Woman without a Country

"Tell me about these new Sith. Where did they come from, and why doesn't anyone know who they are?"
"You're just going to be angry again," grumbled Master Vrook. "Revan and Malak went into the Unknown Regions near the end of the Mandalorian conflicts. After they returned, we started seeing unusually powerful Sith here and there. Shadowy figures, more influence than action. Then came the final battles of the Mandalorian wars." He sighed. "What made you pick Malachor V?"
Ludmilla shrugged. "It was a world that the Mandalorians feared, as much as Mandalorians fear anything. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Who picked it?" Vrook asked again. "Revan? Or you?"
Ludmilla considered. "Well, both of us, I think. I don't really remember. Why?"
"I always wondered whether it was a genuine accident, or whether it had been a carefully orchestrated maneuver on the part of these mysterious Sith."
"What are you talking about?" she asked impatiently.
"Some of the worlds that were attacked at the end of the wars were planets that the Jedi Council had a special interest in."
She waited, but Vrook didn't elaborate. "Why?" she asked finally. "What was so special to the Council about a miserable rock like Malachor V?"
"It was once a Sith world," said Vrook slowly. "Like Korriban. After the war with Exar Kun, the Council concealed the nature of these worlds from the general populace. As you said, it was a miserable rock. No one in their right minds would go there."
"Keep talking," she said grimly.
"We removed the most dangerous Sith artifacts and concealed them in the great libraries. But not all of the artifacts were things that we could - or wanted to - remove. Some of them were more useful where they were."
"Such as..." she prompted.
"We discovered that the Sith had mastered the art of creating prisons for Force users."
"What?"
"The worlds were abandoned and inhospitable. Even if the prisoners had escaped, there would have been nowhere for them to go, until they were recaptured and confined again."
"And that's where you wanted to put me?" she asked, trying to restrain her anger.
"No," said Vrook, shaking his head. "Even at your worst, you did not have the level of darkness inside you that would have warranted such treatment. No, the Sith prisons were reserved for the worst of the worst. People who could never have returned to the Light."
"Anyone can return to the Light, if you're willing to give them a chance."
"I know what you believe," Vrook gave her a rare smile, "but that simply isn't true. Some beings become so steeped in the Dark that there is no room left inside them for Light. It happens." Ludmilla shook her head, but he ignored her and went on. "For such beings, imprisonment was the most merciful option available to us. They remained in their prisons, carefully tended to by droids, regularly checked on by a group of Masters. Until the wars. Until the endless orbital bombardments literally shattered the walls of their Force prisons, allowing some of the most heinous, unrepentant malefactors in the galaxy to escape. And yet, they did not make their presence known. Something - someone - was holding them back. Not until after Revan had defeated Malak, and the Sith should have been left without a leader did they strike. But even then, they struck from the shadows, guided by some unknown hand. Wherever we gathered, they were there. They knew our every move, and we were powerless against them. They stole the Sith artifacts that we had so carefully concealed, as well as massive amounts of Jedi relics and texts. And just as Revan had, they took the weakest Jedi and broke them to the Dark Side."
"Who?" Ludmilla demanded. "You must have some idea of who their leaders were."
"No," said Vrook sadly. "All we knew was that there was a triumvirate at the head of the Shadow Sith. We heard rumors but we never came in contact with the actual Sith Lords - at least, not in a way that left any survivors."
"A triumvirate?" said Ludmilla in confusion. "But - I've only heard of two of them. Darth Sion and Darth Nihlus. There's a third?"
Vrook nodded. "The third is the leader, completely unseen and unknown, the true leader of the Sith. Sion was imprisoned after the war with Exar Kun. He is a Sith Marauder, one of the best lightsaber duelists in the galaxy." Ludmilla made an impatient noise, but let him continue. "Nihlus - no one knows who he was before. He might have been one of the prisoners from Malachor V, or from Jebble."
"Or he might have been one of the Jedi from Revan's attack force at Malachor V," said Ludmilla softly.
Vrook grunted. "That's possible." He looked at her curiously, but didn't comment. "As I said, we know very little about them, beyond rumors and the words of people about to die. What we do know is that they were both students of someone even greater, someone who knew the Jedi Order intimately. But who that person is, we do not know." He looked at her again.
"You thought it was me, didn't you?"
Vrook laughed. "You're genuinely insulted by that, aren't you? Of course the Council thought it was you! Everyone who went to Malachor V fell to the Dark Side, and became a Dark Jedi, or worse. You were strong enough to become a Sith Lord, and you despised the Jedi Council. You were a masterful strategist, and you knew the weaknesses of the Republic. You were a good teacher, and could have raised two Sith students to assist you."
"I did not fall to the Dark Side," she said firmly. "I never have, and I never will."
"So sure of yourself," he mused. "But the strongest argument against you being the Sith Lord is the secrecy involved. You're just not subtle. You never were."
Ludmilla flushed angrily. "Why should I be?"
"Indeed," Master Vrook agreed. "Why should you be? If you wanted to be a Sith Lord, all you would have to do is unfurl your banner, and millions would follow you. You have no need for secrecy. It doesn't suit you."
"I don't want it to, I don't want to be a Sith Lord."
"Of course not, they don't make peri tales about Sith. You want to be a hero, and have songs written about you. You want to defeat dragons and save princes in distress."
Ludmilla blushed.
"Some people on the Council thought it was you. I never did. I know a little too much about you," said Vrook dryly. "If you were going to become a Sith, that's not the kind that you would be."
"Thanks for that."
"Which leaves us with the greatest mystery of all," said Vrook seriously.
"Who is the true Sith Lord?"
"No," Vrook said impatiently. "In the end, we will learn the answer to that question no matter what we do. No, the true mystery is still you."
"What?"
"Everyone who fought at Malachor V, every Jedi who was in the orbit of that planet during the battle, every single one fell to the Dark Side. Except you."
Ludmilla stared at him.
"Great battlegrounds, old tragedies, places of suffering - they all leave their mark on the Force. The stronger the emotion, the larger the wound. The cries of the fallen echo through the Force so strongly that centering oneself becomes almost impossible. Such places - such worlds - they are ideal for a Jedi to hide from another Force user. That was part of why I returned to Dantooine when Kavar suggested that we separate and conceal ourselves. But what happened to you? You returned, shrouded in darkness and yet untouched by it. You came to face us, but was it obedience to the Rule or open defiance? You came to defend your actions, not to apologize for them. And you came to us wounded and damaged beyond recognition."
"And you cut me off from the Force!" she hissed. "You left me helpless and threw me out of the Order!"
"No," said Vrook firmly. "The Council did not cut you off from the Force. Accuse us as you will, but it will not change the truth. We hoped that your time in exile would bring you peace, that in reflection you would come to understand what had happened, what you had done. I see that it has not."
"And this is why I can't stand Consulars. Just tell me what I want to know! If you didn't cut me off from the Force, then who did?"
Vrook sighed impatiently. "Cutting someone off from the Force is a difficult and time-consuming process, a punishment reserved for a specific type of malefactor. You were not such a one. We had the power, yes, but we did not inflict such a loss upon you. I cannot answer your question any more than that." He looked at her sternly. "Perhaps it is a question you should seek the answer to on your own."
"Can't stand you," she muttered under her breath. "Okay, then, if you won't answer that, then tell me how it came back."
"That is another question I cannot answer. I feel nothing different from you than I did when you stood before us in the Council all those years ago."
Ludmilla stared at him in disbelief. "What? But you saw me. You know I can use the Force again."
Vrook shrugged. "It is possible that returning to known space, journeying with companions again, has caused the Force within you to re-awaken. Your ... connections to others were a source of much debate and concern within the Council."
"I like people. What's so strange about that?"
"We were concerned because you like them too much. You get too close to people, in a way that Jedi never should. You form bonds outside of the strict role of Master and Student."
"Oh, that," she said dismissively. "Find me where the Rule says not to fall in love, and I'll think about listening to you."
"Defiant as always," he growled. "Still, that is all the answer that I can give you."
"Great. Two more questions, and then I'll be done, I promise," she grinned. "Have you ever heard of a Force bond where the users share each pain with each other, in addition to everything else?"
"What? No, such a bond would be unnatural. If it were even possible, it would require the highest amount of ability with the Force on both sides, to keep the bonded pair from going insane."
"Right," Ludmilla agreed. "I sort of guessed that. Last question: how were you planning to contact the other members of the Council, when it came time for you to gather again? Kavar, Ell, Vash - you all scattered, and you were all that remained of the Council. Did you have some kind of plan?"
Vrook shook his head. "No, and I admit was a great risk. But Kavar's plan was the best we had. After the deaths of the other Council members on Katarr, we couldn't risk another incident like that. We had to trust in the Force. It was all we had left." He looked grudgingly at her. "It seems to have worked. How did you know where to find me? And how did you know we were hidden?"
Ludmilla sighed. "I've already found Master Ell, and talked to Master Kavar briefly." She felt miserable and tired, suddenly. "Thank you for answering my questions, Master Vrook."
"Hmph, so I'm Master again, am I?" Vrook snorted. "This is your chance to save the galaxy and be the hero you always dreamed of being, Ludmilla. Don't fail."
"I won't," she said calmly. "But defeating the dragon is never as easy as the stories make it sound." She thought about kicking a rock, but decided against it. "Not as much fun, either."

She leaned against the door of the cargo hold and looked over the scene again. Atton lay peacefully, his handsome, narrow face sweet and serene in his sleep, his dark hair falling over one eye, his perfectly curved lips soft and red from kisses, one slender, elegant hand intertwined with Mical's large, strong, and shapely hand. Mical was sprawled in the chair, his large frame inelegant yet attractive, strong rather than graceful, his face plain yet alluring, the determined set of his face softened by a slight smile on his lips.
Mical stirred, probably sensing her presence in his sleep, and woke slowly. His eyes fell first on Atton, unmistakably adoring, then he shook his head guiltily, and looked around the room. "Oh!" He stood up, and reluctantly let go of Atton's hand. "I didn't realize you were back."
Ludmilla laughed sweetly. "Oh, don't get up on my account." She looked at Atton. "You got him to sleep. Good," she walked over and kissed his forehead gently. Atton stirred slightly, tilting his head towards her lips, but didn't wake up. "He needed the rest." She grinned at Mical, who was blushing in confusion. "He gets so tense." She kissed him again, and Atton made a small, happy noise in his sleep.
"I was just sitting with him," said Mical lamely. "I can go, if you're going to stay here."
"Why would you leave?" she asked, and pulled off her armor, tossing it aside. "There's room. Mostly." She looked critically at the little nest. "Well, I could add a little more space. And more pillows. There are never enough pillows."
"Yes, pillows," said Mical, slightly stunned and blushing furiously at her semi-nudity. "I can't - I mean - " he sighed in frustration. "I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet. This isn't right, not really."
Ludmilla smiled in understanding. "Well, if you feel it's not right, then it isn't. So long as you're not holding yourself back because of me."
"No, no," Mical shook his head. "Not at all. It's just - something else."
She grinned. "That's all right, then. Stay here a second, I'll be right back." She picked up her clothes, and ran out of the room in her underwear. "Just dropping this off in the laundering unit!"
Mical watched her run off, speechless. He looked at Atton again, then at the half-closed door, and bent over Atton to give him a quick kiss. But instead of a quick kiss, he felt a pair of soft hands on his face, in his hair, holding him close as he was drawn into a fiery embrace, and he pulled Atton closer, hungry for his sweet, willing softness. He ran his hands through Atton's hair, heard Atton make a soft whimper of protest. "M'adouin? What's wrong?"
"Can't breathe!" Atton gasped, laughing softly. "You do breathe, right, Mical?"
Mical laughed nervously, and pulled away. "Yes, I breathe. I'm sorry. You have that effect on me."
Atton lay back in the pillows with a contented smile. "I make you not need to breathe?"
"I thought you were asleep," Mical changed the subject.
"I am asleep," Atton grinned. "I'm dreaming that beautiful women and handsome men are kissing me in my sleep."
Mical smiled, and looked away.
Atton stretched, and put his arms behind his head, under the pillow. "You know, I didn't expect you to actually know what you were doing," grinned Atton. "You don't seem the type."
"The galaxy is far too big for you to expect everyone to fit into specific 'types,' Atton."
Atton smiled, slightly mocking and dark. "It's true most of the time. So what's bothering you about me?"
Mical frowned. "This isn't really the place for a serious discussion, is it?"
"It is if you want to end up in bed. Saves a lot of walking."
Mical laughed gently. "I can't say I disapprove of your plan, but I really would feel more comfortable having a serious talk somewhere where you're fully clothed and sitting up."
"What fun is that?" Atton protested. "Can we compromise? Can I be standing up?" Mical looked at him in surprise, and Atton continued. "Against a wall, half-naked. I'll let you pick which half."
Mical closed his eyes and tried not to visualize Atton's offer. "No, I don’t think so."
"You look like you're thinking about it."
Mical gritted his teeth and tried to focus.
"At least part of you does, anyway. You shouldn't do that with your teeth, you'll get headaches. I know a great way to get rid of headaches," Atton said helpfully.
"Stop. Talking."
Atton laughed, rich and dark and sweet.
Mical groaned. "I'm leaving now, M'adouin."
Ludmilla bounced into the room, carrying an armful of clean clothes that she tossed onto a crate. "Aww, I missed the kissing. Again."
Mical sighed. "Perhaps another time. I'll be going now."
"If you must." She looked at him. "Oh, Atton, what have you been doing to poor Mical?" she grinned. "He looks all worn out!"
"I tried to get him to lie down, but he wouldn't."
"I'm sure you did," Ludmilla laughed. She gave Mical a quick hug. "I'll stop, I'll stop. Relax," she said gently. "You worry too much."
Mical put his arms carefully around her, and let himself sink into her embrace for a moment, drawing strength from her. He considered, and before he could convince himself not to, kissed her gently on the cheek, making her smile.
"I think I understand you a little better now," said Atton irrepressibly. "That's really hot."
"I need to leave now," whispered Mical in her ear. "I need to think, please excuse me." Mical pulled away, and left the room before Atton could say anything else, closing the door tightly behind him.
Atton looked at Ludmilla curiously. "I think he hates me, but I can't tell."
"What?" Ludmilla laughed. "He doesn't hate you."
"He wants to have sex with me, yes, but he doesn't like me."
"He doesn't trust you," she corrected him gently, "and much like someone else I know," she sat down on the bed, and drew Atton's head into her lap, "he doesn't trust himself around you, and it bothers him. Especially when he can't figure out why someone like you practically throws yourself at him."
"It's his own fault for being sexy," Atton pouted, then grinned up at her. "He is sexy, right? It's not just me?"
"He is," she admitted, and kissed Atton on the lips. "But he doesn't like women that much."
"What? That totally ruins my plans."
Ludmilla laughed, and kissed him again. "I'm sure you'll think of something."
Atton pushed himself up on his elbows, and kissed her breasts. "I'll figure something out. Later."