Woman without a Country

Atton walked slowly into Kreia's room. Ludmilla and Mical were still in the shower, fixing a broken pipe.
"Why, hello, boy," smiled Kreia slowly. "What brings you here?"
"I - I thought maybe I should apologize," said Atton nervously. "Or something. I can never tell with you."
"Apologize?" said Kreia, making a noble effort to appear as if she didn't know what he was talking about. "Whatever for? But since you are here, boy, perhaps you could take this to the kitchen for me?" She handed him a barely touched mug of chocolate. "It was exquisitely flavored," she smiled, "but I found that I was too - distracted - to enjoy it properly."
Atton stared at the mug in silence.
"I am not angry with you boy, merely amused. In fact, you did a very good job," she smiled, "and you will continue to do that job by keeping your pretty little mouth shut."
Atton flushed.
"Ah," Kreia laughed, "it is not as pleasant when someone besides your loving companion animal says it? Very well then." Kreia stood, and before Atton could move, the door to her room had closed behind him. Her presence seemed to fill the room, terrifying and powerful beyond all imagining. "Hear me, fool. If she has questions about me, they are for me to answer, not you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Atton quickly. He didn't trust himself to say anything more.
"Good," said Kreia sharply. The door opened. "Now leave me. I have things to see to."
Atton didn't dare look at her again, and left the room as quickly as he could. He looked around. No one was in the main cabin, and he quickly raced down to the galley to clean the mug that Kreia had handed him. He started cooking, trying to lose himself in the complicated process. He heard Mira walk down the stairs, but didn't stop or acknowledge her. He wanted to know what she had to say.
"Hey."
"What?" He glanced up at her, then back at the pot, moving quickly to keep it from boiling over.
"I still don't trust you."
"I don't care," said Atton, with a calm that he didn't feel.
"I know you," snarled Mira. "I've seen the bodies you leave behind when you're mad."
"Then don't make me mad," Atton suggested helpfully.
"How can she bear to touch you?" Mira stared at him. "Every time I look at you, I see you covered in blood."
Atton smiled. "Maybe that's why she likes me." He tested the oil, and decided it was ready, and started frying the little balls of dough.
"She probably thinks she can save you," Mira scoffed.
"Only, by 'save,' you should mean, 'dip in chocolate.' You are talking about Ludmilla, right?" Atton grinned.
"You listen to me," Mira hissed, and reached out to grab Atton's arm.
Atton twisted out of her grasp, and in the same move, struck her across the face, knocking her into the table. Mira scrambled to her feet, only to find that Atton was already facing her, a knife in each hand.
"Put those down! Now!" shouted Ludmilla. She lifted Mira bodily, and dragged her to the stairs. "You, out of here, now!"
Atton put down the knives and turned back to his cooking, trying not to shake as he removed the food from the oil. He was suddenly very glad that he hadn't gone with his first reaction.
"Is anything going to burn if I pull you away for a minute?" Ludmilla looked at him, her face unreadable.
Atton shook his head, and followed her into the washroom.
"I still haven't made a brig," Ludmilla mused, and smiled gently at Atton. "Calm down. I'm not angry with you."
Atton looked at her in surprise.
"I really hate it when you stop talking," she frowned. "Dammit, I want a cigarette."
"Ew," Atton said quickly. "They taste awful! I mean, when you kiss someone who's just had one. I've never had one. I don't like Mira," he said softly. "I can't help it. I just can't stand her."
"That's fine, but that doesn't give you the right to stab her whenever you feel like it."
Atton considered. "Are you sure? What if it's really funny at the time?"
"Atton."
He sighed. "Fine, so long as she keeps her distance, I promise not to stab her."
"That also applies to punching, kicking, poisoning.... You get the idea."
"I get it," sighed Atton. "I will not hurt Mira."
"She's on our side, you know. She just sees things differently than you do."
Atton looked at her carefully. "You're really not mad at me."
Ludmilla smiled. "No, I'm not. Just because I'm disciplining you doesn't mean I'm angry. If I'm going to be mad at anyone, I would be mad at myself. I'm the one who's supposed to be in charge, and I should never have let this confrontation happen in the first place. It's divisive and ultimately, useless." She sighed. "I'm going to go talk to Mira now, and see if I can make her understand that." Ludmilla straightened her shoulders, and started to walk out of the room.
Atton watched her for a moment, then pounced on her, and pulled her into a wild, adoring kiss. "Oh! The cakes!" Atton pulled away and ran back to the galley, Ludmilla's joyous laugh ringing in his ears.
Ludmilla skipped up the stairs, and Atton went back to cooking.
Mical came down the stairs, carrying some tools. He stopped to kiss Atton on the cheek. "I can't believe you broke the pipe."
"Me?" Atton protested. "That was your fault!"
Mical smiled, and walked back to finish repairing the damage. "What are you making? It smells delicious."
"Breakfast," Atton grinned.
"For dinner?"
"Why not?" Atton noted a shadow at the top of the stairs, but whoever it was disappeared when they heard Mical's voice.
"Why indeed. Are those oatcakes?"
Atton nodded, and brought a slice of fruit drenched in cream and honey over to Mical. "Here, try this. Is it too sweet?" He knew perfectly well that it wasn't, and that Mical's hands were full, which meant that he had to feed the slice to Mical. "Oops, it dripped. Let me get that for you."
"Is it really too much to ask that you keep your hands off each other for ten minutes?" Kreia demanded sharply.
Mical and Atton jumped in shock, and pulled away from each other, blushing guiltily.
"What do you want?" Atton demanded.
"Food," said Kreia smugly. "Most of us can't live on kisses."
"More's the pity," murmured Mical softly, and kissed Atton again.
"And the girl is upstairs getting drunk with the Mandalorian, talking about weapons and killing people. Is nowhere safe?" Kreia sighed, and sat down at the table. "By the heavens, what?" She touched the side of the table disdainfully. "Why is this dented? What have you two been doing?"
"Right, food," Atton rushed over and started setting the table so that Kreia could help herself.
Mical looked curiously at him.
"Are you hungry?" asked Atton innocently. "Of course you are, just sit down since they're drinking at the table upstairs." He set down a plate of fruit and cream in front of Mical, then followed it with some fresh-baked bread before Mical could say anything.
"Oh, is the food ready?" Visas came down the stairs, and sat at the table. "I'm starving!" She took a slice of bread and drowned it in honey.
Mical sighed, and started eating, trying to ignore Kreia's smile.
Drawn by the savory odors, the drunk members of the crew staggered downstairs as well. "What the hell? Fruit?" Canderous put an arm around Atton's waist. "I'm more of a meat eater, boy. Got anything for me?"
"Get your hands off him!" Mical stared in shock. "What do you think you are doing?" he asked sharply as Atton slipped neatly out of the Mandalorian's grasp.
Canderous chuckled. "I'm drunk, and I'm hungry. Atton works either way." He grinned wickedly at the look on Mical's face, and burst into raucous laughter. "You're so easy to mess with!" He sat down on the table, and took a bite out of the fruit that Visas was holding.
"Hey, there aren't enough chairs down here," said Mira drunkenly, and sat in Visas' lap. "Ludmilla, you should give Atton some of that orangey stuff. Maybe then he won't be so damn mean. Honey, you have the most comfortable lap ever," said Mira to Visas. "Oh, look, honey!" She helped herself to the slice of bread that Visas was trying to eat.
Atton rolled his eyes, and set out the rest of the food.
Ludmilla grinned, and helped Atton, pausing only to take swigs from her mug. Bao-Dur came slowly down the stairs, and also helped set out plates of food before he sat down at the table. Ludmilla leaned back against the wall, and pulled Atton to her.
"Damn, I left my mug upstairs," mumbled Canderous.
"How much have you had to drink?" asked Mical curiously.
Canderous laughed. "More than Mira, less than the alien. But the jetii has had more than all of us put together."
Ludmilla smiled. "It's true, I drink a lot. Ooh, let's play a little game!" She grinned at Atton. "Everyone here who has never slept with Revan, raise your hand."
Atton stared at her. "Wait, does it count if - "
"If you have to ask, then it counts," she said firmly, but still smiling.
Atton sighed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and laid his head on her breasts while he watched the table.
Kreia raised her drink to her lips, and Visas innocently raised her hand, as did Mira and Mical.
"Wait," said Mical, looking around the room. "Wait, all of you?"
Bao-Dur sighed. "Does this have a point, General?" He looked around. "Hey, wait a second." He stared at the Mandalorian, who was slowly turning red under everyone's stares. "How did - when did - "
"I assume that the slightly reformed Revan still counts, right?" Canderous sighed. "Come on, you don't seriously think I would have said no, do you?" He looked at Ludmilla. "I notice your hand isn't up either."
"She needed consoling, and Malak wasn't around."
Atton grinned. "I can see that. You're very comforting."
"Thank you."
Canderous looked at Bao-Dur. "What's your excuse?"
"I was the one who needed consoling." Bao-Dur looked down at the bottom of his mug, but he wasn't seeing the thick Mandalorian ale.
"And you?" Canderous looked at Atton.
Atton sighed. "Like most Sith relationships, I didn't really have a choice."
"Oh, so this was when she was still in charge of the Sith? Where was Malak?"
Atton's face was still and expressionless. "He was there."
Canderous blinked. "Let's talk about something else."
"If you like," Atton shrugged, and continued to snuggle Ludmilla.
Mical stood up and gently put his arms around Atton and Ludmilla.
"Oooh, a chair!" Mira quickly stole Mical's seat with a giggle.
Atton smiled, and let himself rest against Ludmilla and Mical, savoring their warmth and their strength.
Ludmilla gently kissed him, and then Mical, and then Atton again, before she finished her mug of ale.
"I wondered about that. I seem to remember all the drunk mercenaries moaning about the Mask of the Mandalore being lost forever," said Mira. "So how did you get it? From Revan?"
Canderous sighed. "Revan took the Mask from Mandalore the Ultimate when she killed him on his flagship, and the ship itself fell into the sun. There we were, watching the most horrible defeat the Mandalorian clans had ever suffered, and our most treasured tradition was destroyed, along with our will to fight. One by one, she shattered the Mandalorian clans, stripped us of our leaders. Clan leaders realized that survival meant staying out of notice. Some wanted to make a new mask, but Revan made it known that it was in her hands, and that anyone who tried to make a new one would suffer the same fate as the last Mandalore. We were cowed," Canderous sighed. "Too afraid to move forward, or back. Revan had us right where she wanted us - broken, scattered, helpless. She didn't just defeat us in war - she defeated us in peace as well. We were no longer the greatest warriors that the galaxy had ever seen - we weren't even a threat to her Sith Empire." Try as he might, he couldn't keep his admiration out of his voice.
"You really like Revan," Mira observed. "You're weird. You get mad at me when I hit you, but she crushes your entire precious Mandalorian culture and you like her."
Canderous chuckled. "You don't know the half of it. Revan was more Mandalorian than any Mandalorian you've ever met. She lived for battle, and she was good - more than good - at it. The only thing wrong with her was that she didn't look like a warrior. But she was one, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes."
"Was she good looking?" asked Mira curiously. "I've always wondered, what with the mask and everything. And there are no pictures of her, or anything."
"She was... perfect," Canderous said softly. "A little too perfect, in some ways. She never really seemed real." Under the table, he reached out and took Visas' hand, held it in his own.
"So, why did she choose you?" Ludmilla asked.
Canderous grinned. "I was the leader of Clan Ordo. Not much of a clan, but it was mine. I threw out a lot of stupid traditions after that last battle. It was a painful lesson, but I learned it and made sure we would never forget it. I encouraged our warriors to work - any work at all, it didn't matter, so long as they got paid."
"What did you need all that money for?" asked Mical.
"Buying our people out of slavery. Any Mandalorian that fell into Revan's hands either ended up in her army, in the torture chambers, or on the slave market. I couldn't do anything with the ones that joined the army, but I did save a lot of Mandalorians from the auction block. That was why keeping slaves was the first thing I tossed out of my camp. It's kind of hard to tell a slave that serving Mando'ade is a great destiny, when you know that some fat Hutt bought your kal'vod for his harem because you didn't have enough credits, and you'll never see her again."
"Kal'vod?" asked Atton quietly.
"Blade-sister. Someone who grew up with you, but isn't a blood relation," explained Ludmilla.
"Four hundred lousy credits," said Canderous bitterly. " I know it really didn't matter - the Hutt would always have outbid me, no matter how much I had. But - " Canderous shook his head. "Never mind, she's dead now. She's free. Anyway, Revan - the reformed Revan - saw what I was doing, and she liked it. She told me to keep doing it, and to reunite all the clans. And she gave me the Mask."
"Where did the sex come in?" asked Mira with a grin.
"You've obviously never met Revan," said Bao-Dur dryly, and Ludmilla laughed.
"So, she picked you because you were going back to the roots of the Mandalorian culture. And not just because you worship the ground she walks on," Ludmilla smiled.
"Hey, have you seen the ground she walks on?" grinned Canderous.
"Do you have any idea where she went?" asked Ludmilla.
Canderous sighed. "Not exactly. She went alone, and gave the rest of us our orders. She wouldn't say why, but she told me that she needed the clans, united under one banner, and ready to fight. So she gave me the Mask, and told me to go out and preserve Mando'ade." He smiled at Ludmilla. "She also said that I might run into some things from her past on the way. I always thought she meant her enemies. I never knew that Revan had friends."
Ludmilla blushed.
"So, what was the reformed Revan like, anyway?" asked Atton. "She only killed people every other day?"
Canderous laughed. "I don't know what the real Revan was like, or the Sith Revan. I only knew her as I traveled with her, and for most of it, I didn't know who she was. She was just this tiny, crazy, amnesiac chick with a great ass who could beat the shit out of anybody."
"Crazy?"
"Crazy, like she talked to trees and droids like they were real people crazy. Only, in her case, that wasn't completely crazy, because sometimes, it worked."
Atton sighed. "I don't think I know the same person."
"No," Canderous agreed, "I don't think you do."

It took Atton a moment to realize that he was dreaming. Or rather, remembering.
"You're very young." She looked him over again. She had pale, pale skin. Her hair was the color of old gold, and it fell in thick waves around her cold yet beautiful face. Her eyes were like ice, blue as the sky in winter and just as dangerous. She was beautiful, yes, but it was the beauty of a corpse ready to be laid to rest. "Very young," she said again.
He smiled shyly, knowing that to be brash here was pointless. She wanted to be appeased, yet impressed. She wanted to know what the Incubus could do. "If I were older, I would know better."
She laughed softly, the way queens do. No unseemly mirth here. Just a ruler, showing her pleasure to her minions. "I have been told that you can seduce anyone." She looked at him, leaned back in her chair.
He glanced at her from under his eyelashes, not looking directly up at her. "I don't think I could seduce you," he smiled. "I'm too afraid of you."
She smiled at his seemingly artless comment, knowing it for flattery, yet unable to resist. "You're very cute. Seduce the next man who walks into the room."
He bowed, in acceptance of her command, and her challenge. "Thank you."
"If you succeed, then I have an assignment for you. A very special one," she said softly.
The doors open, and her eyes went very wide when she saw the man enter. Her beautifully rounded breasts heaved, her chest tightened, her eyes narrowed slightly, her nails dug into the wood of her chair.
"Is something wrong?" asked Atton softly.
She shook her head. "You have a week," she said sharply. "If you fail, I will use someone else."
He bowed politely, and she waved her hand in dismissal.
He hadn't failed. He never failed.
Atton tossed and turned, trying to break away from his memories.
"The knives? They're not for you. But you're going to wish they were." He smiled impishly at the whimpering form on the floor. "Don't worry. I'll know when you want me to stop." He tossed the severed tongue on the floor next to the body. "You won't even need this, I promise. You want to know what the best part of this is?" He looked over at the man standing by the door. "Knowing that you're lying here, wishing that you were anywhere else, watching you pray that the pain will stop. And knowing that he's standing over there, hating you, and wishing that he could be where you are."
Atton tried again to stop remembering, to stop seeing what he had been.
"In the stories, this is the moment when a heroic Jedi would appear and save the child from death." The child's mother shook her head helplessly, wordlessly begging him not to do it. He let go, and the child's scream echoed in their ears for a few short moments. "Okay, in the stories, this is the moment when the heroic Jedi would appear and avenge the child's death." He looked around, and sighed. "Too bad the stories are never true. Here." He tossed a credit chit to the woman. "Trust me, the kid's better off now anyway." He walked out, knowing that they would give the money to the trapped Jedi. Knowing that the Jedi would take it, and try to leave the city. Knowing that his plan, as always, had worked flawlessly.
"No," he moaned softly. "I didn't mean it, I really didn't." Atton sat up, suddenly awake. Mical's hand was in his, and he had wrapped his arms around Ludmilla. Atton sprang out of bed, choking back a cry of shame. How dare he touch them? He didn't deserve this, any of it. He pulled on his clothes, and left the room.
All the lights on the ship were dimmed, a pseudo-night for the crew, mimicking the nightfall outside. This was their last night on Korriban. All the repairs and fixes were complete, and they were ready to leave first thing in the morning. Atton leaned against the wall outside the room, shaking in terror. Could he do it? Could he really do it?
"Hey. Are you okay? You look like you're gonna puke."
Atton started in surprise. "Mira! Where did you come from?"
She pointed back at the door to the room where Visas and Canderous slept. "Seriously, are you gonna puke?"
"No, I - " Atton's knees wouldn't hold him up any longer, and he sank to the floor. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"
"Oh, you were gonna run away." Mira crossed her arms and looked down at him. "She'd just look for you, you know. So would Mical. And Kreia would yell at you when they brought you back."
Atton closed his eyes.
"What is wrong with you?" said Mira impatiently. "I used to be so jealous of you, back when you lived on Nar Shadaa. You had money, and everything you wanted. At least, that's what it looked like from the outside. While I was stuck in a pokey hole with old guy, and starved half the time. But no matter how hungry I got, I never did anything that got me dirty. And whenever I got home, the old guy could see it in my eyes, and I could see it in his."
"I hate you so much," said Atton miserably.
"I know. And now, I know why. But she likes you. Just the way you are. Hell, she loves you, and if you do anything stupid, she would beat herself up about it for the rest of her life. Is that really what you want? You really want to hurt her that bad?"
"No!" Atton shook his head. "I don't - I don't want to hurt anybody. Not anymore."
Mira sighed impatiently. "Then go back to bed, idiot. Talk to her, or to Mical, or somebody. Just stop being so stupid."
Atton stared at the floor. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"
"Uh... if you feel like cooking, sure. I'd love some more of those fried dough things. You know what would go great with those? Chocolate sauce."
Atton looked up at her in surprise. "Okay."
"What?" Mira helped him to his feet.
"I'd never thought of putting chocolate on them, that's all."
"Are you nuts? Everything tastes better with chocolate on it!"
Atton laughed shakily, and went down to the galley, Mira following and making more crazy suggestions of food that would be improved by chocolate.
In the room upstairs, unseen and unheard, Ludmilla sank to the floor, shaking and weak with relief, still unsure of what she would have done if he had really tried to leave. "Why me? Why does it always test me?" She pressed her hands to her eyes, forcing herself to regain control. "Just once," she murmured softly, trying not to wake Mical, "I'd like the Force to test me with candy."