Weakness

'Hey, wasn't this your idea?' she asked excitedly as she tossed a datapad at him. Without looking up, he caught the sleek object and began to scroll through the story. She nearly threw herself at him, landing with a thud on the bench and sliding up to him, draping her arm around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.

'Yeah, I think it is...' he began, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes never left the datapad. He scrolled through the story: Malak had ambushed the Republic fleet over Taris in a bid to find that damned Bastila. The whole Academy could talk about nothing else but that stupid Jedi and her Battle Meditation. Master Vesser had assigned them all to write a report on how to overcome her uniquely frustrating ability. Word was all the plans were then sent to Uthar and possibly on to Malak. Funny thing, the news article sounded a lot like his proposal: a full assault from an ambush so she could not enact the trance needed for the meditation to take effect. It seemed pretty obvious, so he was sure others had come up with the same plan. But maybe not. Surely, this would gain him a great deal of prestige.

'You're quite the tactician, Dustil. Glad you're on my side,' she giggled with a small playful poke to his side.

'Cut it out, Selene,' he grumbled with an elbow nudged at her. He was still engrossed with the report, when suddenly, he stiffened and his head snapped back in shock.

'What?' she asked, crowding in for a closer look. She made out a small image in the center of the story text just before he pushed himself up from the table. 'Is that... him?' she breathed. 'I mean, he looks just like...'

'It's him.' His voice was flat, dry, barely a whisper. The words were difficult to say.

'What's it say?' she rattled on. 'Why is his image there in that story? I mean, he died four years...'

'Shudd-up!' he yelled as he continued to read. No, it couldn't be, it couldn't. Dustil's mind reeled. Alive. All this time... and he tried to kill him by coming up with that plan. His stomach turned in knots, he fought the impulse to heave. He looked around the small study room. The other students seemed to ignore him, but he could tell they were watching, waiting for any sign of weakness.

'Dust, what's it say? Tell me, or I'll read it myself,' she demanded, her fingers stretched towards him. He felt a slight tug on the datapad. He waved his hand at her; she fell backwards off the bench.

'Acting captain of the Endar Spire,' he answered to her glare as she picked herself up. 'Says he escaped planet-side, with Bastila.' He felt a small thrill of relief shudder through him. Old feelings came back, but they held no comfort. Father, dad, daddy... alive. The thought left him numb. He simply didn't know what to think. Every emotion coursed through him at once: happiness, hope, dread, fear, confusion, shame. He didn't like any of them. The only thing that mattered here was strength, and he was strong. He worked for years at it, learning the lessons of the past: the weak die. Telos was weak. But he survived, and he would continue to survive, because he was strong... like my father...

'Well, that's good news then! Not about that stupid Jedi, I mean...'

'Just drop it,' he finally grumbled. He moved to toss the datapad, but brought it back in front of him, scrolling again and stopping at the image. Exactly as he remembered... or at least what he thought he remembered. Not that he had seen too much of him. And now he had almost killed him. But that's what Sith do: kill Republic loyalists. And he was Sith. And not just any Sith, but training at the Korriban Academy, top of his class no less. Dad would be so proud, he snorted. He moved back to the table; Selene joined him, sliding carefully next to him. She looked again at the datapad.

'Wow, you look just like him. You're just like him!'

'No I'm not,' he hissed. 'I'm nothing like him.'

'Are you kidding me? LOOK at that picture...' she pressed. 'Man, Dustil, similar in every way.'

'Not every way,' he breathed, his eyes still focused on the image.

'So, you're gonna get out of here, right?' she whispered cautiously. Dustil shot her a sideways glance.

'Why would I do that?' The suspicion, and menace, in his tone was ominous.

'Well,' she said, scanning the room, 'you don't want to take your final... you've been stalling for weeks now.'

Dustil became still: if she had figured it out, then the Masters must have as well. He crawled in his own skin as it turned clammy. This was weakness, and it would be dealt with. Why was he putting it off? He knew he could pass the test, whatever it was. He did not know for certain what he would have to do, but he had an idea about it: two students always went into the Valley, one returned. With a full Sith lightsaber, not that tukata crap training thing the hopefuls were issued. He had thought that just maybe, there was another way to get that saber, by demonstrating cunning and gaining enough prestige...

'I just cannot believe he is still out there. I mean, you didn't hear anything about him or from him all this time...' Selene continued. 'Your dad's alive, wow, imagine that... Does it say anything, like what he's been up to these past four years?'

Dustil shifted slightly on the bench, avoiding her stare as he continued to gaze at his father's face there looking up at him from the datapad. The eyes in the image seemed to be remorseful, accusing... disappointed. Alive. All this time. Out there. And Dustil was here, waiting. How long had he waited, before he gave up? Before he joined the enemy... his father's enemy. That man, that image, spent all of Dustil's life fighting against something or another. He always claimed it was for his son, for his safety and well-being. But after Telos, after... everything... after he was gone, dad kept fighting. How could he claim it was for him any longer? Captain already! Last time he remembered, it was lieutenant, or maybe just ensign? Dustil tried to think, then realized he shouldn't care... and he didn't. Dad was too busy gaining ribbons and medals and climbing the ranks to be bothered with looking for him. In fact, now that he and mom were out of the way, dear old dad was able to devote all his time to his career and advance, as he always wanted. Yes, it was all starting to make sense now. Dustil was dragging the great war hero down, hampering his goals. He had to get rid of that bothersome wife and troublesome kid. He was Saul Karath's pet, his protégé, his friend. Karath had to have told him about the attack... and he saw his chance to not only make a clean get away, but look oh so noble and tragic at the same time. How convenient he was off-planet that day. And to think, Dustil had cried for him when he thought his father was dead. Weakness. Another lesson learned.

'So, now that you know he is out there, that he is alive...' Selene badgered on. 'It means...'

'It means he could have come for me and didn't!' Dustil growled, this time throwing the pad away violently. It smashed into the corner, bits sparking as wires spilled from the sleek casing. The other students looked up briefly, but quickly returned to their studies: they did not see weakness. Dustil made sure of it.

'I was going to say you could leave now,' she added softly.

'To go to him?' Dustil spat back hotly. 'Why would I do that, Selene? You want me out of the way so you can advance too?' he glared at her.

'No! I mean, he's your father...' she sputtered quickly, pulling slightly away from him. 'Don't you want to be with your family?'

'He's not my family. He gave up that title four years ago.' Dustil's voice was rage and fury, his eyes seemed to reflect flame and chaos. 'This is my family now,' he said with unnerving calm as he turned towards her. 'They were here for me when no one else was, when no one else came for me. They taught me how to survive. And I learned. I've learned a lot of things,' Dustil continued as he stood slowly. He then turned quickly and moved towards the door.

'Wait, Dustil, hold up!' she called, trying to catch up to his form as he hurried from the room. 'Where are you going?'

'I'm going to tell Yuthura I'm ready,' he said forcefully, turning back to the room as if making an announcement. 'I'm ready for my final.' He spun crisply on his heel and marched with urgent determination, vanishing in the dark corridor. Selene continued from the room in his wake. He never saw the sly grin as it crept along her lips.

'Well done, young one.' The slippery voice scratched through her. Selene turned to see Uthar emerge from the shadowed hall.

'Yes, Master Wyn,' she returned his smile and bowed slightly. 'It was as you said.'

'Indeed, family and attachments are a great weakness. You have impressed me in this, child; you've done much for Dustil and the Academy this day; you have gained considerable prestige for your effort,' he said, his eyes dancing with a wicked gleam. 'So much so, that you have earned the right to join some of the advanced students on an expedition. Report to Lashowe and Shardaan: they will be expecting you out near the shyrack caverns,' he smiled down at her.

'Thank you, Master Uthar!' Selene blurted excitedly. 'I will not disappoint.'

'No, my child, I am sure you will give your all...' he grinned as he turned and disappeared into the darkness.