Author's Note: Much apologizings for the incredibly long delay in posts…I haven't forgotten Ilithia (or more accurately for all the other obsessive writers out there, she hasn't forgotten me), but life and work have been unbelievably busy and sapped my energy for gameplaying and writing for the last several months. But some persistent commenters (I usually don't have time to reply, but I do read – many thanks and please keep writing!) and friends have gotten me back on track, so here is the first part of my next chapter. I hope to have the full version up sometime in February. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ilithia had barely taken two steps out of the Ebon Hawk's bathroom, her hair still frizzy from the sonic refresher, when Bastila appeared, arms crossed over her chest and an indignant scowl on her face. "Is now a good time to discuss our travel plans?" the young Jedi asked snippily.

What cosmic power did I tick off to deserve this? "Sure."

"I would like to know the reason for the sudden change in plans," Bastila said, trying to reach through the bond to sense the other woman's thoughts. A mental slap and a hissed Bad Jedi! from Ilithia were her reward. "I was under the impression that Tatooine would be our next destination," she continued in a slightly less hostile tone.

"That was the original plan, yes," Ilithia replied, making her way towards the common room and the breakfast she'd hoped to enjoy in peace. "But I've decided to deal with Korriban now, rather than later."

All their other companions, now including Jolee, were seated at the central table, glumly pushing the lumpy slop the Ebon Hawk's synthesizer dispensed around in their bowls in the vain hope they could get up the courage to actually eat it. "Really?" Bastila said skeptically. "And why is that?"

Ilithia's gaze flickered over to Carth – he never said I could say anything. "Uh…"

"It's because of me," he sighed. As hard as it had been to finally tell Ilithia, and as much as he hated having to bother everyone else with his personal troubles, they did deserve to know what was going on. "My son Dustil survived the attack on Telos and is attending the Sith Academy on Korriban."

Bastila didn't even wait for Carth to finish before she shifted her glare back to Ilithia. You are letting your personal feelings interfere with the greater mission, she sent to the older woman. The Star Maps take priority over everything else!

"I figure if Dustil has half the strength and skill his father does, then he's probably going to turn out to be one hell of a dark Jedi," Ilithia said aloud, trying to ignore the flash of pain in Carth's emotions. "I don't fancy the idea of having to fight him later, so we're going for him now." And I'm terrified of what would happen if I ever had to kill him, she thought, suppressing a shudder.

"Ilithia," Carth said in a low voice. "We can wait – it's been four years – a few more weeks won't change anything."

She rounded on him. "If we are going to have the Sith sucking in our exhaust fumes from one end of the galaxy to the other I need my pilot focused and firing on all thrusters – which you won't be until this is taken care of," she said evenly. Not a bad argument considering I'm making it up as I go. "I wanted to go to Korriban last, but we'll go now."

"Korriban is ruled by the Sith. It is a dangerous place – quite possibly the most dangerous planet we will visit," Bastila countered. "It is strong in the Dark Side – if you go there too soon you may fall prey to its influence."

"Then I'll have to make sure our stay there is a short one," Ilithia said tightly. I know it's a risk…but I made a promise. She surveyed the facial expressions of the others – doesn't care: Canderous, Zaalbar, and T3, wherever he is; worried Bastila's right: the Ice Princess herself, and Jolee; thinks I'm a goddess and can do no wrong: Mission, Juhani – and Carth. Whose vote was the only one she cared about in the first place. "Secure the ship for takeoff."

I will speak with you about this later, Bastila's voice growled. Ilithia ignored her, turning her back to her and striding off towards the cockpit. The other crewmembers quickly rose and moved off to check on the other parts of the ship, careful to avoid accidentally catching Bastila's gaze.

Carth was the last to move, glaring blaster bolts at his breakfast until Bastila and all the others were gone. She's doing this for me…willing to blow up all our plans, pissing off Bastila and probably the Jedi Council itself. For me. He stood and stretched, then slouched down the passageway until he came to the doorway to the cockpit. She'd dumped herself into the co-pilot's seat, one hand draped over her eyes. A shift in the set of her shoulders told him she knew he was there. "Can I ask you something?" Carth ventured softly. Ilithia nodded. "You said you wanted to go to Korriban last – why?"

She frowned, peering down at the instrument panel between her splayed fingers. "Taris was crawling with Sith, but except for that one guy in the base those were just regular troopers. Korriban's full of dark Jedi. Dozens, maybe even hundreds." And Dustil's one of them, she thought, watching Carth wince at the same unspoken fact. "It was the home of ancient Sith Lords – the Map's in one of their tombs. Even the glimpse I had of it last night kept me awake for hours."

"You didn't sleep?" he asked quickly, his features creasing with concern as he lowered himself into the pilot's chair.

Ilithia shrugged, removing her hand from her face and sitting up in her seat. "Not well," she sighed.

He fought back the impulse to reach over and take her hand in his. "Any particular reason why?"

"You mean other than having dreams about Dark Lords?" she snorted, allowing herself a chuckle as Carth realized what an incredibly stupid question that had been. "Or were you hoping I'd been dreaming about a different tall, dark, and – well," she stopped herself, frowning. "I wouldn't describe Malak as he is as handsome, but I suppose he must've been at some point. Anyhow," she continued, brightening, "Somebody other than him." Carth just sat silently, frowning at her. Okay, so much for trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, how long has he had that jaw thing?" she muttered, suddenly feeling very much like a foolish child. Darth Malak's not exactly a subject that lends itself to blithe banter.

"I don't know," Carth sighed. "He didn't have it at the final battle against the Mandalorians on Malachor V, so sometime after that." Ilithia nodded, doing the math. "But a lot of the female officers I served with did actually think he was rather dashing before the jaw…and before he shaved his head and got those tattoos," he added with a sad flicker of a smile, recalling the appearance of a young, unspoiled Jedi who'd come to fight with the Republic forces in the war's earliest days.

An image of loose, flowing curls of dark hair and a full but neatly-trimmed beard floated through Ilithia's mind. "You knew him personally?" she asked cautiously.

Carth shook his head vigorously. "No. My ship was part of his command, but I only ever met him once. I was impressed," he said softly. "I guess that just shows how much the dark side can change someone."

"Do you know why they turned to the dark side?" she heard herself ask.

"Nobody does, really," Carth replied quickly. "Those of us that were high enough up in the ranks could tell they were changing. When they came out to fight in the wars, they were Jedi," he continued, tossing an inscrutable glance back towards the main compartments of the ship. "But by the time the wars ended…well, I don't know if they were Sith yet but they sure as hell weren't Jedi anymore." Carth hunched forwards, dropping his head into his hands. "They both stopped wearing Jedi robes. Malak's appearance changed, though I never knew anybody who got close enough to Revan to see if he – if she had done anything similar," he corrected himself after Ilithia had cleared her throat audibly, one eyebrow arched expectantly. "But most of all, their tactics – Revan's tactics, I guess – got riskier, with almost no regard for casualties on either side. Victory was all that mattered."

Ilithia bit her lip and frowned. "But considering the enemy had no regard for casualties and only cared about victory, do you think maybe Revan thought that was the only way the Republic could win?"

She's still thinking about that damn computer. "I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "Maybe. But maybe that was the way Revan had wanted to fight all along." He'd never questioned Revan's orders, even when he knew the casualties on their side were bound to be high. That was the price of defeating the Mandalorians…and if I knew it, Revan knew it too. "Either way, I guess she did feel that was the only way to win. I don't know how she could have lived with some of the orders she gave otherwise," he added softly.

"I guess," Ilithia echoed. "How much did you know about her?"

"Not much," Carth replied, shifting around in his chair. "Nothing that wasn't common knowledge, though there was a rumor in the ranks that one of the first planets attacked was Revan's homeworld. I don't know if that was true or not, but it gave us a respect and an admiration for Revan that led us to fight twice as hard for her as we would've for any other commander." He sat up and cast a baleful glance back down the passageway. "The Jedi sitting up in their ivory tower on Coruscant had no idea what was happening; but Revan, Revan was out there, with us. Revan shared our anger, our pain…they said that was why she risked defying the Council and went to war, because she knew the Mandalorians had to be stopped, and she knew she had to be a part of it, no matter the cost. That was the reason so many of my young recruits defied their parents to sign up, and why I risked angering my wife and alienating my son to be out there with them," his voice grew quiet as his anger ebbed away.

Ilithia almost had to sit on her hands to keep herself from reaching out for him. "You were doing the right thing," she replied in a whisper. "You have to know that."

"I do," he said tightly. "But it doesn't help." Ilithia's face twisted into a look that clearly wondered if killing Saul was supposed to help, too, but she stayed silent, scowling at the deck plating. "I, uh…I don't think I've told you how much I appreciate this," he continued, forcing himself to soften his tone so she wouldn't think he was mad or upset with her. "What you're doing…the risk you're taking…and not just because you're pissing off Bastila." She let off a chagrined chuckle, raising her eyes to stare at the instrument panels. "I just wanted to make sure I said thank you."

She shook her head. "Don't thank me until we're off that planet with Dustil safe and a Star Map's coordinates in my datapad. Like I said, that thing's in some sort of tomb. I'm just hoping it's not an omen."

"Had your regularly scheduled Star Map dream last night, did you?" Carth muttered, frowning.

"Yea," she sighed. "Creepiest one yet, despite the fact that the one on Dantooine involved Revan and Malak and the only living thing I visualized last night was a rat."

"Huh." He frowned harder and ran a hand through his hair. "Odd."

Ilithia broke out into peals of laughter, relaxing back in her chair. "Carth, I don't think there's anything that's happened since Taris that doesn't qualify as 'odd', not to mention 'strange', 'weird', 'unbelievable', 'implausible', and 'flat-out impossible'," she said, grinning through her accumulated exhaustion. "'Odd' doesn't even show up on my scanners these days."

He returned her weary smile. "Fair enough. I suppose –"

"We are ready for departure," Bastila's icy hiss cut in.

She always has the most impeccably awful timing. "Okay," Ilithia replied, turning to Carth with an apologetic glance. "Let's get going, then." Bastila whirled around and stomped back down the passageway.

Carth was already reaching for the controls. "Go after her," he told Ilithia, flipping the switches to start the pre-flight checks and load the hyperspace routes. "For the rest of our sakes, if nothing else. It's a full four days to Korriban."

"Yes, sir," she said, sliding slowly out of the co-pilot's seat. "Though I could probably just leave her with Jolee – he seems to annoy her as much as I do."

"I doubt that very much," he snickered.

She managed to make it to two out of a count of three before she gave up and lobbed a credit chip at his head, which he both anticipated and successfully ducked. "I'll deal with you later," she breathed, arching an eyebrow at him as she stood to her full height and stretched.

He couldn't keep his eyes from appreciating the view. "I look forward to it."

The eyebrow went up even further. "We'll see about that," she growled teasingly, lingering in the doorway a second longer than she had to before making her way towards the main hold.

Bastila had fled to the ladies' bunk room on the starboard side of the ship, ousting Mission with an incoherent exclamation and a wave of her hand. She'd flopped down onto the farthest bunk, staring silently at the wall. "I do not wish to argue with you further," she croaked, tightening her hold on the small, flat pillow.

"Neither do I," Ilithia said quickly, dropping to sit on the floor a few feet from Bastila's head. "I'm not here to apologize, either, but…" Carth is right – this bickering is a distraction that has to stop. She shuddered, feeling a chill creeping over her. "I'm not a touchy-feely, chatty sort of person, but you looked like you thought we needed to talk."

"What made you think that?" Bastila asked, unmoving.

The fact that your emotions start to swirl and clash like a lost child in a crowd every time I walk by. "I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Your face is all scrunched up like a kinrath pup."

Bastila rolled over a few inches, far enough to lock her gaze onto Ilithia. "An amusing description," she said tersely, "But hardly the truth." The older woman colored, but said nothing. "We both know the real reason you have some idea of what I am thinking is the bond we share."

"Maybe," Ilithia said reluctantly, her teeth clenched. Opening up was difficult enough with a willing and reciprocating Carth; she was not about to stick her emotional neck out where it could get lopped off by an unsympathetic, unfeeling Jedi. "Though I don't think we've had any experiences I would describe as 'bonding'."

"If you cannot feel the presence of our bond it is because you've put up a wall as thick as a bantha's skull to keep me out," Bastila snapped, sitting up.

Ilithia crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes to give Bastila the sternest, most reproachful look she could muster. "That's because as soon as you'd figured out we had a bond you started abusing it, poking around in places you weren't invited and saying things in my head you didn't want the others to know," she hissed in reply. "I told you on Dantooine I wouldn't stand for it, and that's even truer now than it was then!"

"So then you do admit that you have felt the bond," Bastila said smoothly, crossing her arms over her chest and returning Ilithia's gaze defiantly.

The older woman spluttered for a moment before twisting her lips into a reluctant scowl. "Maybe," she repeated. "So?"

"Our connection allows us glimpses into each other's mind," Bastila continued, speaking calmly but starting to twist her fingers together apprehensively. "Our destinies are intertwined. Everything one of us does will have consequences for the other. Any reckless behavior on your part is likely to affect me as well."

Ilithia groaned. "If this is just going to degenerate in to another lecture I'm going to think of something thicker than a bantha's skull."

"It is not," Bastila sighed. "I was going to say that thankfully you have exhibited a surprising degree of self-control up to this point, and that I sincerely hope you can maintain, or perhaps even expand upon, that trait in the future," she continued grudgingly. Except where Captain Onasi is concerned, of course, but I can see there's no use in arguing about that right now.

"You could warn me when I do something bad," Ilithia said with a soft chuckle, shifting her weight into a more comfortable sitting position. "Blink once for the dark side, twice for light."

"This is not a joke!" Bastila spat indignantly, her face turning an angry red. "The choices you make could affect both our destinies, not to mention the fate of the Republic and the entire galaxy!"

Ilithia waved her hands in front of Bastila to get the younger woman to calm down. "Sorry, sorry!" Sorry you don't seem to have a sense of humor. "What are you so worried about anyway – I mean, Darth Malak, dark side, I got that – but what is it, really?" Bastila looked away, biting her lip. This bond goes both ways, kiddo, Ilithia sent into the young Jedi's mind. What aren't you telling me? Now it was Bastila's turn to throw up some mental obstacles, to keep Ilithia from wandering into the shadows of her mind, but not before the older woman caught another flash of the very first visions she'd had while unconscious after the crash landing on Taris – Bastila's confrontation with Revan. "Why – what about Revan?" she barked, pushing away the ominous, creeping sensation that was slowly working its way down her spine.

Bastila swallowed nervously, paling. "You must prepare yourself for when we will face Malak," she said slowly. "It seems fate, or the Force, is driving us towards a final confrontation with the Dark Lord…it will be difficult for you." Ilithia nodded patiently, waiting for Bastila to continue. "I remember how hard it was for me when I first faced Revan. A Padawan must receive considerable training, learning to control their emotions and darker impulses. Even though I had spent nearly all my life as a Jedi, when I faced Revan…" She shuddered, pulling her thoughts deep into her own mind, away from the bond. "The call of the dark side was very strong," she finished simply.

"My brother said she could talk anybody into anything," Ilithia sighed.

The young Jedi closed her eyes, replaying the confrontation with the Sith Lord in her mind. "She didn't say a word," Bastila murmured. "But I knew she recognized me. I could feel her eyes on me…burning through me…"

"Recognized you?" What is this, everybody-talk-about-how-you-knew-Revan day?

Ilithia's sharp question jolted Bastila out of her reverie. "Yes, I had met her once – well, not really 'met'," she said quickly, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. "Nearly a decade ago, when Jedi Master Kavar brought her – a former apprentice of his – to watch my class practice our combat skills – I thought I wanted to be a Guardian at the time," Bastila added. Kavar and Revan, Malak, Halla Aiye, Zoran, Master Kae…the best of the Guardians were as famous among the Jedi as holovid actors, commanding respect and admiration wherever they went. Sentinals had seemed excruciatingly passive by comparison, merely collecting information and waiting for things to come to them, and the endlessly meditative Consulars were downright boring. The physical demands of a Guardian's training proved too much for her in the end, though, and she'd reluctantly switched into the Sentinal program after barely a year. "I think she had just attained the rank of Jedi Knight, and was contemplating taking an apprentice of her own, so Kavar wanted to show her what she had to choose from. She watched us for a long while, then declared in a very loud voice that not a single one of us was worthy enough to so much as 'polish my crystals'."

"I'm sure that went over well," Ilithia snorted.

"Kavar was still laughing about it a week later," Bastila said, a hint of bitterness tainting her voice. "He even made one student who constantly botched one of the more basic moves disassemble their lightsaber and polish the crystals, to encourage greater attention to detail and preparation."

I wonder which student that was. "Well, you ended up facing down Revan and killing her, so it must've worked," Ilithia replied gently.

"I didn't kill Revan," Bastila said quickly. "It was Malak who turned against his own master, firing upon Revan's ship while we were still on board, desiring to kill us and his master both."

"Typical Sith thing to do, I suppose," Ilithia said, closing her eyes to replay the vision in her mind, tracking each movement. The creeping sensation grew stronger, overriding her attempts to ignore it until she broke off her contemplations. Watching a Sith Lord die in someone else's memory is a strange thing to do, she told herself as she opened her eyes again.

Bastila was watching her closely. "We were there to capture Revan, not kill her," she said, her lips thin and her words clipped short. "The Jedi do not believe in killing their prisoners. No one deserves execution, no matter what their crimes." She slumped against the back wall of her bunk, shaking her head. "Remember that Revan and Malak were once great Jedi, heroes in every sense of the word. They demonstrate the danger of the dark side to us all."

Ilithia suppressed an exasperated sigh. She doesn't miss a single opening, does she? "What did she look like?" she asked, giving voice to the first subject-changing question that came to mind. "Back then, when you saw her before she was a Sith."

"Even then she favored hooded robes, worn low around her eyes, so that few Jedi who were not her teachers or classmates in her youth knew her face," Bastila replied. Too many questions with dangerous answers. "We really shouldn't speak of this anymore. The memory of my confrontation with Revan is…painful," she said curtly, lying back down on the mattress and turning her face towards the wall.

"Fine," Ilithia said, standing quickly, unable to help feeling a little annoyed at being so summarily dismissed. "It's four days to Korriban – occupy yourself however you see fit."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The four days passed relatively quickly, and in a much lighter mood than that of the trip to Kashyyyk, despite the far more sinister nature of their destination. Carth and Ilithia were flirting rather than fighting, sneaking in an occasional cuddle or kiss on the cheek when they knew Bastila wasn't watching. The bickering between Bastila and Ilithia had also subsided, though everyone figured it was probably only a temporary truce. Jolee added a dash of seasoned irreverence, and even Juhani was more relaxed and talkative. That Canderous and Mission had liberated a large quantity of Corellian ale and Alderaanian firewhisky from the Czerka stores on Kashyyyk couldn't have hurt.

Landing on Korriban was surprisingly easy – despite being a Sith planet, Czerka Corporation had a significant presence, and ran the docking bay at the colony of Dreshdae, a small settlement adjoining the Sith Academy. For the bargain-basement docking fee of 25 credits – "Don't get much traffic here, do they?" Carth muttered – they secured the rights to a topside docking bay for as long as they needed it. As soon as they landed Ilithia headed back towards the common room, only to find the others had already gathered, waiting expectantly for her to give them their marching orders. Even Bastila moved quietly to sit with the other Jedi at the center table.

"First things first," she started, coughing a few times to clear her throat. "The Sith do plenty of business with slavers, and Twi'leks and Wookiees are at the top of every slaver's wish list. So you two are staying inside, playing pazaak, and pretending to be happy about it, okay?"

Mission crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to sulk. "Yes Mommy." Zaalbar's soft grunts of acknowledgement dissolved into hoots of laughter.

Ilithia let out an amusedly exasperated sigh. "Just try to find something interesting on the holovid – I know everything's in reruns this time of year, but just try." The little Twi'lek grinned and nodded. Ilithia turned to the three Jedi sitting around the common table – Bastila sat ramrod straight, knees together and hands delicately clasped and resting on her lap. Juhani was more relaxed, leaning against the seatback, but apprehensive and attentive. Jolee, by contrast, was draped over two seats, feigning sleep but still somehow giving Ilithia a look that screamed I-dare-you-to-try-to-order-me-around-missy. "Bastila…Juhani," she began. "You both probably have old friends who have made their way here. And while they might believe that Juhani has fallen and is coming to train, they'd never believe that of you, Bastila." The youngest Jedi smiled proudly. "So for our safety as well as yours, you need to stay on the ship, too."

"Very well," Bastila chirped, halfway between disappointed and relieved. "I will stay and learn 'pazaak'."

It's a game, not a chore. "Always good to broaden your horizons," Ilithia muttered under her breath, turning towards the next person on her list – Canderous.

He started shaking his head the moment her eyes shifted. "Do not make me have to stay here with the kid, the fleabag, the catwoman, and the Twi'lek."

"I'm not," Ilithia assured him, choking back a snicker at the sight of Bastila flushing angrily upon realizing she was 'the kid'. "You get to spend some quality time with the old coot."

"Hrmph," Jolee grunted indignantly, still stretched out as if asleep. "The 'old' I'll admit to, but what have I done to deserve 'coot'?"

Ilithia rolled her eyes, amused but unwilling to let him know it. "An old curmudgeon, then, who I recall in the midst of all his ramblings over dinner back on Kashyyyk mentioning something about having been a smuggler in his younger days," she replied.

One of Jolee's eyes finally cracked open. "You heard that, huh?"

Everyone chuckled at that, even Bastila. "This one doesn't miss a trick," Canderous growled appreciatively.

"No," Jolee said slowly, opening his other eye and raising himself into a sitting position. "I expect she wouldn't." Ilithia felt rather than saw Bastila squirm uncomfortably. "Anyhow," Jolee continued, "What's the story behind this little operation – I'm the pilot, the Mandalorian's the muscle, go forth and dig up whatever information on the Academy and the Star Map that we can?"

"Basically, yes," Ilithia chirped. "So it's back to your bunkroom, off with the robes, and then try to keep yourselves out of too much trouble – I don't want to find out what the Sith charge for bail." Jolee nodded curtly and sprang out of his seat with an unexpected spryness, trotting off towards the portside bunks. "Okay, now Juhani, I –" Heavy footsteps advancing from the portside bunks caught her attention – finally. "Carth, good to –" She stopped again as the pilot came into sight, buckling the last pieces of Calo Nord's scrubbed and modified armor into place. "What do you think you're doing?"

Carth shoved Bendak's old blaster into a holster. "Coming with you, of course," he stated flatly.

She started to shake her head. "Carth –"

"You said 'we'," he growled, stepping close to her and lowering his voice so the others couldn't hear. "When you promised to help me save him you said 'we' – and don't even think of trying to argue that you didn't specify who 'we' were," he added, pointing a finger at her. She frowned – that had been exactly what she'd been planning to say. "The only people in that conversation – and that promise – were you. And. Me," he finished, stabbing his finger in the air for emphasis.

"Fine," she sighed. He was right – and since Dustil was in the Academy, there was no point in arguing that her promise didn't include taking Carth all the way in. "But the fact that you're a soldier – and not a Sith one, either – is going to be as obvious as a bantha in a bathhouse."

He smiled triumphantly. "I've already thought of the perfect cover story." Ilithia sighed, bracing herself. "I was a Republic soldier, an officer even, whose ship was attacked. I escaped in a life pod – was captured by gangsters – and sold into slavery," he said, glancing from Ilithia to Bastila and back again for dramatic effect. "To you."

Bastila snorted. "The Sith will never believe that."

"Only five seconds of a Taris swoop race prevented that from being your story, Bastila," Ilithia smirked. "It's not that implausible, is it?" Bastila seethed, but stayed silent. Ilithia's grin vanished as she turned back to Carth. "Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?" she sighed softly.

"Do you?" he shot back under his breath.

Ilithia bit her lip, but nodded curtly. Fair point. "Alright. Everybody else just sit tight for now," she announced, taking time to make eye contact with Juhani and give her an I-might-need-you-later look. "We'll be in touch."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You! Jedi!"

Ilithia's boots clanged to a halt on the steel floor. Why is it always me? She raised her eyes to the source of the shout, a young man clad in the grey uniform of a Sith student standing in front of three cringing and cowering civilians.

Maybe you should dye your hair, Jolee's voice rumbled in her mind. The Jedi, now looking rather scruffy in some of the wrinkled and carbon-scored armor left over from Taris, was passing almost unnoticed by the Sith, Canderous following close behind. After all, he continued, red's pretty difficult to forget.

"You're looking to get into the academy, are you not?" the Sith continued, pausing to glare disdainfully at her lightsabers. "Of course you are…why else would you be here?"

Ilithia's eyes narrowed in the direction of Jolee's retreating back. Never, she shot back. I like being difficult. She sensed an exasperated chuckle in his mind just before he turned the corner and vanished from her sight. "What of it?" she said casually, turning to focus on the sneering Sith.

"Let me pose a question to you, then," the young man drawled. "These hopefuls will never survive in the academy. A lesson must be taught, here…but I am at a loss as to what form it should take."

Standing at Ilithia's elbow, Carth snorted quietly. "This is rich."

The Sith's eyes snapped onto Carth momentarily, but then shifted back to Ilithia. "I'm thinking to spare them the effort of being killed and do it myself," he said, cocking his head to one side. "Perhaps I should turn their skin inside out? Or Force Lightning? It is a most impressive display." He gave Ilithia a taunting smile. "Or perhaps a bit of simple humiliation is in order – such as losing all control of their bodily functions…What do you think? I just can't seem to decide."

"I take it back," Carth said, his voice sinking to a shaky whisper. "This is disgusting."

Ilithia pushed aside the impulse to say something wittily insulting to the Sith in reply – their game, their rules. "So why are you asking me?" Play along.

"Why not?" he shrugged. "I find it fun. Come now, a decision please."

The eyes of each hopeful turned towards her, begging with their eyes for the mercy they couldn't ask for with words. "I think humiliation would be enough," she said slowly. They may be self-delusional fools willing to sacrifice their pride just to be Sith, but they deserve a chance to wake up and get out.

The Sith seemed torn between agreement and contempt. "Perhaps having a bunch of hopefuls soiling themselves would be somewhat amusing. Let's see, shall we?" An arc of orange energy sprang from his fingertips, causing each hopeful to double over, convulsing. Ilithia fixed her eyes on her toes as an unmistakable acrid stench filled the air. Laughing, the Sith turned and sauntered away, while the hopefuls rushed past Ilithia and out of sight as fast as their aching muscles could carry them.

"Well, that was…enlightening," Carth said behind her, his voice choking.

She began picking her way past the mess left behind by the hopefuls, heading for a ramp that led deeper into the colony. "You've seen all the horrible things they do in war," she muttered, careful to keep her arms at her sides to hide the telltale cylindrical bulges of her lightsabers. "Why would anything the Sith do surprise you anymore?"

Carth shook his head as they started down the ramp. "I don't know. I guess…I've just never seen them this close up before," he shrugged. "I've seen the death and despair they leave behind, but I had no idea they could be so cavalier, so cruel, so –"

A blond Sith woman with a severe haircut stepped directly in Carth's path, cutting off both his stride and his words. "Look here, my dear friends," she purred, like a kath hound sizing up its prey, "We have some newcomers to the colony…led by a Jedi, no less." She glanced over at three other Sith who were moving to encircle Carth and Ilithia. "I don't believe I've seen any of them before, have you?" she asked them lazily.

"I hate Jedi," a pale-faced young man sneered, "And these fallen ones are even worse. They always get into the academy, and they think they're better than the rest of us!"

Carth took a step closer to Ilithia, his fingers itching to grasp his blasters. "Just what we needed," he muttered under his breath. "Some punks to come steal our lunch credits."

Ilithia suppressed an exasperated sigh while the blonde let out a peal of mocking laughter. "Smart-mouthed newcomers, to boot," she chuckled mirthlessly. "Well, stranger, I don't know whether you're aware of this or not, but here on Korriban the Sith do as they please. And we are Sith." She stepped up to stand inches from Ilithia's face, a few inches taller than the Jedi. "Quite literally, whether you live or die depends on our whim. What do you think of that, hmm?"

"I think that's a lot of responsibility for simple scum like you," she snapped, her patience with the Sith penchant for boastful threats already running low.

The Sith hesitated a moment, perhaps beginning to sense that this target would not be easily intimidated. "Those are very brave words for such an insignificant person," she said smoothly, color rising in her cheeks. "Do you not realize how many Sith are here in Dreshdae?"

"Is this a raffle?" Carth growled. Ilithia whirled around to tell him to keep his mouth shut, but he continued before she could get the words out. "How many guesses do we get?"

"Let me kill this one, Lashowe! Let me do it!" the pale young man cried.

The woman – Lashowe – dismissed his pleas with a wave of her hand. "Let's not be hasty. Our new friend here could yet offer up some amusement." Ilithia slowly turned back around, beginning to curl her hands around her lightsabers. "Yes, I think she might," Lashowe continued, directing her attention to Ilithia. "Amuse us. Make us laugh, and we just might consider allowing you to live."

"Generous offer," Ilithia growled angrily. "But I've got much more important things to do than talk to you, so if you really want a fight just go ahead and make the first move. It'll be your last."

Lashowe blinked, a violent shade of red flooding her face. "What!"

Another one of her Sith companions burst out laughing. "I think someone just stood up to you, Lashowe," he choked out, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Shut up, fool!" she snapped. "Unless you want to be next!" Lashowe rounded on Ilithia, almost spitting with rage. "I'll find you later," she hissed. "Trust me on that." Ilithia merely returned her steady glare until Lashowe let out a disgusted snort, then turned and stalked away, trailed by her still-laughing 'friends'.

Carth watched Ilithia carefully as her expression shifted from fury to a steely contempt. "Cold," she whispered to herself.

"Huh?"

"What you were saying before about seeing the Sith in action up close…when I sense them through the Force, they feel empty…cold." She shuddered, her skin prickling with a sudden chill. "I have a bad feeling about this place."

He let out a humorless laugh. "We're on a planet full of Sith with a Star Map – don't tell me a 'bad feeling' is the best your Jedi senses can do."

"No," she sighed, "But it's barely been ten minutes since we stepped off the ship, and I'm already really creeped out." And really, really ready to whack the next person who gives me an excuse. She started slowly down another hallway, trying to concentrate on what she could sense in the Force without walking smack into a wall. "I felt something like this at the other two Star Maps, but we're nowhere near the one here, and this feeling is so strong…"

Carth reached out and lightly touched Ilithia on her elbow. "Are you alright?" he asked gently.

She started to shiver, but shook her head, pushing that feeling away and locking it in a distant corner of her mind. "Yea, fine," she said quickly. "Let's just focus on getting into the Academy." Focus on the mission…worry about your feelings later. Rhythmic, pounding music announced the presence of a cantina up ahead. "One thing, Carth…next time a Sith tries to pick a fight with us, let me do all the talking, okay?"

He frowned, unsure what he'd done wrong, but knew there was no point in arguing. "Sure, if you say so," he mumbled.

"You're supposed to be a slave," Ilithia reminded him as the cantina drew into sight. "You're not supposed to be allowed to have an attitude." One glance inside the cantina told her to keep on walking – quieter and more sterile than the one in Taris' Upper City, it practically reeked of corporate management – no good information there. Only a shifty-eyed Rodian lurking near the entrance seemed remotely interesting, but Ilithia didn't have time for distractions. Ignoring Carth's bewildered gaze, she marched right past the cantina and through the doors to the planet's surface – and the Academy.

The stinging blast of a hot, gritty gust of wind was the first sensation to hit her when the outer doors opened. She had to shield her eyes from the biting gale before she could open them far enough to note the white brightness of the sun and the contrasting browns and reds of the rocks all around them. Angular, jagged cliffs rose up on their right, while the valley fell quickly away on their left – and before them stood the wind-worn, monolithic façade of the Sith Academy, flanked on either side by several generically androgynous statues. Not incredibly intimidating, she reflected, striding down the ramp and heading for the main doors, but again – creepy.

A lone guard in the familiar silvery-gold armor of the Sith stood by the door, but four others, one in the grey student uniform, also occupied the threshold. "What's up with the wannabes?" Carth whispered, jerking his chin at the three non-Sith, all of whom seemed to be in severe pain.

"Let's ask the man in charge," Ilithia said sharply, altering course slightly to come face to face with the Sith student. "Hi," she chirped, plastering the most convincing evil grin she could muster onto her face. The Sith gave no indication that he'd heard her other than a testy grunt. "Having fun?"

"Leave me be," he muttered petulantly. "Can't you see that I'm busy?"

"Busy?" she replied, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really?"

The Sith gave her an annoyed glare. "Yes," he grumbled.

"Ah," she said shortly. "So, then what are those guys doing standing over there?" The Sith snorted and rolled his eyes. "Is this some sort of test for them?" she asked, watching him closely.

"No - that's the whole point!" the Sith sneered. "Personally, I think it's wonderful fun…those fools actually think that if they stand there long enough, I'll let them become a Sith."

Not this again… "So this isn't a real test for them?" Ilithia asked, biting her lip to force a hard edge into her voice.

"It's a test all right – to see if they're actually fool enough to die," the Sith replied, turning and really giving Ilithia a long, hard stare. "If they don't, however, I certainly wouldn't admit them just for that accomplishment."

She sensed Carth stirring indignantly behind her. "What would they have to do to get admitted?" she asked quickly.

"I don't think there's anything this pathetic lot could do to get a medallion from me," the young Sith said smoothly. "One of the younger apprentices might let them in, just for the sport of watching them fight each other, fail, and die, but not me."

"Sweet guy," Carth muttered, unable to restrain his revulsion. "He should get the Sith congeniality medal."

Ilithia whirled around, sensing the Sith's ire rising. "I don't remember granting you permission to speak unless spoken to, slave," she hissed at Carth, whose expression quickly morphed from anger to embarrassment. "You will hold your tongue until you've learned your place!" Waving a hand in front of his face for dramatic effect, she reached out with the Force and immobilized his vocal cords. I'm sorry, she tried to tell him with her eyes, watching the anger flood back onto his face as he realized what she'd done. But if you want to tag along this is how it has to be. "Anyhow," she breathed, turning back to the Sith, "What's this 'medallion' you mentioned?"

The Sith's gaze lingered on the seething Carth for a moment, then flicked back onto her. "It is the device given to one who has been accepted into the academy, but has not yet proved their worth as a student," he replied evenly.

"And what would I have to do to get my hands on one?" Ilithia asked, hoping she didn't sound too eager.

A flash of something resembling disappointment crossed the Sith's face at the realization that she was just another hopeful, albeit a mildly talented one. "Something impressive," he said slowly. "Something noteworthy…something that doesn't merely say you want to be a Sith, but rather that you deserve to be a Sith." His eyes began to study her figure. "I don't happen to have one with me now, but if you'd accompany me back to my quarters I'm sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement."

If this is really how their selection process works it's no wonder the dark Jedi we've run into have been such cupcakes. "No thanks," she said, mustering another falsely sweet smile and letting her gaze drift briefly over towards Carth. "I've already taken care of that need."

"Ah," the Sith sighed sadly. "Well, torturing and eliminating your competition is always a reliable means of garnering attention," he continued, gesturing over at the three hopefuls still standing off to the side.

Ilithia shook her head. "Where's the challenge in that?" she asked rhetorically, casting a genuinely disdainful glance over at the hopefuls. If they really are stupid enough to believe that's the way to become a Sith, maybe it's better they die now rather than go through what the Sith would do to them later. "I'd very much prefer killing you and taking a medallion off of your lifeless corpse, but I can sense you're telling the truth about not having one on you," she said simply, relieved to be able to let some of her contempt for the Sith's petty cruelty show. "So for now, you get to live."

"Generous of you," the Sith hissed, as all hint of lust evaporated from his expression only to be replaced by an even more disturbing look of grudging admiration. "I think I'll go for some dinner…it will be fun to think of them while I gorge myself, and they'll still be here in an hour or two." He half-turned towards the Academy entrance before stopping and glancing back at her. "If you do happen to acquire a medallion, take it to Yuthura Ban, a Twi'lek Sith Master, and she will secure you a place in the Academy. You can usually find her in the Czerka cantina." His eyes gave her one last, long appraisal before he headed through the doors and in to the gloom of the Academy.

She glared angrily at the doors for a moment, then turned away with a shudder and a sigh. "That makes three ass-kickings I'll have to administer before leaving this place," she growled, striding back towards the colony. "I knew I wouldn't like this place, but –" A hand seized her elbow, spinning her around. She had both lightsabers in her hands before her eyes focused on Carth, who released his hold on his arm and jabbed a finger in the direction of his neck. "Right – sorry," she said quickly, removing the Force block she'd put on his voice.

"That hurt," he coughed, rubbing his throat.

"I said I was sorry," she replied, half-indignantly and half-apologetically, pivoting around and heading up the ramp into the colony. "Next time don't give me the excuse."

He let out an exasperated sigh as the doors slid open. "I'll keep my mouth shut from now on, I promise." The hopefuls gathered around the cantina entrance barely glanced as they passed by, though the shifty-eyed Rodian was still watching them a bit too closely for Carth's comfort. "Not that the Sith have needed much of an excuse to try to pick a fight with us," he added darkly, turning his gaze back onto Ilithia. Something in the tightness of her jaw and the set of her shoulders started to make his skin prickle underneath his armor. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, slowing his pace.

"I'm fine," she snapped without a break in her stride. "Why?"

"No reason." Other than the feeling that the next Sith who even looks at you funny is getting their skull bashed in. "You just seem a little edgy, that's all." She halted, craning her neck to give him a raised eyebrow and an excuse-me? look. "Now don't get me wrong," he said quickly, backing up a step, "I completely understand – I just –" He stopped, his own gaze sharpening as he saw the corners of Ilithia's scowl beginning to twitch. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

An ear-to-ear grin spread across her face. "You're cute when you're worried. Especially when you think it's something you said."

Laughing would have attracted too much attention, so Carth restricted himself to a chuckle and a few shakes of his head. "Woman, I –"

"Ah, careful," she said lightly, taking a step closer to him. "Masters threaten their slaves with unspeakable acts of torture and torment, not the other way around." Her smile changed into a lascivious smirk as she slowly dragged one finger down the center of his chestplate.

"You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?" he muttered, sounding more intrigued than concerned.

A broadened smirk was his only answer. "Let's go find a medallion," she said, turning away and starting up the ramp towards the main sector of the colony.

"Any ideas how?" he asked, following.

"Just like we did on Taris," she chirped confidently, picking up her pace at the sight of a quartet of Academy students striking aggressive postures at the top of the ramp. "Dead Sith." She waited, expecting Carth to argue, but instead he drew his blasters and gave her a grim nod. Good to know I'm not the only one feeling a little edgy. "And then I'll follow the very first piece of advice you gave me."

"What was that?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Always start in the cantina.

The instructors preferred to visit the cleaner and well-lit Czerka cantina in the colony's upper level, but the students flocked to the far dirtier and disreputable cantina in one of the lower levels, just a corridor away from the cargo docks. As distasteful as she'd found the idea of hanging out with Sith back on Taris, Ilithia knew she had to pretend to be one of them if she was going to survive the next few days, to say nothing of finding the Star Map. Besides, my dead-Sith-versus-drunk-Sith ratio needs to be brought back into balance.

She strode confidently into the cantina, moving slowly enough to glance around quickly for any familiar faces – friendly or otherwise – as she headed straight for the bar. The selection was thin, with only one cheap and acidic variety of whisky available, but she could choke it down if she took small sips. At least I won't have to worry about getting smashed, she reasoned, turning to lean back against the bar and survey her new colleagues.

They were older than she'd expected, given Dustil's presence and the youth of the Sith soldiers and dark Jedi encountered on Taris and Kashyyyk. Most couldn't be more than a few years younger than she was, though the range seemed to go all the way from late teens to mid-thirties. I won't seem as unusual here as I did on Dantooine, then, she thought, taking another sip of her drink. There probably wasn't a cantina in the Enclave because there weren't enough sentients of legal drinking age there to keep one in business.

The cantina doors swished open once again, admitting a female Cathar in Sith robes. Ilithia's pursuit of dead Sith had yielded not one, but two medallions – having already sent Jolee off with Canderous, and with Bastila ineligible, she'd decided Juhani should pose as a fellow fallen Jedi come to join the Sith. Believable, given that she had fallen not too long ago – should add more credibility to my alleged fall. Even though she and Juhani had entered the Academy together, Ilithia wanted them to build separate networks of acquaintances, in case one might hear something the other wouldn't. Fallen Jedi come here often, so no one will worry that Juhani and I have some training in Force powers and lightsaber combat tech–

A hand seized her by the shoulder, spinning her around and spilling her drink. "I told you I'd find you later," Lashowe hissed triumphantly.

"So you did," Ilithia acknowledged grimly. Juhani paused, but Ilithia avoided her gaze, hoping the Sith around them couldn't sense the let-me-handle-this message she was sending the other Jedi. "But did you have to waste half a glass of decently drinkable whisky in the process?"

"That will be the least of your concerns when I'm through with you," Lashowe growled, her eyes glittering.

Ilithia let out a long, dramatic sigh. At least I'll be able to honestly say it was in self-defense. "I imagine I'll be much more concerned with this colony's definition of assisted suicide," she muttered. Lashowe blinked, giving Ilithia a blank stare. Bad attitudes and no sense of humor? I'm going to hate this place. Ilithia sat her drink on the counter with a shrug and dropped her hands to her sides. "Take your best shot."

She waited until the last possible moment to parry Lashowe's first lunge, the beam of her long saber igniting just as it met Lashowe's blade. A few appreciative whistles came from the gathering crowd, predictably drawn to the glow of lightsabers in the dimly lit cantina. Lashowe let out a frustrated, angry cry as she rushed at Ilithia a second time, only to have her attack deflected with a similarly minimal effort. "Your approaches are too obvious," Ilithia told the other woman in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "Are you even trying to execute a feint?" I would've criticized her regardless, but her tactics so far are even worse than Bastila's.

"I think she is," a male voice spoke out from the crowd, "But you're right – she's too aggressive, with no time for any deception in her movements."

Ilithia's eyes widened when she located the speaker. Same jaw, same chin, same eyes…but while his father feels as warm as an Alderaanian summer's day he's just as cold as the other Sith. The diversion of her attention gave Lashowe a brief opening for another attack – Ilithia had to bring her second blade into play to avoid being nicked. A surge of adrenalin began to flow through her as she went on the offensive, striking easily through Lashowe's defenses with her long blade while maintaining a screen with the shorter saber. "If dying tonight wasn't part of your plan," Ilithia growled, backing an increasingly fearful Lashowe towards the wall, "I suggest you head back to your room and spend the next little while staying as far away from me and my companions as possible."

Lashowe looked for a moment as if she might do just that, but a few snickers from the crowd set her teeth back on edge. "I should have killed you when I had the chance," she snarled, flourishing her saber in preparation for another attack.

"What makes you think you actually had a chance?" Ilithia chuckled darkly. That only seemed to enrage Lashowe more, wringing another strangled cry from her as she charged Ilithia again – and again Ilithia effortlessly deflected the attack. "I warned you your first move would be your last," she added, relaxing into a defensive pose.

"You can't kill me," Lashowe cried, striking out again, more loosely and recklessly than before. "I am a Sith, and you are not!"

"Correction: you never really were a Sith," Ilithia hissed, brushing away the other woman's flailing slashes with her long saber, clearing the way for a single, driving stab of her short blade into Lashowe's midsection. "And you didn't deserve to be." A strangled, gurgling sound was the Sith's only reply as her body slid off Ilithia's saber and slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Ilithia held her stance for a few long moments, breathing heavily and trying to will the thumping in her head to subside. When a few long moments passed with no movement and no sense of danger from the subdued but buzzing crowd she deactivated her sabers, nudging Lashowe's body with one foot. At least there's not too much of a mess. She started emptying Lashowe's pockets – a few credits, another Sith medallion, and an assortment of extremely powerful and illegal stims – but Ilithia took it all anyway, moving slowly and deliberately to give herself time to gage the crowd's mood. The Sith who'd been with Lashowe seemed both cowed and awed at their leader's sudden demise, and the rest seemed almost pleased to see a bully without the talent to back up her boasting removed from their ranks. Only Dustil and his friends even took the risk of returning her gaze. Even Juhani, sitting alone at a table next to one occupied by some more familiar faces from earlier that day, didn't look up from the small ale she'd purchased. Ilithia could sense the other Jedi's confusion, half-knowing that had ended the only way it possible could, the other remorseful that another way had not been found. We'll have a chance to chat later, Ilithia promised herself, picking her whisky back up off the bar and making for an empty table in a far corner. I really hope I don't gain prestige for this.

She'd only made it a few steps when another hand seized her by the shoulder. "Pretty impressive display there," said a familiarly gruff voice, bursting with pride and admiration.

"Thank you," she said pleasantly, casting one more derisive glance at the silent Sith before turning towards the sound of that voice. Should've figured he'd find his way here. "You're not a student at the Academy, are you?" she asked, knowing his lack of a lightsaber and the fact that he wore armor rather than the grey uniform of the Sith would already be attracting interest.

Canderous' grin widened. "No – and if this is the way you treat each other, I'm glad of it."

"It's not for everyone," Ilithia replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I find myself in need of another drink."

"Allow me," he said quickly, waving her towards his table, where an open and half-full bottle of the same whisky she'd had stood next to a raggedly dressed, scowling old man. "Pour some whisky for my new friend, slave," Canderous said.

The only reason Jolee scowled was to keep himself from bursting out laughing. "Yes master, right away master."

"All the way to the top, please." Slave? Ilithia sent to the older Jedi, biting her lip to keep her own amusement hidden.

No one bought the idea that this old man was either in charge of or even partnered with Mr. Big-'N-'Tuff here, Jolee replied, followed by the mental equivalent of an indignant harrumph as he finished with Ilithia's glass and started refilling Canderous'. So now I'm the slave who flies the ship.

"So," Canderous muttered quietly, "You got in to – hey!" He reached over and seized Jolee's wrist, which had been continuing to pour whisky into Ilithia's glass even after it was overflowing onto the table. "Pay more attention, slave!"

"Sorry master," Jolee grumped. "I didn't hear her say 'when', master." Ilithia sniggered and hid her face behind her glass. "But then my hearing's not so good," the old man continued, corking the bottle and backing away from the table as if dismissed. "I'm just pleased my nice master doesn't beat me so much anymore."

Canderous' eyes narrowed – if he had a sense of humor, he controlled it much better than his Jedi companions. "Then make sure you don't waste another drop of that whisky, even if it is little better than gundark piss," he hissed. "Now go away until I call for you." The old man moved off, mumbling. "Now, as I was saying," the Mandalorian continued, lowering his voice to a bare whisper, "Only one day and you've already managed to get in?"

"You've seen an example of the talent level they've got here," she growled in reply.

He chuckled. "Not much trouble, then?"

"None at all," she said smoothly. "Have you picked up on anything?"

"Not much," Canderous conceded with a sigh, "Other than the fact that the Ebon Hawk was recognized as soon as we landed." He took a large gulp of his drink, holding a grimace in place for a moment before swallowing it down with a loud exhale.

She stopped halfway towards a sip of her own. "Oh?"

The Mandalorian waved a reassuring hand in her direction. "By another smuggler, a Rodian, who paid us handsomely for some leftover spice Davik had so thoughtfully left in a secret compartment in the cargo hold." Ilithia nodded, relieved, then raised her glass and swallowed all the whisky in one gulp. "He also offered to pay us more for transporting some small cargo to Tatooine," Canderous added, watching her grab for the bottle and pour her own refill. "Since we're headed there eventually and I figured there was no harm in saying yes."

"Depends on what that cargo is," she said, taking a smaller but still substantial sip of her whisky. "But we're short on credits, so as long as the Ice Princess doesn't find out I'll pretend not to know." She relaxed back in her chair, feeling the warm wave of alcohol relax her muscles for the first time in hours. "Anything else of interest?" she sighed.

Canderous let his gaze roam over the other patrons. "Not really. You?"

"After what just happened you need to ask?" she replied, chuckling darkly.

He jerked his chin in a single, swift nod. "Seen the kid?"

Ilithia raised her glass to hide the movements of her lips. "Second table from the right side of the entrance," she murmured, sending the same information to Jolee as she spoke. Three pairs of eyes glanced over in the same direction, then quickly moved back to stare at their table. "I haven't had a chance to talk to him, though," she added, draining what was left in her glass.

"If you want an introduction arranged just say the word," Canderous said, finishing his drink and reaching for the bottle.

She waved her hand over her glass, indicating she wanted a refill of her own. "How do you figure that?"

"Because he's looking over at you every chance he gets," he replied, obligingly pouring whisky into her glass. "So is everyone else here, but if he's anything like his father I think I know how we can get his attention."

"Oh?" She tried to sneak another quick look over at the young Sith while taking a sip from her drink, only to have her eyes met in mid-glance by Dustil's own surreptitious attempt to look at her. "Do I want to know what you have in mind?" she said, shifting quickly to stare down at the table.

Canderous' gaze hardened suddenly. "Can't you guess?" he purred, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him in a single, swift movement.

Ilithia flushed, surprised and embarrassed. "I don't think –"

"No?" the Mandalorian interjected, squeezing her uncomfortably. "It always seems to work for the pilot."

Anger flared in her expression – exactly the reaction Canderous had been hoping for. "Take your hands off me," she whispered through clenched teeth, "Or I'll –"

"Get lost, Mandalorian."

Canderous raised his eyes to give the teenage Sith an amused glare. You can take the boy out of the Onasis… "I don't take orders from kids," he growled.

The young man with the same square jaw as his father returned the Mandalorian's stare with an icy confidence. "I'm no kid," he hissed. "And if you don't fancy ending up like her," he continued, jerking his head over in the direction of Lashowe's corpse, which was finally being attended to by a few of the cantina's slaves, "You'd do well to leave the lady alone."

"What makes you think you –"

The sudden feeling of cold metal pressing into his neck silenced Canderous. "Leave, Mandalorian," hissed the female Cathar, whose unignited lightsaber was digging further into his skin when only moments before she had been quietly minding her own ale on the other side of the cantina.

"Fine," Canderous sighed, watching the boy watch the two women exchange curt nods. We couldn't have played this any better if we'd planned it. "If this is the company you want to keep, that's your choice," he told Ilithia, casting one last derisive glance at Dustil, and waving the old man waiting in the shadows towards the exit. "I'll be around if you want something done right."

Ilithia watched them go, waiting for Jolee to speak some parting words of caution or conspiracy in her mind, but all was silent as the two men passed through the doors and out into colony. "I suppose it would be un-Sith-like of me to say that while your intervention was far from necessary, it was appreciated," she said flatly, turning back towards the table and the teenage boy standing on its other side.

"It might be," he said, shrugging lightly, "But I'm not an instructor, so I'll let you slide by this time."

"Generous of you," she snorted in reply. She took hold of the abandoned whisky bottle and topped off her glass, then passed it to the Cathar. "Would it have killed you to give me a hand with the blond bitch?" Ilithia sighed as Juhani poured herself a small drink.

"You seemed to have things under control," she replied mildly. "Interference was unnecessary."

Dustil again glanced quickly between the two women. "You two know each other already?" he asked calmly.

"Yea," Ilithia said, nodding. "We're both refugees from the hypocritical self-righteousness of the Jedi."

"Fugitives," Juhani added.

"Escapees," Ilithia countered playfully.

Juhani gave a small, almost sad smile. "Exiles."

"This is a good place for exiles," Dustil said, giving them an almost-genuine grin. "Hell, the Sith attacked my homeworld, and I found my way here anyhow."

Ilithia's eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you manage that?" she asked, hoping to sound casually curious. "Don't you blame the Sith for what happened, for any family or friends who might have died?"

The sharp stab of grief that coursed through his mind was unmistakable, but Ilithia felt him push it away, subordinating that thought to a different set of feelings – betrayal, abandonment, rejection, disappointment. "The Sith were just doing what Sith do – taking whatever opportunity they had to increase their power," Dustil said slowly. "There's no point in hating them for it. Joining is the best way to make sure you don't find yourself in their sights a second time." He let out a long, controlled breath.

"The Sith also attacked my homeworld," Juhani said softly.

"Really?" Dustil said, brightening. "The Jedi must have really pissed you off to drive you to come here."

The Cathar cast a strange glance in Ilithia's direction. "The world I knew as a child was destroyed to ensure the death of a single Jedi," she growled, letting a little more of her anger out with each word. "And even though the Jedi escaped, and the people of Taris died for nothing, never did I hear any Jedi ever express any regret, or remorse. They are as heartless and cold as the Sith."

Taris! Ilithia felt her face go slack with shock. Juhani…I didn't know…I –

"Taris?" Dustil mused, pulling back slightly from the table. "That was just a few months ago. You two move fast."

"That's the plan," Ilithia said tightly, recovering. "I hope to have enough of this 'prestige' to get into the Academy by the end of the week."

Dustil nodded slowly. "They only let one hopeful in at a time, so your friend will have to wait until next time if you come out on top," he mused, frowning slightly. "Which reminds me – I don't think I've caught your names." He flashed a broad, flirtatious grin at Ilithia, finally betraying his youth with the combination of awkwardness and over-eagerness that turned his grin into grimace.

"I'm Ilithia." He's so young; barely a teenager. Carth had said he was twelve when Telos was attacked, which would make him sixteen now – the age where we try to do everything and succeed at nothing. "My friend's name is Juhani. And yours is…?"

The grin faded slightly. "Dustil."

"Is there a family name that goes with that?" she asked quickly.

"Not anymore," he snapped. "And what's with all the questions about me? You should be concerned about you."

She waved a hand in the air as she took a drink from her glass. "Oh, I never worry about myself that much," she said breezily. "But I'm insatiably curious, and I always like to get a feel for the sort of people I'll be dealing with in advance." The strong feelings she'd sensed in him earlier had returned – anger derived from pain, much of it directed at his memory of his father. Damnit. This isn't going to go well.

Dustil nodded approvingly, relaxing. "And what sort of people do you think we are?"

"Amateurs, mostly," Ilithia replied cheerily, throwing up defenses in her mind as she felt Dustil's attempt to probe her thoughts. If we stay much longer he's likely to pick up on something. "The Jedi may be self-delusional and hidebound, but their training would appear to be more rigorous and effective. I barely put up with them for two months, and she was the sixth one of you I've killed today," she said, glancing over at the now-empty and freshly scrubbed patch of floor where Lashowe had fallen. That's the last thing we need.

"I'd say that was a bold statement," Dustil muttered grudgingly, "But word of your body count reached the Academy long before you did." He lifted his glass and took a long sip from it, trying to sense her through the Force behind the screen of that motion. There was too much movement in the Force, too much swirling uncertaintly to sense anything beyond wild, restless power. "If there's one thing we Sith have to respect, it's power," he continued, his tone softening cautiously. "But the rumors I heard said there were three of you."

Ilithia nodded, finishing her drink. "My slave. Who I really ought to be getting back to," she sighed, glancing at the chronometer on the wall. "Wouldn't want him to be misbehaving without being around to benefit from it." Juhani choked on her drink, coughing into her hand to hide her smile. "Coming?" she inquired blithely of Juhani, who managed an affirmative nod in the middle of her coughing. Ilithia tilted her head back towards Dustil. "I imagine I'll see you around."

"You can bet on it," he replied, grinning and reaching for the bottle. "And you won't need to watch your step on the way back to the Academy," he added as he refilled his glass. "Most people here don't care enough about anyone else to miss them when they're dead."

Something about the sudden edge in his voice, the set of his jaw, the tiny bit of unnecessary force with which he set the bottle back down on the table… "Where would I need to watch my step?" Ilithia asked delicately.

Dustil gripped his glass hard enough for his knuckles to show white in the dim light. "The Valley. Lots of people have accidents out there."

But it's just one person that he misses… "Okay. Thanks." Ilithia slapped one hand lightly on the table, waited for Juhani to compose herself and begin walking towards the door, then gave Dustil a curt, polite smile before turning and striding steadily out of the cantina.

They took the first few steps in silence, each woman sunk deep into her own thoughts. As they reached the foot of the ramp to the upper level of the colony, Juhani let out a soft sigh. "This will be difficult," she said grimly.

Ilithia heaved a sigh of her own. "You can say that again."

"This will be difficult."

Ilithia had her mouth open halfway, hoping she could explain that what she'd said was just a figure of speech without sounding condescending, when she caught sight of a grin threatening to break through Juhani's studied seriousness. She's teasing me. "Thanks," she chuckled, relaxing and giving the Cathar a reassuring grin. "I probably needed that."

"Yes," Juhani replied, reaching the top of the ramp, "I thought –"

A grey Sith uniform, topped by the tattooed face of Yuthura Ban, stepped out suddenly from behind a support beam. "There you are," the pale purple Twi'lek growled, her eyes locked on Ilithia as she waved a hand dismissively towards Juhani. "Leave us."

The Cathar waited until Ilithia gave her a slight, it's-OK nod before gliding away. Ilithia waiting until she lost sight of Juhani before fixing her gaze on the Sith Master. "Is there something I can do for you?" she asked curtly.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Yuthura replied calmly. "I am certain you will be the one to achieve the prestige necessary to join the Sith than any of the others – one of which, I am told, you have already eliminated." Ilithia willed herself to be still, shoving the image of Lashowe's corpse out of her mind. "In fact," the Twi'lek continued blithely, "I am so certain of that that I'm willing to offer you an opportunity of the once-in-a-lifetime variety. Would you like to hear it?"

"Sure," Ilithia said, trying to sound confident through her clenched teeth.

Yuthura practically beamed. "Good. I do so adore someone who's willing to take a chance."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------