Chapter Thirty-One
JOLEE
"I don't like it," Carth muttered in an undertone to Jolee. The two of them were supposedly examining the weapons in the training room, testing edges and seeing the weapons that were available to Aithne and the other hopefuls. Every so often, they would pick up two of the swords on display and whack at each other for a bit, just for show, then ooh and ah over a pretty knife or scowl at a spear.
Really, they were spying. The students at the academy were always bothering their teachers for leads on how to gain Master Uthar's favor. The man seemed lazy to Jolee, capitalizing on the energies of the students, but everyone in the building bought into the system lock, stock, and barrel. And if you listened to the students long enough, you could get a pretty good idea of what their instructors were looking for.
It could also be fairly entertaining. Every now and then one of the academy students would jump up screaming and try to kill their teacher, trying to climb the ranks, or else just provoked enough to lose their temper. Of course, the teacher slammed the kid down soon enough. So far Jolee hadn't seen any deaths. The teachers usually laughed and instructed the children to let their humiliation fuel their hate, make them stronger. But the constant battling kept things lively.
And every so often, you saw something else. What had Carth worried now was that Aithne had just come through and whispered something to one of the support instructors, handed them some kind of datapad. What had him bothered was that she was using this morning when they were waiting for all the Sith except Dustil to filter out of the academy, when she had him and Jolee listening for leads on prestige, to work on a few little leads of her own, ones she hadn't discussed with either of them.
"The sooner Liat secures a win in this competition, the better, sonny," Jolee said.
In truth, he was worried too. He had a feeling Aithne had continued nosing around in the shadier aspects around the Sith academy after they had discovered evidence for Dustil. The datapad she'd just handed over—he thought that was Aithne electing not to trust in Yuthura's good nature after the two of them fought Master Uthar together in the tomb of Naga Sadow, following through on the advantage Uthar had offered her. He had believed Aithne had seen something in Yuthura, had perceived the compassion, loss, and loneliness that still lay beneath the Twi'lek's ambitions. He had hoped the faith Aithne had demonstrated in her was a sign that she was going to try and reclaim Yuthura from her Darkness. That she was moving to sabotage the Twi'lek now was prudent, perhaps—Yuthura had been saturated in the mores of the Sith for a long time now. She was not used to feeling as vulnerable as Aithne had made her yesterday, and she was used to terminating threats like the one Aithne had presented. Yet this second, more insidious betrayal of Yuthura was concerning, as was the fact that Aithne had committed it alone.
Jolee watched as she moved away from the Sith instructor, heading for the exit to the valley. She was going to the tombs.
"Should we go with her?" Carth asked him.
Jolee shook his head. "If the master needs us, she'll let us know," he said. "Until she does, we should keep following her orders."
The lass wouldn't appreciate a couple of babysitters checking up on her every few minutes. She was a grown woman and more than capable of handling herself. A hard worker, too, taking advantage of every hour they had to make herself more essential to the Sith. But despite his words to Carth, Jolee had a bad feeling Aithne was very much in need of help.
Some hours after her departure from the academy but still hours before the time they had agree to return to the younger Onasi, Aithne returned to the Sith academy. She still did not seek Jolee or Carth out. Jolee heard some of the other students discussing her. The Sith students knew she had been the last person to talk with Kel Algwinn before he left the academy. They knew she had been the first to memorize and interpret the Code of the Sith for Master Uthar. They were aware that both of their senior instructors were impressed by and wary of her, so they were impressed and wary in turn. Jolee thought some of her competitors had begun marking her progress. They'd want to either steal from or sabotage her.
She'd want to keep well ahead of them. As Jolee had wandered the academy, doing odd tasks for support staff and examining the wall hangings, he had heard tell of a rogue assassin droid in the tomb of Marka Ragnos which the instructors wanted reprogrammed or eliminated. Carth had mentioned hearing something himself—something about the last headmaster of the academy, a personal enemy of Master Uthar.
He was following up on that now, following around the instructor who had mentioned it to a student. As for Jolee, his bladder was calling.
The privy was away from the training room, back toward the mess hall. Getting there—or anywhere within the academy—meant crossing back through the central rotunda. So Jolee happened to be there when Shaardan, that young ass they had met outside the docks the other day, came bouncing up to Uthar with a sword.
Uthar greeted the boy. "Ah, what is this you bring me, Shaardan?"
Shaardan extended an ancient-looking vibrosword to the master. "It is none other than the sword of Ajunta Pall, Master," he said, eyes lit up with greed and self-satisfaction.
Uthar took it, examined it, and then violently cast it aside. He caught the boy in a partial Stasis, and Darkness surged around them. "Fool," he told the boy. "All the trouble you went to for your deception, and you did not even make an effort to verify the sword's authenticity?"
Fear reeked from Shaardan now. He knew he was a dead man. "Master, what—what do you mean?"
Uthar extended his hand, and Jolee watched as the boy began to suffocate in front of him. "There is no place for fools among the Sith. Begone!"
Jolee watched for the twenty to thirty seconds it took for the boy to fall unconscious. He would die within the next few minutes. Someone had fooled him, tricked him into presenting this false sword to Master Uthar. And Jolee had a feeling he knew who.
As he passed nearby the kitchens, he sensed another act of violence blossom out from elsewhere in the academy. There were often shouts and screams coming from the Sith interrogation room, but this shout sounded different: it was one of anger and surprise rather than pain. He heard a lightsaber ignite—from there and not the opposing dueling room. Battle cries. Jolee closed his eyes.
At the very instant he reached out with his senses, he felt a spirit extinguished—one who had died in great pain, shame, and despair, having betrayed intelligence he had sought to guard with his life. He had been tortured, but the cause of his death was not his torture but his broken heart.
Nearby, a Dark and twisted spirit reached out to crush another, unfallen, but corrupted by recent deception and violence. Jolee turned away to seek the privy.
He had thought something might this might occur within the academy. The culture of this place was pervasive. It was all too easy for anyone within to buy into the lie that they needed to conform to the patterns of violence and betrayal in order to excel. And the lass was working against her own history, her own habits, even if she didn't know it. She might think she was doing what she had to, but she was walking a more perilous path than Jolee thought anyone with them but Bastila was aware.
There was a possibility their secondary purpose here might save her, that if the competition to achieve the Star Map drew Aithne toward the Darkness, her mission to save the pilot's son might act as a counter to her lower instincts. He hoped so. But then, Yuthura's need had not held her back from poisoning the woman. Aithne was capable of greater callousness and cruelty than she had known before she came here. And he feared that now, even if she turned back from the Dark road she had started down, she would not forget.
AITHNE
Aithne met the others for the midday meal, as they had agreed they would last night. If her face looked a bit drawn and her eyes a bit shadowed, they were good enough not to comment on it. But she could sense their concern for her—and Jolee's silent condemnation. He wasn't talking, but he had seen or heard something today which he had not approved of.
Aithne didn't look at him. This morning, she'd let one of her competitors destroy himself with his own laziness and ambition. She hadn't killed him. That he had died was his own fault for trying to profit off her efforts. The Mandalorian who'd died in the interrogation room had been a dead man anyway. The Sith weren't going to let him live, and she couldn't have freed him without giving herself away. And she'd killed the man who had brought him to the point where his death had been such a probability. As far as she was concerned, she'd advanced her position quite a bit at minimal risk this morning. She doubted it would take her until tomorrow evening to convince Uthar she was the best candidate to join the Sith, and once she did that, she could stop being one.
As for Yuthura—she knew both Carth and Jolee had seen her talking with Adrenas. They'd probably thought she wasn't going to follow through on the advantage Master Uthar had given her. Yuthura hadn't always been a terrible person. Her reasons for joining the Sith were sympathetic ones, and Aithne had the feeling that the woman wasn't beyond reason or redemption. But she was also a powerful Sith about as on her guard of Aithne as she could be now. She would almost certainly be planning to kill Aithne in the tomb of Naga Sadow as soon as the pair of them struck down Master Uthar, however friendly they'd been so far. Aithne was just fine making that a little harder for her.
She was doing all of this for the mission, to get them away from this horrible place just as soon as she could. If Jolee had been point on this, he would have poked around the tombs stealing artifacts and been outpaced by the others within a few days—if he didn't open his mouth when he shouldn't and get himself made and slaughtered in an hour.
Still. At least he was smart enough not to start reading her Jedi lectures on nonviolence in the middle of a Sith academy. And she didn't think he'd told Carth if he knew any more than about Yuthura's poison. That was good too. Onasi had enough on his mind.
They were a festive crew during dinner. Nobody felt like talking, and Carth and Aithne both only picked at their food, which was a shame, because the Sith students actually ate pretty well. The instructors knew they had to be energized to go out plundering and murdering every day. Finally, Jolee stood and picked up their trays. "Ah, let's just get things over and done with," he said. "There'll be no living with either of you until we do."
Aithne felt Carth's gratitude spike at that. Aithne adjusted the datapad in her pocket, and when Jolee had taken their trays to the dish return, the three of them headed back to the dormitories to Dustil's quarters.
He was waiting for them, just as he had said he would be. It still amazed Aithne how much the kid looked like his father. It was like someone had printed Dustil off a copier, gone back and made a couple adjustments with a marker, then called it a day. The difference was in the feel. Dustil had all Carth's strength and passion, the same basic core of honesty and fairness. Both Carth and Dustil were deeply, deeply angry, and bitter and distrustful besides. But Carth's anger was still basically righteous. Dustil's had become twisted. There was a malicious aspect to it completely missing in his father. And while Carth burned hot and then cooled down as his reason and good sense cooled his temper, Aithne had a feeling that Dustil never really cooled completely down. He was aggressive where Carth was protective. He had had to be.
At least this time he didn't try and yank her into his room. Aithne had almost hurt him for that, Carth's son or not. She understood his panic when he had seen them there, both for his father and for himself, and it had been more important in the moment to convince Dustil they were not a threat. But if he did anything like that again, he would learn why it was a terrible idea.
They filed into Dustil's quarters, and the kid shut the door behind them. "Back already?" he demanded. "So tell me, Father, just where is this proof you promised?" His tone was harsh, his stance uninviting, but behind both, Aithne could hear a genuine hunger in him. He wanted Carth to come through for him. More than he even wanted the Sith proven evil, he wanted his father to prove himself reliable. Worthy of his trust and dependence. He wanted a reason to believe in Carth again.
Aithne pulled Uthar's datapad out of her pocket and handed it to Carth, and Carth in turn handed it to Dustil. "We found a datapad we want you to look at," Carth told him, taking off his helmet once again. "You knew someone named Selene?"
Dustil took the datapad, surprised. "Selene? She—she was a girl from Korriban. She knew my master. She's the one who convinced me to stop fighting, that it would be better if I joined the academy. We started together. It changed everything for—where did you get this?"
"Look at it," Carth insisted. "It belongs to Master Uthar, doesn't it?"
Dustil examined the pad, the intricate design they had noted on it the day before that had meant they had needed to take the pad itself, that had made taking it such a danger. "Yes, it's his," Dustil said, beginning to scan the contents. As he read, Aithne saw the grief and anger rise upon his face. He reminded Aithne more of Carth than ever, every time Carth told her of Telos. "But . . . he told me . . . he said that she'd been lost on a mission in the valley," he said, and his voice, already dropped to a man's register, became that of a boy once again. "This . . . this says that they—"
"—Killed her because she was hindering your progress," Carth finished. "Superiority at any cost, Dustil. There's your evil. Or can you live with that?"
His voice contained both pity for what Dustil had endured and a challenge for the boy's future. Aithne saw Dustil rose to the challenge. He met his father's eyes, jaw tight.
"No. No, I can't," he said. "I . . . I had no idea. They lied to me."
"I'm sorry," Aithne added. Dustil's eyes swept to hers.
"Now will you leave here?" Carth demanded.
"I don't—I have some other friends here," Dustil started. "I have to warn them what's going on."
Aithne stepped up to him. "Dustil, most of them already know," she told him gently. "If there are others like Kel Algwinn and your friend, locals who didn't know they had a choice, or people like you, captives who became Sith because it was better than what they were before—you can try. But the second you do, you'll be vulnerable. They'll think you're weak, and you'll be in danger. If you want to defect, if you want to go home again, the best way to do it is to do it before they know you've changed your mind."
"I—Telos is gone," Dustil said. "Mother's gone. This has been my home for four years. These have been my—I called them my family!" His eyes flashed, and his hatred spiked, and he looked at the datapad he held with sudden loathing.
"You didn't have a choice, Dustil. I get that," Carth said. "But now you do. You can leave here with us. We have more to do here, but we'll be finished in less than three days' time. Right?" He turned to Aithne. Aithne thought about it, then nodded. It was likely.
"Your mother's gone, but I'm still here," Carth told Dustil. "I—I love you, Dustil. I've always loved you. I'm sorry I failed you for so long. Let me help you now."
Dustil hesitated. He looked from Carth to Aithne. "You're right," he said finally. "If I tell the wrong person, I won't survive. They'll kill me in days. Those students in the shyrack caves, the ones Master Uthar wants killed—some of them were friends of mine, and if the monsters in that cave don't kill them, one of the hopefuls will."
"We'll try to get them out in the morning," Aithne promised. "I don't think we'll be able to take them with us, but we can try to clear their way to the port. And we do have room for you."
"I'm proud of you, Dustil," Carth added. "You aren't hanging on to a lie after you see it for what it is. Not everyone could do that."
"So how do you want me—what's the plan?" Dustil asked.
Aithne thought. "They're watching Carth and Jolee," she said. "Most of the academy thinks they're my slaves, but even if they do, they know they're my spies, probably bodyguards, and possibly assassins. If they leave here before I do, someone's definitely going to notice and know something is up. Your best chance is going to be on your own. Do you go to Dreshdae often? We met a couple of hopefuls who have seen you there once or twice."
"I go there sometimes for a drink with some of the others or to get supplies they don't have in the academy," Dustil answered. Carth's expression shifted, and Aithne said what he was thinking for him, so Dustil could be annoyed at her instead.
"You're too young to drink." Dustil scowled, but Aithne shook her head. "But since you do, and I doubt the Korriban bartenders check the ident cards of the Sith, it can help us. Go to Dreshdae—tomorrow or the next day, whichever you think will be less suspicious. We have some colleagues there, and I'm going to call them. One of them is a Twi'lek girl about your age, or close enough it won't seem weird or even creepy if you decide you want to follow her back to her ship and spend a little more time with her."
Aithne raised an eyebrow at Dustil. "Don't you dare be weird or creepy," she warned him. "I'll tell the scary Wookiee she usually goes around with to stand down, but there'll be another Jedi following her to make sure you're both safe, and if you even look at Mission wrong, she'll knock you into next week and then hand you to the Wookiee. I want you to think of Mission like my daughter. Understand?"
Dustil looked amused. "Don't flirt with the kid getting me away from the planet I've been trapped on for four years. I get it. Is she at least cute enough for this to work?"
"She's cute, alright, but probably not like you're thinking," Carth said. "You'll be looking for a Rutian Twi'lek in combat gear, not some apprentice dancer. Fast-talking, smart, armed, and capable. And the best place for you to meet her will probably be around the shops or gambling dens, where she's been in charge of obtaining better cash flow for our assignment for the past couple of days. She's fourteen, Dustil. This is a good plan. It'd make sense for someone like you to want to make friends with her, but keep it innocent, okay? From me and not just Aithne."
Dustil looked between them once again. "And this little girl's a colleague? Interesting." He thought about it a moment. "Fine," he said at last. "Just make sure she's there and isn't scared when I start talking to her. And that her Jedi bodyguard isn't too trigger-happy. We're going to have to make it believable. And you better be back at your ship too pretty quick after. The Sith'll buy me gone overnight, but not too much longer than that before they start suspecting I've deserted. Also, until I'm ready to leave, I probably shouldn't see you much."
He looked at Aithne. "You're alright. You're in the competition. You're trying to become a Sith. It makes sense you might want to work together. But you're right that Father and this other man are suspicious. They've been here twice already, and I don't want to take the chance that no one's noticed."
"We'll set it up, Dustil," Carth promised. "And thank you."
"And the 'other man' is Jolee Bindo, in case you were wondering," Aithne added. "He's with us too."
Dustil examined Jolee. "Another Jedi? I read about you before. Huh. You guys really are playing with fire, aren't you?"
"Every day. Want to join us?" Aithne invited him.
Dustil smiled slowly. "I might," he said. "I thought you'd just get me off the planet, but if you've got a kid younger than me working with you, hopping ship with you might be more interesting than it sounds."
"Hang on, Aithne," Carth protested. "Dustil—he's not ready to do the kinds of things we're doing."
Aithne tilted her head at Dustil's lightsaber. "I don't know. He seems smart, armed, and capable to me," she told Onasi. She could see Dustil was uncomfortable with the idea of a girl his age working on his father's ship, participating in whatever dangerous mission Carth was involved in. She could see he was jealous. If they wanted Dustil to feel like more than a burden, more than a simple rescue they'd made because he was Carth's son, they needed to make him a part of the team. If Carth wanted to reconnect with his son, he would need to start by respecting him.
Dustil chuckled darkly, but seemed open to the idea, and Carth saw it. "Huh," Carth said. "Well. I guess you don't do things halfway, do you, son?"
"I guess I don't."
"We'll play it like you suggest," Aithne told him. "I'll come back later after I've contacted Ebon Hawk. Play it like I'm trying to make an ally of the last man to make Sith and give you a date and time for the rendezvous with Mission. Carth and Jolee will see you back there when we're all away. Oh—and here, I'm Liat Ser'rida."
Dustil frowned. "Liat—but she was one of the biggest names behind the Jedi who left to join the Mandalorian Wars."
Aithne shrugged. "And then she disappeared, killed or deserted right after. It made for a decent alias."
"I guess," Dustil said doubtfully, searching her face. "I guess I'll see you later."
"See you, son," Carth said, donning his helmet again. He led the three of them back out into the corridor.
"Thank you," Carth murmured to Aithne as they left. "For everything."
"Anytime," Aithne told him. "We need to call the ship. Then I need to head back out to the valley."
"Got plans out there, do you?" Jolee asked. His meaning was clear.
Aithne looked at him. "I've arranged to meet Lashowe there to work together to obtain a lost Jedi holocron, taken away from the archaeologists there by a naughty tuk'ata."
"And you'll be going alone, will you?"
Aithne held Jolee's gaze. "I will. She noticed your behavior back in Dreshdae, Bindle. She knows you're not just any servant and guesses that Card's not. I had to promise I'd come alone as a show of good faith."
"And are you going in good faith?" Jolee wanted to know.
Now Aithne looked away. Truth told, Mekel was the biggest remaining threat among her competitors. Lashowe had shown herself to be a planner, but she didn't have enough gumption to see her through the competition. But if Aithne could ruin her plans, it would be an even clearer demonstration to Master Uthar of her own commitment. Shaardan and the sword of Ajunta Pall had proved her cunning. Contrasting her performance with Lashowe tonight with Shaardan's weak attempt to take advantage of her this morning could only work in their favor.
"Ai—Master," Carth started, face creasing. "You're already way ahead of all the others."
"And if I slow down for a minute, any one of them could catch up," Aithne answered. "We can't have that. I don't want to still be doing this next year. Come on. Time's wasting."
Mission agreed to meet Dustil the day after tomorrow in the cantina. She'd leave Zaalbar aboard Ebon Hawk so she would look more open to making friends than she usually did, but as Aithne had discussed with Dustil, Juhani would follow Mission discreetly to make sure that she stayed safe. It wouldn't do for some other Sith to kill Mission just for fun in between the ship and the cantina.
"I'm glad you talked him into getting out of there," Mission said over the comlink. "But . . . uh, what kind of kid am I looking for here? I don't want to take the wrong Sith home with me by accident."
"You won't," Aithne promised. "You'll know Dustil when you see him, Mission, I promise. He's nice, too, or about as nice as anyone can be who's been either a prisoner of the Sith or a Sith himself the past four years. And me and Carth have made him promise not to be weird or creepy."
"Well, he'll probably have to be a little creepy," Mission reasoned. "Or I'll have to be a little bit skanky. It's only fast girls take a guy home the first time they meet him. Or the ones who want something. Huh. Maybe I'll pretend I want to rob him. Hey, Aithne—thanks for trusting me with this. I'll come through for you, I promise."
"I know you will. And be nice to Dustil, okay? He's been through a lot."
"I believe it," Mission told her. "He can't have had a fun time living with the Sith for all these years. Alright, Aithne. Over and out." She signed off.
Aithne put the comlink back into her bag and nodded to Carth and Jolee. "It's set up," she said. "I want you two to stay here for now. Keep the door locked. I think you've probably kicked your heels around the shady corners of the enclave for long enough today. Stay safe. I'll be back later tonight."
"You sure you don't want backup?" Carth asked.
Aithne shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said again. She put her sword down then and reached into the hidden compartment of her bag, drawing out the double-bladed lightsaber she had prepared ahead of time instead. She felt Bindo's eyes focus in hard on it. She ignored him. Lashowe used a lightsaber.
Aithne left the academy and made her way across the rocky wastelands of Korriban. It was still a couple hours before supper would be served at the academy, but with the mountains all around, the light was fading fast. The tuk'ata would emerge from the caves soon to hunt the nocturnal insects and small, verminous wildlife of Korriban.
The Sith archaeologists and tomb raiders across the valley were beginning to pack up their things as Aithne approached the northern end of the burial grounds. Lashowe was waiting for her there.
In truth, Aithne hadn't been too impressed by the Sith she'd met so far. They recruited and promoted children like Dustil Onasi long before they were fully trained or ready for the war. Bastila was several years older and still under supervision of the Jedi Council. Juhani, Dustil's rank equivalent among the Jedi, was far more qualified to fight than any of Dustil's contemporaries. Despite the constant preaching of advantage at any cost, many of the Sith Aithne had met were also far too quick to trust, up to and including Yuthura Ban, supposedly a senior instructor. They were so starved of healthy friendships, they seized hungrily at every alliance opportunity, and it had killed them by the half-dozens even in the few days Aithne had been here. And the higher ranking Sith wrote off the massive loss of life that occurred as a culling of the weak, rather than the enormous waste of talent and martial strength it was. The dark glamor of the Sith, the promise of power, and charismatic agents like Yuthura Ban could quickly overwhelm the Republic with the force of numbers alone—if they weren't so industriously murdering their own people.
She'd seen too how the greed and opportunism at the heart of the Sith ethos led to tunnel vision, laziness, and lack of discipline. She wouldn't have thought it before she came to Korriban, but now she would be willing to bet that pound for pound, the Republics were the better qualified fighting force.
Lashowe had been almost too easy to manipulate. A touch of flattery, a bit of deceptive insecurity, and the girl had folded like a bedsheet. She hated working on her own, hated risking her own neck. And she was vain enough that she honestly thought she could come out the better in any confrontation between them, which meant she really hadn't been paying much attention.
Aithne jogged up to the blonde girl and smiled, just as if she didn't intend to betray her. Lashowe's returning smile was just as false. "You're here," she said, rising. "Any later and we would have had to abandon this. I've been calling to the tuk'ata mother in their language—that wretched beast that ate the holocron. Be careful. She's a tough beast. It's why the archaeologists haven't killed her already."
Three tuk'ata had indeed loped up behind the two of them. As they saw no other tuk'ata, just two human women, they were instantly aggressive. Lashowe ignited her lightsaber, a single-handed red blade, and Aithne ignited her own. She saw Lashowe's eyes flick to the new weapon, felt her moment of uncertainty, but then Aithne was already upon the creatures.
She still didn't really like the saberstaff variants of the forms that she had studied. They didn't come as naturally to her as dual-wielding, and her choice to use double-bladed weapons upon Korriban had been more a function of appearing less like Aithne Moran than anything else. Still, because her primary sparring partner on Dantooine and since had been Bastila, Aithne was quite familiar with the changes in stance required to make the lightsaber forms work with a longer-range saber.
She opted for an aggressive form once again, the simple, brutal butchery that worked better against animal opponents than the more sophisticated dueling tactics that were better used against smarter enemies. Fighting tuk'ata wasn't unlike fighting kath hounds on the Dantooine plains, except the tuk'ata were as likely to strike with their hooves as with their horns and somewhat less likely to bite until they had a creature down. Like the kath hounds, the tuk'ata worked together. But between herself and Lashowe, the beasts were dead in less than a minute.
Lashowe sliced the stomach of the largest open, and Aithne grimaced at the sour smell that emanated from the body as she did so. Lashowe reached into the bleeding, stinking cavity without a fuss, though, and drew out a small, multisided, glowing device.
"Wonderful," she said. "And still intact. We make a better team than I thought." She rose and stuck the bloody holocron into her pocket. "I'll just take this back to Master Uthar. Don't worry, I'll be sure to mention you."
Aithne hadn't bothered to switch off her blade. "I'll be taking that back, Lashowe, not you," she murmured.
Lashowe looked up at her, scowling. "The plan was to take it back together."
Aithne held the younger woman's gaze. "Then why didn't you just say so? Admit it, Lashowe. You were happy enough of my help with this one, but it was never your plan to share the credit."
Lashowe's eyes flashed. "So what if I didn't?" she demanded. "You can afford to give me this. You brought in your thugs and your Jedi training, which you've obviously kept up for longer than you wanted any of us to think; everyone knows you've already killed or frightened away half of us. You're not getting this holocron too."
"Could you have gotten it by yourself, do you think?" Aithne asked softly.
"It was my idea!" Lashowe snapped. "Could you have gotten it without my bond with the tuk'ata?"
"Lashowe—can you take that holocron from me now?"
Lashowe's saber ignited. "You'll have it over my dead body!" She attacked, but Aithne was ready.
This time, she adopted Makashi, controlling the flow of battle for the start. As their lightsabers reflected back on their faces in the growing darkness, Aithne saw Lashowe's blue eyes widen and grow afraid as her unpracticed attacks failed to penetrate Aithne's defense, as Aithne took the offensive and began to press her back. Lashowe knew she would die a second before Aithne's last stroke fell. The last light of Korriban's star fell on her betrayed blue gaze, childlike and hurt. Then Aithne's blow caught her full on in the side, and she crumpled to the stone.
Aithne knelt beside her to remove the holocron from her pocket. Lashowe laughed, a death rattle escaping through her windpipe. "I—I was going to let you live, you know. Stupid of me." She coughed once, and then lay still.
Aithne stayed on her knees beside the woman, staring down at her. Yes. It had been stupid. She had never once considered letting Lashowe live. Why hadn't she, she wondered?
Suddenly a hideous wave of rage and anger rose in her, and she rose from the ground and stormed away, leaving Lashowe's body in the shadow of the tombs.
Why had she felt the need to kill her, she wondered? Why? Lashowe hadn't been a threat. She'd been an insecure bully, unable to make a single move without a friend holding her hand. She had no initiative and no courage; alone, she never would have been able to earn the respect of the Sith instructors in time to keep Aithne from dominating the competition. And she wasn't a killer. Not really. Aithne had known that from the moment they had met.
So why? Because Yuthura had recommended it? Because it was the way they did things here? Because she'd simply disliked Lashowe, and had next to no respect for the woman? None of those were good enough reasons for out-and-out murder, the waste of a person's life.
She'd vomited when Carth had confronted her over her torture of the Sith in Dreshdae. Today, she'd tortured that Mandalorian, who had deserved it so much less. And she'd felt next to nothing. Written his death off as probably inevitable anyway.
Stars and skies, it was too easy here, to fall into the pattern, to think the way they wanted you to think. She'd been here less than three days and already she had done things she could never take back. She'd told herself it was necessary—to get to the Star Map, to leave quickly before someone realized her identity or the identity of any one of her friends. But had it been necessary to do all that she had done? Because getting to Naga Sadow had depended upon impressing Master Uthar, she had fallen into the trap of actually trying to impress him, actually behaving as the Sith did—and the best, most successful of them.
Force, she could feel Revan in her head, the way she felt in every one of her memories—cold, ruthless, and pragmatic. Justifying each atrocity she committed with reasoning that seemed so sound, until you realized what she had done. She could see within herself the same ruthless calculus Revan's horrible little program on Korriban had seen, the same terrible potential Vrook and Bastila had been warning her against like two doom-saying carrion-eaters since she started training. It was sickening to realize they'd been right.
Against the background of Korriban's old rage and hatreds, Aithne's self-loathing gained new strength. As she passed out of the valley and climbed the path back to the academy, she felt the entire planet urging her to despair, to give in to the inevitable. Korriban had resisted her since her arrival, now it called, as if it would welcome her at last. Join us, join us, it seemed to say. You are one like us. She felt the power she could take from this place, the power she could exercise over these children and deluded idiots who lined up so readily for their own destruction. She was smarter and more careful than all of them; she could dominate. She felt it. She could probably have them all by this time next week, ready to follow her against Malak himself.
For what, though? For what? Aithne remembered the shade of Ajunta Pall she had met this morning, bound to his tomb for millennia, lost in his regrets. So tired of all the violence and the betrayal, the loneliness and misery it had brought him. The only thing he'd wanted in the end was to return to his old masters, to be at peace within the Force. That would not be her.
She entered the academy, pacing quickly, trying to drive the Darkness away through the force of physical activity. The walk from the valley had been a long one. The Sith had begun to go to bed. Everywhere she looked, lights had begun to flick out under door frames. The mess was dark. She'd missed dinner. It was fine. She had some lovely ration bars inside her pack. And anyway, she wasn't hungry.
She made her way to Dustil's room one more time. She'd promised to fill him in on Mission and the rendezvous, but as she turned down the hall to go to his room, Aithne realized she wanted to see him, wanted to talk to a Sith. She didn't want Carth's fear or judgment, Jolee's silent sorrow. She didn't want the panic she could feel streaming over her connection to Bastila back on the ship. She wanted someone who knew the Dark Side, who knew what it could do. She wanted someone else who wanted to resist.
She knocked on Dustil's door frame, and Carth's son opened the door for her and stepped aside. She followed him into his room one more time. He'd begun to pack, she saw. The locker at the foot of his bed was open, and some of his possessions were out, surrounding a leather military backpack nearby. There was also a datapad on his bed that had not been there before. The kind that usually had military orders.
Dustil saw her eyes move to it. "You and Father got here just in time," he told her. "Those came in this evening. They want me to ship out to the war next week. That there's a copy of my assignment to a cruiser, and a copy of the bounty bulletin on you and the others. Just in case I happen to see you. They really want you guys bad."
"They do," Aithne confirmed.
"You most of all," Dustil observed. "You know the bounty to kill you is higher than the one to take Shan captive, and if we—if the Sith can turn her, this war is in the bag."
"I know," Aithne answered.
Dustil watched her. "Hey. Are you okay?" he asked finally. "You seem a little—"
Aithne ran her hands through her hair. She paced around the room. "Mission's going to meet you at the cantina closest to the docks. Day after tomorrow. She'll be there right around the midday meal. With any luck, your father, Jolee, and I will be just a couple of hours behind you."
"Great," Dustil said. He was still watching her. "Look, could you sit down or something? You're making me nervous."
Aithne sat down on a durasteel barrel of supplies that had apparently been delivered to Dustil's room this afternoon as well. She drew her knees up to her chin, looking down at the floor. "How many people have you killed, Dustil?" she asked him.
Dustil couldn't have been expecting the question, but he answered at once. "I killed my chief competitor at the trial last year. It's how you get respect around here, by showing you won't hesitate, that you can be strong. It was him or me. So, I chose me. Sometimes I think about it, why they make us fight like that when they should want to use everyone they could. I . . . I worried about Selene. Before they killed her anyway."
His face turned dark, and so did his emotions. "Why? Having regrets? I hear you've been doing a pretty thorough job carving up your own competition. You need to win for some reason? Win quick?"
"The tomb of Naga Sadow," Aithne admitted. "That map Revan and Malak discovered, the reason they founded the academy here. We need the coordinates on it."
"It's incomplete," Dustil told her.
Aithne nodded. "We know. But there are others around the galaxy. We're hoping to use their combined coordinates to find what we believe may be the source of a lot of Malak's ships and weaponry, the reason why he's been able to mobilize his forces so well in this war. It certainly isn't his people management skills."
Dustil laughed, a single, ironic bark. "Yeah, or his people's observation skills." He picked up the datapad orders from the end of his bed and flicked on an integrated holo. He cycled it twice, comparing the sketch image from Taris to her appearance. "You're prettier in the holo than you are in a Sith uniform, but anyone looking hard enough should still be able to tell that it's you."
"People see what they expect," Aithne told him. "You've had an advantage, seeing me next to your father. Had him covered up since we got here. Me? When we first landed, I was Exchange. Our ship is registered that way, so it made sense to people. When I came trying to get into the academy, I turned into a Revanchist deserter. Again, the story made sense, so no one was looking for me to be the lady who stole Bastila Shan off Taris."
"Hah. You're more than that. If Malak wants your friend alive enough to burn that whole world out of the sky, but he wants you dead even more—" he shook his head. "I don't know. So. You're freaking out over the way things are around here?"
His tone was callous, but the fellow feeling behind it was genuine, Aithne thought. Dustil really was willing to help her. He was a good person beneath all the anger and bitterness. Like his father.
She shook her head. "I'm freaking out over the way I am around here," she corrected. "I—the same kind of mindset your father and I were holding up as proof these people are the last ones you should call family, proof you needed to get out of here just as soon as you could—I am really very good at it. I joked with your father that if we couldn't find the proof you wanted yesterday, we could always use me as an example. But I think I was right."
"But you're Republic, aren't you? Probably a Jedi, even, though it doesn't say in the docs. I can sense you through the Force." Dustil's simple dichotomy reminded Aithne of Mission back on Taris, and her heart hurt.
She tilted her hand in the universal gesture for kind of. "A lot of Malak's people started out Jedi, Dustil. And Exar Kun's back before that. As for me, the Council basically strongarmed me into training and rushed me through in about six weeks a couple months ago. Emergency recruit, basically. They haven't been too thrilled about it, and I'm starting to see why." She stared at the wall. "I have killed so many people, Dustil. I've lost count. And sometimes it's hard to even care. I know I should, but when a person's bad enough, dumb enough, or sometimes even when I just feel what I'm doing is important enough, death can just be . . . expedient. It almost feels natural. And I know I should be better than that. I know people in general should be. But I'm not. Since I've landed on Korriban, over just the past few days, I have lied, backstabbed, tortured, and murdered like I'd been trained to it for years. Like you. Except I don't have that excuse. I just seem to have the talent."
"I'd heard," Dustil admitted. "They can't stop talking about you out there. One of the most promising hopefuls to hit the academy since anyone can remember. After Kel and Shaardan I think the senior Sith are all a little scared, even Master Uthar and Master Yuthura. Maybe especially them."
"Lashowe too now," Aithne told him.
"Lashowe?" Dustil repeated.
Aithne nodded. "Killed her outside in the valley. Over a stupid holocron. She planned to screw me out of the credit when we'd both worked to get it, but as she lay there, dying, she told me that if she'd managed it, she would've left me alive. And I knew she was telling the truth. Why did I kill her? I don't know why I did it." Her voice fell to a whisper. Her eyes stung, and the room had gone blurry.
Dustil sat across from her on his bed, listening. "You are pretty good at this," he admitted. She heard the unease in his voice. No fear—he could tell she wasn't here to hurt him. But he was disconcerted and disturbed. Dustil Onasi was a Sith, but Aithne suddenly knew he had never done anything like what she had done since her arrival on Korriban.
"Yeah."
"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked finally.
Aithne shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, and she looked over and into Dustil's eyes. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here like this and just put all of it on you—"
"No, that's okay," Dustil told her. His face had an interesting expression. "It's actually good to know not everyone with Father is a saint or hero. Good to know one of his friends has your kind of guts."
"Even someone who's done the kinds of things I have?" Aithne challenged him.
Dustil considered this. "You aren't like the rest of them out there," he answered finally. "You're here. You know it's not okay to do the things you've done, that it's not normal to feel okay about it. And that means you haven't really embraced the Dark Side like the others. You're still fighting. I guess like Father and you are going to want me to." He paused. "Will he leave me again? With the Jedi?"
His nose wrinkled, and Aithne guessed what Dustil thought of that.
"I don't think that will be good for either of you right away," she told him. "You're going to need time to recover from the past four years, to get it through your feelings and not just your head that he didn't just throw you away down here. He's going to need time to accept that you're not dead, to get to know the person you are now and feel good about your being safe. Then, it'll be up to you." Aithne shrugged. "You have the power to be a Jedi. You know that. And for what it's worth, I think you could be a good one. You've got a good enough head on your shoulders, and I can tell that four years with the Sith might have made you bold and aggressive, encouraged you to embrace a lot of your anger, but they haven't managed to erase enough of your kindness and essential decency. But I don't believe in forcing anybody to do anything. If you don't want to become a Jedi, don't be one."
"You'd let me help you and Father, as I am, without training?" Dustil asked her. "Father will let me?"
"He'd be a hypocrite not to," Aithne pointed out. "That girl you're meeting day after tomorrow, Mission? I consider her my responsibility, sure, ever since she up and decided she was coming with her friend, who swore a life-debt to me. But she is our colleague, not just some tagalong kid. She's fought at our side, and Carth's been an advocate for her right and ability to do that. She's an important part of our team. If Carth decides he's going to make you stay safe on the ship just because you're his kid, you can tell him he's being stupid. You're probably better trained and more dangerous than Mission."
"Huh. I would hope so," Dustil muttered.
Aithne smiled at him. "Not to say you would be free and clear of any need to train or practice. We all work to keep our skills up, and you're gonna be less experienced and know less than most of us, purely because you happen to be sixteen years old. We all work to teach Mission all we can to keep her safe. We'll do the same for you, and I'd want you to learn from the Jedi with us too. Ways to use your abilities that won't always stem from pain, anger, or hate."
"The Light Side," Dustil grunted, unimpressed.
"It can have its uses."
"Says the best Sith hopeful in the academy," Dustil retorted.
"Yes," Aithne answered him. Dustil looked taken aback, then thoughtful.
"I'll think about it. They always told me the Light Side was weak."
"Just different."
"Can you resist it?" Dustil asked her pointedly. Aithne looked back at him, genuinely considering her answer.
"I think—if I can't, it'll be because I'm not strong enough. Because I'm not good enough, not because the Light Side isn't," she answered finally. "In a lot of ways, the Light Side is the harder path. Tempering your passions instead of giving in, considering your actions instead of behaving according to more primal instincts. Doing what's right instead of what is easy." She trailed off, pensive.
She unfolded her legs and leaned back into the corner of Dustil's room. Somehow, she felt easier within herself now. Somehow, the old adage held true: a burden shared was a burden halved. And it had helped her that Dustil, while not excusing her actions, had not been overtly shocked or saddened by them either.
"Thank you," she told him. "For listening."
"Hey. I get the feeling we'll be working together for a while," Dustil said. "Might as well get to know each other."
Aithne smiled. "That's almost just what Carth said when we started to get to know one another," she reflected.
"How'd you two get mixed up together?" Dustil asked.
Aithne shrugged. "We were serving on the same Republic ship as Bastila. Went down when the Sith attacked over Taris. We were in the same escape pod. He pulled me from the wreckage and we worked together to get Bastila and our partners in finding her off the planet. Everyone's just sort of stuck around, even after Bas made me join the Jedi and the Council decided we were going to be the ones to bring down Malak's whole regime. Carth's our pilot and the Republic liaison for our mission."
"And he's important enough to you guys that you'd jeopardize the whole thing to come get me," Dustil said. "Or is that just you, Moran?"
Aithne resisted the urge to pull her legs to her chest again. She held Dustil's gaze.
"You had to know it was a risk, coming to get me," Dustil continued. "You knew I was with the Sith. You couldn't know I'd be open to leaving. You couldn't know I wouldn't want to turn you in. I didn't know I wouldn't hurt you, for a minute there."
"I don't leave my friend's kid with the Sith," Aithne said.
"Huh. Even if that kid could burn the galaxy? You know Father's all Republic, all the time. He wouldn't do the same for you. Not if your guys' mission was on the line the way yours was coming here." Dustil's face was unreadable, but Aithne sensed his anger, his jealousy for his mother, roiling beneath the surface.
"I care about him," Aithne answered softly. "I care about you, for him, because of what you've been through, and because you're still a kid."
"Lashowe and Shaardan were kids."
Aithne accepted that. Neither one of them had been older than Trask or Bastila Shan. "We aren't together," she told Dustil. "He's still loyal to the memory of your mother. He misses her every day. He knows the Jedi disapprove of fraternization, and the whole time we've worked together, he's been professional."
"He didn't like it when I pulled you in here yesterday," Dustil pointed out.
"I didn't like it when you pulled me in here that first day," Aithne answered. "And he'd have spoken up that way for any of us."
"You move and operate like a unit."
"We've been working in quite close proximity for months now."
"He likes you too."
Aithne didn't deny it. "He does. Nothing's happened."
Dustil looked away. "It's been four years," he said. "I know that. It's a long time. Sometimes it feels like forever. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Mother was—I miss her every day. She was there for me when he never was. She was strong and brave and patient, and I don't know how she did it."
"He loved her. He loved you both. He still does."
"I know." Dustil's face twisted. He swallowed. "It was just—" He stopped, shut down.
"Vengeance on the man responsible for the attack has been the only thing that's kept him coming. When he heard you were alive, it was like a part of him came back alive too."
Dustil was the one staring at the wall now. "Could you go?" he asked. "I can feel him across the dorms, worrying about you. I—it's enough. For tonight, it's enough."
Aithne folded herself down from the supply box. "Yeah," she agreed. "He gets into your head, doesn't he?"
"Yeah," Dustil said in his turn. "Can't believe I never noticed growing up. I'll see you in a couple days, Moran."
"See you, Dustil." She headed for the door. He stopped her a step or two from it.
"Hey," he called. She looked back. "I'm not saying I love it, but Father could do a whole lot worse. Be careful out there, okay?"
"I'll do my best. You do the same."
Dustil nodded, and Aithne left.