The Facts of Life

'I hate her,' Lashowe muttered under her breath. 'Talentless schutta. Brainless twadd. Clueless little whining backwater slut. Who does she think she is, anyways?'

'The daughter of our glorious Sith Fleet's High Admiral, I'd imagine,' Mekel replied.

Across the room Selene Karath twisted her long legs on the cold stone bench and twined a hand through her curling dark hair. Her faithful shadow, the other Telos kid, laughed at something she said; but his laughter fell short and cold in the carved stone room.

'Uthar says she'll wash out,' Lashowe hissed smugly. 'Her kind always do.'

'Does he make you call him Master when you're doing those special favors for prestige?' Mekel drawled. 'Or just Uthie?'

Lashowe's cheeks turned almost pink. 'None of your fracking business, Mekel Jin!' Her blue eyes narrowed. 'But wouldn't you like to know. . . '

'I heard,' Mekel continued, 'that he made you taste the lightning for twenty minutes after the last time he caught you in his room.' The Coruscanti boy grinned. 'Perhaps you're just not his type?'

Lashowe rolled her eyes at him. 'I'm everyone's type.'

'Yuthura turned you down too,' Mekel continued. 'And Instructor Dak. You know for all the talk about Sith passion, there's not really enough of it here. Anyways. . . ' he shrugged, looking nonchalant. 'She's cute, Selene. A little young for my tastes. And you're right, she's weak. The Onasi kid has much more potential.' His hand stroked the beard he'd been trying to grow lately. 'Of course, that's why you want Selene out of the picture, isn't it? Maybe. . . Dustil just doesn't like blondes?'

She beamed at him and her dimples flashed. 'Jealous, much?'

'Of Onasi?' Mekel scoffed. 'They're just all catering to him because they think it's cute that he's here. War hero's son. A shining example of someone turned from the false cause to serve the righteous.' He yawned. 'He's the one that'll wash out. Mark my words. He has potential, but he's soft. Rotten at the core. He'll break.' He looked smug. 'I've seen his kind before.'

Lashowe kicked him under the table. 'I think you're jealous,' she purred, 'because at this point, odds are, even being Saul Karath's daughter -- or Saul Karath's daughter's best friend -- is a more advantageous position than being Lord Malak's protege. How does it feel, Mekk, backing the wrong Dark Lord of the Sith?' Her mouth curved. "It keeping you up nights?"

Mekel's eyes glittered, dangerous. 'Careful, Lash'. At least I have connections I didn't have to frack anyone to get.'

Lashowe grinned, smug. 'The odds in the cantina went up again yesterday. They say Lord Revan is most displeased with her Apprentice.' She chuckled. 'Most displeased. Fifteen to one that she'll take him out before year-end."

'Lord Malak can take care of himself!' Mekel shot back.

'Oh no, is Mekel going on about that again?' Shardaan sighed, sliding onto the bench next to them.

'I'm not the one who brought it up,' Mekel glared at Lashowe. She blew him a kiss.

Around them the rest of the students slid hastily into their seats. One thing you learned early in Dreshdae: if you wanted to live to finals, you weren't late to class. At least not more than once. After all, once might get you noticed. But twice might get you dead.

Instructor Dak Vasser came into the room and walked to the stone podium at the front. 'This morning's lecture,' he began, 'will address some basic themes in Sith tradition.' He folded his hands. 'I'm sure you're all aware of the basics. What I want to discuss today is nuance. Being powerful is not enough. Indeed, the most powerful often have farthest to fall. The question really becomes. . . one of survival.'

Lashowe looked smug.

Mekel yawned and tried to seem unconcerned.

Rather ostentatiously, Shardaan flicked open his datapad and began taking notes.

'At the core of our philosophy is the tenet that the Sith shall have one leader. The strongest rule us, until they are supplanted by another, even stronger. Perhaps. . . ' Instructor Dak looked dubious at the prospect, 'perhaps one of the leaders of tomorrow is in this very room.'

Everyone had learned enough at this point not to take that bait.

Instructor Dak almost looked disappointed. 'This tradition,' he continued, 'is based on natural selection. In the wilds of a thousand worlds, species rise to sentience by dominating the weak. Everything pivots upon that primal fight for supremacy. We Sith merely harness this. Make it serve our own ends.'

He turned to the screen behind him, drawing up holographic images of a galactic map overlaid by figures of two very different sentient races. 'Trandoshan and Wookiee. Two primitive species, discovered by hyperspace exploration within our grandsire's lifetimes. Their two planets, orbiting a single sun, have engaged in internecine warfare for thousands of years. Physically, they are evenly matched. Which has triumphed?'

From the front of the classroom, Kel Algwinn raised a tentative hand. 'Trandoshans,' he said.

Instructor Dak's face was cool and serene. 'Of course. But why?' he asked flatly.

'Because they took the advantages offered to them,' Kel said. 'They joined the Republic. The Wookiees were too stupid and primitive to understand --'

With a wave of his hand, Instructor Dak cut him off. 'Stupid?'

Kel seemed to have trouble forming a response. Also, he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Instructor Dak smiled coldly. 'Wookiees and Trandoshan possess the same intellectual capacity. Would someone else. . . care to try answering my question?'

From near the back of the room Lashowe raised her hand. 'Algwinn isn't entirely wrong,' she began. 'Trandoshans won, because they took what the Republic offered and used it to their own ends.'

'What ends?' Dak asked.

Lashowe's voice grew more confident. She smiled, and the dimples on the sides of her cheeks flashed. 'They enslaved the lesser race. Made them serve. They turned their traditional blood hunts into a larger profit.'

Instructor Dak nodded. 'True. But the Republic does not champion slavery.'

'It doesn't stop it, either,' muttered one of the Rylothans, in Twi'leki.

'Neither do the Sith,' said a cool voice from the doorway.

'Master Yuthura. To what do we owe this honor?' Dak Vasser bowed to the headmistress of the Sith Academy. The purple-skinned Twi'lek came into the room, gliding lightly between the rows of evenly-spaced benches. As always, her face was expressionless and ice calm. That was another lesson they'd all learned quickly, of course. Don't frack with Yuthura Ban. Ever.

"I came to settle our wager, Dak," Yuthura had the trace of a smile on her face, almost feral. "A bottle of Donovian brandy, one of the last. War is so hard on the vineyard planets along the Hydian Way." She walked over to the instructor and placed a dusty ferracrystal decanter on the podium. "And what lessons are you imparting to our current crop of ambitious Sith apprentices on this fine morning, Instructor Dak?"

"Hmmm. . ." Dak raised an eyebrow at her. "We were just discussing the example of the Trandoshan and Wookiee conflict in the Edean cluster, off the Degary sector. In the context of Sith tradition."

"Fascinating," the Twi'lek murmured. "May I interject?"

"Of course."

'The Wookiee,' Yuthura began, folding her hands behind her back, 'has everything he needs to break his own chains. Resources, strength, cunning, and determination. And yet he does not." Idly, her hand traced the dust on the ferraglass decanter. "Ophile, would you hazard a guess as to why the Wookiee remains shackled?'

The green-skinned Twi'lek swallowed hard. His lekku twisted, uncertain. 'It's the same on Ryloth,' he ventured, finally. 'There are some Wookiees that. . . profit, just like there are some Rylothans who do.'

'Very good. And what do you take from this example?' Yuthura's voice was dangerous, even in its composure.

'The strong will always profit from the weak?' Ophile sounded uncertain. A heartbeat later there was a dull thunk, and he fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Yuthura bared her pointed small white teeth. 'Absolutely,' she murmured, twisting her hand into a fist. 'But no.' She glanced at Dak. Her brow arched. 'Had you heard the news already?' she asked the instructor, her tone almost conversational.

'Yes.' Dak nodded. 'I was in town earlier. It made widebeam -- transmissions from Ziost and Coruscant, both.'

'Ah.' Yuthura's smile grew. 'Uthar just told me. You know, he wasn't a bit surprised. Near one of the Outlier colony systems, they said. Deralia, I believe.' She raised her voice and addressed the room. 'Would anyone else hazard a guess? What Sith tradition can be learned from the example of the Wookiee?'

Dustil Onasi mumbled something under his breath. Selene looked at him, uncertain, as if looking for a clue on how to proceed.

'Yes, Dustil?' Yuthura curved one of her lekku in his direction. 'Would you like to share your insights with the rest of the class?'

The dark-haired boy looked up at her. He was very pale. 'B-betrayals,' Dustil stuttered.

'Explain.'

Dustil took a deep breath, and pushed back his hair. At Mekel's side, Lashowe gave a little sigh. Almost a dreamy one. Mekel glared at her. Shardaan rolled his eyes.

'Betrayals,' the Telosian repeated in a stronger voice. 'The Wookiees betray their own kind to better themselves. The stronger are the ones that win.'

'Why?'

'B-because if they don't they'll die,' Dustil muttered.

Yuthura laughed. 'You make them sound almost. . . noble, young Onasi.'

Dustil swallowed. 'I make them sound smart,' his voice was careful and even.

The Twi'lek nodded. 'You are promising.'

Selene looked terrified. She reached for Dustil's hand. He glanced at her and pulled it away.

Across the room Lashowe bent her head closer to Mekel's. 'Promising,' she hissed mockingly in his ear. 'Master Uthar thinks Dustil's so promising that he asked me to assist him with a special project. It may not be an advantage, soon, having such a promising student saddled with a whiner. Even if her name is Karath.' She snorted. 'Especially if her name is Karath, judging from some of the military losses we've had lately. . . As you should know, Mekk, things. . . they do change.' Her hand rested lightly on the Coruscanti's neck, pulled playfully at his wisp of a beard. 'Help me,' she murmured. 'It's in your best interests to help me. Frankly, you could use the prestige.'

Mekel flushed and gave her a small tight nod. His hands clenched. The rumors had been flying for days. You didn't last long in Dreshdae if you didn't watch how the wind blew.

At the front of the room, their instructors conferred amongst themselves. Those sitting close enough picked up as much as they could. That was, after all, how you learned the real lessons. There were a few whispers.

'Should I tell them now?' Dak asked Yuthura, voice deferential.

'I don't see why not,' the Twi'lek replied.

'Has there been any. . . official. . . announcement about who. . . '

'Mmmm. . . ' Yuthura's lekku wrapped around her neck. 'Bandon,' she murmured. 'As expected.'

'Even so? Even now?' Dak mused. His eyes rested on Mekel for a moment and then looked away. The Coruscanti boy's shoulders slumped and he looked at the ground.

"The instructions were simple. Send whomever has the most prestige." Yuthura shrugged. "I'd assume our Lord wants someone. . . impressionable."

The whispers rustled a little louder, like dry leaves on stone. Here and there, students from the Sith Academy handed each other credit chips and minor artifacts: the results of lost bets. With odds of fifteen to one, there'd been a surprising number greedy or stupid enough to gamble on the losing side.

'Tough break, Mekk,' Shardaan murmured, punching his classmate on the arm. His teeth flashed in an unsympathetic grin. "Oh. You owe me three hundred credits. You'd better be good for it. . . "

"I am," Mekel spat back.

"You're going to owe half the school, Mekk." Lashowe giggled.

"That's my problem," Mekel shot back. His shoulders slumped down even farther.

'Bandon Sol,' Instructor Dak announced formally to the class. "I have news for you."

Bandon Sol was sitting in the front row, head held high, smiling. 'Yes, Master?' There was a gleam of triumph in his dark eyes, and a spark of Sith gold.

Dak Vesser hid his mouth and coughed, slightly. He'd raised his voice, so that all could hear. 'Congratulations, Apprentice,' he offered, careful and mild.

'The Sith Fleet sends a flagship, my Lord Bandon. The Leviathan,' Yuthura added, tones dulcet and smooth. "Our Dark Lord is coming for you. In person."

Across the room Mekel's head shot up from its slouch.

Selene's datapad fell from her hand. She picked it up hastily, a curtain of dark hair hiding her face. Her hand shook. At her side, Dustil Onasi sat very still.

The Dark Lord's new Apprentice looked puzzled. 'The Leviathan? His brow furrowed. 'Not the Aleema?'

'Mmm,' Yuthura shook her head slowly. 'No, not the Aleema.' She shrugged. 'The Aleema was destroyed. Republic forces and a Jedi task force.' Her lips twisted on the word Jedi.

Bandon rose to his feet, head high, an unconcerned smile on his face. 'No matter,' he shrugged. 'Lord Revan and I will build a new flagship. She will not have to suffer the insult of taking Malak's leavings for long.'

'Hmmm,' said Yuthura Ban. She knelt, a graceful gesture, made more so by the twists of her lekku, downward, in a posture of submission. Behind her, Dak followed her lead.

'My Lord Bandon, you should go pack,' Yuthura added, politely. "For your journey."

The classroom was very still. The whispers had stopped. No one breathed. No one moved.

'Perhaps I'll see some of you again,' Darth Bandon folded his arms. "I look forward to having you serve me."

Without a backward glance he walked to the door. It slid shut in his wake with a dull stone clang.

Dak got up unceremoniously from the floor, dusting off his knees. Yuthura did the same, more gracefully, not even trying to hide the amusement on her face.

'I trust,' the Twi'lek smiled, 'that those among you who are slow will have those among you who are not explain things to you.' She shrugged, careless. 'Or not. But I believe we've all learned. . . a most valuable lesson today.' She gave a short laugh. 'Most of us learned a valuable lesson. Perhaps our new master Darth Bandon has yet to learn. . . . but such things are not our problem."

'Are there any questions?' Dak asked, coolly.

Even Selene Karath knew better than that.

More whispering, and credits recently passed from one hand went back to the other. With interest. The odds, after all, had been fifteen to one. And a surprising number of people had been willing to bet on the favored side.

A surprising number of people had of course, been wrong.

Mekel Jin settled back on his bench, crossing his legs in a careless pose. He raised an eyebrow at Shardaan.

'You happy or upset, Mekk?' Shardaan asked, his tone polite. 'I mean, you just got stiffed on the big promotion. . . '

The Coruscanti boy's face was carefully blank. 'There's plenty of time,' he replied. 'And I still have much to learn. But now you owe me credits."

"Everyone in the school's going to owe you," Shardaan acknowledged. "Now that you're rich, I hope you'll remember your friends. . . "

'Will you still help me?' Lashowe's lips pursed in a fragile pout. Her voice was pleading, entreating, and suddenly, very solicitous.

Mekel glanced at her and nodded. 'I said I would.'

Around them the whispers continued apace.

Lashowe gave Mekel a smile with both of her dimples. 'Nice of you. Even if you don't need the prestige now. . . '

Mekel's mouth quirked. 'When do you want to do this? And where?'

'Tonight. The shryack caves. Meet me there. Do you think you can get her alone? Think you can get her to come with you?'

"Sure.' Mekel grinned, lowered his lips to her ear. 'I'll tell Selene that Lord Malak sent me a message for her. From her father.' He slung an arm companionably over Lashowe's shoulder. 'But now that I don't need the prestige, we may have to renegotiate my. . . compensation.'

Lashowe snickered. "Perhaps," she purred. "You know, Dustil will be inconsolable." Her chin lifted. "However, one must try."

Mekel's grin grew wider. "He doesn't like blondes, Lashy." His hand stroked her golden hair. "But I do."