Chapter Thirty
CARTH
They talked to a lot of other people the rest of that morning and into the early afternoon. Aithne was probably the most social Sith hopeful in the academy. Most of her immediate competition was pretty wary. She and Jolee knew most all the people she was up against to become a true Sith, and they'd had different experiences with each of them. The woman who'd insulted them at the beginning, Lashowe, the one Yuthura recommended targeting for a betrayal, was hostile but not too aggressive. A man, Shaardan, was friendly, but wouldn't talk too much about what he was doing. There was another man, bigger and a little older, who had a pretty brutal face. He was contemptuous of Aithne from the start, and her eyes just about burned, talking to him. Mekel tried to provoke her into a fight, but Aithne decided not to go there.
When they got around to the last of the students immediately competing with Aithne, Kel Algwinn, Carth was ready for just about anything. But he was as friendly as Shaardan, if a little withdrawn. On him, though, it seemed more like introspection than like he was on his guard.
"Is something wrong?" Aithne asked him.
"Not really, no," Kel told her, but his eyes cut away. He wasn't too great of a liar, Kel.
"C'mon, you can tell me," Aithne pressed him, voice soft.
"My master says that I am too trusting," Kel said, politely refusing to share. "And you're going to be a Sith."
He was a kid, really. Probably only about a year older than Dustil. "Aren't you?" Aithne asked him.
Kel realized he'd already said too much. "That's not what I meant!" he said.
"What did you mean, then?"
Kel stepped back. "Never mind. I can't trust you. Can I?"
Aithne raised her eyebrows at him. She walked past his meditation mat and sat right down on the end of his bed. She'd adopted the same manner she used with Mission, Carth saw. She saw as well as he did that this kid wasn't a threat. "That's the nature of trust, isn't it?" she said. "You have to decide. You can tell me what's bothering you, and I might use it against you, or tell someone else who would. But I also might use my power of choice to help you out, just to shake things up around here. Of course, you can always keep your secret and let it eat you up inside."
Kel stared. "What kind of Sith are you?" he demanded. Aithne just looked back at him, eyes wide, waiting.
Kel shifted. "Fine," he said. "Sometimes I don't feel like I belong here. Some of the things the Sith say, some of the things they do, some of it just doesn't feel right."
Aithne hummed. "Where are you from, Kel?"
He frowned. "I grew up here on Korriban. Why?"
That explained it, Carth thought. Kel had gone to the Sith because it was what was around. Aithne got it too. "If I were Master Uthar, I might say that any dark kernel inside you is a long, long way from sprouting," she told him. "I can sense you're strong in the Force, but I don't sense the things the people here want from you: I don't sense hatred, or even a lot of anger. Mostly a whole bunch of confusion. Tell me, did someone ask you to come here because of your abilities, or did you come on your own?"
"They gave me a token back in Dreshdae," Kel told them. "Said the Sith could teach me to use the Force. And at first, I was interested in learning more about the things I can do. But as things sort of escalated, I got less and less sure it's what I want."
Aithne was frowning now. This kid would get himself killed if he stayed here, Carth thought. They all knew it. "Kel, I gotta ask: are you free to leave here?"
Kel's eyes dropped. "I could, but where would I go? I mean, what would I do?"
Aithne reached into her belt pouch. She pulled out a handful of credits. "I think you should hop a transport out of here," she told him. "Head to the Core or the Mid-Rim. Look for the Jedi. They can teach you to use your abilities too, but they're a lot less likely to kill you. Or ask you to kill without good reason. They teach some other ways to be strong, ways that are probably better suited to you, from what I can tell, Korriban-native or not."
Kel stepped forward to take the credits. "You're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asked.
Aithne hesitated. "I don't want to have to end up killing you," she said instead of answering the question. "I don't want one of the others to do it. And I don't want you to walk a path that you aren't sure about."
Kel stared at her. "No one here ever asked me what I wanted," he remarked. He smiled then. "I won't tell anyone," he said. "Whoever you are, whatever you're here for. And I think I'll take you up on your suggestion."
Aithne nodded, rose, and led the way down the corridors again.
It felt like they'd been in every private room in the Sith academy except Master Uthar's by the time they found Dustil down at the end of the hall in the second dormitory.
He opened the door to Aithne's knock. "You take a wrong turn somewhere?" he asked.
"Just making the rounds, getting to know the new neighbor—" Aithne broke off, staring.
Carth stared too. Dustil had been twelve the last time he'd seen him, just a boy, younger than Mission. He was—he was within a couple of centimeters of being as tall as Carth, now. Good condition too, though he was skinny enough you could see he was still growing. He looked just like Jordo had said—he had hair like Morgana's. Her nose, too. But otherwise—Carth might as well have been looking at himself at age sixteen. It was his son!
Jordo had been right about his position, too. Looking past the door frame into the bedroom, you could just see a lightsaber lying on the end of his bunk. Dustil wasn't just any hopeful or student. He was a Sith.
Aithne nodded once, collecting herself. "Dustil," she said. "I've heard about you. I'm new, and if I could, we'd like a word." She took off her sword and handed it to him. Dustil took it from her, surprised. Carth saw what she was doing. They'd talked to the other Sith at the academy with their weapons, in the hallway or with the doors open. If they were going to ask to talk to Dustil in private, they needed to show him that he wasn't in any danger. He immediately took off his gun belt and handed it to Dustil as well, and Jolee, after a moment, removed his lightsaber from the arm holster beneath his sleeve.
"You—the old man uses the lightsaber, not you?" Dustil said, staring from Aithne to the others. Then he caught sight of the right-hand gun inside Carth's holster. How many times had Dustil asked to help him polish his blaster as a kid? Carth had taught his son to shoot using the gun he held right now. His son's jaw suddenly turned to durasteel, and his eyes went cold. "Come inside," he muttered. He reached out and grabbed Aithne's arm, pulling her inside his room.
"Dustil! Hands!" Carth warned, following the two of them inside with Jolee.
Dustil let go of Aithne. He closed and locked his door and threw the weapons back on his bed with his lightsaber. "That you, Father?"
Carth took off his helmet. He hadn't shaved for a couple of weeks, preparing for Korriban, and Dustil sneered when he saw him. "Oh, so it is. Looking a little sloppy, old man, but it's you. That's just perfect. Which means you—" he turned to Aithne. "I'd heard about you too, but if you're here with him, you aren't who they say you are. You're one of those women he's been traveling with. The ones Darth Malak would pay a planet for. Too old to be Shan, so I guess you're the other one. Moran. The one he'd rather have dead than alive."
The anger coming off him was palpable. Aithne met his eyes. "That's me," she said. "You planning to do something about it?"
"I don't know," Dustil snapped. "I certainly didn't ask for this to fall down on my head. How did you—how did you even get in here?"
"I'm pretty sure we lied," Aithne answered.
Dustil's lip curled. "Cute." His gaze swept back to Carth. "Why'd you come, Father? Not for me, I hope. Couldn't you have gotten yourself blown up on some ship and spared us this reunion?"
Carth stepped toward him, stricken nearly dumb. After four years, to see Dustil like this—"What? What are you talking about? I . . . I thought you were dead!"
Dustil's mouth twisted even further. "Too bad you didn't still think that. Or did you really think I would be happy to see you? 'Look, everyone! It's Father, come to rescue me at long last! Sure! He may have left Mother and I to die on Telos, but that doesn't matter!"
Was that how it had felt to him? Carth shook his head, stunned. "No . . . I didn't abandon you. The Task Force just arrived too late! Telos was in ruins, and your mother . . . I held her while—" Dustil's face—it was like a mask. As hard and cold as stone. "But I looked for you, I swear I looked for you everywhere—"
He'd searched the wreckage reports for months, looked in relief center after relief center on different planets.
Dustil scoffed. "Oh, save it. You abandoned us long before. We were alone all through the wars, and even once you came back,you still didn't stay!" Years of hurt were pouring out of him now. Carth caught Jolee looking back at the door. When Dustil had been mocking him earlier, pretending to announce a celebration, he'd still kept his voice at a normal level, a level that wouldn't be heard outside the stone walls of his room. Now he was shouting.
"I didn't have a choice," Carth protested. "I was needed—"
"Yeah?" Dustil demanded. "Well, you were needed at home too. You were needed when the bombing started, and I got captured!"
Carth had had no idea the Sith had taken prisoners on Telos, but he knew Dustil had to be telling the truth. He should have thought of it. The only way he could have missed Dustil all these years was if his son had been taken behind the Sith lines, out of Republic communication channels. He'd grown up here among the enemy. What had his life been like?! This wasn't the son he remembered.
Dustil shook his head. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Not anymore. I have a new family now, a family that cares about me. I don't need you!"
Carth stared. "The Sith? You can't mean that! No, the Sith killed your mother! The Sith destroyed Telos!" He couldn't mean it, could he? He wouldn't be so angry if he meant it.
Dustil laughed in his face. "So? You're the soldier, Father! How many mothers have you killed?"
No, Carth thought. This was wrong. It was all wrong. "No, you've been brainwashed. The son I knew would never—"
"You never knew me!" Dustil shouted. "You weren't even there to know me, so don't presume to tell me what I would or wouldn't do!"
Carth's jaw set. "I don't know what's been done to you," he said, "But you're coming with me out of here. Now."
Dustil put his hand out, and the Sith lightsaber from the bed flew right into it. He didn't activate it, but he stood there, in between them and all their weapons. "Touch me, old man, and I'll kill you," he warned. "Get out! Get out of here before I tell the Sith that you're here!"
Aithne stepped between them then. Carth's heart jumped—Dustil was so on edge, he could hurt her. Dustil tensed but didn't move, and Aithne—she was looking at Carth. "Alright. That's enough," she said, in a much lower voice than either Carth or Dustil had been using. "Back off, and calm down." She turned back to Dustil. "We're not taking you anywhere unless you agree to it," she told him. "We're not going to do anything. I think you've been taken enough places against your will. But you know your father's only trying to protect you. You said it yourself. You know he came for you, and you know he came the very second that he heard you were here. And since you've been here all this time, and since you've seen the bounty offering, you also know just exactly how dangerous it was for all of us and the entire Republic war effort. So you can calm down too."
Dustil had been breathing pretty hard. He'd gone red in the face. Now he started to get himself back under control. "I don't need his protection. Not anymore. The Sith give me everything I need."
Carth sidestepped around Aithne. He had to get through to Dustil. He just had to. "You can't mean that," he said. "The Sith are . . . they're evil. They're the Dark Side. They . . . they took me away from you and your mother. They're . . . they're what took you from me."
Dustil folded his arms. "Please. You made your choice. You were at war long before the Sith ever showed up. From where I stand, the Sith were the ones to want me. You didn't. And as for the Dark Side—well. It gets things done. Doesn't seem too evil to me."
"The Sith are opportunists," Aithne said. "They took you for what you could do for them. And as for Carth not wanting you, that's garbage, and I think you know it."
"I went to war for you, Dustil," Carth pressed. "For your freedom, your future. What are the Sith doing here? They're warring to conquer. To rule the helpless. If I failed you, then it's my failure, but please don't add to it by continuing on in something evil."
Dustil stood there for a moment, staring into his eyes. Somewhere in there was his son. Carth could feel it, and finally, Dustil threw his lightsaber back on the bed and placed his hands on his hips. "You really believe that, don't you? And Moran's right—you risked your life and the entire Republic war effort when you came here. Fine. Prove it. Prove that the Sith are so evil and . . . and I'll think about going with you. I don't—you were useless, but I don't actually want to kill you."
It hurt like a knife to hear that, but Carth knew he had to take it. From Dustil's perspective, he had been useless. Dustil had been four years among the Sith. Carth hadn't had a clue. Who knew what they had done to him, everything Dustil had suffered?
Aithne put a hand on Carth's shoulder and squeezed, offering him a momentary reassurance. "Trust me, we are happy not being killed," she said. "But how can we prove to you the Sith are what we say?"
"I'll stay right here," Dustil promised. He kept his eyes on Carth now. "I won't tell anyone you're here or who you really are. For now. You find some proof, and you bring it to me. If I hear you asking questions about me or doing a single thing to jeopardize my position in the Sith, I swear, I'll tell everyone what you're up to. And I'll just bet Shan's nearby."
"You don't need to do that," Aithne told him quietly. "I will vouch for your father—we won't do anything to force your leaving." Carth glanced at her. No way they were leaving Dustil here with the Sith. Not one week more if they could help it. This was his son! Aithne met his gaze levelly. She didn't back down. She looked back at Dustil then. "Besides, if we tried to paint you as a traitor or unreliable, the most likely result is it would backfire on us anyway, without you doing anything."
"Glad to see you understand that," Dustil answered. "You got it, Father? You prove what you're saying is true. I'm not going anywhere otherwise." Carth understood what Dustil was offering—a chance to prove himself, a chance to be worthy of trust.
"I . . . I got it, Dustil. We'll be back. I swear it."
Dustil stepped aside, letting them collect their weapons. They left Dustil's room. Aithne led them right back to their own quarters. She waved her hand at Jolee. "Go eat a snack or something," she told him. "Eavesdrop on the teachers. Listen for prestige opportunities."
"Aye-aye," Jolee muttered. He walked quickly out the door and closed it behind him. Carth faced Aithne.
"We're not leaving him behind. I don't care what he thinks," he said. "If we have to drug him, he's not staying here."
Aithne pointed down the hall in Dustil's general direction. "That's not the twelve-year-old kid they took on Telos," she told him. "That's not the boy who was desperate for his father and didn't have him. That is a full-fledged Sith with training in Force abilities and currently lost in the Dark Side. That is an indoctrinated killer just about ready to go to war for your enemy. We only walked out of there just now because he still loves you."
"He doesn't," Carth argued. "You heard him: he's so full of anger and hate, especially for me. He doesn't even care what they did to Telos! But he's my son, and I won't leave him here." He'd imagined scenarios over the years where he would discover Dustil alive. This wasn't like the worst ones—Dustil some burnt-out wreck, some mindless husk of a refugee on the surface of Telos or in some backwater Republic war camp. Dustil crippled, or a Dustil who didn't even know him. Dustil had known him immediately, just as soon as he saw his guns. He was healthy. He looked great, and by and large, he was himself. That just made it worse that he was Sith, though. A full-fledged Sith. A murderer. And defending them like family.
"You weren't listening," Aithne snapped. "You walked in there, and if Dustil didn't flash right back to the destruction of Telos and the day he was kidnapped, I don't know what a flashback looks like. That day was the single worst day of his life, and his dad, his hero, even if you weren't around all the time, wasn't there to save him. Bombs were dropping down on his planet, and some Sith swooped down and took him away. It was just like Taris for Mission, except as Dustil watched everyone and everything he knew die all around him, he wasn't with friends who cared about him. He was with the people who were killing everyone and everything he knew. And in the four years since, fighting to survive among the Sith, learn what they had to teach, keep from being murdered himself, I bet he's thought a lot about that day when you weren't there to save him."
"It wasn't my fault!" Carth cried. His throat was closing up; his eyes burned. All this time—
He buried his face in his hands, raked his fingers through his hair.
Aithne's hands came up to grip his wrists. She brought them down gently between them, making him look at her. "I know. He knows it too. He knows you came to save him now. He knows how dangerous it was. But that doesn't wipe out everything he's been through. And we can't take him away from a place he wants to be now the way the Sith did when he was twelve. Your son has spent four years a prisoner of war. I don't want to make him ours. He's spent enough time with his enemies that he sometimes feels he loves them now. Because he has to, because there hasn't been another way for him to stay sane. Except when he remembers that day, he's still so angry he was taken, and that's just worse, because he has to love the people who did such a horrible thing."
Carth nodded. "I—I think I get it. I get it. The only way to get him back is to get him to see the truth. And even then, it's gonna be a long, long road." He accepted it, and it hurt, realizing all the pain Dustil had been through these four years, how deeply Carth had failed him. And yet . . . it was so, so much better than believing his son was dead. Now, at least there was a chance.
Aithne was silent a moment. "Did you know he was Force Sensitive when he was little? You and Morgana. Did you know?"
Carth shook his head. "I—I didn't. Not like a Sith or Jedi. I mean, things were different back on Telos. With so many members of the AgriCorps there—I mean, stuff like that tended to run in a lot of families. Sometimes the Jedi would come through and Search out a bunch of kids, but mostly, they left us alone. Morgana's mother, my grandfather—they were both in the service, but Morgana and I never really thought—"
"I wonder what Morgana was like," Aithne mused. "You know you're Force Sensitive—not to the extent that anyone could ever train you, but enough to give you an edge in your piloting and better intuition than most—"
It was like she'd thrown a sandbag at him. "Me?" Carth repeated. "You think I'm—"
Aithne blinked. "I know it," she told him. "Carth, your aura's almost easier for me to pick up than Juhani's, though that's probably because she's nonhuman. Your senses about people and situations aren't Jedi standard, but they're far more attuned than the average person's. Your battle reflexes verge on precognitive, and you adapt to new styles and situations in combat far faster than you should. As primarily a pilot in your service history, you should not have been able to fight Canderous to a draw in your sparring session back on Dantooine. But you did. You're also reading surface impressions of others nearly all the time. You access and use the Force without realizing it nearly constantly. Like I said—no one could train you. Your Sensitivity isn't that fine-tuned or marked. But your son's is. He's the equal of any Jedi in the Dantooine enclave, and more powerful than a lot of them. It has to be the reason that they took him."
All Dustil's childhood, and Carth and Morgana had never thought he might have inherited his grandmother's powers with the Force. It was hard to deny it now; Carth had seen his son move a lightsaber with his mind. That was strange enough, but now Aithne was telling him he had some of the same abilities—that he used them. He'd never even thought—
Carth refocused. None of that was important for now. If he was Force Sensitive, if he'd been using the Force, he hadn't realized it, and it didn't change the way he interacted with the galaxy. As for Dustil's powers, they might matter when he was off Korriban and away from the Sith. Carth was starting to realize the Dark Side of the Force had different dangers for the people who could feel it. But they would deal with that when they got Dustil off Korriban.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. So we can't drag him out of here. We can't drug him. How are we going to get Dustil the proof he wants? How do we—how do we convince him to leave the Sith?"
Aithne bit her lip. She sat down on her bed and ran her hands through her hair, rubbing at her eyes and temples like she had the beginnings of a headache. "None of this is like I thought it'd be," she admitted. "We weren't even supposed to be here yet. Then when we get here, we find out that in order to find Dustil or the Star Map, we have to head right toward the people we should avoid. But that's not enough: the cover we prepared won't work because I have to masquerade as a Sith. Then even that's not enough: I have to be the best damn Sith in the academy year if we're going to get anywhere near that Star Map. Sorry."
"No, you're right," Carth told her. "It's just been one complication after another since we met with Jordo. I hope you know I appreciate the risks you're taking, everything you're doing for me and Dustil."
Aithne laughed. "You're taking the risks right with me, flyboy."
Carth sat beside her on the bed. "Not like you are."
Aithne shoved her hair back out of her face and looked at him. "It's called reciprocity," she said drily. "You've helped me with my kid. It's my turn."
Carth laughed, even though it wasn't funny. What could you do? Just a few months ago, he'd been alone, trying to maneuver a way to the front lines to Saul and damn the consequences. Aithne'd been doing who the hell knew what scouting out on the Rim, on her own too, but probably in a whole lot less trouble. Now here they were, two of the Sith's most wanted and trying to sneak through under all their noses. Dustil was back from the dead, just a few doors down, but a Sith. Aithne was both a Jedi and de facto mother to a teenage Twi'lek, and somehow, their entire lives had gotten jumbled up together, kids and all, with the galaxy on the line. And he wasn't sure he regretted any of it.
Aithne swallowed and scooted away from him, moving her hands like she was filing things in the air. "Right. So. Yuthura's little news and proposition for us this morning told us two things: I gotta win their little competition, and we are probably not going to be able to play anything safe. Odds are, I am going to end up killing one or both of Malak's highest-ranking Sith here."
That put things into perspective. But she was right, Carth realized. With the way Yuthura had set things up, Aithne was going to have to kill Uthar, Yuthura, or both, and that was sure to kick up a fuss. "Huh. We're not getting out of here without a fight," he observed.
"I don't think so," Aithne agreed. "I'll call Canderous tonight to tell him to be ready for a hot takeoff the minute we're done here. I just hope we don't have a tailing army of Sith after us, suddenly inspired to stop trying to outdo one another and follow Malak's death orders because I've personally tweaked their noses. But when we go, Dustil's gonna have to be ready too."
"Timing's gonna be a little tricky."
Aithne nodded. "And I want us to have a plan for that, but I'm also thinking that what I do to make Sith and end up in the tomb of Naga Sadow could probably help us out with Dustil's proof. See, I think I could make Sith doing a bit of high-risk artifact hunting out in the valley, the way Jolee was talking about earlier. But I think I'll have better success finding dirt on the Sith for Dustil if I'm digging into Sith internal politics instead of Sith tombs. And if I don't, if all else fails—" she chuckled darkly, her expression grim— "you ought to be able to hold me up as an example to Dustil."
She was thinking about that student yesterday, and the way she'd betrayed Yuthura for the prestige this morning. Carth reached down between them but didn't take her hand, giving her the option. She looked at it for a moment, then laced her fingers through his, looking away. "There've been times when I can understand why the Jedi might be worried about you," he admitted quietly. "When it's like I can see a different person underneath the one I know."
She closed her eyes, and it was like he could feel her hurting—feel the way she was still beating herself up about those times she'd gone too far. He wondered—with what she'd said about his Force Sensitivity—could he feel it? He watched her face. She looked tired.
"But I also get it," he told her. "Look, the two times I've seen where I thought you might have gone too far, the people in question had it coming. They really, really had it coming. I—I could see why you were so angry. And I know it comes from a good place in you. A place that loves justice, that hates to see people killing and torturing for no reason. And that impulse to see justice done? That's something we have in common."
Again, Carth thought of Saul, with a fresh feeling of hatred. Saul's betrayal had meant his son grew up among the enemy, grew up without his father, feeling Carth had abandoned him, eventually embracing the people who had killed his mother. Saul had done that to his family.
Aithne was looking at him again now, hearing him out. Listening.
"We just both of us need to remember what we're fighting for. Make sure we don't turn out like Yuthura, get so obsessed with trying to become strong enough to take revenge that we forget everything we're doing. But here?" Carth shook his head and shook Aithne's hand between them for emphasis. "Nothing you're doing is selfish or evil. You—you're doing what we have to, to save Dustil and the entire galaxy. And I really respect you for it. And I'm grateful."
He remembered how he'd felt when Dustil had pulled her into his room, put hands on her that way. When she'd stepped unarmed in front of Dustil with his lightsaber. Those had been a couple complicated moments.
Aithne smiled at him. "Right. Well. Thanks," she said. "I guess we'd better stop talking about stuff and just get to it." She squeezed his hand one more time, and he let her go in response to the unspoken hint.
She opened the door and knocked on the doorframe. "Bindle! You out there?" she shouted.
Steps sounded down the hallway, and Jolee turned the corner. "You called?"
"Let's move."
Aithne's face was grim as she led the three of them next door again. She rapped at Yuthura's door.
Carth heard a Huttese curse, then the door swung open. Ban was annoyed, but when she saw Aithne, she smiled. "Oh, it's you, Liat. Come in."
"You may not wish me to," Aithne told her, though she kept her voice low. "Uthar knows of your plan. He proposes to have me fight you at the final test."
Yuthura folded her arms. "He knows, does he? You told him, didn't you?"
Aithne's face was placid. "Of course I did. Our plan was for me to be there in that tomb to face him, and to be there, I need to impress him. In addition, you haven't been very subtle. You arranged for me to have the room next door to yours. You told me freely. Since my companions could make things awkward if you did so for personal reasons, unless you Sith are even wilder than I thought, it would have followed to Uthar and everyone that you had a professional motivation. By telling Uthar of your plans, I gained his trust and the information that he had already been planning to kill you. Now, you know when and how."
Yuthura searched Aithne's face. "And do you intend to try and kill me?" she asked, voice suddenly silky and dangerous.
Aithne raised her eyebrows. "I might. I might not. You realize, of course, that killing you would essentially place me in the same position to Master Uthar as you have promised me with you. I'd get quite a lot more respect around here killing you than another student, after all, if not so much as killing Master Uthar, and he'd be missing an apprentice. And killing him might be more dangerous. Still. I like you. Can you give me any further incentive to side with you?"
Yuthura's expression was unreadable, much more guarded than it had been in the morning. "You should know you don't stand a chance with Uthar. I respect your attempt to play both sides. I thought I could use you like a pawn. You have proven me wrong, but Uthar will have already seen it. You are too dangerous for him to have around. I think . . . I think I'd enjoy it."
She turned away and moved to the equipment locker at the foot of her bed. Keying it open, she felt around in the corner and rummaged for another minute, then brought out two items. "Here is the passkey to Uthar's room," she said, handing over a small keycard. Aithne tucked it into the purse at her waist without a word. "And here," Yuthura finished, handing over a second, metallic machine about the size of Aithne's palm, "is a device. You will place it under Uthar's bed. It will poison him, weaken him before the fight, now that he expects our move. Go. It is our only shot."
Aithne slipped the device, like a mechanical spider, into one of the cargo pockets of her uniform trousers. "You're graciousness itself, Master," she said ironically.
"Hardly," Yuthura said. "You've made sure I really had no choice. Until tomorrow, my friend."
Aithne bowed and left. Carth and Jolee followed after her. "So. That's your first move. You know she's definitely going to try to kill you now," Carth muttered.
Aithne hummed agreement. "Not until she gets rid of Uthar," she said. "She doesn't think she can handle him herself and knows he's on his guard. So until the trial, she'll be ready for me to turn on her but hoping that I won't. You two are going to have to really watch your backs, though. I tipped our hand a little to try to get under her skin this morning. She might know I actually like you guys and want to leverage you against my performance. I don't think she'll let anyone else into the plan—she's exposed enough already, and she's feeling it. I ought to have her a little gun shy. But she might have more poison around or try and make a move on you before my trial. Subdue and capture you and hold you hostage so I do what she wants."
"Great. I hadn't even thought about that," Carth muttered.
"We'll try and stay together," Jolee said. "Been a while since I had to use a buddy system. Should we set up a watch tonight?"
"Couldn't hurt," Aithne admitted.
"And now we are . . .?" Jolee asked, nodding at the hallway they were walking down.
"Heading to pay a visit to the rooms of the principal of evil," Aithne answered. She paused where the hallway diverged. Glanced at Jolee. "Keep watch now, will you?" she murmured. "Create a big diversion if we need one? Carth?"
Jolee promised he'd make some noise if someone started down the hall or seemed likely to intrude, and Aithne and Carth hurried down the dark, lightly traveled passage they'd seen on their earlier tour of the academy—the hall that led to Master Uthar's room.
Aithne took the card Yuthura had given her at the access pad. The door hissed open, and they walked inside. Aithne took the device Yuthura had given her. She examined it a moment then pushed something on its underside. The device grew small metal legs, Aithne placed it on the floor beside Uthar's bed, and it scuttled away quietly.
"You've seen things like that before?" Carth asked her.
Aithne's face clouded for a moment, like she was confused. "No," she murmured. "I think it . . . told me, somehow. Through the Force? I sometimes meditate with T3-M4 or the hyperdrive. It's sort of the same thing." But she frowned.
"Are you alright?" Carth asked. He didn't like the look on her face, how . . . unsettled she seemed.
Aithen shook herself. "Fine. The gas in that device won't kill Master Uthar. Not enough in there to do that or a long enough time for it to work. But he'll weaken slowly over the next few days. Not so much he notices. But enough. At any rate, that's not exactly why we're here." She knelt down beside one of two lockers in the room. In a second, she'd bypassed the code and opened the lid.
She skated over the trunk's contents with her fingers, left it all, and closed the lid. Then she repeated her performance on the second locker. She was careful to leave no trace, Carth saw, and he was grateful that she was wearing her gloves. But this time, her brow knit as she noticed something in the trunk. She pulled out a datapad and scanned its contents. "Student evaluations," she said. Then her face fell. She seemed sad, but unsurprised. "Here," she said.
It was all the warning he got before she tossed him the datapad. Carth caught it and read through the contents. It was Uthar's personal notes on some of the academy's more promising talent—as well as a record of the interventions he had made on their progress. There was something about finding a direction for Mekel, some notes about some other trainees, and dating from about six months back, a note on Dustil.
Aithne had been right: his son was powerful. Powerful enough the Sith master had taken a personal interest in his career. But apparently, Dustil's friends hadn't all been up to his standard. He'd advanced faster than most of the academy kids his age, and after he'd made full Sith last year in the same competition Aithne was in now, his friendship with one of those kids in particular had caused Uthar some concern. Dustil had spent too much time with this girl, talking to her, helping her. Uthar had thought this girl, Selene, was making Dustil weak. So he'd had her killed. He'd told Dustil that she'd died in an accident and closed the entry on the incident confident that without Selene's influence, Dustil would get back to advancing as he should.
There was a lot that hurt about the entry. If Master Uthar was a murderer, for no better reason than to better motivate a student—well, they had evidence now that Dustil had become a murderer too. They knew enough about this Sith competition Aithne was in now that Carth could guess that Dustil had had to kill someone to earn his position. In a way, you could argue it had been self-defense. In a way, it definitely wasn't. His son had been lost to the Dark Side.
But there was reason to believe he wasn't lost for good. Master Uthar wouldn't have lied to him about Selene's death if he thought Dustil would understand the reasoning for her murder. He wouldn't have been concerned about Dustil's friendship with her in the first place if there wasn't a lot of good in that relationship. Carth was sorry Selene had been killed, sorry Dustil had lost her. He also knew they had found Dustil's proof.
"What do we do with it?" Carth asked. The design on Uthar's datapad was pretty specialized—a way of identifying its owner and ensuring security. They could download the information onto another datapad and leave Uthar's log inside his quarters, leaving minimal traces of their presence, but then Dustil might think they made the story up, even that they'd asked about him like he'd told them not to in order to do it. If they left the second datapad in Uthar's quarters instead and took the original to Dustil, though, Master Uthar would be even quicker to realize they'd been inside his room.
He saw all the possibilities pass through Aithne's mind. Saw her jaw clench. "Best chance is to hope he just thinks he misplaced it," she said. "Take it to Dustil and get out with him as fast as we can. That was our plan anyway."
"Alright. We'll get it to him tomorrow afternoon," Carth agreed. "After you've done a few things to make it easier to leave here." It would also be easier to talk to Dustil tomorrow afternoon, when a lot of the Sith would be out of their rooms training or looking for advancement in the valley, than tonight or early tomorrow morning, when most of them would be hanging around their dorms.
They slipped out into the hallway again, behind and around Jolee, and headed to the mess for dinner, exactly like they hadn't been up to anything.