Revered and Reviled

"Sith Academy, huh." Canderous looked at Patience critically.
"What?" She looked at herself.
"Well, it's going to be full of wannabe kids who ran away from home before being sent to the Jedi and ex-Jedi, all trying to be Sith. And a bunch of Republic defectors who get paid for cracking skulls."
"Yes," said Bastila. "Juhani and I might be recognized by someone. We should stay on board the ship."
Carth nodded in agreement. "But no one will recognize Patience. I hope."
Bastila shook her head. "No one knows her. She will be safe."
"Yeah, but," Canderous said slowly, "she doesn't look like a Sith. Or a Sith wannabe."
"Well, of course not," said Patience with a smile.
"And you don't look like a Jedi, and definitely not an ex-Jedi."
Patience considered. "I don't understand."
Carth glared at him. "You just want her to dress like a Sith tramp."
"Well, yes, but I'm right, flyboy. She needs to wear something more Sith-y. Is that a word?" Canderous looked at Patience again. "You look too good, is the problem. No one will believe you're a bad guy. But if you dress a little closer to the part, you'll be able to get away with your normal good girl stuff, because they'll all think you're such a badass you don't need to prove yourself."
"Oh." Patience thought seriously for a moment. "You know, you're right." She frowned. "I don't really have anything else to wear, though. And we're almost at Korriban."
"Well, let's go see what we can put together," said Mission with a grin. "Come on, girls, this is serious business!" She pulled Patience away from the table, and Bastila and Juhani followed her out of the room.
Carth glared at Canderous again. "I can't believe that worked."
Canderous smiled, and fingered the chit in his pocket that he had already used on Mission to ensure her compliance with his scheme. "I'm still totally right, though. Admit it, you want to see her dressed up as a Sith tramp." Canderous grinned. "Maybe you can save the outfit for a special night."
Carth made a noise of disgust and left to go check the navicomputer.
"Carth?"
He turned, to see Patience standing nervously in the doorway. She was wearing a long black Sith cloak, of finer material than the common Jedi cloaks. Beneath it, she was wearing skintight black and red fighting leathers, cut low in the front to reveal soft violet undergarments against her skin, and the curve of her magnificent breasts. Black leather high heels on her tiny feet completed the outfit.
"Is this too much?" She looked down at herself. "I checked, I can still fight in these. But do I look right?"
Carth was still speechless.
"Carth?"
"I'm going to kill him," he muttered. He recognized the leathers from the store on Tatooine, the cloak had probably come from one of the Sith that had attacked them there. But how had Canderous found underclothes and shoes in her size? "Come here."
Confused, she walked up to the pilot's seat, and Carth pulled her into his lap.
"You look very dangerous, and sexy," he said as he kissed her. "But you're not going to fool anyone with that sweet, adorable look on your face." He kissed her again, gentle and loving.
"So you do think I look sexy in this," she smiled.
"It's a bit over the top," he grinned. "I think you looked sexier wearing my shirt."
Patience blushed, and kissed his lips, then his eyes, before returning to his lips for a passionate kiss that left them both flushed and panting.
"But the leather is very nice," he murmured as he caressed her shapely legs. "Don't get me wrong."
Patience laughed.
"What are you two doing?" Mission demanded.
"I'm helping her with her disguise," Carth explained.
"Her disguise?" said Mission. "What about your disguise?"
"What?"
"Didn't you tell him?" Mission looked at Patience. "Or were you too busy getting all sticky?"
Carth twisted around in his chair and looked at Mission. "What in the name of the Light are you wearing?"
"I'm wearing my Sith disguise, idiot. Now get out of that chair and come to the cargo hold so we can dress you properly. Or are you just going to stay on the ship?" Mission didn't seem to be at all bothered by her black skintight polymer outfit that showed every curve of her nubile body.
"Where did you even get that?" Carth demanded.
"The skank that ran off with my older brother left it behind. Bastila altered it to fit me."
Patience slid off Carth's lap. "You should go and get dressed," she smiled. "I want to see what Mission has in store for you."
Carth shook his head, and followed Mission to the cargo hold. Canderous was sitting in the main cabin, drinking a beer and checking his armor. "I guess that's your idea of a Sith disguise?"
Canderous grinned. "Of course. I hear Mandalorian bodyguards are in great demand. Especially," he leaned back as Patience entered the cabin, "for great bodies."
"I'm gonna kill him," Carth muttered again, and went to the cargo hold.

"At least the Sith are orderly," grunted Canderous as they waited for a dock official to inspect the ship and collect docking fees. He was wearing his full battle armor for the first time since he'd joined Patience in escaping Taris. He was tall and imposing, as all Mandalorians, born or bred, tend to be. His armor was spotless, the traditional grey of a Mandalorian Commander's armor, decorated with victory stripes from a dozen campaigns and emblazoned with a score of Basilisk claw stripes, indicating successful Basilisk war droid attacks.
The Sith official came up the ramp, and stopped when confronted by the Mandalorian and the protocol droid. "What is the purpose of your visit to Korriban?"
"My employer wants to visit the Sith Academy," Canderous answered.
The Sith official looked at him. "Whatever for?"
Canderous heard Patience approaching, and smiled to himself beneath the helmet. "To see if there is anything for her to learn."
With impeccable timing, Patience entered the bay. The official immediately removed his hat, and almost knelt before he caught himself in confusion, and simply bowed very low. Patience smiled politely at him. "Oh, hello. Did you need us to pay any fees?" Somewhere she had found a pair of elbow-length black leather gloves to complete her outfit, and Juhani had made her a necklace of dragon's teeth. She looked beautiful and sinister. Bastila had put her dark brown hair in a series of complicated braids, held in place with diamond-studded golden pins.
The official nervously shook his head. "No, ma'am – mistress – you are not a Sith?"
Canderous grinned at his confusion. Carth had painted her lightsabers black, and she had changed the crystals on Bastila's advice from her custom violet to the standard bright red of a Sith blade.
Patience smiled graciously. "Not at the moment, no. I do intend to visit the Academy, however. Will that be a problem?"
"I – I am not certain, ma'am." The official swallowed nervously. "Entrance to the Academy is controlled by Master Wynn and Mistress Ban. We do not interfere with the Academy."
"Ah," said Patience calmly, "And where can I find them?"
"Mistress Ban is usually in the Cantina, testing prospective students."
"Then that is where we shall go." She beckoned to Canderous to follow her. "HK, kill anyone who tries to board the ship without my permission." Patience walked down the ramp, her robes swirling behind her and showing off her shapely, leather-clad legs.
"Confirmation: With pleasure, Master." HK glared at the Sith official, who promptly scampered off the ramp.
Canderous marched behind her, his weapon at the ready. "You realize that the droid will take you seriously, right?"
"Hmm?" Patience had stopped to examine a merchant's stall, and was examining an interesting crystal.
"Never mind." Canderous shook his head. "There's something wrong with you."
"What?" Patience sighed and set down the crystal, and the merchant immediately handed it to her as a gift. "Oh, thank you!" she smiled brightly at the Rodian, who bowed to her. "Wasn't that nice of him?" she said sweetly to Canderous, showing him the new lightsaber crystal. "I'm going to upgrade my lightsaber as soon as I can! This will almost double the power output on my off-hand!" She pulled off the concealing Sith cloak and handed it to Canderous. "I'm going to trip over this thing," she complained. "These heels are nice, though. Oh, look at that!" She bent over a pile of droid parts.
Canderous was torn between asking her if she was all right, and staring at her shapely form. The merchants nearby had no such issues, and fell over themselves getting an eyeful of the beautiful, sexy woman in black leather.
Patience - the Dark Patience - smiled and flirted her way through the marketplace of Dreshdae, admiring small, expensive things and collecting them as gifts. They entered the main port building, where students from the Academy and prospective students clashed.
"Well, hello," leered a young Twi'lek male in a Sith uniform. "You look like a sensible person. This little schutta here," he kicked a Human lying on the floor, "thinks that he can make it as a Sith. What do you think I should do to him?" He gestured to one of his friends standing behind him. "Shardaan here thinks we should kill him. What do you think?"
"Canderous, dent the wall with their heads," she commanded, and then ignored them as the Mandalorian warrior proceeded to beat them senseless. She knelt down next to the young man lying on the floor. "What are you doing here?" she asked him quietly.
He sobbed in pain, and whispered something about revenge.
Patience patted his head comfortingly, and his pain melted away. "Go home," she said softly. "Go home to your mother and the others you left behind, little fool. This is no place for you." She helped him to his feet, and shooed him away before he could speak. "Go on."
Canderous had just finished knocking the last Sith student unconscious.
Patience waved over one of the guards. She pointed at the battered students. "Please don't leave this trash lying on the floor," she said sweetly, and continued down the hallway.
Canderous followed her to the cantina. He decided to take the path of least resistance and watched her admiringly as she walked.
The Sith Mistress turned out to be a beautiful Twi'lek woman. She looked over Patience and the Mandalorian behind her.
"You wish to become a Sith?" asked Mistress Ban.
"No," said Patience calmly. "I wish to learn."
Mistress Ban looked curiously at her. "Who are you?"
"Does it matter?"
The Twi'lek shook her head. "Not very much, after all. You will be someone new once you absorb the truth of the Sith teachings. However, not everyone is worthy."
"How do I prove myself worthy?"
Mistress Ban looked at the Mandalorian. "Why do you have a bodyguard?"
"I saved his life," said Patience. "Now it is mine."
"Indeed," said the Twi'lek. "However, we do not permit Mandalorians into the Academy, for obvious reasons."
Patience frowned. "Can I bring someone else then?"
Mistress Ban smiled. "How many slaves do you have?"
"I get bored easily," Patience smiled.
Canderous was very glad that no one could see his physical reaction to her words and her wicked smile.
The Sith Mistress laughed. "Well, then. I don't see any reason to make this easy for you. If you bring me a Sith Medallion, then I'll let you into the Academy."
Patience rolled her eyes. "Where am I supposed to get a Sith Medallion?"
"Ask one of the students," sneered Mistress Ban.
Patience sighed, and beckoned to Canderous to follow her out of the cantina.
"Did you get accepted?" asked a nervous young Human woman at the entrance.
"Why are you trying to be a Sith?" Patience asked her.
"For the power," the woman smiled. "I'll crush my enemies, and do whatever I –"
Patience slapped her, and the woman staggered under the blow, falling to her knees. "Go home."
"What? No, I'm going to be a –"
Patience raised her hand again, and the woman cringed in fear. "Go. Home." Patience said each word slowly and carefully, holding the woman's eyes with her own.
With a terrified sob, the woman turned and fled.
Patience shook her head in exasperation. "Who let all these kids in here?"
"There she is!" someone shouted. A group of angry students gathered in the hallway. "The bitch and her Mandalorian dog!"
Canderous grinned under his mask. "This will be fun."
Patience turned to the group of students. "One of you has a Sith Medallion." They didn't answer, but paused in their attack. "Canderous, right. I'll take the left."
He grunted. "A little unfair, but you're the boss." There were slightly more students on the left.
They charged together, throwing punches and kicks. Hers were crippling, targeted to disable. His were stunning, dropping the students one after another. Within minutes, all the students who had tried to attack her were sprawled unconscious in the hallway. Patience searched them, and found a Sith Medallion on one of the girls. She stuck the Sith Medallion into the pocket of her armor.
"All right, let's get back to the ship. Since you can't come with me, I'm going to bring Carth."
Canderous groaned in disappointment. "Unfair."
"Don't be sad," Patience smiled, "Someday, you'll get a pretty little Jedi woman of your very own!"
Canderous chuckled. "You promise?"
"I'm sure of it. She might even dress like a Sith for you, but I can't promise that."
He laughed out loud, and followed her back to the spaceport, and Patience smiled to herself as she realized that he didn't believe her.
"I'm not wearing that," said Carth flatly.
"Oh, come on," Mission pleaded. "At least try it on!"
Carth held up the blood-red leather in disgust. "No. No way."
"How about this?" Bastila giggled, and held up some studded black leather straps.
"How about I just wear what I'm wearing?"
"You look like a scruffy pilot," Mission complained.
Patience walked in and gave Carth a sweet kiss on the cheek. "I like the way you look."
He put his arms around her, and gave her a kiss in return. "Thank you. How is your mission going so far?"
"Well," sighed Patience, "I've got a Sith Medallion, and we can enter the Academy now. But I can't take Canderous with me."
"In fact," grinned Canderous as he pulled off his armor, "I've been requested to stay as far away from the Sith students as possible. I keep hitting them."
Bastila stared at him.
"Hey, at least I'm not the one who keeps sending them home."
"Patience!" Bastila exclaimed. "You're not supposed to be attracting that kind of attention!"
Patience frowned. "Who even started this silly Academy? They're all a bunch of dumb kids. They don't know anything about being alive, let alone being Sith or Jedi."
"Revan and Malak built this Academy over the ruins of an older one. They brought captured Jedi here and turned them into Sith."
Patience shook her head. "Well, that's not what they have here now. So yes, when I came across scared little brats trying to be mean and thinking that made them Sith, I sent them home."
"She's not kidding," grinned Canderous. "When one of them cried that she didn't have enough credits for passage, Patience got a transport captain to take the girl for free."
Juhani looked at Patience in admiration, and Bastila sighed.
"Do the words 'low profile' mean anything to you?" Carth asked with a grin.
Patience turned around. "Not with these pants making everyone stare at my butt."
"She's not kidding about that either," grinned Canderous. "You're going to have your work cut out for you, flyboy."
T3 beeped questioningly at her.
"Oh, I don't see why not," Patience agreed. "You can come."
Carth looked at her.
"What? He can open doors for us. Or there might be security that we need to get past."
"He just wants to come on the chance that he'll find a Jedi that he can bring home."
T3 squeaked indignantly.
"Liar," said Bastila and Carth at the same time.
Patience laughed. "Let's go and get this over with."
Mission did the restocking, with Zaalbar in tow, and proudly bragged that she was a servant of the beautiful non-Sith that had turned so many heads earlier. Carth and T3 followed Patience to the Sith Academy, while everyone else stayed near the ship.
"Where did you even learn Binary?" Carth wondered.
Patience shrugged. "I have no idea. Why don't you know Binary?" she countered. "You spent all that time on ships and in space. There were droids everywhere."
T3 beeped a comment.
"Oh, that's not very nice, T3. I mean, Binary is hard!" she protested.
T3 responded with another series of beeps, clicks and boops, and Patience giggled in response.
"Oh, this is going to be great," Carth grumbled. "Gang up on me, will you...."
"Just come on," Patience said. They continued down the walkway, heading towards the entrance of the Sith Academy.
T3 burbled something.
"Shut up," blushed Patience.
Carth glared at the little utility droid. "Aren't you due for a memory wipe?"
The droid beeped in panic and scooted over behind Patience.
"Leave him alone, Carth! Don't be so mean." The droid clicked something, and then looked at her. "He's just grumpy," Patience explained. "You be nice to him, too."
T3 beeped once in agreement, and continued following Patience.
Carth shook his head. "This is crazy. This can't possibly work. How are we going to get away with pretending to be Sith hopefuls?"
Patience shrugged. "Just make it up as we go along, I guess. Hello, there," she greeted the guard politely. "Mistress Ban said I could come in if I got a medallion, so here you go," she held out the Sith Medallion. "Ooops." She rubbed off the bloodstain, and laughed nervously.
The guard at the door barely glanced at it. "Who are they?"
"I'm the future father of her children," said Carth calmly.
Patience turned bright red.
"Of course," said the guard, and opened the doors to the Sith Academy.
They walked in without saying anything until the huge door had closed behind them, at which point Carth and T3 burst out laughing. Patience smacked Carth on the shoulder.
"What is wrong with you!"
"The look on your face..." Carth couldn't finish the sentence for laughing.
"And you!" said Patience to the little droid, "Don't you encourage him!"
T3 beeped happily, and Patience gave up.
A Mirialan student glanced at them curiously as they entered. "Aren't you the woman who was beating up people earlier?"
"Yes," Patience smiled. "And I got rid of some people who were entirely unsuitable."
The Mirialan looked curiously at her.
"What are you reading?" Patience asked him, pointing to the datapad in his hands.
"Philosophy of the States, by Kat'van Orlis."
Patience clasped her hands in joy. "Oh, I loved that book," she smiled. "Have you read her series of monographs on applied government? She's so thorough!"
The Mirialan blinked in surprise, and they started discussing various forms of government. Carth watched her in surprise. Patience really had read the book. The conversation rapidly went over his head, as they started discussing provincial rule and colonial expansion, and he settled for admiring her shapely form.
"Ah, so you made it," said Mistress Ban. "And is this another one of your slaves?" She looked admiringly at Carth. "I can't complain about your taste."
Patience grinned. "I hear you have a very large library here." The Mirialan bowed politely and excused himself, promising to finish the conversation later.
Mistress Ban nodded. "Of course, and I see that you will make good use of it. First, however, you must be admitted properly. Come with me, I will introduce you to Master Wynn. He is the head of the Academy. Tell your slaves not to speak in his presence, he's rather short-tempered."
Patience shook a finger warningly at Carth and T3, grinning. Carth shook his head, and they followed the Twi'lek Sith into a large central room.
Master Uthar Wynn was a middle-aged, tall, sparsely built Human. He was bald, with purple tattoos covering his scalp.
Patience tilted her head, trying to find a memory that matched his appearance, but failed.
"This is the one I was speaking of, Master Wynn." Mistress Ban bowed low, and Patience bowed politely as well.
Master Wynn looked curiously at her. His eyes were dark yellow, corrupted by the Dark Side. "Greetings," he said slowly. "So, you have come to learn, have you?"
"Yes," said Patience, somewhat absently. "Wasn't there a different Master here, once?"
"Indeed," said Master Wynn calmly. "My predecessor, Jorak Uln. As is the way of the Sith, I overthrew him."
Patience nodded. "So you weren't in charge here when the Academy was rebuilt."
Master Wynn smiled. "No, I'm afraid I can't regale you with any tales of meeting Revan and Malak. I was only a student in those days, seeking to learn. Just as you are." He looked curiously at the small woman before him. "You have been a Jedi?"
Patience shrugged. "I have been taught the ways and the rules."
Master Wynn smiled again. "But it is not enough, is it? So arbitrary, these foolish rules." He looked at the handsome man standing just behind her. "Forbidden to love. Forbidden to have pleasures. And why?"
"Because they say love weakens a Jedi's resolve," said Patience shortly, and started pacing back and forth. "Foolish! Shortsighted. What good does it do? It doesn't teach restraint, it doesn't encourage denial. It's unnatural!"
"Indeed," agreed Master Wynn. "Why not encourage Force dynasties?"
"It would offer stability in times of crisis," Patience began, and Carth settled back to watch as she began discussing Force bloodlines with Master Wynn. She was eloquent, sparkling, beautiful. She was also dangerously persuasive, and Carth found himself wondering if she really thought having Force-sensitive rulers and hereditary governments would be best for the galaxy.
Master Wynn laughed. "Normally, we ask students to prove themselves by earning a certain amount of prestige. By performing acts that show their understanding of the Dark Side, we can get a better sense of the kind of Sith a student will be." He smiled at Patience. "I can see you will be a very dangerous Sith indeed." He beckoned to one of the guards. "Escort our new student and her servants to her rooms."
The guard bowed, and led Patience away.
Carth followed, and admitted to himself that Canderous was right about the Sith outfit. It wasn’t that it fit her perfectly – it more that she fit the look perfectly. Despite – or perhaps, because of her height, she moved confidently and easily, as if she expected everyone to be watching her. Her beauty shone out, but he missed her sweetness.
The guard led them to a room at the end of a hall, and Carth put down the bag that Mission had packed for her. The guard left, and Carth shut the door.
"How was I?" she asked with a happy smile. "Was I impressive?"
Carth pulled her into a kiss without answering, and pulled out one of the hairpins.
"Carth!" Patience protested. "I'll never get those back up again!"
"Too bad," he whispered hoarsely, and continued pulling out hairpins and undoing the elaborate braids. "It's beautiful, but it's not really you, is it?"
Patience smiled into his kisses. "No, it really isn't." She held him close, savored his strength and his goodness. "But this is, Carth." She kissed him.
"This is a dangerous game, Patience. Are you sure you want to do this?"
She threw back her head and laughed joyously. "But it's so much fun!" She kissed him again. "Stop being so serious and glum."
T3 beeped warningly, and someone knocked on the door.
Carth opened the door, and Patience straightened her shirt.
"Your pardon," said the guard humbly, "but Master Wynn would like to speak further with you. Alone."
"Of course," said Patience sweetly, and twisted her hair back up into a bun. She smiled reassuringly at Carth, and followed the guard to Master Wynn's room.
The Master's quarters were large, but ascetic. Patience looked idly around the room as she entered.
"You disapprove," said Master Wynn. He was sitting at his desk, and rose slowly to welcome her.
"I prefer to be comfortable when I am rest," said Patience calmly, "but I cannot deny that your austerity is impressive." She ran a hand along the shelves of books in his room. "If I were honest with myself, I would admit that I need nothing beyond a few books."
Master Wynn smiled. "Please, have a seat."
Patience sat down carefully on one of the stone benches.
"You interest me. You bear the marks of a Jedi, but the mind of a Sith. Or perhaps…." His voice trailed off, and he didn't finish the thought. "Do you know the Code of the Sith?"
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The force shall free me." Her soft voice rang with barely suppressed power.
Master Wynn had closed his eyes as she spoke, and sat down again, facing her. "And what do these words mean to you, seeker?"
Patience smiled. "They are wrong, of course."
Master Wynn looked at her in surprise, but she went on.
"Just as the Code of the Jedi is wrong. And yet, the two do not match. They do not match," she repeated, unable to hide her frustration. "Something is missing from our understanding of the Force that makes us see the whole world as Light and Dark, even when we know full well that it is not." She stood, unable to keep herself from moving as she spoke, and began pacing up and down. "How can the Jedi claim to have been the first Force users, and that the Sith are the ones who fell away? That goes against the history of every sentient species in the galaxy. No sentients have ever found a new destructive power without using it to kill their enemies first. Not one."
Master Wynn looked at her in surprise. Such a simple fact, and yet, no one had ever realized it before.
He didn't interrupt her, and she went on. "The Sith were first, and the Jedi would have appeared afterwards, in the wake of civilization. But that's not what history tells us."
"No, our history shows the clear signs of Jedi guidance from the first days of civilization. All of known space has felt the gentle hand of the Jedi," said Master Wynn sarcastically. "Stifling growth, repressing conflict, impressing their dogma on everyone they encounter, tearing apart families to preserve their control over all Force users."
Patience paused, and struggled with a sudden glimpse of memory. Of herself running down the hallway of a ship to find her father. Of finding strength on the lips of the man she thought she loved. "Why passion?" she asked suddenly, half to herself. "Why not love? Why isn't love alone strong enough?"
Master Wynn smiled gently. "There is too much submission in love. It is strong, yes. True love, between equals, that would give one the strength to hold on beyond death, for example. But true love always carries with it that pause, that moment of thought where one wonders what is best for the one you love. Passion does not give you that breathing space. Passion can be hate or love – or both at the same time. It is fire and ice, light and dark. All the strongest emotions can be reduced to passion."
"Hate and love," she said slowly. Another memory, fainter than the one before, as if she was trying to hide it from herself. Of her screams of rage, a challenge to a lover that she hated. She held her hands to her head for a moment.
"Peace is a lie, is it not? Unrest, striving, seeking – this is what causes progress in the galaxy. Those who would be content to sit at home, studying scrolls, what will they learn? Those who live in serene peace, who settle and submit, what heroes can they have? It is conflict that drives the greatest achievements. Wounds teach us how to heal, war teaches us the value of peace, suffering shows us our true strength. Without conflict, we are nothing."
"But to live in a state of constant conflict is as bad as living in a state of constant peace. All sentient beings – those of Human descent especially – need time to rest between fights. We need quiet times of contemplation to process what we have learned, or we will simply make the same mistakes over and over again."
Master Wynn nodded. "Most Force users, however, are content to reach a certain plateau with their strengths, and to remain there. I suspect you are not such a one. But I am not certain what it is that you wish to achieve."
Patience frowned. "I don't know either, I just know that I haven't found it yet."
"And you cannot convince yourself to stop looking?"
"How?" she burst out in frustration. "How can anyone see things, and know that they are wrong, and not do anything about it?"
"A healthy sense of self-preservation might help," said Master Wynn, "but I sense that you are extremely deficient in that respect."
Patience glanced at him in shock, then laughed. "Yes, I suppose I am."
Someone knocked at the door, and Master Wynn rose to speak to a guard. Patience noticed a passcard on the floor by the desk, and quickly put it into her pocket.
Master Wynn turned back to her. "I regret that I must attend to a slight disturbance among the students. Perhaps we could continue this discussion at a later time?"
"I would like that," Patience smiled. Master Wynn nodded, and she returned to her quarters.
"What did the Master want?" Carth asked.
"A new mistress," she grinned. "I think he's bored with his Twi'lek now." She kissed Carth sweetly. "Either that, or I'm very interesting."
"A little of both, I think," Carth grinned, "I wonder if he'd still be interested if he knew that you could easily be distracted by something shiny or some flowers."
"That's not true," she pouted, and then suddenly noticed a bouquet of violets and daisies on the table. "Flowers! Where did you find those?" She blushed as Carth burst out laughing. "You jerk." Patience pretended to hit him. "Here, T3, look at this." She handed the passcard to the little droid. "Is it useful?"
While T3 examined the passcard, Patience gently touched the wildflowers and lifted the bouquet so that she could smell them. Carth smiled as he watched her, and she blushed slightly.

The young man looked up as Patience entered his room. "You have petals in your hair."
"Oh?" Patience nervously grinned and pulled out some more petals. "You're Dustil Onasi, right?"
"Yes, and you're the new student that has Mistress Ban's brain tails in a twist."
Patience looked carefully at him. Dustil was tall, not as tall as his father, and tending a little towards stoutness. He didn't look like his father at all, but there was a distinct resemblance in the set of the mouth. It was hard to think of him as Carth's son, given his planet-aged appearance compared to Carth's hyperspace-locked age.
"You've already found the garden," said Dustil bitterly, "so how can I help you?"
"Oh? Did you used to bring your girlfriend there too?" Patience smiled sadly as she thought of the files that T3 had found in Master Wynn's room. "You must have learned that from your father."
Dustil's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
"Uh… I'm doing this all wrong. May I start again?" Before Dustil could snap at her again, Patience stepped aside and let Carth enter the room. "I think I should let you two talk." She handed Carth the datapad from Master Wynn's room, and closed the door, leaving Carth and Dustil alone.
She stood outside the room next to T3, and watched the hallway. She could sense the turmoil of emotion in the room – loss, betrayal, abandonment, hope, longing. The door opened, and Carth walked out. Both men looked dark and defeated, Dustil holding the datapad that held the truth of his lover's fate at the hands of Master Wynn and Carth looked drained from trying to explain what had happened all those years ago. Patience looked at Carth, questioning, and he led her away.
"He hates being lied to," said Carth sadly, and shook his head. "I think that hurt him more than anything else. He wanted to belong to something, and the Sith were all that he had. He didn't realize that they had killed and lied to him to make it that way. He had no idea that I had searched for him. They told him that I had abandoned him." Carth looked back towards the room, but kept walking. "He's going to leave the Academy. I, uh…. I gave him money for his passage."
Patience laughed lightly. "So we're broke again, I take it?"
"Yeah."
She slid her arm in his. "I'm sure we'll find some more somewhere. I'm glad it all worked out." She smiled up at Carth. "I'm glad I could help you."
Carth stopped, and pulled her to him for a kiss.
Patience wondered again if there were little hearts floating over her head, or possibly stars, and if the world really was revolving around her right now. She also suspected that she was glowing with happiness. But she couldn't stop to check, because she was busy kissing Carth and there was nothing else in the galaxy that mattered to her at the moment.

Malak walked across the familiar field, and wondered how much of this torture he could take. In the distance, he could hear the screams of the dying and the sound of lightsabers and blaster fire. He wondered idly if there was any chance that anyone would survive. It seemed unlikely. There were so few Masters left, and only a very few students. Most had turned immediately, either from fear of the Sith or contempt of the Jedi. They were being whisked away to Korriban, to complete their studies under proper tutelage.
The remaining few, stubborn to the end, had chosen to fight rather than join him. The troopers and the droids would take care of them, eventually. In the meantime, Malak was amusing himself by trying to see if he could break through the wall Revan had built in his mind. He had memories of this place, maddeningly vague half-memories. Everything here brought back a whisper, a flash, but never a face, never a name.
A tree. He stroked the trunk, and remembered a pair of wide, blue eyes hiding in the leaves. "What are you doing up there?" he had asked.
"Nothing," she had answered. A sweet voice, soft and young, slightly scared.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm stuck," she had confessed. "I can't get down."
He had helped her down, and become her first friend. But he couldn't remember who she was, or what her face looked like.
Malak walked away from the tree. He couldn't bring himself to cut it down. He touched the wall, the barrier between the Enclave and the farms. He remembered sitting on the wall with her, studying. Her face in shadow from the trees, her hair, hidden beneath a scrap of cloth torn from his shirt to hide stains that wouldn't come out. Paint? No, oil, from the speeder she had been working on.
He wondered idly if the landspeeder was still in the garage. He remembered sitting there for hours, watching her legs as she worked on the engine and listening to her chatter about parts and speed upgrades.
Malak calmly walked back into the Enclave, stepping over the bodies of the servants who hadn't been wise enough to flee. He went to the archives, and searched the records. He pulled up his own first, and realized that there was nothing to be found here. Revan had been here already, sometime in the past. Malak sighed. "Petty." She had changed all of the teacher notes to read "Malak is a meatbag," and replaced the identification picture of him with that of an apple. Malak deleted the file.
Knowing that he would regret it, he pulled up Revan's record. The console demanded a password. He typed something at random, and the console responded by demanding a name. Malak growled in fury. "You bitch." When he didn't enter anything, the console changed again, "What is the name, Malak? You don't know, do you? And now, you never will." The console went black, as did the entire archive. "Damn you, Revan." He wished again that he had killed her in hand to hand combat, rather than shooting down her flagship. He would have enjoying watching her life's blood drain away.
"Lord Malak, the archives are deleting themselves!"
"Get a slicer down here. Save what you can." Malak turned away from the console. He'd had enough of walking in Revan's footsteps and chasing dreams.
He glanced down the hallway, and saw the Sith archivists plundering the priceless Jedi texts. For a moment, the sight was replaced with a flood of memories, of holding an armful of precious scrolls and books, of listening to a bright and cheerful voice reciting the names of Jedi Masters and their accomplishments, of discussing lightsaber forms, of the voice laughing at him for making fun of her tiny feet.
But never seeing the face. Never saying the name. Malak decided to go back to the Leviathan and get drunk. "Destroy the Enclave when you are done. Leave nothing standing."