teach the younglings. Juhani was aware that, though the salvation of the galaxy was Aithne's charge, the preservation of this young Twi'lek was her heart. She comforted herself with this on days she wished she was more actively involved in Aithne's mission. And with so many individuals in Dreshdae capable of using the Force, with so many who might choose to be unfriendly, Juhani knew Mission might need more protection than Zaalbar alone could provide. Yet, her position was not a leadership position. It was clearer by the day that Juhani's role upon Ebon Hawk and in her crew was becoming more and more a supportive one. A humiliation to her pride, but perhaps one that she had needed.
It was also true that on Korriban, perhaps Juhani had needed the anchor of having an assignment of peace. Here, Juhani could feel the passions swirling all around her. Old hatreds and jealousies, fear soaked into every stone. It was like being awash in a storm upon the sea. She could feel that if she herself became angry or gave way to her small envies, she would become swept away in the current of Korriban's Darkness, perhaps never to return.
There remained many days Juhani struggled with her emotions. She had become too much in the habit of discounting their influence upon her. In her arrogance the past few years of her apprenticeship, she had grown to believe many of the Jedi restrictions were unnecessary. And her passions had almost led her to disaster, and upon numerous fronts.
Juhani sipped her watered beverage, glancing over the rim, and rolled her shoulders back. Despite her recognition of Aithne's wisdom upon this planet and the precious trust she had been given, she hoped they need not remain in this pazaak den too much longer. It was better to keep their excursions in Dreshdae short, so they did not seem to be up to no good and attracted less attention.
She scanned the patrons of the gambling den. A collection of smugglers, traders, and dock workers, aiming to use what little disposable income they had to win more. Or merely to raise their spirits by the risk.
Mission operated smoothly among them. Juhani had her suspicions the girl sometimes cheated, but she was careful never to cheat on games with a large gambling pot. She never won by ridiculous, obvious margins, and she never won from the same people with too much frequency. And every now and then, she would lose a game—smaller wagers, but the loss kept her partners coming back. She was humorous and charming, playing alternately upon her youth and on her experience as it would be effective.
Occasionally, the people Mission dealt with made improper advances. People—especially men—were used to female Twi'leks as objects of lust. Female Cathar, too, were frequently fetishized, yet not quite so frequently as Twi'leks, who often used their own women as bargaining chips. Mission was young, but she was already quite beautiful. Her Rutian coloring was unusual and attractive, her gray eyes clear and intelligent. She carried herself with confidence and authority and went to adult places, so it was not uncommon for men to believe her older than she was. Even when they did not, at times the men Mission spoke to were intoxicated, or worse slime than that which emanated from a Hutt's excretory cavity.
Mission had been used to summoning Zaalbar when this happened. Since Juhani had been assigned to her protection as she sought out further provisions for the crew and kept up their appearances as an Exchange smuggling vessel, however, Mission had been making an effort to call on Juhani too, whenever she felt unsafe. They had discovered that it could keep things friendlier with the person Mission wished to discourage. Another woman alongside Mission was not so threatening as a Wookiee, fallen Jedi though she appeared. This seemed backward to Juhani; in truth, she was far more dangerous than Zaalbar. Yet, she understood too that it was to their benefit if men who wanted to bother Mission stopped doing so, but still did business. Those discouraged by Zaalbar rarely stayed. And regardless, she appreciated Mission's thoughtfulness.
Juhani had only once since they had come to Korriban actually needed to discourage a Sith from targeting her young friend; per Aithne's instructions, Mission had been trying to avoid them. Yesterday, however, there had been a Sith who had wanted to cut in line at the shipyard, to make the technician there see to his speeder before Ebon Hawk. Mission had been ready enough to give way, and the technician to agree—one did not so easily refuse a Sith—yet the man had been with two companions and had seen an advantage to forcing the issue rather than merely accepting his due tribute.
Juhani had pretended to arrive then and taken issue with the Sith's speeder taking priority over her ship, her employee. (She had been unable to call Mission or Zaalbar her slaves, however prudent it might have been.) The Cathar's reputation as warriors had helped her then. The Sith had been a coward, willing to harm two Force-blind individuals, but unwilling to battle another with some training in Force techniques.
Since, Juhani had been keeping an eye out for similar situations. None had arisen yet, but she knew one could at any time. Aithne had obtained her entrance into the Sith academy, after all, by killing five students who wanted to attack her only to prove their power.
So Juhani was wary when her eyes caught a Sith uniform among the dock and shop workers in the pazaak den. When she recognized the face above the uniform, it was perhaps forgivable that she stared. Unfortunately, it also cost them their cover.
Dak Vesser caught her looking at him across the room. He recognized her. How could he not? Cathar were not so ordinary through the galaxy as to pass unremarked, and Dak had known her better than most. He had returned to his place from momentarily stepping out. Now he took his drink and rose, crossing the room to meet her.
"Been a long time, Juhani."
Even after nearly a year, Juhani could feel pain emanating from Dak, pain which she had caused. She knew her guilt was senseless. She owed him nothing. Yet, she could not help the compassion that rose within her. She could not help mourning her old friend. And she was greatly saddened to find him now within the uniform of the Sith, to feel the taint of the Dark Side in him.
She would have to tread carefully. There could be no lying to Dak, yet he would have a clearer insight into her mind than many human Force Sensitives. She nodded a greeting. "Dak."
He did not know what it was he wished to say. To all outward appearances, she seemed to be a fallen Jedi. To Dak, it appeared as though she had left the Order as he had done, and that meant that she had lied about wishing to remain a Jedi. She had only wished not to leave with him. Juhani saw his face work and twist, felt him initially attempt to govern his emotions as they had been taught, then turn away and embrace his hurt, his anger.
"What are you doing here?" Dak asked at last. "Finally realize the Jedi weren't the gods you thought?"
His words were weapons. Juhani attempted to compose herself as Dak would not, remember the Jedi Code. As she did, however, she revealed herself. She felt Dak get his sense of her through the Force, even as she opened her mouth to tell a lie.
"No," he said, peering at her. "Actually growing up and being honest with your feelings—well. That wouldn't be very like you, would it?"
Zaalbar had seen her talking with a Sith. He had signaled Mission, and pazaak game abandoned, the two of them now made their way over to her at her place by the bar. Dak saw them coming and turned. He was surprised at her strange companions.
"Juhani," Mission said. "Everything alright?"
"What is this?" Dak demanded, looking back at Juhani. "You're with that skifter kid and . . . and a Wookiee? You've still got your lightsaber and that halo of self-righteous hypocrisy, so you're still a Jedi, but—"
Mission only saw an enemy on the attack. She stood taller and lifted her chin, putting her hands upon her hips. "Hey, who you calling a skifter, corpse-breath? Juhani's part of our crew, so there! So why don't you leave her alone, huh? She's had it with the Jedi and you Sith, and as soon as we get paid, we're out of this hole! So you can just scram. We ain't looking for a fight here, but if you push us, we can give you one!"
Dak took in the Twi'lek child. She was two handspans shorter than he was and perhaps half his weight. "Well. You don't lack for guts, I'll say that much," he told her. "I wasn't bothering your friend. She's a friend of mine as well. Or used to be." Zaalbar made an inquiry in spacer sign to Juhani. She signed back.
It is true. This man is not a danger.
Zaalbar roared something to Mission. Mission eyed Dak. "Fine," she muttered. "Juhani, you need anything, this guy makes one wrong move, and you just say the word, okay?"
Juhani was touched by Mission's protectiveness. It was fairly ridiculous. Dak could carve her up in seconds. But the bravery, the camaraderie behind the offer was genuine, and evidence of Mission's truly lovely heart. She and Zaalbar retreated to a table nearby and sat together, still watching Dak and Juhani.
Dak watched them in turn. "You always did make interesting friends," he muttered, turning back to her.
"Dak, I did not know you had fallen to the Dark Side," Juhani said.
Dak scowled. "I didn't fall. I opened my eyes. Look, I changed my mind. I don't know what this is. I'm just glad I saw you here. Gives me time enough to get the kriff out before whatever you're involved in goes down."
Dak was aware that Master Quatra had trained her for infiltrative missions with the Jedi. Before Juhani had become so foolish, they had often undertaken stealth operations together to collect reconnaissance for the Jedi or complete mercy missions behind Sith lines. Clearly, he had sensed there was more to her presence on Korriban than she and her companions were trying to let on. He had also seen her and immediately wished to flee to the other edge of the galaxy. It was undoubtedly safer for them, and yet—
"Running away? Again?" Juhani asked him.
Dak's lips spread in a mirthless smile. "Why not? It's what I do best. I won't tell anyone you're here. But a word of advice?" He nodded at Mission. "Keep your friend from challenging the other Sith like that. If she comes at the others like that, most of them will feel they have to put her down. Prove their strength. I'd also stay away from talking to the others about how they've 'fallen' to the Dark Side. That makes it pretty obvious you haven't. Goodbye, Juhani. If I never see you again, it'll be too soon." He tilted his hand and walked out of the establishment, leaving his drink behind.
Mission and Zaalbar came up to stand beside her. "And that isn't gonna be a problem?" Mission wanted to know.
Juhani shook her head, feeling immeasurably sad for her old friend. Somehow, he could not let her go, and so he could not stay with her or in any place she walked. A paradox, and perhaps one of the reasons the Jedi warned against attachments. "Dak will not reveal us, and he knows nothing besides that I am not what we have tried to portray here. He chose not to ask. It allows him to maintain deniability. Yet he spoke truly of you. Mission, if it had not been for our prior friendship, it would have been most unwise for you to challenge him like that. A Sith can never show weakness, particularly before one such as you."
"I just saw there might be trouble," Mission said. "You kinda froze up there, Juhani."
"I know," Juhani admitted. "I was not expecting to see him. Can we go? I would feel better if we returned to Ebon Hawk for the moment." In a very short time, the freighter had become a safe place for all of them. Almost a home.
Mission's eyes were sharp. "You got it," she said. "Big Z, keep an eye on our tail, okay?" Zaalbar made a noise of agreement, and together, they left the pazaak den.
Mission watched her as they walked through the Dreshdae docks, past other freighters and transport ships. "You can tell me about it, if you want," Mission suggested.
"There is not much to tell," Juhani answered. "Dak was a friend of mine. We entered the Jedi Order at the same time. We were padawans together. Occasionally collaborated on assignments with our masters, with another padawan. Belaya." Juhani felt herself soften as she mentioned this old friend, this dearest and most special of friends. "The three of us grew close. We came to enjoy spending our leisure time together as well. We studied together. Talked together.
"Dantooine was isolated," Juhani explained. "Especially as more and more Jedi went away to fight against the Sith, my friends and I were very much alone. Absent any true community of the Order, Dak, Belaya, and I grew . . . self-assured. We were the finest warriors, the finest minds we knew. We had similar frustrations—with our masters, our confinement, and with the rules and regulations of the enclave. And we had other feelings in common, but not all were in harmony with one another." Juhani remembered how it had been—with she and Belaya finding release for their passion together, with Dak having such similar feelings to Belaya for her, when she was unable to return them for him. What had been innocent and lovely had turned desperate and awkward, painful and embarrassing for all concerned, but especially for Dak. Juhani and Belaya had faced their own consequences at last, but they had been spared the worst repercussions for their folly. Dak, it seemed, had not. And he wrestled with them still.
"One day, Dak decided he wished to make his own way, outside the restrictions of the Jedi Order," Juhani related softly. "He asked me to go with him. He said—" she trailed off. Mission did not need to know the details of what he had said. "At any rate, I told him no, and it proved the end of our friendship for him. I wish he had felt differently. I wish he had chosen differently, that he could have remained in the Jedi Order and walking in the Light, even if . . ."
Juhani could sense Mission's understanding. "It's awful when guys think you should just up and be in love with them, just because you happen to be friendly," she said. "Or, you know." Her lekku twitched. "And it's worse when you end up not being friends because of it."
Juhani looked down at Mission, curious. "It has happened to you as well?"
"A couple times," Mission admitted. "I never wanted to be with anybody. Aside from the fact that most guys are drooling Huttspawn and just about as smart, I saw too many girls end up in trouble when they started dating. Get drawn into really bad crime rings. End up sold for slaves. Or just even poorer than they were before, in some lice-ridden dunghole with a couple kids to feed, pining over some guy who said he'd love them forever but was back to cruising the cantinas. I decided 'look but don't touch' was a good rule to live by, for everybody concerned. Some of my buddies didn't think that was such a good idea, though. But when I had to tell them that, well, suddenly they weren't my buddies anymore. But what about you and Belaya? Did that go anywhere?"
Juhani smiled sadly. "Once Dak left us, my friendship with Belaya became . . . difficult. I felt guilty, you see, that I could not return Dak's affections, that the pain he felt because of us had led him to abandon the Order. Belaya grew angry with me, that I would let such feelings sour what was between us. We were both of us distracted from our studies, preoccupied with our attachments. Lost in our emotions. My master grew impatient with me, and she was right. One day, she confronted me with my weakness. I became enraged with her, and—"
"And that's where Aithne found you." Mission finished.
"Belaya and I agreed to end it. Our relationship had become a twisted thing, no good for either of us, let alone our commitment to the Jedi," Juhani said. "Sometimes I wonder, if it were not for Dak, if we would have realized the jealousy, insecurity, and possession that had become tied up in our affection for each other. Or if it ever would have arisen. Sometimes I wonder if Dak actually saved us, before Master Quatra or Aithne ever did. But I miss them both often. I grieve what we were before everything went wrong. And I am sad for Dak now."
She gazed over at Ebon Hawk. They had arrived. They were home.
Mission looped her arm around Juhani's waist and squeezed. "I'm sorry that stuff happened to you, Juhani," she said. "Maybe Dak will figure things out eventually. He didn't seem that bad, for a Sith."
Zaalbar roared something that sounded similarly encouraging, and Juhani smiled at him.
"Thank you, my friends. I am glad I am here with you."
"Any time," Mission promised. "I'm gonna go inside and see if I can bully Canderous into showing me how he makes synth slop taste good. Then I should probably do some work for Aithne and Carth so they don't think I'm slacking. But we'll go out again tomorrow, okay? I think I may have earned enough for us to reward ourselves for all our hard work with a little shopping. Make it up to some of the guys I've been scamming out of their credits by spending some."
"I would enjoy that," Juhani told her.
"Come on, Big Z!" Mission called, and the two of them jogged into Ebon Hawk. Juhani followed at a slower pace.
It was good spending time with Mission—another child of Taris, another nonhuman. She understood things about Juhani's life that not even her fellow Jedi could. But Juhani was growing to appreciate all the non-Jedi members of Aithne Moran's crew, Canderous excepted, though even he had virtues she had not seen at first. She hoped that Carth soon found his son. He had been so concerned since receiving the news of him on Dantooine.
Juhani made her way to the ship's cargo hold, also the crew gymnasium. She sat on one of the mats inside to meditate upon her encounter with Dak, what she had learned since their parting a year ago, and whether there was any wisdom in what he had told her in their brief encounter in the pazaak den.
But as Juhani began to untangle her feelings about her past with her friends, her confusion in the pazaak den, she sensed another, restless energy aboard. Bastila was disturbed. Fearful and anxious. Juhani opened her eyes, unfolded herself, and went to seek the younger Jedi.
Bastila was sitting atop her bunk in the women's dormitory.
"Bastila, is everything alright?" Juhani asked.
"No," Bastila answered. "No, everything is not alright. Juhani, I feel very apprehensive about what we have done, allowing Aithne to enter into the Sith academy. The reasoning she presented for doing it this way seemed sound at the time. I am far more recognizable to our enemy; you are still recovering from your experience with the Dark Side upon Dantooine and may not be prepared to resist in the heart of the storm here upon Korriban. Yet we have sent her into the very heart of danger accompanied only by a self-named exile who has been hiding under a tree for the past twenty years—and the man she is in love with, whose desperate need to rescue his son may draw him to do most imprudent things, and Aithne after him. Can we be certain Aithne will withstand the severity of the danger she is in any better than you or I? She is so new to our Order—"
Juhani interrupted. "Bastila! At the moment, I am more oppressed with the power of your emotions than with the force of this entire planet's evil. Repeat the Code with me: There is no emotion—"
Bastila's blue eyes met hers. She breathed in deeply. "There is peace," she said. She repeated the rest of the Code with Juhani. "I thank you," she said.
"Now. I am aware you have a special bond with Aithne Moran," Juhani said. "Do you sense any particular danger to her through it?"
Bastila's lips thinned as she pressed them together. Her eyes were worried. "I do," she said. "The evil upon Korriban pulls her. Her anger is provoked by the cruelty she sees here, and the deception she must enact to achieve our objectives upon this planet make it all too easy for her to justify any action that she takes. She is not unaware of the dangers, but—she struggles. She suffers. And she is all the more vulnerable because of her worry for Carth."
Juhani was still absorbing this. She had seen herself that Aithne Moran was most comfortable with the pilot, that he was her most frequent companion and the two of them had a closer rapport than Aithne shared with anyone else aboard. "You believe she has formed an attachment to him?"
Bastila hesitated. Attachment was a loaded word among the Jedi. The Jedi could maintain friendships, even those with romantic or sexual elements, without overt disobedience to the Jedi Code. The practice was discouraged. It was all too easy for such relationships to turn selfish—to become infected with fear, with possession, or with jealousy, as had happened between Juhani and Belaya after Dak's departure. And then they became dangerous to a Jedi's faith and spirit. Yet, Juhani had seen no symptom of these feelings in the friendship between Aithne and Carth Onasi.
"I do not know," Bastila answered at last. "I know she admires him greatly, sometimes despite herself. I know at times she has been irritated or even hounded by him, but she has mostly been grateful for his help and his companionship. I share many of these feelings with her, but with Aithne it is . . . different."
"She is attracted to him, you mean?" Juhani asked.
Bastila nodded. "Extremely. And the attraction has always been mutual between them, since before they rescued me on Taris. There are mental, physical, and moral dimensions to it. Carth's professionalism and his personal history have slowed them down, I believe. But she cares for him."
"Does he care for her?" Juhani asked. She acknowledged to herself she felt a pang of jealousy. Aithne was . . . extraordinary. Beautiful, powerful, wise, and compassionate. She reminded Juhani of the Jedi that had once saved her life and moved her to join the Order herself. Yet, Aithne had shown her only the kindness and courtesy of a colleague, and it was better Juhani not nurture her own small infatuation.
Bastila hesitated once more. "I cannot speak for Carth as I can for Aithne. I do not have the same connection to him. I know he respects her as well. They have had their disagreements, but he has remained willing to help her both personally and professionally and has generally followed her lead. From what I know, he has remained devoted to his duty. But it has at times seemed to me that he feels that they do have a special relationship, and with some justification."
"And she immediately turned to Korriban when she learned of his difficulties," Juhani mused.
"We must consider that there is a child in the balance—the equivalent of a Jedi padawan only a few years into his apprenticeship, still in need of the care and protection of his guardians," Bastila said, "but yes. The speed with which Aithne agreed to come to Korriban, objectively the most dangerous planet we must go to, and which could make things all the more dangerous for us for the remainder of our mission, did concern me."
"Do you think Aithne likely to act rashly in pursuit of Dustil's freedom?"
Bastila thought about this. "Rashly—I do not know," she said. "Aithne is rarely rash. Unwisely?" She lifted her hands, indicating the answer to this question was less certain.
Juhani nodded, accepting this. "Whatever her dangers, it is too late now for either of us to enter the academy with her, even if we could contrive a way to do so. She will do what she must. I do not, however, think it is too late for us to help her. Your fear will do nothing for her. Your meditation can."
Bastila looked at her, and for one of the first times since they had begun their journey together, Juhani felt as though Bastila Shan truly saw her. "You're right," she said. "Fretting about all the danger Aithne has agreed to undertake for us will not help her face it. Through my Battle Meditation, I may be able to strengthen her resolve and light her path, and I can certainly have more of an idea of what she goes through than I do now. Would you help me with this, Juhani?"
Battle Meditation was not an ability that Juhani had ever learned. It was not one she believed she could learn. But she understood. The Jedi were stronger together. "I will meditate with you to give you strength," she promised.
CARTH
Carth had once had to dress in the uniform of the enemy for a mission. He hadn't enjoyed it. Aside from the fact that the Sith armor he had worn had belonged to a real creep, it had been low quality and smelled bad, and wearing it felt like a betrayal of the Republic. The Sith dress uniforms worn by the Force-Sensitive academy students on Korriban were better made than the mostly plastic armor mass-produced for Sith foot soldiers, but Aithne didn't enjoy wearing it any more than Carth had liked wearing the clown suit back on Taris.
She made Carth and Jolee leave the room while she changed—a concession to Carth's tender sensibilities, she said. Kicking his heels in the hall outside, Carth considered the drawbacks to camping out in the Sith academy. Aithne might have been allowed to have an advantage by bringing her own servants—or slaves—but Master Uthar had been inconsistent in the concessions he made for them. He'd allowed Liat Ser'rida to feed her servants from the academy dining hall but forced her to share her student quarters. Behind closed doors, Carth, Aithne, and the others had agreed to rotate who slept in the single bed. Carth hoped they wouldn't be staying long, though. His back wouldn't thank him for it.
When Aithne came from the room dressed out, Carth had to fight a grimace. He knew he hadn't looked great in Genda's armor on Taris, but the Sith academy uniform was even worse. Aithne looked pretty sharp in black. Gray sucked the color out of her cheeks and made her look like she'd been engaging in even more Dark-Side Force sessions than he'd seen. She looked powerful, sure, but also pretty intimidating. Her cheekbones suddenly seemed more prominent; her eyes more yellow than brown. Looking at her, she looked like the enemy.
Aithne must have picked up something to that effect from him, because she glanced at him. "I know," she muttered, fingering the hem of her shirt with distaste. "Lovely, isn't it?"
"You look fine," Carth lied. He tried to focus on the details, things that told him—but wouldn't tell the Sith—that she was just playing a part here. She was still using that makeup she'd bought yesterday, the stuff that made her features look just a little different—a little older, with a longer face, eyes closer together, and a little sharper nose. She was still using that double-bladed vibrosword, too: while everyone here already knew she had some training with the Force, she didn't want the other students knowing how much yet. Finally, she'd left her hair down. Would've gotten her cited by a Republic officer in an inspection for sure; the look wasn't professional, and long hair worn down could provide a point of attack for the enemy and obstruct her vision. The advantage was that Aithne's hair, left down, changed her entire shape, not to mention the way it served to partially obscure her face from certain angles. It could sometimes be hard to get a good look at her face from the side, and overall, she looked significantly different from the sketch from Taris.
"Let's go get some breakfast," Aithne said.
But as soon as the three of them started down the hall toward the mess, the door to the room immediately next to Aithne's opened, and Yuthura Ban stepped out.
"Ah, if it isn't my favorite prospect for the year," she purred.
Aithne stepped back, surprised for a moment, then Carth saw her features settle into a neutral, guarded expression. "You've been waiting."
"I was," Ban admitted. "I arranged for you to be placed in the room next to mine as well."
Aithne folded her arms and raised her chin. "Why?"
"I was impressed with how quickly you rose to my challenge yesterday," Ban told her. "I've been impressed with your, shall we say, preparation for the academy." Her eyes raked over Carth and Jolee in their own costumes—they had coordinated, if they had been unable to match. "You've a promising aura about you and a history of both subtlety and survival. You are the kind of person I would like to have on my side. By my estimation, you are far more likely to achieve the prestige necessary to become a Sith than any of the others. I have an opportunity for you. Of the once-in-a-lifetime variety, if you want to hear it."
Aithne hesitated. Carth thought rapidly, fighting to school his expression. This wasn't what they had planned. The plan had been to infiltrate the academy, find Dustil, get through to the tomb or cave in the valley that contained the Star Map, and get out. They weren't supposed to attract a lot of attention, let alone the focused interest of one of the senior instructors at the academy. Damn it! He'd always thought Aithne would be a terrible spy.
Of course, if Aithne tried to back out from Ban's proposition now, she'd just look like she had something to hide. "Alright. Go ahead," Aithne said.
When Ban said what she wanted, Carth thought he really might've guessed—less Yuthura approaching Aithne straight out the gate to help. She wanted to kill her master. Yuthura had been plotting for months and decided that one of the student trials would be the best place for a confrontation. It was one of the only times Master Uthar was ever alone. Ban figured she could rig it to make sure Aithne was selected to complete the final trial to be a Sith, and when it worked, she said, she, Uthar, and Aithne would head alone to the tomb of Naga Sadow in the valley.
"Why the tomb of Naga Sadow?" Aithne asked.
That, Yuthura explained, was a tradition dating back to the academy's founding. Before Revan and Malak had established the academy, they had found a Star Map within the tomb of the Sith Lord Naga Sadow. So, every year, the student eligible to become a Sith in full made a pilgrimage to that tomb for their final trial. It was the only time the tomb of Naga Sadow was ever open and unguarded.
"You don't say," Jolee drawled. "Well, the master loves tombs. Don't you, Master?"
Carth glared. "No one asked you, Bindle," he growled. Jolee was probably a worse spy than Aithne. He said too much and had way too much of a sense of humor. A born nonconformist and a few decades a misanthrope, he stuck out like a sore thumb wherever he went. Carth got why Aithne had wanted him along. He was the most experienced and least recognizable of any of the Jedi with them, and with Force users around every corner, it was good for her to have a Jedi for backup. Carth had also seen that Jolee was ready to tell Aithne when she went too far, and Aithne tended to respond to Bindo's advice that way a little better than she responded to Bastila, probably because Jolee waited to give it until she actually stepped over the line. Not that Jolee could always stop her. She'd still been ready to kill that murderer in Dreshdae the same way he'd killed his victim. But Bindo and Aithne had had a couple of nice exchanges in the Shadowlands that showed the two of them had a few things in common. Still. The guy needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. The last thing they needed was for the Sith to realize Jolee had been a Jedi too.
Yuthura was watching Jolee too. "Indeed," she said, slowly. "Anyway, the tomb is not the important thing. That Uthar will be alone is the important thing." If Aithne helped her to assassinate her master, Yuthura promised, Aithne could take her place at Yuthura's right hand. Effectively, it would give Aithne a shortcut through months or years of scrabbling and backstabbing to gain some power in the Sith.
Aithne's face was difficult to read. "Let me get this straight," she said. "After all of one conversation, you want me to be your personal apprentice?"
"Your eagerness to prove yourself as I requested yesterday said a great deal," Yuthura confirmed. "You have the motivation and gumption to do what I require. And I believe we discussed knowing when the time comes to clench your fist and strike."
"We did," Aithne agreed. "I am, however, surprised that time has come to me so soon. I'm surprised you'd move to promote me like this before we know one another better. When you strike Uthar down in the Sith tradition, you make yourself vulnerable to your own apprentice, who will one day inevitably seek to strike you down as well."
Yuthura's smile was darkly amused. It had teeth. "I am not afraid of the challenge. By all means, strike me down one day. If you can."
The two women looked at one another, and then Aithne smiled back. Her smile was every bit as venomous as Yuthura's. Carth understood that in a couple of minutes, everything had changed. Now they knew the only way to get to the Star Map was to impress the most important people at the academy. Aithne had to play along. But—something in that cold, hard smile didn't sit right in his stomach.
"Very well," Aithne said. "Now. About my prestige within the academy? Ensuring I become Sith at the end of this little competition?"
"Of course," Ban agreed. "The first and easiest way to gain prestige would be to recite the Code of the Sith for Uthar. Would you like to hear it?"
Aithne nodded, and Ban began: "Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."
Safe in the full-mask helmet that prevented anyone from seeing Carth Onasi from the Sith bounty lists, Carth had a bit of an advantage. You couldn't see the eyes or expression of a person in a full-mask helmet, so if they stayed back and stayed quiet, it was pretty easy for them to disappear. It was pretty easy to forget they were even there—all the more so if you thought that person was a servant.
When they'd learned they were going to have to infiltrate the Sith academy to find Dustil, they'd decided that the helmet, which had originally been Aithne's disguise, should go on Carth. The Sith had an official Republic holo of him. The Tarisian sketch image of Aithne wasn't nearly as detailed or effective. But switching out the equipment had also left Aithne exposed, and she didn't have any of Carth's practice disciplining her features.
Carth had noticed before that every thought Aithne Moran had showed on her face, and as she and Yuthura talked about the philosophy behind the Sith Code, he worried nearly every second she was going to give herself away. He tried to evaluate her expressions like a Sith would, look for weaknesses Master Yuthura might want to exploit. Nothing really stood out—no obvious compassion or overdeveloped ambition—but he could tell one thing: Aithne wasn't buying in. She wasn't sold out to the Sith. She was thinking about the Code and what it meant, sure, but you could tell that she wasn't committed to a life of following her passions to gain power. He hoped maybe Yuthura wouldn't see it; she didn't know Aithne like he did, or even like Jolee. He hoped that if Yuthura could tell Aithne had some doubts about the Sith Code, those doubts didn't make Yuthura suspect Aithne of any ulterior motives. But damn, Aithne could sure be loud, all without ever saying a single word.
It was probably just as well she did have doubts about the Sith philosophy, though. Yuthura was . . . she could be pretty persuasive. She was intelligent and charming, and when she spoke, the Sith almost sounded reasonable. To her, all the power plays, all the backstabbing was a way of life. It made sense. But he didn't want it making sense to Aithne.
As Aithne and Yuthura finished their discussion of the Sith Code, Ban went on to tell Aithne about a few other opportunities she knew of for impressing Master Uthar. The headmaster wanted a few students who had refused an order to execute someone executed in their turn. They had fled, and a student who tracked them down and carried out Wynn's sentence would probably earn his respect. Yuthura also suggested Aithne might collaborate with another student in the academy and betray them later, obtaining the resources they had worked for together and demonstrating her cunning all at once. Ban suggested Lashowe might be the person to try for doing that sort of thing—the girl was uncertain and didn't like to work alone. She was too trusting. Aithne could use that.
Carth couldn't help staring at the Twi'lek as she spoke. She made all these horrible things sound so . . . matter-of-fact. It was hard to even hate her, even as she talked about assassinating her master and murdering conscientious objectors—refugees, now—who had refused to take part in the academy's culture of violence. What made a person like Yuthura Ban?
Aithne must've been interested too. "Tell me about yourself," she asked Yuthura eventually.
Ban seemed surprised. "Me? Well, I'm originally from Sleheyron, if you must know."
Carth wasn't familiar with the world, but Aithne seemed to know it. "A Hutt world," she said. She asked for details, and Ban explained she'd been a slave to a crime lord there.
"The Hutts control everything on Sleheyron, and a slave is nothing to them," Ban told them. "I was determined not to be nothing." She explained how she had killed her master with a stolen knife one night and made her escape on a vessel which had eventually run out of fuel.
"But how did you go from a scared little kid on a stranded ship to the right-hand-woman of Darth Malak's Sith academy?" Aithne asked.
"I—I would prefer not to discuss that," Ban said, stammering slightly.
Carth thought Aithne might leave it at that. She wasn't huge on invasions of privacy from either side. She surprised him, though. "I'd really like to know."
Yuthura stiffened. "Why?" she demanded, suspicious. "There is no point. Have I asked you about your past?"
Aithne shrugged. "You can. I'll answer." She said it so easily, he wondered what she'd do if Ban took her up on the offer. Had she thought up a story for Liat Ser'rida yet? Could Yuthura check it? Or did Aithne plan to mix truth and lies together to create her persona here. He'd thought the best plan was to say as little as possible. "Maybe I'm a nosy busybody," Aithne said, "but I just thought since we're going to work together, we might as well try to be friends."
And there it was, Carth thought. The charisma of Yuthura Ban, her eagerness to reach out and find an ally. Aithne had seen Yuthura's weakness in a second: the Twi'lek liked people too much. She was lonely, following the Sith, where you had to think anyone might kill you at any time. For a second, it looked like she might actually cry.
"You . . . you have very odd notions for someone hoping to become a Sith," Yuthura said. "Let's see, after escaping from Sleheyron, I was found by the Jedi. They took me in and trained me, even though I was a bit older than most padawans."
Aithne blinked. "You were a Jedi too?" she repeated.
Yuthura shook her head. "Not really, no. I never progressed beyond padawan. I had discipline, but no peace, and after my treatment at the hands of the Hutts there was little room in me for the ways of the Jedi."
Beside him, Jolee shifted. His face was strange. "You . . . you sound very much like someone I used to know," he said softly.
This time, Carth didn't call out Bindo's behavior. He didn't think it was a good idea to remind Ban that all three of them were there. She should have known better, actually. If she'd been a slave at one point, she should have remembered that servants see and hear everything. But she'd been caught up in the façade of seeing servants as objects again now and, talking and connecting to Aithne, had forgotten that Carth and Jolee existed, except as extensions of Aithne. Now she was too lost in her own memories to remember.
She laughed a little. "Yes, well, I imagine I am not unique. Things could have very easily been very different for me. I wanted to use the Force to free the other slaves I knew, to fight for what I knew was right. The Jedi restrained me until I couldn't stand it anymore. They claim the Dark Side is evil, but that isn't so. Sometimes anger and hatred are so deserved and right. Sometimes things change because of it."
Carth shifted. He felt the way he had down in the Undercity, looking at that foot soldier who'd died for Rukil's apprentice. It was easy to forget that there were people on the other side of a war, that a person who made bad choices and fought for evil things might not actually be pure evil. Ban was caught up in the Sith culture of violence and deception now, but her hatred was actually directed at the slavery and cruelty she'd seen as a child. And he had a feeling Aithne understood what she wanted. Hell, to an extent, he could understand Yuthura himself. Hate was probably the best word for what he felt for Saul Karath, and he wanted to kill Saul because it was right.
"I agree with you," Aithne said. "But have things changed for you?"
Ban seemed to consider this. "No," she admitted slowly. "Not yet. But my anger has not diminished, nor my desire to see change. The more time I spend with the Sith, the more I am certain that one day I will be able to fight as I must. I know this may sound strange, but only my compassion stands in my way, now. Once that is gone, let the slavers beware!"
Aithne shifted her weight then, moving her left hand behind her back, and her fingers formed the Republic signal for Be ready. She was about to do something crazy.
Aithne raised an eyebrow at Yuthura. "I might suggest your compassion has faded more than you think, Master Yuthura," she said. "For here I stand with two men I introduced to you as my slaves, and your first act is to befriend me."
Yuthura tensed all over. Then, her eyes narrowed, and once again, she was paying attention to Carth and to Jolee. She looked from them and back to Aithne. "Are these men then not your slaves, Liat Ser'rida?"
Carth didn't know what the hell Aithne was doing. He fingered the blasters at his belt.
"I thought it might be useful to introduce them that way in a Sith academy, but no," Aithne answered levelly. "Say rather, colleagues. Unable to become Sith themselves, these men nevertheless think they may profit from my becoming a Sith, and I've found it useful over the years to work with friends. But Yuthura, if ours had been a more conventional arrangement, if I had been a master to them like the master you killed once on Sleheyron, would you see me as a creature to one day be eliminated, on moral grounds and not merely as perhaps one day a threat to your life? Or would my power still make me a desirable ally?"
Carth saw what she was getting at now, kind of. Aithne was underscoring her willingness to collaborate by giving Yuthura a little more about him and Jolee, offering a little reciprocation. She was also using what Yuthura had told her about her own past and ambitions to make her doubt her resolve as a Sith. He guessed it would be the Jedi way to try and save Yuthura or any Sith they could here—they had to save Dustil, at the very least—but damn was Aithne playing with fire.
Yuthura was silent for a long moment. "You are a fascinating person, Liat Ser'rida," she said at last. "A student who comes to us already possessed of her own voluntary followers. A student who competes through cooperation. A study in paradoxes, among the Sith." She paused. "Perhaps it is you who will teach us. It is an interesting notion, that the chains that bound me might already have been broken, and it is a question worth consideration, whether I wanted them to be." Her voice became quiet and pensive, but then she looked up. "But perhaps I sensed, without knowing it, that you were not who you presented yourself to be. Perhaps this was what intrigued me."
She jerked her head at Carth and Jolee then. "Nevertheless, if these men are not bound to you, let them declare for themselves. Who are you, and what do you hope to gain in the halls of the Sith?"
Carth hesitated, but Jolee answered at once. "Our fearless leader can do what she wants, but I've no desire to go back to the person I was before I joined her crew. The name they gave me is good enough for me. You can call me Judd Bindle just like they do. As for why I came here with her, well. The Jedi and the Republic don't have a monopoly on knowledge, do they? I know I'm not what the Sith are looking for in a recruit, but I'm here to learn what I can. Besides. If we're plundering tombs in the valley here, who knows what little artifacts might go missing?"
That was a lot better than the slave persona, Carth thought. There was . . . there was a lot of truth in what Jolee had said just now. He could feel it: the rejection of the person Bindo had been before Kashyyyk, as well as the same kind of openness to ideas and cultures outside of the Republic that Aithne had. Jolee could hide behind those truths when Yuthura tried to sense if he was lying.
Sure enough, Yuthura seemed satisfied with Jolee's answer. "A plunderer, then, or rather, a collector—of knowledge as well as of relics. Your words also hint at something I have at times sensed from you—Liat is not the only one among you capable of feeling the Force, is she, old man?"
Jolee shrugged. "Maybe not, but I'm no Jedi, and my warrior days are behind me."
Yuthura hummed. "I am all the more intrigued, for I sense no lie upon you. There is a place for those who seek knowledge of the past and of the Dark Side among us, but mind you do not become a liability to your companion." She turned to Carth. "And you—you in the mask. The Mandalorian's replacement. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Carth shrugged. "Ordo didn't need me," he answered, in the lower, grittier voice he had adopted for his alias. "Liat figured she might. She's paying me to be here. A decent share of whatever she earns." It was one way of saying a big part of the reason they were here in the first place was for him, without strictly telling a lie.
"And if she should earn nothing? If she is killed? You realize you would most likely perish with her."
Carth shrugged again in response to Yuthura's challenge. "We haven't died yet."
"Indeed." Yuthura's eyes were sharp. "And, if I may, what is your name, friend? And why do you wear that mask?"
"They call me Card Natthias," Carth answered. "I wear a helmet to be prepared. A Sith can attack at any time, and I'm not stupid about head protection like Liat here."
Aithne made a face at him, tossing her hair and playing into the dynamic—old shipmates and co-campaigners.
Yuthura smiled. "This one is perhaps a little too paranoid for my taste, but he is not unwise," she told Aithne. "You might see about getting him some regulation armor."
Carth scoffed. "Our gear is better," he said.
This time, the master laughed, looking his black fiber armor and plate up and down. "Spoken like a true mercenary, and likely true. Very well. As you will, then." She turned back to Aithne. "Very well, my friend. I will keep you no further, nor will I reveal the comparative independence of your . . . compatriots. The clock is ticking. You have only a limited time to gain Uthar's favor. Remember what we have discussed."
Aithne bowed, though the bow had a trace of irony. "Master," she murmured.
Carth and Jolee kept quiet all through breakfast, keeping their cover, but Carth wondered what the plan was. They needed to find Dustil. They needed to get Aithne to the top of this stupid prestige competition so she could enter the tomb of Naga Sadow and find the Star Map. But they had to do it all in just the right order or everything could fall down around their ears.
And he didn't like the way Aithne looked. The way eyes seemed far away, and her expression seemed so closed. The muscles of her arms and back were all tensed up. He could tell she was thinking hard, but not about what. But he had a bad feeling none of it was very pleasant.
After breakfast, she led them back to the center of the academy, where Wynn was meditating. Aithne cleared her throat, and Uthar's eyes flicked up. "Yes?"
Aithne didn't hesitate. "I felt you should know: Yuthura offered me several leads to secure an alliance just now. She wants me to help her kill you at the final trial."
Master Uthar's yellow eyes flashed. "Is this true? I see. It is good you have come to me with this information," he murmured, keeping his voice low. "It is a bit . . . ironic . . . that Yuthura has begun her plotting. I have been aware of her growing ambitions for some time and had in fact already decided to remove her. Normally, the one who gains the most prestige would engage in a final trial. Two of the students would fight. This time it will be Yuthura who battles, though she does not know it. Perhaps it will be you who combats her?" He looked hard at Aithne. "Yes . . . perhaps so." He reached inside his robes and withdrew a datapad from an interior pocket. "This is what you can do: Give this pad to Adrenas. You will find him among the trainers near the exit to the valley. He will put some poison in Yuthura's bath. This will weaken Yuthura for that final test, making her an easy target." Uthar smirked. "Rather generous of me, don't you think?"
"It would perhaps be a better test of my skill to have me fight her at full strength," Aithne suggested. "But then, if you would have me fight a full master of the Sith instead of one of these other hopefuls, perhaps I should be grateful for the advantage."
"Take every advantage you can get," Wynn advised. "For this is the way of the Sith. For coming to me with this information and betraying your foolish trainer, I feel you are worthy of prestige, Liat Ser'rida. Go now. You have not yet impressed me enough to declare you the victor."
Aithne raised an eyebrow. "As part of her side of our bargain, I had Yuthura tell and explain the Code of the Sith to me," she replied. "I learned it well. You had asked to hear it from the hopefuls."
"You have learned it already?" Uthar asked, skeptical.
"I have a good memory," Aithne told him. She recited it and told Uthar one of the interpretations of it that Yuthura had given her when he asked her to explain it.
Uthar seemed impressed. "You do indeed have a good memory, Liat Ser'rida, and some self-possession, to take advantage of more than Yuthura's treachery in your conversation. But I understand training of this nature is not new to you."
Aithne tilted her head and said nothing. "Go," Uthar said. "I must meditate further this morning."
Carth and Jolee followed Aithne away from the center of the academy. "Want to tell me just what we're doing, lass?" Bindo asked her in an undertone. "Not that I'm not fascinated. You're committing intrigue like any one of these hardened villains, but I'd believed you liked our once-compassionate Twi'lek friend."
"I do like her," Aithne admitted. "I like her a lot, actually. She's better than this place and better than what she'd doing. She's also a lot further gone than she knew before this morning. I'd like to deliver an object lesson to her on exactly how much she doesn't really want this life."
Jolee grunted. "You mean to turn her back? You backstab her like this, and she'd just as likely to kill you dead. You gave her a lot more about us than you had to, earlier. She's got some weapons."
Aithne nodded. "I know. But she also knows I'm not a slaver, and once I heard about her past, I thought that was important." She paused. "Still. Watch your backs," she told them. "If she decides she wants to hurt me, she'll go for you two first."
"Yeah. Thanks for that," Carth said. "So. What now?"
Aithne looked sideways at him. "I think it's time we get an idea of who else is living with us in this academy," she answered. They were going after Dustil.