Woman without a Country

Ludmilla looked around again. The tunnels here were a maze, and she was thoroughly lost. She couldn't sense her companions, not even Kreia, only the scattered ghosts and the planet itself. Finally, she found herself facing a huge door, beneath the statue of a Sith Lord. "An unlooted tomb?" Ludmilla reached out, and could sense why the door had remained closed all this time. The door only responded to the Force, and would need a powerful Force user to activate it - one strong enough to touch the planet itself, without going insane. Ludmilla grinned, and activated the door.
The tomb was musty and damp, the floor slimy with dead bugs and mold. Beneath it all, she could sense a powerful presence - either a spirit, or possibly, just a manifestation of the Force emanating from the planet itself. The presence acknowledged her with interest, and she walked down the hallway, crunching empty carapaces beneath the soles of her boots.
The hallway ended in a large chamber, where four young Jedi were listening intently to a Jedi in black and orange, bald despite his age, with blue tattoos decorating his scalp.
"Do not heed the words of the Jedi Council," he insisted fiercely. "The Republic will fall if we do not act now! Already, the Mandalorians have taken three systems on the Outer Rim, leaving nothing but scorched earth and blood in their wake." The speaker met her eyes. "You know them. You know what they will do. You know that they will only become more powerful the longer they are permitted to ravage the galaxy unchecked."
"Malak." Ludmilla stared at her old friend as she remembered him, the day that he had recruited her into Revan's little army.
"Come, stand with me. We will use our powers for good – to help the Republic in its time of need. Revan and I - we need you. We need people like you. Together, we can defeat this menace."
Ludmilla found herself standing in the line of Jedi, listening to Malak plead for their support.
"The Jedi Council is wise, but how long can we wait? Men and women are dying by the thousands while they deliberate over their course of action. The Republic is being destroyed piece by piece while they debate the nature of the enemy. We must act – now! We must stop the Mandalorians!" He looked at her again, and she straightened her shoulders just as she had all those years ago, refusing to shrink away or conceal her upbringing.
"Mandokarla," she snarled under her breath – usually the word was a compliment, from one Mandalorian to another. But sometimes, being everything that made a Mandalorian a Mandalorian wasn't the easiest thing to hide.
"I have heard of you," he said slowly, looking directly at her for the first time. "Your masters speak well of your skill in battle." He held out his hand to her, strong and muscular like her own. "Join us." At the time, she had been so shocked at his action that she had taken his hand. She had joined him, and her tight cadre of friends had joined her, forming the nucleus of Revan's most trusted inner circle.
"So this is what my subconscious does when I'm stressed and sober," Ludmilla mused to herself. "Malak, did you know you're just a vision?"
Malak smiled. "Are you going to wait for the blessings of the Council? Or will you fight at Revan's side? We are defending the defenseless. Surely this means something to you?"
"I'd forgotten what a pompous ass you could be, Malak." Ludmilla shook her head.
Cariaga Sin, one of the many Jedi who had died at her side, left the line and walked to stand next to Malak. "The Council seems content to watch," Cariaga said despairingly. "You saw them – the flood of refugees, desperate for someone to lead them, to protect. They want to fight, to defend their homes. How is that wrong? What is there to discuss?"
"Entire systems are falling to the Mandalorians," said Malak sadly. "Mothers without children, children without parents, forced to slave for their Mandalorian masters or to join them in destroying worlds just like their own. If we don't act now, there may be no Republic left to assist in the future."
Ludmilla felt her chest tighten at the memory. He hadn't used those words when he had recruited her. He had learned them from her – from listening to her talk about her life growing up.
"I sense that you will join us," said Malak gently, again breaking from the paths of memory. "What are your reasons?"
She looked at him in surprise. "You know the reason, Malak. You of all people know why. The Council was taking too long. We – I had to do it. The Mandalorians were winning. They were trying to find a way to destroy the Jedi Order forever. A way to neutralize the Force." She blinked in surprise at what she had just said. "They tortured you – trying to find a way – to get rid of a Jedi's power over the Force." She stared at him, and Talvon Esan walked over to stand with Malak. He had died on Dxun, sacrificing himself so that Ludmilla and the others could carry out Revan's plan.
"You should trust in yourself – and in your instincts," smiled the Malak that wasn't. "You knew it was within our power to end the war, but the Council chose to debate behind closed doors while planets burned and cities were turned to glass."
Try as she might. Ludmilla couldn't stop herself from being angry when she thought of the fate of Eres III and Serroco. If all the Jedi had acted as one, could they have stopped the Mandalorians without all the bloodshed and loss? "How long were they going to wait? They knew what they were up against. Every day we waited, Mandalore the Ultimate found a new way to break the will of entire systems. They weren't fighting a war anymore, they were terrorizing the galaxy into submission." Nisotsa, the beautiful Twi'lek who had helped retake Taris from the Mandalorians, only to die of her wounds when they ran out of kolto, walked over to stand with Malak.
"Yes, without us, there would have been no Republic left to save. The Council seemed to pride themselves on complete inaction. For all their wisdom, they didn't realize that they were walking a path that led only to destruction – destruction greater than anything born of the Dark Side."
Ludmilla looked away, trying to figure out what her mind was trying to tell her, and why.
"So," Malak asked slowly, "if you could do it all over again, would you? The Mandalorians wait on the edge of known space, eager to crush the Republic. You know how this turns out. Would you do anything differently? Knowing all that it costs you, and what it costs the rest," Malak looked at the others standing with him, and Xaset Terep, the last Jedi, the one who had never trusted but who had died to save her, walked over to stand with Malak. Malak looked at her again. "Would you?"
Ludmilla looked at the line of dead friends and shook her head slowly. "I wouldn't. I don't think I could have made any other choice. My actions made me what I am today, gave me the strength to survive – and something to live for."
Malak nodded with a slow smile. "So, knowing all that would transpire, you would still follow Revan and I – I thought as much." He looked around the room again. "And now you are – alone. Come, join us. You didn't follow Revan and I all the way down our path, and we – we miss you, dear Ludmilla. Your journey hasn't ended yet." But this time, Malak didn't hold out his hand.
Ludmilla stared at him. "You're not Malak now, are you?" She looked at the line, and noticed an extra person. A beautiful young Padawan who glowed with the Force, her long, dark hair bound up in elaborate braids. "Wait – I know her. She didn't join us – she wanted to wait for the wisdom of the Council. She warned us that our impetuous nature would lead us to the Dark Side." Ludmilla grinned at the memory. "She was so young!"
The form of Malak smiled. "No, she did not join us that day, did she? But even then, she wavered – and wondered. It is a familiar path. There were many who wished to follow us – to follow you – to war, yet remained behind. And they came to hate you for making the choices that they wished to make."
The memory made her frown. "I never realized how much she hated me," Ludmilla mused. "I suppose I should have expected it." She looked up at Malak, and realized that he was still waiting for her answer. "No, you know me. You know me too well, as you pointed out. I didn't follow you then – for a reason."
"And this reason? You still hold it to be true?"
Ludmilla smiled gently. "Rivers don't run backwards, Malak."
"Are you so very certain, Ludmilla? Every step of the way, we did what we thought was right," he urged. "Perhaps you were meant to walk this path as well."
She shook her head. "If the Force wanted me to be a planet-destroying evil monster, I wouldn't have been shown all the good that a real Jedi can do."
"Then," said Malak sadly, "the time for words is over. Now it is time for action. It is time for you to see the true power of the Dark Side."
All five of the Jedi charged her, lightsabers flashing blue, green, yellow – and Malak's, a savage, angry red. They used their Force powers freely, and the spirit of Malak used the Dark powers that she detested so much. Ludmilla didn't even bother to draw her lightsaber. She used the Force to fling the younger Jedi away, then dropped Malak to the ground with a savage kick to his midsection. "Jedi blades, Republic maids, always light and usually easy, lift a skirt and dodge the hurt," she sang, as she dealt out punishing blows to the Jedi shades attacking her.
"I never liked those songs," Malak growled. "It just smacks of disrespect for your enemies, and seriously, how many of those are there? You always have one, no matter who you're fighting."
Ludmilla laughed, hurling the ghost of Nisotsa into a wall. "Mandalorians like to sing. Before they were corrupted into becoming the great enemies of the universe, there were as many song masters among the Mandalorians as there were weapon masters." She dropped Xaset with a lightning-fast flurry of punches, then dodged Cariaga's lightsaber. "Besides, music is universal. Even if you don't know the words," she broke Cariaga's arm, then drove her fist into her throat, "you can feel the rhythm." The last of the Jedi fell, leaving her face to face with Malak, and she finally drew her lightsaber.
"Please tell me you're not going to sing," sighed Malak wearily.
"Sith are bloody, Sith are mean," she sang, and dodged Malak's Force attack, "their blades are red, their blades are keen." She blocked his lightsaber, and fell back a step before his wild attack. "Stay out of range, or you'll be bitten," she slipped under his guard, and sliced open his chest, leaving a bloody and ugly wound. "Make them angry – save a kitten." Malak rolled his eyes at the final words of her song as he slid to the floor, and all the shades dissipated.
A door opened behind where Malak had been speaking, and Ludmilla walked out of the room into the hallway beyond. It opened to the last place she had expected to see again – the jungles of Dxun.
Commander Wolt ran up to her. "Comm says we've lost another heavy droid transport! How can we break through their lines without support? This place is mined to hell, and the Mandalorians are everywhere. I know we've got orders to press forward, but we're at a quarter of our strength! We can't do this, General. It's impossible. We need to fall back, regroup."
In reality, it had taken much longer for Wolt to give her all that information. She had interrupted him constantly, trying to ascertain the exact extent of their losses, people were running in and out of the room with maps and datapads. But none of it was important. The only thing that had mattered was that she had already sacrificed over half of her men to get to this point, and if she turned back now, then it would all be lost. They would have died for nothing, the battle would have been lost, and the war. "I had no choice," she said bitterly.
Wolt met her eyes. "But we can't help anyone by throwing our lives away." He looked at the path. "There are too many of them, and too few of us. We'll never make it, General. They'll go if you ask them to, but you can't. You can't possibly ask the troops to go forward."
Ludmilla stared at the grass, thinking. She had promised Revan that this would be done. She knew that Revan was waiting to hear that they had flanked the base before launching the final attack. She closed her eyes against the pain, trying to think.
"General. If you ask us to charge – will it really make a difference? Will our sacrifice mean something?"
"We won," she said slowly. "No one was really sure how. But Revan's plan worked, and we won."
Wolt looked down, and slowly swallowed. "We – we will press forward if you ask it, General. We'll go through the mines. There will be heavy losses, but we – we trust you, General."
Wolt turned away, to give the order. "No!" Ludmilla pulled him back. "Not this time. Not again," she snarled.
"General?"
"I'll go alone. I'll take out the mines. When I've cleared the path, follow me."
"No! General, we can't risk you on something like this!"
Ludmilla smiled gently at him. "I'm a Jedi. A few explosions aren't going to kill me."
"General…."
"I don't mind telling you, it will hurt like hell, though." She clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna need a stiff drink after this." She walked up to the first mine, and used the Force to activate it. The explosion set off two others, and shrapnel flew out, and slammed into her. She wondered what Wolt's ghost would have said if he had known that her orders specifically forbade her from doing this. She continued making her way down the path, setting off every mine so that her men wouldn't have to suffer while she stood by helplessly and watched. This pain was only physical. In a way, it eased the pain – atonement for obeying the foolish orders that set the value of a Jedi's life so far above that of the soldiers. She set off the last mine, and the Mandalorians decloaked.
The Republic soldiers charged down, cheering their General, who had taken the pain to spare the men under her command. "I should have done this all those years ago," she said to herself, and sank to her knees in pain – mental, not physical. Around her, the soldiers fought off the Mandalorians. They were in position for the final assault, and Revan's plan would succeed. "Why? Why did you kill my men, Revan? Why did you turn to the Dark Side? Why?"
The battle faded, and she was alone in an empty stone chamber, with one door leading out. Ludmilla sighed, and forced herself to stand and walk through the next door, starting to dread what she was finding lurking in her subconscious.
"You are to be commended for making it this far, child."
"Kreia?" It looked like Kreia, but she was wearing black robes, and her white hair was braided and bound with black leather instead of her normal gold clasps. She also looked slightly younger – not much younger, however.
"You have revisited the dark moments of your past, and now you must face the present."
"Kreia? Are you are Sith? Or a Jedi?"
"Does it matter?" the old woman smiled. "Of course it does. Such titles allow you to categorize the galaxy, to break it into Dark and Light, to file it away in neat little boxes. And yet, it does not quite work, does it? Perhaps, I am neither, and I hold both codes to be incomplete – perhaps I see them for what they truly are, pieces of a whole." Kreia sighed. "Know that I am your teacher, child. Is that not enough?"
"Perhaps I asked the wrong question," said Ludmilla slowly. "What were you?"
"Ah, child, you grow too wise too quickly," Kreia laughed. "Tell me, child, what do you wish to hear? That I believed in the code of the Jedi, but that I felt the call of the Sith? That perhaps, once, I held the galaxy by the throat and crushed those who challenged me beneath my heels?" Kreia sighed, and paced impatiently across the room. "That for every good work I had done, I brought equal harm into being? That perhaps the greatest of the Sith Lords learned all they knew from me?" Kreia reached up, and pushed back her hood for the first time since they had met. "Would it matter now, child?"
Ludmilla stared in shock, for a number of reasons. She couldn't believe that she'd never acknowledged that Kreia was blind, but she suspected that she had always known it. Kreia had used Force Sight in preference to her eyes for so long that they had practically atrophied, a process that took decades. "But – but you commented on Atton's appearance."
Kreia smiled.
"You've been using my sight. You see what I see."
"A chilling thought, child. Put it out of your mind," Kreia suggested. But she was still smiling.
Ludmilla continued to stare at Kreia. "I've met you before. Briefly."
"Indeed?" smiled the old woman. "I do hope we were friends at the time."
"You were with a man. He introduced himself as your husband."
"So he was, under the common law. He was, after all, the father of my child. Even though I knew he would be faithless and weak at the end, I still wanted to live and have my lovely dream life while I could." Kreia shrugged. "The dream is over now, and he has paid for his crime. That part of my life is gone now."
"Was it worth it?" Ludmilla asked softly.
Kreia smiled. "This is about you, child. Not me."
"So, were you a Sith? Were you really Darth Sion's Master?"
"You seem perturbed by the thought."
"I just can't imagine you giving him lessons. You have nothing in common with someone like that."
Kreia laughed. "You flatter me, child. Indeed, to be united solely by hatred – it is a fragile alliance, at best. Sion is a brute, and Nihlus a greedy idiot. I offered wisdom, and they met me with ambition. I could have raised them to the level of great ones like Marka Ragnos or Naga Sadow, but they united against me. Stripped me of my power."
"How?"
"There are some techniques in the Force against which there is no defense," said Kreia slowly. "Such an attack would kill all but the most powerful of Force users." And even though Kreia was blind, she looked directly at Ludmilla.
"They cut you off from the Force," Ludmilla gasped. "Just like the Council did to me! But it came back. How?"
Kreia smiled at her, but didn't answer.
"I hate Consulars, I really do. Why can't you people ever just answer a question?" Ludmilla grumbled.
"In my own defense," Kreia laughed, "I'm not really here. I am a reflection of your mind."
Ludmilla looked at her. "I've never seen you wear that outfit before."
"Oh, but you have," smiled Kreia. "When I left for my exile. You remember. You were fascinated by the braids, were you not?"
"But if you're supposed to be a memory of the past, where's your other hand?"
Kreia started in surprise. "Your mind is a strange place, child."
"Don't give me that," Ludmilla snapped. "You pushed back your hood with one hand."
Kreia sighed. "Your confusion is confusing even your memories. Perhaps the others can help."
"Others?"
"No more," hissed Atton, suddenly charging into the room. "No more of your games! No more of your lies! I won't let you hurt her!"
"Atton?" Ludmilla looked at him in confusion, and Atton drew his lightsaber, the brilliant yellow shining brightly in the darkness as he faced Kreia and Ludmilla.
"Stay away from her! She's a Dark Jedi! Can't you see?"
Ludmilla just stared. "Who? What? Where did you come from?"
Kreia activated her lightsaber, lushly green with a hint of gold in the center. Ludmilla had worked for hours to get that color. "I've had enough of you, fool. Your snide comments, your insolent contempt – you will cease to undermine my efforts to restore the galaxy for once and for all!"
"What – Atton, stop! What are you doing? Both of you, knock it off!"
Bao-Dur walked into the room. "What's all the commotion?"
"Stay out of this, alien," Kreia hissed. "This matter rests between Atton and myself."
"You have lightsabers out," Bao-Dur observed. "You seriously think I'm going to just stand here and watch while Atton gets hacked to bits?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Atton snarled. "At least you can tell she's evil. Are you going to shoot her or what?"
"Hey!" Ludmilla tried to get their attention. "No shooting, no fighting! No killing our allies!"
T3 zipped into the room as well, beeping happily until he saw everyone with their weapons out. He squealed in surprise, then chirped sharply in indignation.
"Not you, too," groaned Ludmilla. "What is going on?"
"All of you are going to stand together?" sneered Kreia. "Perhaps you may make a laudable effort. But you do not realize the true power of the Force."
"Think again," Atton said sharply. "We've all felt your influence, and it's time for it to end! No more!"
"Your friends all stand, arrayed against the Darkness," said Kreia slowly. "And you? Where do you stand?"
Ludmilla looked at her friends, then at Kreia, slowly replaying their words in her mind, and looked down at the lightsaber in her hand. "Are they – are they fighting you? Or – " She looked at them again, and realized that they still hadn't acknowledged her at all – not by name, anyway.
"Where do you stand, child?" asked Kreia again. "Am I, too, to be sacrificed for your memories?"
Ludmilla activated her lightsaber. "No," she said firmly. "If you really are a Dark Jedi – which I still doubt, to be honest – then you, of all people, deserve redemption."
"And if I am not?" smiled Kreia with unfathomable amusement.
Ludmilla didn't answer. If her crewmembers weren't uniting against Kreia, then who were they uniting against? Atton charged, his lightsaber moving faster than thought. Kreia threw a Force blast that stunned him, and Ludmilla swung, knocking the lightsaber out of his hand with a swift and flawless strike. Force lightning arced from Kreia's hand, and Atton was flung across the room, screaming in agony. Bao-Dur shot at Kreia, but Ludmilla blocked it with her lightsaber, sending the blast harmlessly into the wall. He fired again, and this time Ludmilla bounced his blaster fire right back at him, and he fell to one knee. T3 tried to stun her, but she shrugged off the shot and used the Force to knock the little droid over.
The ghosts faded away into silence, leaving Ludmilla alone in the room. She looked around wildly, still holding her lightsaber in a defensive position until she was sure that they were all gone.
"I'm not – I never – " she choked back the words, realizing again that she was alone. Ludmilla deactivated her lightsaber, and put her hands to her head. "No. Never." There was no soft whispering in her mind, no external temptation. Just the beating of her own heart, and her own memories. "Never," she said again fiercely. "Never!"
She fought the urge to close her eyes, and curl into a small ball. Ludmilla took a deep breath, centering herself again, and walked into the next room, the center of the tomb. There was a large sarcophagus in the center of the room, and two figures stood before it, watching her from beneath their deep hoods and long, concealing cloaks.
One was taller and larger than the other, broad-shouldered and imposing, holding a single lightsaber. The other was small and slight, a lightsaber held loosely in each hand.
"Revan," Ludmilla breathed softly. "And Malak?"
The smaller form raised a hand, and pulled away the mask, revealing the beautiful face of Revan as Ludmilla remembered her. Revan's golden curls were barely visible beneath the hood, her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, and there was a sardonic smile on her face. "Malak?" she laughed. "Oh, Ludi, you're so ridiculous sometimes. You think I came back here for him?"
The form behind her reached up, and pushed back the dark hood, revealing Ludmilla as she had never dared to see herself – her eyes dark yellow, the cybernetic implants standing out beneath unnaturally pale skin, her hair whitened and pulled away from her face.
"No."
"Not yet," corrected Revan gently. "Come, Ludi. This is foolish. What do you have to lose? Being alone and exiled? Come back to me, Ludi. Take the place of my fallen student, and return to my side. I need you," said Revan softly. "I can't do this without you, Ludi. You know that."
The image of the Dark Ludmilla faded away, leaving her alone with Revan. Ludmilla stared at her without speaking.
"Well, Ludi?" Revan smiled indulgently. "You can bring your friends, of course. They'll follow you. And I can use them."
"What changed, Revan? It wasn't me. What changed?"
Revan smiled gently, and paced slowly in front of the sarcophagus, her robes swirling gracefully as she moved. "Did anything change? Aren't we where we were always supposed to be?"
"You wanted to be a mother more than anything else in the galaxy. How did you end up becoming a Dark Lord of the Sith?"
Revan stopped for a moment, and looked at her. "And you, Ludi? What did you want more than anything else? After you lost everything?"
Ludmilla waved the question away. "Don't interrupt me, I'm trying to think. I'm trying to understand what you're up to, Revan. It doesn't take that long to bomb a planet into submission – why did you spend so long on Telos? Half the battles you fought were unnecessary. It's not like you to waste effort. But it did have an effect," she mused to herself. "It made the active theater of war smaller. You cut the size of your front, you consolidated – " She stared at the ghost of Revan that stood before her. "You were protecting the Republic."
Revan smiled sadly at her, but didn't interrupt.
"You didn't kill nearly as many people as you could have. You forced them to relocate to Core and Mid-Rim worlds. You made a galaxy-spanning army out of scattered planetary defense forces. What were you getting ready to fight, Revan? And where are you?"
Revan shrugged. "That, dearest Ludi, is something you'll have to find out for yourself."
"But you had to be on the Dark Side," Ludmilla said softly. "You couldn't do that as a Jedi. What defines a Jedi?"
Revan replaced the mask.
"A Jedi's life is sacrifice," said Ludmilla to herself. "No, that's too much to ask. It's not possible," she insisted.
"Is it?" asked Revan calmly. "Why? Because some things are unforgiveable?"
Ludmilla stopped, stared again at Revan.
"Or can a true Jedi forgive any crime, and welcome anyone – no matter how Dark and twisted – back to the light?"
"Aren't you supposed to be trying to lure me to the Dark Side?"
Revan laughed. "I'm a reflection of your own mind, Ludi. And as you'll recall, you're not very good at this." She pointed to a basket at the side of the room. "What's in that basket?"
Ludmilla looked at Revan in confusion, then walked over to the basket and opened it. "Ooh! Sticky buns!"
Revan burst into joyous laughter. "It was supposed to be your own severed head. You're really bad at this, Ludi, you really are."
"A head? Gross." Ludmilla poked one of the buns, and her fingers came away covered in sweet, sticky syrup.
"I remember the first time the head cook told you that you could eat as much as you liked," Revan smiled. "We all sat and watched you stuff your face for an hour."
Ludmilla grinned in embarrassment. "I'd never had enough to eat before. Slaves don't get regular rations. I was always starving back then, even before I got my first implants. My mother used to save whatever food she got while she was working, and would give it all to me at the end of the day." She smiled at the memory, and popped one of the sweets into her mouth. "Want one? These are really good."
"No thank you," said Revan softly. "I'm not hungry."
"What made you think of that anyway?" asked Ludmilla, as she devoured another bun from the basket. Imaginary or not, they were delicious.
"What made you?"
Ludmilla frowned. "Oh, right, reflection of my own mind, and all that. Unfortunately, my mind is stupid and I don't get it."
"Or you just don't want to," Revan smiled. "It's all right, you'll figure it out eventually."
"I hate it when you do that," Ludmilla complained. The basket was now empty. "So, did I win? Do I get to leave now? Or do I still have to fight you or something?"
"No," Revan laughed gently, "you can go. Find your friends, and continue on your path. We can finish this discussion later."
"Later?"
"When you see what you're hiding from yourself."
Ludmilla shook her head. "I'm not going to become a Sith."
Revan faded away into the dark mist, revealing a door in the wall.
"You do not yet understand what you have learned here," said a soft voice from somewhere very far away, and Ludmilla couldn't decide if it was Revan or Kreia speaking. "That wisdom will come to you, in the future. But you know your true path. You have always known it. Trust in your feelings."
Ludmilla opened the door, and heard the sounds of lightsabers and blasters. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that she could sense her companions again. She ran down the hall, and the door behind her closed again before it disappeared into the wall.