Woman without a Country

Mical walked into the kitchen, where Visas and Mira where laughing and drowning random food in chocolate sauce to see whether the taste was really improved or not. "Don't you two ever sleep?" He glanced at Atton, who was carefully removing some kind of pie from the cooking unit. "Atton, why are you wearing clothes?" Mical shook his head. "You know, there was a time in my life where I never needed to ask a question like that."
The women burst into laughter at his observation, and Atton just smiled.
"If you wait a few minutes, I'll make some coffee," Atton offered.
"Ah, that would be wonderful, thank you." Mical sat down at the table, and helped himself to some fruit from the food laid out on the table. "Oh, really, bread? In chocolate sauce?"
"It's not bad," grinned Mira, and Mical just shook his head in disbelief.
"Where's Ludmilla?" asked Atton. He looked at the stairs, but there was no sign of her.
"She stopped to check on something in the engine room. I'm sure she'll be down shortly."
Atton set out Mical's coffee, and the pie, then quickly made a cup of tea for Ludmilla and ran upstairs with it.
Mical watched him leave with a smile, and happily drank his coffee. "Perfect," he murmured softly. He looked up in surprise a moment later, when Ludmilla came down the stairs. "Atton just went looking for you. He was bringing you some tea."
"Didn't see him." Ludmilla walked over to the keg in the corner, and seemed to be considering something.
"Oh, surely you're not going to have ale this early," said Mical, somewhat worried. He couldn't tell if she was upset about something, and she was usually so open with her emotions. All he could sense from her was a quiet stillness. It was incredibly disturbing. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on their connection.
Ludmilla's hand shot out, slammed into the keg, and the entire structure burst apart with a deafening crack. She pulled off the two rings of Mandalorian iron that had been encircling the keg. "Sorry for the noise," she said calmly, "I'll clean that up later." Ludmilla turned and walked back upstairs.
Mical stared after her in surprise. "She didn't eat anything."
Mira frowned. "That's totally weird."
"She's trying not to be angry about something," said Visas softly. "I wonder what it is."
"Or who," muttered Mira.
Ludmilla laid the rings on the workbench and was about to start cutting when she noticed a plate resting gently on the edge of the workbench. It was a cup of tea, the steam rising slowly, and lying on the saucer next to it was a single cigarette. Ludmilla stared. "Oh." She looked around, and saw Atton leaning against the wall behind her, pretending that he wasn't watching her. "Oh, Atton!" She tossed her tools down, and pounced on him, all her anger and unhappiness swept away by his simple gesture.
"You didn't even take it," Atton grinned.
She kissed him again and again, and held him close. "I don't need it now." She tightened her arms around him, drinking in his softness and his sweet scent.
"Well, but what if you want it later?"
Ludmilla smiled joyfully, and kissed Atton yet again. "I don't think I will, Atton."
Atton kissed her lips, her hair, her ears. "Are you sure?"
"Are you?" she whispered softly.
Atton flushed slightly, as he slowly realized what she was really asking. "I am! I'm sure." He kissed her again, then sighed miserably. "Now you are mad at me," he said softly.
"Not anymore," she said brightly, and kissed him again.
"Really?" Atton smiled ruefully. "One nice gesture? That's all it takes?"
"Well, there is sugar in the tea, right? So that's actually two nice gestures," Ludmilla giggled.
Atton laughed, trying not to be upset, and Ludmilla squeezed him tightly. "Hey!"
"Oooh, you squeak!" Ludmilla squeezed him again.
"I do not squeak!" Atton protested, and Ludmilla laughed again, then tossed him over her shoulder. "You know, this is a little unfair." Atton dangled upside down, comfortable and secure in her strength. "I mean, I can't just drag you away anytime I want to."
Ludmilla chuckled, and drained her mug of tea-flavored sugar syrup.
"I could set a trap though. Leave a trail of candy to the bedroom. You know, you really do have a great ass."
"What is all this noise?" said Kreia sharply. "By the heavens, what are you doing, girl?"
"I have no excuse," grinned Ludmilla. "Did you want something?"
"Should we not be leaving this planet? Perhaps we should take off before you begin frolicking?" Kreia suggested.
"She has a point," Atton agreed. "And, I'm already dressed. Although, I still don't see why that makes a difference. If she can fight in her underwear, why can't I fly in my nightclothes?"
They could feel Kreia restraining herself. "Go fly the ship, fool!"
"Shouldn't you be yelling at her to put me down first?" Atton pointed out.
Ludmilla smiled at Kreia's rage. "Oh, you're just faking it anyway. You think this is funny." She set Atton back on his feet again, then kissed him before he ran off to go pilot the ship.
Kreia pursed her lips together tightly, then stalked off without a word.
Canderous opened the door carefully. "Is she gone?" he whispered.
Ludmilla laughed quietly. "Yes, it's safe now." Ludmilla went back to the workbench, and noted that the cigarette was gone again. She smiled to herself, and began working on cutting up the rings again.
"I can't believe you were talking back to her," he grinned in admiration.
Atton peeked around the corner. "You're beautiful, by the way. Where should I be heading?"
"Dxun," Ludmilla grinned, "we're out of beer."

"How did you do that?" Mical asked.
"Do what?" Ludmilla looked up from the section of the engine that she was working on.
"When you broke the keg. You - you totally destroyed it. How did you do that?"
"Oh," Ludmilla looked back down at the engine. "It's called a shatterpoint. Everything has one. A point where all the energies of the Force intersect - past, present, future - and a single action can cause the Force to dissipate, with a corresponding effect in the physical world. Not just on objects. It could be a moment when you can break up a relationship, a battle that can shape the course of a war." Ludmilla sighed. "It's sort of a weakness of mine. I find the resultant destruction incredibly satisfying, and the action itself is generally neither good nor evil. The Force just doesn't seem to care whether a keg continues to exist, or whether it gets reduced to a set of bars used to reinforce an engine. You aren't permanently removing the Force from anything, just setting it free."
"Is that - is that what happened at Malachor V?" asked Mical uncertainly.
Ludmilla glanced up at him, without smiling. "Hand me that wrench, would you?" She leaned over the engine again, and went back to her work.
Mical realized that the discussion was over, and walked away to sit and think. Mical sat down in medbay, and pulled out his datapads, looking up the battles of the past few decades in idle curiosity. He frowned at the data, and walked back to the main cabin to use the console there.
"Help! Save me!" Mira hid behind Mical, and threw her arms around his waist so that she could use him as a shield. "The Sith witch is trying to kill me again!"
"Mira!" Mical tried to disentangle himself from Mira's clutches, while simultaneously fending off Visas. "Will you two stop that! This instant! Let me go!" Somehow, Mical was toppled over, and landed on the floor with a woman in each arm and Atton straddling his chest. "Atton!"
"What? I thought it was tackle Mical time," he said innocently.
T3 buzzed up and beeped at Atton.
"What? Already?" Atton sighed, leaned over and gave Mical a soft kiss.
"That is so hot!" said Mira.
Atton laughed and ran off to the engine room to find Ludmilla.
"Wait, what? Atton, get them off me!"
"Get the who off what? Hey! Those are mine!"
"Am not," protested Mira.
"But he's cuddly," said Visas sweetly, giggling as Canderous picked her up off the floor and away from Mical.
"You have your own! Stop trying to steal mine."
"I wasn't - "
"Will you please get off the floor and stop misbehaving for five minutes? Just five minutes of you keeping your hands to yourself! Is that really too much to ask?"
Mical turned bright red in embarrassment. "That is really just too much," he protested. "I didn't – "
Kreia made an angry noise of disgust, and walked away before Mical could finish his sentence.
Mical hid his face in his hands and groaned silently before he pulled himself to his feet. Everyone went off to their favorite areas of the ship, leaving him alone with the main console. Mical tapped his fingers on the screen, thinking. He went back to entering data, running simulations and reviewing battles. He frowned slightly, and started searching more seriously as he realized that there was a pattern to be found.
"Apparently," said Kreia dryly, "it is too much to ask."
"I beg your pardon?" Mical looked up in surprise.
"What are you doing, dog? Digging up bones that have been carefully buried, to lay them proudly at the feet of your Master?"
Mical stiffened. "I find that characterization very offensive, and I would prefer that you not use it, Kreia. I have found something – " he turned back to the screen, and gasped as the computer started deleting all his data. "What?"
"Do not disturb the bones of the dead, dog. If you wish to be a good pet, go lick your Master's hand."
Mical turned back, his innate respect for a Jedi Elder warring with his sense of outrage.
"In fact," said Kreia calmly, "why don't you just go do that now?"
There was a loud explosion from the engine room, and he felt a sudden rush of fear from Ludmilla. Mical completely forgot all about what he had discovered and Kreia's strange rudeness. "Atton! Good heavens!" Mical ran off to help, and Kreia smiled before following slowly, her robes swirling gracefully as always.

Mical leaned back in his chair and sighed. Atton was resting peacefully with Ludmilla, in the bedroom. He pulled off his bloodstained robes, and put them neatly in a bag to carry down to the laundering unit later. His datapads were still scattered all over the floor where they had fallen earlier. His mind refused to replay the image of Atton and Ludmilla covered in blood, shielding each other from the blast. Mical picked up the first pad, and glanced down at the numbers covering the screen.
"Surely, there are better things you could be doing with your time?" snapped Kriea.
Mical looked up in surprise.
"The boy is whining that he wants another blanket," Kreia explained her presence outside the medbay. "He also wants a cup of tea and some sort of sweet, but I don't remember what he said."
"He wants a scone, he always has them with his tea," said Mical, wide-eyed with surprise. "Is he already awake?"
"He is, and as usual, he is being irritating and demanding. Now hand me a blanket and go get him his tea and cookies, or whatever it is the boy demands."
"Of course!" Mical sprang to his feet, and pulled down a clean blanket.
"Wait, why am I doing this?" Kreia said suddenly before he could hand her the blanket. "You bring it to the boy. And don't forget about his coffee. Or tea. Whatever it is." Kreia swept away, and Mical stared after her.
"Why didn't she just tell me to go check on Atton?" Mical shook his head to himself, and shyly walked to the bedroom.
"Mical!" Ludmilla smiled in pleasure as he walked into the room. Atton was resting comfortably in her arms, his head pillowed on her breasts. Atton still looked pale, and was covered with the only sheet left in the room. "You brought a blanket!"
Mical smiled wryly, and carefully drew the blanket over Atton and Ludmilla. "I didn't have much choice in the matter."
"You noticed the blanket?" Atton grinned. "I noticed that he didn't have his robes on. Come to bed," Atton suggested sweetly. "You can help keep me warm."
"Are you cold?" asked Mical worriedly. He laid a gentle hand on Atton's forehead. "Let me fetch you some tea."
"And some scones!" said Ludmilla eagerly. "Or, you be the pillow, and I'll go get them."
Mical laughed. "You're much more pillow-esque than I am." He bent down, and kissed Atton, then Ludmilla. "I'll be right back."
"Probably for the best," Ludmilla grinned, "I'd eat them all before I was halfway up the stairs."
Mical started down to the galley, and paused when he noticed Kreia in medbay. "Oh, thank you," he said politely as he realized that she was putting things away.
"I dislike disorder," she said calmly. "What were you doing with all these pads? Trying to calculate the number of times Atton has kissed you today?"
"Uh, no, I – " Mical thought for a moment. "I really have no idea what I was doing. I can't remember," he said vaguely.
Kreia shrugged. "I'm sure it wasn't important. Not nearly as important as whatever it is you're doing now. What are you doing now?"
"Oh, the tea," Mical bustled down the stairs, and didn't see Kreia's smile.
"And the scones," she called after him with a harsh laugh.

Mical walked back into the room, carrying a tray of drinks and snacks, and a datapad under his arm. "Atton, there was a message for you on the communications console. At least, I think it was for you. It's just addressed to 'Rand,' no other name."
"Oh!" Atton reached out and took the datapad from Mical. "That is for me. Can I borrow one of your hairs? I promise to give it back." Atton grinned and leaned back against Ludmilla again.
"What?" Mical stared at him in confusion.
"Will you just get in bed already? Put that tray down."
Mical sighed in confusion. "I am having the most confusing day I've ever had in my entire life." He pulled off his shirt, and folded it neatly before laying it on the dresser.
"Ludmilla, can you just drag him into bed or something?"
She grinned. "I could tackle him, but I can't guarantee that will get him into the bed."
"Go for it."
"You know, this really isn't necessary," Mical started to say, but she moved with the swift grace of a hunting cat, and had him pinned on the floor before he could finish his sentence. She kissed him hungrily, and Mical buried his hands in her hair, moaning softly. "Although, I will confess," he whispered between kisses, "it's quite nice."
Atton sipped his tea, and watched Ludmilla and Mical kiss. "Am I allowed out of bed yet?"
"No," they said together.
"You stay right there," said Mical firmly.
"Well, why does Ludmilla get to get out of bed?" Atton frowned. "I'm not made of glass, you know."
"All evidence points to the contrary," Mical sighed. He kissed Ludmilla again, then climbed into the bed and lay down next to Atton. "If you would just rest quietly instead of fidgeting constantly, you'd heal faster."
Atton set down his tea and snuggled up to Mical. "So … does sex count as fidgeting?"
"Yes," Mical sighed. "Just rest, Atton. We'll still be here."
Ludmilla chuckled. "Oops."
Mical rolled his eyes, and Atton laughed.
Ludmilla sat down on the edge of the bed, and helped herself to some of the scones. "I'm still confused about what happened. I would have expected the valves to be damaged, but that chassis never should have come off like that. I don't know what happened."
Mical frowned, trying to remember what he had been doing earlier, but the feel of Atton's body against his was too distracting. "Atton, stop that! You're supposed to be resting."
Atton smiled, and laid his head on Mical's shoulder. "I'm resting."
Ludmilla laughed, and pulled Atton's hands back up to Mical's chest. "Rest." She leaned over, and kissed Atton again. "I'm going to go take a look at the engine room again. This ship needs a serious overhaul." She pulled Mical's hand, set it over Atton's to keep them in place. "You two, get some rest. Or at the very least, stay in bed."
"I can do that," said Atton cheerfully, and it was Mical's turn to laugh in agreement.