I blame the near-daily rash of Bering and Wells AUs popping up on tumblr for this. Honestly though, how could I resist?

The Force Shall Free Me

Chapter One

"So...what exactly is this thing?"

The lilting tone of the young padawan's voice floated across the cavernous, war-torn deck of the ancient ship, and despite being in four very remote locations from one another, all could hear her question, and all could respond.

But it was her master that did so first.

"This ship is the Leviathan. It was Darth Malak's flagship during the Jedi Civil War."

"The Jedi Civil War? Four thousand years ago?" The youngest member of the party gave a low, long whistle. "That's a looong time for something to float around in space and not get hit. But wait, which one was Darth Malak again?"

"The idiot," he replied.

"Not helping there, Grumps."

From the master, a long-suffering sigh as he inspected a power relay near their docked ship. "Malak was the second in command during the Mandalorian Wars, and when he and the Jedi Revan returned form unknown space as Sith years later to spark the Jedi Civil War, he was the apprentice and Revan was the master."

The padawan kicked over a scorched sheet of duranium. "He was the one that tried to kill Revan. The one that failed and basically wiped his memory and turned him into a good guy?"

Artie Nielsen, Jedi Master, was short for a human male, with scraggly, salt-and-pepper curls and a scruffy beard. Despite his pudgy appearance, he was a gifted strategist and exceptionally good with codes and puzzles. As the senior JEdi, he was their leader and the supervisor of their artifact storage facility, a place that had long ago been subbed simply "the Warehouse."

"Yeah," he replied, scratching his head as he poked at a set of sparking wires. "Like I said, the idiot."

His padawan was the mostly human, partly Zabrak Claudia Donovan, a technical genius and an uncontrollable smartmouth. Unlike full-blooded members of her less-dominant race, she had no horns, but her skin tone was a shade too red to be human, and her face bore some of the patterned coloration typical of her people. It made her look as if she had tattoos along her hairline.

Red hair flared out as her head turned, finally, to face her elder. "So...if this thing was there for all the major battles, and on the losing side of the war, then how is it still in one piece?"

She had a point, especially given the most recent turmoil.

The galaxy had been thrust into a conflict, and the Jedi were the unwitting leaders of the Galactic Republic's war efforts, in command of a near-endless army of clone soldiers, commanded by the senate and its chancellor. Conflict stretched through the twenty-five thousand year history of the Republic, and of the history of their Jedi Order. The ship had been part of a conflict known as the Jedi Civil War, named because the leaders of the opposing forces had once been Jedi. But after that came the Jedi Purge and the Dark Wars. Those conflicts and the many that followed left no corner of the galaxy untouched, and the growing detritus of space travel left moving celestial bodies spiraling out in all directions constantly. The odds of anything the size of such a size remaining not only untouched, but powered on enough to generate life support for so long was nearly impossible.

And yet...

"This place looks pretty beat up," came another voice, a younger male than the master, but not without the gravel and weight that comes from experience. "Who says it hasn't been hit by a bunch of space rocks?" Pete Lattimer adjusted his dark brown robe as he looked up to examine some debris. He was also human, originally from Corellia, and possessed of a quick humor and expressive face. He was also not the adult in the group - as soon as his eyes fixed on a point in the darkness above he started turning around several times to make himself dizzy.

"Well if it has been, the hull is remarkably strong." The last member of the group spoke, a tall, slender woman with a calm and measured voice. She looked around her not with the gleeful curiosity of Claudia or the carefree abandon of Pete, but as someone who was cataloging each and every detail they came across. In essence, she was. Where Pete met the universe with quick humor and an expressive face, Myka was the epitome of Jedi discipline. There was not a wrinkle in her attire, nor a single curly lock of hair out of place and her green eyes – a remnant of distant Echani ancestry – were serene and watchful.

Though both students of the same Jedi Code, Pete and Myka were like night and day. Pete's connection to the force led him down his life's path with what he termed "vibes," giving him a little more warning than everyone else whenever a deadly situation arose. He was also a little loose with his interpretation of rules, though he erred on the side of compassion and there was no doubt he was a disciple of the Force.

Myka on the other hand, believed in rules as strongly as she believed in the greatness of the Republic and in the importance of her Order. She was by far the most gifted saber duelist of the team, and exercised her own Force awareness by detecting details of a situation — no, by being magnetically drawn to them—that would have otherwise passed the notice of the rest of the team.

Though they often drove each other – and their Master – to distraction, Myka and Pete were a formidable team, using the Force is strikingly different but remarkably complimentary ways.

Like now, while Pete took in the entire space and Myka investigated a pile of debris nearest the main corridor hatch. "I'd bet the shields are augmented by an artifact," she mused out loud.

Artie made a noise of agreement.

Invariably, in the midst of a galxy-spanning war, every new enemy went in search of some advantage...some ancient power or weapon that would ensure their victory. Once, a long time ago, that power had been the Force, but that advantage was lost as more people discovered their connection to it. And ultimately, the Force was wielded by sentient beings. Beings who could not always be controlled. Which meant many a government or army had sought out force-augmented artifacts to employ as devastating weapons.

The Jedi Order had long ago realized the danger of such objects, and began quietly collecting them and storing them in a secret facility to keep them away from those that would use them against the Republic. For thousands of years, they had assigned the most gifted and loyal and brilliant of guardians to become agents in the cause of safeguarding those artifacts, the Warehouse they were stored in, and the secret of their very existence.

Artie and his companions were those agents.

"We'll see," came his gruff reply. "Let's move."

They collectively began to shift closer to the bow of the ship, watching the shadows warily, reaching out with their every sense for lurking danger. They fanned outward in a choreographerd pattern, searching for answers to questions they weren't sure they had right.

Such was the way of an artifact hunt. Agents so often didn't know what they were really looking for until they stumbled upon it.

It was the way the debris had been shuffled at her feet, the particular scorch mark on the door to her left that was typical of a modern lightsaber rather than the technology used four millenia before, that made Myka realize they were most likely not alone. Quietly, she drew her saber and held it at the ready, her thumb just below the actuator. She felt more than saw the others do the same as they crossed the expansive chamber to her side, creeping down the main corridor toward the bridge on silent feet.

"Mykes..." Pete whispered, but she didn't need him to tell her that he was feeling one of his vibes - whatever lay before them was significant enough that even she could feel it.

The main corridor was long and dark - lights flickered ominously as they beat a quiet, protracted path toward the bridge. Interspersed in the bulkheads and the tributary corridors was more debris, and giant, ancient cracks that should have broken the ship apart. Myka noticed them all, plotted them on a map in her mind, and reached a very dangerous conclusion.

The ship shouldn't be in one piece. The sum total of what they'd seen should have resulted in a catastrophic structural failure eons ago.

She was about to turn to the rest of them and express exactly that concern, but at that moment, muffled voices reached their ears, oddly distorted in the vast spaces of the ancient ship. Two distinct ones floated through the hollow corridor — the first was the voice of a man, though indistinguishable beyond that in its shroud of echoes. As they kept walking, however, the group could sense Artie tense: Now, close enough to make out words, he recognized something.

"Come now. Surely you recall how the power core of this vessel operates. Simply explain it to me, and we shall both be off this ship with it."

"And what then, Jedi? What will you do with me, a relic as old as this ship, once you have your precious power core?"

The other voice held a sharp accent that was entirely unfamiliar. It was that of a woman, arrogance evident in her tone, but Myka detected a hint of something...different. A slight tremble, a hint of physical exhaustion.

"My dear, I have no qualm with you. I would simply wish to use this amazing contraption against a common enemy of ours. I may have been Jedi once, but I am no longer in the thrall of their mindless dogma."

As those words echoed across the cracked walls, the group of JEdi finally reached their destination. The bridge of the ancient Leviathan, much like the more modern designs of the Republic Fleet, had a massive, open floor. At the very front, against the vast backdrop of open space, two figures crowded over the command console. It wasn't a stretch to imagine, based on the snippets of conversation they had heard, that they intended to begin the shutdown sequence for the ship's power core.

Given the structural integrity of the ship, Myka knew that could not happen.

"Ah, Arthur. How lovely of you to join us. It really has been too long."

The man's silvery accent slid over the group as he and his accomplice turned to greet their guests.

"You mean not long enough, James," came Artie's gruff reply.

The pieces fell together for the rest of the group and Myka clenched her teeth on the hiss that rose in her throat.

They'd heard stories of James MacPherson before. He had been cunning as a Jedi, with the ability to calculate a battle strategy to the last move. He excelled in psychologically outplaying an adversary, and did great things even before his appointment as a Master.

He disappeared, however, shortly after being granted the title. It wasn't until they'd each been brought into the secrets of the Warehouse that they learned he had turned on Artie, and that their Master had been silently hunting MacPherson ever since.

The handsome man with dark hair just greying at his temples stood before them all in the flesh now, a tall and commanding presence clad in a darker version of the classic Jedi attire. Myka was dismayed slightly to discover he was also clad in some very advanced armor. It would make cutting him down difficult if it came to a fight.

"I see you've made new friends," the former Jedi said, gesturing with his hand at Myka, Pete and the others standing near Artie.

"As have you," Artie replied, jutting his chin toward the woman at his side. "Introductions, James. You never were one to be rude."

"Ah, yes. This is Helena Wells, former Emissary of the Sith Empire. My dear, these would be the…complication…I was speaking of earlier."

The woman at his side nodded wearily toward the group of Jedi. Her dark, straight hair was pulled up into a long ponytail, and her irises were as black as space. Her robes were ancient-looking, as if pulled from a time far before any of them; perhaps even before the ship they stood upon had soared through space. She had a slight build, but two lightsabers hung from her belt — a dual-wielder, dangerous and exceptionally rare.

A puzzle then, one that Myka felt herself - even if was only distantly - desiring to solve.

"Emissary of the Sith Empire? James, you know as well as I do that the Sith have been extinct for a thousand years," Artie's tone was dismissive, but Myka, familiar with her Master, heard the single discordant note of apprehension.

"Our friend has been asleep for quite some time, I'm afraid."

Myka felt the urge to bristle and controlled it. Her training ran deeper than that.

"It doesn't matter James. This is where you and I come to terms." He gestured with his saber-laden hand toward the pair at the front of the bridge. "I'm taking you both to Coruscant."

The strange balance, the sense of waiting that had shrouded the room was shattered. MacPherson's gaze sharpened and a certainty came over his face. Myka, Pete and Claudia reacted in kind. Sabers were adjusted in tensed hands and feet were slowly slid into position for long-practiced saber forms as a long and heavy tension stretched between them all.

Then, suddenly, it snapped.

"Well," MacPherson said, "now that pleasantries are over..."

Myka never saw MacPherson gesture, but suddenly his companion was thrown forward toward th group of Jedi Knights. The sound of sabers activating tore at the air as the Knights moved as one, prepared to strike her down.

All but Myka. For Myka - whose strength had always been observation - saw immediately the shock on the other woman's face and noted that though she had two perfectly good sabers at her side, she reached for neither.

As her companions stepped forward, so too did she, but Myka's instincts were not to attack. Instead she raised her saber in defense of the Sith, positioning her body in front of the woman where she crumbled to the deck of the bridge. For the briefest of moments, her companion's faces bore a mixture of shock and anger, but it was short-lived.

The ancient woman came to rest at Myka's heel, sprawled on her face and near-motionless. At once, the exhaustion in that sharp voice made sense to Myka — she was weakened, and had probably just been brought out of whatever stasis she'd been in.

Understanding was secondary to reaction, however, for there was a greater danger. When Myka turned, expecting MacPherson to attack them, he was nowhere to be found.

"Dammit! A distraction!" Artie, who had been prepared to attack the Sith along with all the rest, clenched his fists.

"He's gone after the power core." The words were weak, only barely reaching the ears of the group.

Myka bent low to help the Sith to a sitting position, shocked at how quickly the woman's condition seemed to be deteriorating. The stranger now leaned her slight frame heavily against the Jedi, her breathing harsh as if she had just finished running a distance.

"What does that power core do? How has it managed to keep this ship on line for so long?" Myka asked urgently.

Myka could almost feel the strength as it was sapped from the woman she now supported in her arms. Dark eyes, tinged slightly by an angry red, flicked to Myka's face and a hint of a grim smile appeared on bloodless lips before the Sith answered weakly. "Nothing. It is not the power core that has kept this ship together these past four millenia." Her words were so soft, they reached only Myka's ears. The others had already fanned out to search the rest of the bridge for signs of MacPherson, though it appeared to be fruitless.

Myka's eyes widened as realization struck her. "MacPherson doesn't know that does he?"

Now the Sith managed a short, mirthless laugh. "Why would I trust a fallen Jedi?"

Myka would have asked more, but at that moment Artie came stalking back and the deck beneath their feet creaked ominously. She whipped her head around to face the master. "Artie, this ship is being held together by its shields. When MacPherson pulls the core, it's going to break apart."

"Then we need to get out of here," he said, gesturing to the others.

Artie, Claudia, and Pete began moving back toward the dock without question, but Myka cast a glance down at the woman kept upright only by her own body and hesitated to move. This stranger was a Sith. Myka had no reason to trust her, no reason to save her at all, but the Jedi knew she couldn't simply leave the other woman to die on the crumbling ship.

"Can you walk?" she asked. The Sith looked at her, a strange mixture of shock and confusion crossing her face for a moment. Then as if reaching a decision, she gritted her jaw and her fingers closed around Myka's arm.

"I will try."

Pete led the way back through the tunnel, with Myka helping their companion. It was shocking how little she weighed. Despite her weakness the Sith had projected an air of power that belied her apparent fragile physicality. The woman stumbled frequently, slowing their progress and amplifying Artie's ire.

"Are you trying to buy enough time to kill us? Whatever it was about that power core that was keeping this ship together is escaping with James."

"I assure you that is not true," the Sith managed breathlessly.

"How can you be so sure?" Artie shot back.

The answer, however, was lost as they reached the open deck where they had docked their ship with the ancient destroyer. The Sith took a last step, and collapsed.

Myka caught her and looked to where the others were already dashing toward their vessel. In a split second, she made her decision and scooped the unconscious woman into her arms.

"Pete!" Myka called as she neared the ramp.

The man skid to a quick halt and turned to help his partner as the other two boarded the ship. There was a quick and practiced glance exchanged as they decided who would keep watch over their mysterious charge and then Pete left to prep the ship for take-off.

"Thank you," came a raspy whisper as Myka gently eased the stranger onto the bed in the medical bay.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Myka asked, somehow needing conformation at what the stranger had hinted.

The woman merely nodded.

The lighting in their little corner of the ship wasn't bright, but Myka could see the subtle details on her face that proved the veracity of MacPherson's claim about her heritage. She appeared human for the most part, but there was an angry glow to her skin tone that wasn't present in any known living species. Her hair was so black it seemed to absorb light, and there was an edge to her cheekbones that Myka had only ever seen in old holos from ancient wars, on the faces of the pure Sith adversaries the republic had fought — and defeated — many times over.

Dark eyes flickered open and locked on Myka's.

"I was locked away in a stasis field on that ship for four thousand years. The only way to survive was to ensure that the ship was not destroyed."

The deck rocked and rumbled, and shouting floated through their ship from the bridge. Myka gripped the side of the bio-bed to keep her balance. There was nothing she could do anyway. Pete was a superb pilot.

The stranger's expression grew soft. "And now that I am free of her, the Leviathan has finally found her eternal peace." With a long exhale, the other woman's eyes closed, the lst of her strength exhausted. For a moment Myka was fearful that she, too, had slipped away, but the rise and fall of her chest remained steady, and she could still sense the Force within the silent form before her.

The Jedi quietly unclipped the lightsabers from the Sith's side and, satisfied that she was quite asleep, slipped away toward the bridge.

Their vessel was a Corellian Engineering Corporation YG-4210 light freighter, but had been heavily modified over the years by the Claudias and Arties of warehouse history. There was enough room for crew quarters, an ample cargo area equipped with neutralizing fields of various kinds to handle the unruly artifacts they found on their hunts. The medical bay was to port of a small common area that attached to the bridge, where Myka found the other three Jedi.

She was just in time to see their stern clear the crumbling ruins of the once great Leviathan. The sight made Myka unaccountably sad.

"You left her?" Pete exclaimed, looking up from the controls now that they were safe. "You left her alone?"

In response, Myka presented the Sith's twin sabers to Artie. He looked at her, down to the sabers, then back at her again before taking them.

"She's unconscious. I can feel it."

"What did she have to say, then?"

Myka turned to her Master. "She said she was imprisoned on the ship, in stasis, and that she was the one that was keeping it together. That she had to keep the ship together to stay alive. There never was a power core. At least not one that would do what MacPherson thinks it will do."

Artie scratched his scruffy chin. "Well, James escaped with something. I can only guess he believes it to be an artifact."

"Were we under attack? Earlier?"

"No…the ship disintegrated. James jumped to hyperspace before we could stop him."

"So…" Claudia detached her nose from the terminal she had been reading to join the conversation. "What do we do with our blast from the past back there?"

"We can't trust her. She's a Sith. No Sith has ever done anything good."

Myka was quick to respond, something in her compelling her to defend the woman who could not defend herself. "You know as well as I do that isn't true."

"Aww, Man. I wish Steve were here." Pete sighed. "He could tell us if she was lying."

"Well, we'll see him soon enough. We're headed back to Ossus. We're headed back to the Warehouse."

It wasn't long later that Myka found herself back in the medical bay at the Sith's side as she tried to work out the puzzle the woman presented. The Leviathan had been Darth Malak's flagship after he betrayed Revan and attempted to kill him, before the great Jedi Master Bastila Shan, then only a padawan herself, had saved his life. There had been no record of a Sith emissary. When a redeemed Revan finally regained his memories, he didn't speak of her at all. Surely that might have been a detail worth revealing.

And then again, perhaps not. History had proven there was so much more about his time as a Sith that Revan didn't reveal.

How had this woman come to be imprisoned on Malak's flagship? Had it happened before or after his betrayal? What part had she played, as an emissary to an Empire that eventually invaded Republic space again and very nearly conquered it, in the destruction that Malak had wrought upon the galaxy?

The woman twitched in her sleep, drawing Myka's attention. She was beautiful, Myka realized. Fiercely, almost achingly beautiful. And hard on the heels of that realization came the equally shocking discovery that Myka was…concerned…for this woman. It mattered to the Jedi who she was, and how she had come to be imprisoned on that ship.

Somehow, though she couldn't define it, Myka felt a connection to the Sith.

And how that could be possible was perhaps the biggest puzzle of them all.