The Force Shall Free Me
Chapter Two
The history of Ossus – and the Warehouse – was complicated.
Nestled far from the galactic center and the core worlds of the Galactic Republic, amidst the sparse and somewhat desolate planets of the galactic outer rim, the world had once been a paradise as lush and beautiful as any other. Once the Jedi Order established their great library there, it also became a popular destination for scholars and researchers, and as the communities grew, so did its popularity with the citizens of the Republic.
The Jedi had long been aware of the existence of artifacts. Some could feel their presence as they made waves in the fabric of the Force, as they affected the objects and people around them according to their alignment. These objects could be felt as if they were alive, as if they had intentions and desires, and the Jedi were quick to discover just how dangerous those objects could be.
Thus, the Warehouse was born.
For several thousand years, it housed the misfit collection of unexplained relics in the shadow of the Jedi's great center of learning, but hidden from the view of common man. Only a select few knew of its existence, and fewer still knew how to access it. Its wonders – and terrors – were far too alluring.
It was the allure of power, of strength, of ultimate weapons of destruction that led a fallen Jedi named Exar Kun to Ossus nearly five thousand years previous. History assumes he was searching for ancient Sith knowledge, but he was searching for far more than that – he was searching for rumors. Legends. Powers beyond imagination.
He assumed the Jedi kept those artifacts in the great Library, and sacked the Jedi compound before eventually poisoning the planet. He assumed wrong…but the damage had been done, and beautiful Ossus would become a wasteland.
The Warehouse would remain, however, better protected by the planet's inhospitable climate than by any safety measure they could conceive.
And there had been survivors, an entire tribe of people that had dedicated themselves to the ruins of the Jedi enclave, who were Force-sensitive and mostly peaceful. In time, the planet began to adapt and recover, and even thrive once again in its own unique way.
Myka smiled as the familiar warmth of the orange sunlight of Ossus hit her face for the first time in months. The air was filled with the exotic fragrances unique to the world, and carried on it the distant laughter of a nearby tribe of natives. Where deep forests, expansive lakes, and a temperate climate had once been the hallmarks that made the planet so amazing, the lingering effects of the disaster had blanketed the world with a thicker atmosphere. The climate was arid and dry in many places, and overrun by dense tropical plantlife in others. There, on the outskirts of the ruins of great Jedi library, they were surrounded by a nearly-impenetrable jungle, which provided the most natural of covers.
Myka had never been a fan of warm climates, preferring ice and snow to oppressive heat, but Ossus had its own secret charm, something hidden and revealed only to a select few. Despite her initial misgivings about her assignment to this secret place, she had grown to love it, and even call it home.
"Take her to the house," Artie instructed, steering the captive Sith toward the ramp, and toward Myka. "Keep a close eye on her. Pete, you go with them." The elder man turned a harsh gaze on their ancient guest. "If the Sith so much as looks at you the wrong way, take no chances."
"As if I were currently in a position to cause you, my gracious hosts," she emphasized, her cultured voice dripping with sarcasm, "any sort of trouble."
"You're lucky to be alive at the moment. Don't push it."
"Artie, she's barely able to stand on her own. At least let her recover a little before you accuse her of planning something evil."
Myka's uncharacteristic outburst earned her a low tone and a stony glare. "She is a Sith, Myka. Her kind may be long dead, but they were ruthless and cunning conquerors, seduced and consumed by the Dark Side of the Force. You would do well to exercise the sort of caution a first-year padawan is taught to possess around such a creature."
A quick glance to her partner, to his widened, shocked eyes, was enough to still her tongue. "Yes, Master Artie," she replied.
The trio walked in silence to their actual home – a modest two-story dwelling obscured by jungle vines – on the other side of a small clearing from their dock. She yearned for sleep on a bed more comfortable than the one on the ship, for a few days of peace so that she could recharge. But at her side stood the menacing figure of the person that would ensure her days back home would be anything but peaceful.
A short, dark-skinned woman stood waiting for them at the door, dressed in a colorful outfit typical of her native tribe. Leena was a Ysanna, a descendant of the survivors from so long ago, and their keeper, for lack of a better word.
"Welcome back, guys," she said, smiling. Her amber eyes crinkled in glee for a moment at the sight of her friends, but lost that edge a little as curiosity overtook her. "Who is our extra guest?" she asked, gesturing with her chin toward their charge.
"An enemy," Pete said quickly. "We need to get her to the lockup."
Leena's smile faltered a bit at Pete's tone, but the young woman nodded.
The dwelling was fairly spartan, but held Leena's personal touch thorughout. Small tribal trinkets and freshly-cut local blooms were placed on tables and shelves, and the warm light flooded the main rooms of the house, invading the entry even without the front door open. To the right, under a set of carved stone and wood stairs that led to the upper level, was a secure-looking door.
It led to a long corridor, lit partially by squat windows near the ceiling and partially by artificial light. The windows caught more light the further down the hallway they proceeded, until they reached the end of it. There stood a bright, off-white room with a hidden restroom, and dozens of empty shelves. on the right, and a single bed tucked against the wall, covered by a faded but warm-looking quilt on the left.
A cell.
Myka stood in the center and fumbled with the cuffs around the strange woman's wrists, trying not to look into the Sith's eyes. There was an odd, familiar quality to them that felt…what was the word she was looking for?
Safe?
But that in itself was cause for alarm, and so she opted not to look into her eyes, or at her pale face and dark red lips that seemed permanently bent into an arrogant smirk.
"Really, Darling, are you always so shy? Do look up now and again. Your lack of confidence is a weakness."
The cuffs clattered to the ground as her eyes flew upward.
Pete raced to her side, putting himself between Myka and their prisoner, his hand on the saber at his side.
"There now," the pale woman clucked. "Isn't that better?"
The other knight slowly backed them both out of the cell, and activated the switch on the wall once they were clear.
"The cell is force-suppressive, so don't get any funny ideas," he said.
"And why would I have any ideas?" she retorted sharply. "I've been rather indisposed for quite some time. At the moment, I wouldn't have any idea what to do with myself."
"Well then…consider doing nothing for the foreseeable future."
Pete turned away and started back down the corridor. Myka lingered briefly, looking back at the prisoner as she stared Pete's retreating form down, then shifted her eyes away as the dark gaze strayed toward her own.
A pang of guilt hit her: hadn't the woman on the other side of the force field already spent enough time doing nothing?
"There's a datapad in the table drawer. You can read news from the holonet, watch some vids, read a book or two. Something to keep your mind occupied, at least."
She expected – she wanted – no acknowledgment, but the soft "thank you" she received was welcomed.
She turned away, but Leena lingered for a few moments, her bright eyes raking up and down their prisoner's body as if she was a book to be read. After a few moments, the other woman turned, as well, and the pair walked away.
"Well…what do we do now?"
Pete, Myka, Leena, Claudia, and Artie had gathered in the entry of their small home, beyond the sealed door leading down the long hallway.
"We let her rot."
Myka frowned at her superior's attitude, and despite the acute memory of the acidic look she'd received earlier for defensing the sith, she did so again.
"That's far from the humane thing to do, Artie. We can't just leave her there."
"Oh, I have no intention of leaving her there," he started, "I intend to put her back in stasis at the earliest opportunity. That woman is a sith, and that makes her evil."
"There's good in her, Artie. I can feel it."
Leena's remark was surprising. The Ysanni woman, ever polite, rarely volunteered information without being asked for it. It was a trait Myka appreciated in their rather ragtag household of strong personalities.
At that moment, however, she appreciated having another voice of reason in the group.
"You were studying her aura, weren't you?"
Leena's hazel eyes lifted from her task to meet Myka's gaze. "Of course," she supplied.
"What did you see?"
There was a long pause as the shorter woman's eyes darted about, as if she were re-reading the information she had gathered. "She's conflicted."
"Conflicted?" Artie's scoffed. "How would that even be possible?"
"The same way it's possible that you are conflicted, Artie. She hides her own desires, wages her own battle against an internal pain, just as you battle against your own feelings every day."
Artie's deep brown eyes widened as if his secrets had just been laid bare for the entire table to see, and Myka wondered what he would think if he knew they were all already aware of how powerfully the man tried to deny attachment. They were a community, a family by necessity. They shared a common mission, and its secretive nature meant there wer simply few people in the galaxy that they could trust completely. Each of the jedi stuggled with the inevitable attachments that companionship formed.
But Artie fought the hardest, perhaps because he had sacrificed so much. Myka smiled affectionately as his bushy eyebrows crinkled together in dissatisfaction.
"Stop reading me," he muttered.
"My point," Leena continued, "is that though the Dark Side has a hold over her, it is not complete."
"So…what? We can't set her free, and, really, putting her in stasis isn't exactly fair." Pete said.
"How it is not fair? That's how we found her." But at Pete's arched eyebrow, the older man grumbled in assent. "Fine, fine…we'll give her to the Council and let them try her for her crimes."
"Crimes? Master Artie, c'mon," Claudia's voice took on a pleading, slightly whiny tone that drove the older man visibly crazy. "What did she really do?"
"For one, she helped wage a war on her emperor's behalf against the Republic. For two, the sacking of Telos. She was probably there for that."
"You don't know that," Claudia countered.
"Yeah, hard to prove when nobody knew of her existence before a few days ago. Besides, we're well past the statute of limitations for that."
All eyes turned toward Pete with varying grades of shock.
"What? I learn things."
"He has a point, Artie," Myka supplied. "It's going to be difficult to convict her of anything, and in the meantime we have a real, walking historical record available for us to learn from."
"Even a twisted mind can be an artifact," he retorted, "but…fine. She's our best lead on James, for now. If nothing else, maybe we can figure out why he was after the power core…or whatever he thought the power core could do." Artie waved dismissively at Myka. "You have the closest thing to a connection with her. Go see what you can do."
She still longed for the peace of her bed, of a good night's rest, but resigned herself to another hour or two seated in the uncomfortable metal chair on the other side of the forcefield. The woman was seated on her bed, meditating, and where before the other woman only barely registered through the Force, she could feel the power and strength coming back to the woman even through the force barricade.
Myka wrapped her slender fingers around the top bar of the metal chair and dragged it away from the wall, its legs scraping across the textured floor and filling the hallway with a harsh echo.
"Our surgeon will be here soon to look you over."
The other woman didn't open her eyes. "I would be perfectly fine if you would allow me to commune with the Force for a few moments."
"Maybe later," Myka supplied.
The sith opened her eyes at last, fixing her black gaze upon the jedi so sharply that she felt as if that gaze penetrated into her very soul. Her mental discomfort translated into a physical fidget as she shifted in her seat.
"I'm here to ask you some questions."
"I gathered." Myka noticed for the first time the faint ring of red around the sith's irises, and how the angry color made her gaze look sinister. Where had that been earlier, she wondered?
"We need to know why James MacPherson was after…you, I guess."
Whatever weakness, whatever softness had been present in the woman before was gone now, replaced only with the cool arrogance that had begun to slip through earlier.
"Honestly, Jedi, I have no idea."
Myka was surprised to discover she missed that absent softness. She sighed.
"Okay…let's start with something simple. How long was he on the ship?"
"I can only really account for his whereabouts after he released me from stasis."
"Fine." Myka leaned back into her seat. "Start there."
It was an easy, dry recounting. MacPherson had given her a short amount of time to recover before ushering her to the bridge and the engineering console that controlled the power core, during which she had to continue to maintain the ship's integrity. He'd revealed little of his intentions and even less of his reasons, but by the time they arrived, Helena had reached her limit.
"I'm quite gifted," Helena said, "but after four thousand years of consciousness, the mind requires a rest."
It had been mentioned before, that long term of wakefulness, but now Myka was afforded a moment to reflect on what that truly meant. "That much time, trapped in your own head…it must have been agony."
"Offers a lady time to think," came the smooth reply.
"Still…it wasn't right, what Malak did to you. I'm sorry."
"I don't need your pity, Jedi."
The words struck, but Myka had expected them. "That's not pity. It's compassion. It's justice. What happened to you was cruel."
"What happened to me was my own fault. I was so focused on Malak's attack upon Revan that I failed to sense the oncoming attack upon me, and I've had quite some time to reflect upon the humiliation of letting that sniveling sycophant get the better of me. If he weren't already long dead, I would most assuredly hunt him down and slowly destroy him."
Leena's previous words echoed in Myka's mind, ans she decided to take a risk. "You cared for Revan."
The sith's face fell into what might have been a disgusted scoff.
"You weren't focused on the attack, you were concerned for your friend."
An even mask slipped back onto her face, and Myka's lips quirked into a smile.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"It's all right to care for people."
"It's folly to care for people. That is not the Sith way."
"You don't believe that."
"I do, Jedi. And you would do well to remember that."
"Helena…"
"You will address me as Darth Morlock."
She saw the other woman's emotionless mask click into place with a sharpness equal to the one in her voice at the command. Padawans are taught of the ancient Sith, of their callousness and cruelty. A jedi learns early the kind of evil the dark side creates within its followers. And despite what Leena said, this woman wielded the dark side with a mastery she doubted many had accomplished in their much longer and well-documented lifetimes.
But Myka was familiar with masks, and where the woman before her could no doubt use her anger as an offensive weapon, at the moment it was simply a shield to hide behind.
She stood and moved the chair against the wall once more before turning to face the sith again with kind eyes.
"I'll be back later with some food," she supplied. "I'll bring some more datapads, too, and a holochess board. You strike me as the type of person to enjoy a good game of strategy."
The prisoner said nothing, merely glared at her. The jedi moved to leave, but paused mid-stride as one final thought occurred to her.
"And my name is Myka."
She walked away in silence, but she took that silence as a good sign.