The Weaving Force: Chapter 22 (Patreon)

Chapter 22:

Miss Militia:

Not for the first time, Hannah was thankful for the fact that her power largely eliminated her need for sleep.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure she’d have been capable of sleep after… everything from yesterday.

Staying up all night allowed her time, time to process, time to think and decompress. Watching Dennis sleep to make sure he didn’t hurt himself, and Alexandria as she stewed in silence…

It made her feel… adrift. Like a piece of flotsam in the tide. Alexandria always had a plan, a heading, a goal. And Dennis was always ready with an easy smile and a way to dissipate hard feelings and tension.

Now both of those things were gone.

As the Mandalorian sun began to rise, she heard footsteps in the hallway; standing quickly to make sure they didn’t go to either Dennis or Alexandria’s room, she rushed to the door, opening it to step out into the hallway.

“Good morning, I- Rugess!” she exclaimed.

The Bith waved, his hands now free of the bandages. Beside him was what Hannah assumed was a servant, his clothes were sharp, well cared for but unremarkable and modest; something she could see as the uniform to the palace staff. Or at least, it was unremarkable and modest in comparison to the ornate dress the Duchess had been wearing the other day.

The Bith babbled out something, she didn’t know what, but he sounded happy and he waved his hands in front of him, showing off their healed state as his head bobbled up and down. The lower ridge of his eyes crinkled upwards – she took that to mean he was smiling.

She smiled back, relieved beyond words to have some good news. “You’re healed.”

His head bobbled again, the act almost making her giggle. She couldn’t help it, he looked like he was about to bobble himself over, what with his head being so top heavy.

He babbled something else, but she shook her head, though she shared his apparent happiness. “Sorry Rugess-” She answered. “Still can’t understand you too well.”

“Oh, you don’t speak Bith?” The servant blinked, curious as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Just how widespread was the language? Or perhaps translation technology?

“Well-” he continued, seemingly content to play translator.  “He was merely informing you that his hands musn’t undergo too much strain for at least a handful more days, but the doctor and the medi-droid informed him that he is expected to make a full recovery.” The servant answered.

She smiled at the Bith. “That’s wonderful news.”

The Alien’s big ol’ head bobbled up and down in an enthusiastic nod.

“I will leave you to each other’s company shortly-” The servant cut in. “But Duchess Satine would wish to know if you and your other companions would join her for the morning meal; I understand she wishes to speak regarding yesterday’s events.”

Militia nodded. “I-” she paused, hesitating as she remembered the state of both Alexandria and Dennis in the other rooms. “I can say that I will-” she nodded, “And I’ll check with the others… they might still be a bit shaken.” She hedged the weak excuse.

“Of course.” The servant either seemed to believe her, or was too polite to say otherwise. Offering a shallow bow he spoke one last time. “I will return in one hour to escort you to the Duchess. Have a good day.”

“You too.” she answered absently.

After the servant left she looked to Rugess, casting a look around the hall for any sign of eavesdroppers.

Finding none she stepped closer to the Bith. “Rugess-” she started. “We got some… bad news yesterday.” The Bith tilted his head, perhaps curious as he babbled something.

“Dennis took it hard.” she continued. “I’m worried about leaving him alone; Alexandria and I can go meet the Duchess, but can you keep an eye on him while we do?”

She may not understand him, but he understood her. He nodded again, his now healed hand reaching up to pat her on the shoulder in reassurance.

She smiled. “Thank you.” She cast her eyes over Alexandria’s door, the smile dropping from her features, before she gestured behind her. “That’s Dennis’ door. Let me open it for you and go talk to Alexandria.”

If Rugess noted the tension within her, he didn’t comment on it. Escorting him to the door, she opened it to find Dennis still sleeping on the couch, gesturing for Rugess to be quiet as he nodded and slipped inside.

The door hissed shut.

She stood in front of the cold steel, taking a deep breath as she gathered herself and her nerve before turning and marching over to Alexandria’s door.

Entering the access code the door hissed open, and like how Dennis had been sleeping where she left him, so too was Alexandria sitting where she left her. She was so eerily still that it was genuinely unnerving.

She stepped into the room, standing at parade rest like she was about to give a report. It felt like she was.

“The Duchess has invited us to speak.” She said.

For a long moment, Alexandria didn’t answer, didn’t move. Militia wondered if she was even breathing.

Then, like a lumbering, exhausted beast she slowly shifted, her hand abandoning its place over her brow, fingers digging into the armrest as she pushed herself to her feet.

The usual stern, unflinching hardness had returned, but it was different this time. Before it was almost… sharp, cutting. Barbed wire that would cut if approached carelessly.

Now it was almost flat, like a granite statue. Placed there because of its familiarity. There was a hollowness there that wasn’t visible before.

It was a disquieting sight.

But Alexandria’s only words were simple, straight and to the point. Whatever was troubling her she wouldn’t voice it, merely try to push through it, as far as Militia could tell anyway.

“Then we’d best not keep her waiting.”

(X)(X)(X)

They were led to a room that, in any other venue, Militia would have classified as a ballroom rather than a mere dining room.

It was a massive space for its function, easily the size of some of the larger PRT conference rooms. Its ceiling and one of the walls were a beautiful clear glass, curving at the sky-ward side to make the room seem even larger, the Mandalorian sun bathing the room in soft yellow light.

The Duchess sat at the head of the table, dressed in a more simple grey dress today, her hair not quite as done up either.

The woman stood as they approached, smiling pleasantly, if without feeling. It was a politician’s smile. Polite and nothing more.

“Good morning.” she said. “I’m sorry I did not see you sooner, but as you can imagine yesterday was rather… full day.”

“It’s no trouble.” Alexandria answered, taking the lead. “In fact we needed the time to… gather ourselves as well.”

She knew that tone; understood its implications. An exploratory question. Testing to see if maybe the Duchess had been keeping closer eyes on them than she was letting on. None knew yet about Alexandria’s skill at cold reading, and until they did, if they ever did, there was quite a bit they would unwittingly reveal.

If Satine had been keeping an eye on them, she hid it well, at least from Militia’s perspective. Gesturing to the seats on her left, she spoke- “Please, join me.”

The manservant that had escorted them stepped forward, pulling out Alexandria’s chair first, then Militia’s own. Alexandria’s thanks were an acknowledging nod, Militia’s a gentle whisper as she took her seat.

Across the table was an assortment of foods: exotic and strange looking fruits, seeds, smoking meats and grains.

She recognized none of it.

Even though she was famished, remembering that the last time she’d eaten had been before they stepped onto the transport ship-,he was suddenly hopeful that waiting for their host to ‘start the meal’ as it were, was a custom that translated. Because she rather wished to eat only from the dishes Satine herself picked off.

“If you don’t mind-” Satine began. “I do have some questions regarding what I myself witnessed and what other witness accounts depicted of your actions yesterday.”

“I imagined you would.” Alexandria coaxed, looking remarkably unruffled considering… everything. “From what we’ve seen, this place doesn’t normally have… abilities like ours.”

Satine raised a delicate eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re from a place that does? I’ve never heard of a place where a human woman can rip off a slab of durasteel that weighs as much as four men with just one hand… or a boy that can hyper magnetize a boot to the floor with a touch.”

Hyper Magnetize? Did they not realize what Dennis’ power did?

Satine looked around. “Where is the young man? Is he alright?”

Militia froze, hesitating in her answer. Alexandria did not.

“I’m afraid Dennis dislikes violence-” Came the easy lie. “Yesterday’s altercation affected him. We felt it best if he rested a while longer.”

Militia wasn’t sure if the lie was good enough, but apparently it was. Duchess Satine’s feature’s grew sad and understanding, the cool indifference melting away as she nodded. “Of course, I understand. Violence is a terrible thing.” She seemed to take a breath. “But returning to my question.” She pressed. “Your abilities. This is… normal where you come from?”

“Many people in our home have abilities not entirely dissimilar to ours. Granted, it’s a select few that have abilities when taken into the per capita rates, but it's not an insignificant percentage.” The Triumvirate member replied candidly.

“Hmm. And where is your home?”

“Unknown. Hence why we’re searching. Your star charts don’t align with ours.”

The lies just kept spilling. She was good at this, and that observation made her sad, even if she could understand and admit that it was necessary. Even this sanitized version was hard to believe and if not for what Satine had witnessed with her own eyes, Militia doubted they’d be believed quite so easily.

“What are the specifics of your planet?” Satine questioned. “Perhaps some of our scholars might be able to consult our records.”

“You’d classify it as an arboreal world from what I understand.” Alexandria nodded. “But forests and jungles are hardly its only environment. Its surface is solid, but active in its environmental diversity. Mountains, valleys, canyons, deserts, plains, tundras. Seventy percent of the planet is covered in ocean. Its population is seven billion, approximately.”

Satine’s brows furrowed. “That sounds like a fairly advanced planetoid, not dissimilar to Alderaan in diversity or population, come to think of it.” Her frown grew even deeper. “I assume given your display, you were a member of your planet’s military?”

“Law enforcement, actually.” The pleasant surprise on Satine’s face was obvious. “An unknown malfunction with our hyperdrive sent us well beyond any known system to our people. We wound up on a planet, Tatooine, weeks ago. We’ve been trying to find our way back ever since.”

“And that brought you here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why not Coruscant?”

“From what we gather, Tatooine is part of Hutt Space, transport to Coruscant wasn’t available.” Alexandria answered blithely with a careless shrug. “Furthermore, Coruscant is even further removed from where we arrived, and is so large getting any help in such a place might prove… difficult.”

“The Jedi are stationed on Coruscant.” Satine answered. “They would be willing to help.”

“We’re unfamiliar with your worlds, or your organizations.” Now Militia could note the interest in her voice, hidden as it was. “We’ve only heard of Jedi, but nothing specific.”

“They are a monastic order, who ruminate on the energy known as ‘The Force’, but to be more specific to your needs, they are sometimes willing to help those in need when they’re made aware of that need.”

“You know them.” It wasn’t a question.

“Some.” she nodded, then another frown. “Though I’ve heard some unsettling reports recently that the high ranking member of their order I was acquainted with may have died.”

“My condolences." Alexandria answered easily. “But, perhaps I might make a proposal of sorts.”

“Oh?”

“The… malcontents from yesterday.” Alexandria began carefully, and Militia realized the word was chosen deliberately. ”As I said, we were members of law enforcement on our homeworld. In exchange for your help finding our way home, perhaps we can help root out these insurgents.”

Satine’s eyebrow raised, leaning back in her seat. “I assure you, my Royal Guards and city watch are more than capable.”

“They may very well be.” Alexandria nodded easily. “But they’re known. Expected. We are unknown elements. They can’t predict what we’ll do, how we’ll approach them. That could be an advantage.”

The Duchess stared long and hard at Alexandria, who returned her gaze easily, she opened her mouth, seemingly ready to answer or at least debate the idea with the heroine before the door opened.

“Presenting, Master Tal Merrik of Kalevala.” The Herald called.

A man marched in, dressed in heavy, quality cloth, his head covered by a headress/turban, and his left arm in a sling.

Satine’s face lit up, relief and joy radiating from it as she stood from her chair.

“Merrik!”

The man smiled; a soft upturn of his lips. “Satine.”

“I was so worried!” She stepped past the table, marching hurriedly towards him as Merrik met her half way. She grasped his one good hand in hers.  “They told me you’d be recovering for days.”

“Aye, the doctor was making a fuss. I’m fine Satine.” He laughed. “Was just a flesh wound.”

Satine’s frown was severe. “That rifle was illegally modified and could have killed either of us a dozen times over.”

“But it didn’t.” The man laughed. “Guess we’re both lucky you installed those shield upgrades, eh? Next time, I’ll stand more firmly behind you.”

Satine sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I call you in for a favor and-”

“It was not your fault, Satine. People will be foolish.” He offered an easy shrug, then turned his eyes over towards Militia and Alexandria. “But I see you have guests. I’ll leave you to it. I’m walking around now but the painkillers will wear off soon.”

“Of course, my friend.” Satine squeezed his hand firmly in her grip. “Go and rest. We’ll talk more later.”

Merrik nodded, offering a quick and easy bow to both her and the two of them before turning to walk out the door.

Satine sighed, rubbing her forehead before she turned and marched back to her seat.

“I’m sorry-” The Duchess apologized as she took her place at the head of the table again. “Where were we?”

But Alexandria didn’t answer. Militia looked, finding the woman’s eyes fixed on the door that had closed behind the departing Merrik.

Then, there, a twitch – there and gone in an instant. So fast Militia was almost unsure whether she’d seen it at all.

A smirk.

“I believe,” Alexandria began slowly. “We were discussing how we might help each other.”

(X)(X)(X)

When Dennis opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at the ceiling. There was a crick in his neck and a stiffness in his back that wasn’t gonna be fun for the rest of the day.

Still, he didn’t move.

Thoughts drifted through his sluggish mind, wandering across his attention like high hovering clouds.

Where was Militia?

Had he just dreamed everything yesterday?

Was he actually dead?

The last thought didn’t scare him. Didn’t even worry him.

It was, perhaps, the lack of reaction that actually did scare him, more than anything else. .

“Good morning.”

The voice startled him and he jerked just a little where he sat, looking around for the droid he hadn’t realized was in the room.

When he turned, looking up and over his shoulder, he didn’t find a droid.

“Rugess?” He asked

The Bith waved happily, fingers deftly clicking at a pad held in his hands.

From the speakers on the device, the robotic voice emerged.

“You might not speak Bith but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.”

If Dennis was any judge of Bith facial expressions, beaming smile was probably right there.

He smiled too, excited and genuinely happier than he could remember being in some time.

“He-ey!” he cried, as he sat up straight. “That’s awesome man! You got your hands fixed!”

Rugess nodded. “I heard you weren’t feeling well. Anything I can do? Things got crazy yesterday.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

Dennis shook his head. “Nah bud… I think I just gotta work through some stuff.”

More typing. “Pazaak helps me think sometimes.”

“P-what now?”

He was pretty sure that “smile” came back full force.

(X)(X)(X)

As they left the chamber nearly an hour later, stomachs full and new plans in place, Militia turned to Alexandria as they walked down the halls.

She opened her mouth, ready to speak when-

“‘You have reservations.”

Of course, Alexandria already knew what she was thinking.

“Satine is a good person.” She hedged. “Her goals are noble-”

“They might be.” The Triumvirate member answered. “But she herself is a fool. Turning an entire warrior culture pacifist in a single generation… It's a wonder she’s survived this long.”

“And yet you want me to guard her.” She pointed out

“That’s not your objection.”

It wasn’t, and once again Militia was presented with why having a conversation with Alexandria was so frustrating. Feeling like you were being led along by your nose is an unwelcome sensation.

“If you already know everything, why not skip the tedium and get down to it.” She answered vehemently, her voice sharp and cutting as she crossed her arms. Perhaps the last few days had torn down even her own sense of deference and patience.

Alexandria turned to her, and Militia got the impression of surprise hiding beneath the stoicism.

But she was too high strung, the events of the days and previous revelations too fresh to care about her insubordination.

To her surprise, Alexandria’s head bowed. “Sorry.”

The apology was mumbled, stiff and unfamiliar, and perhaps that made it feel more genuine.

The older woman took a deep breath. “You’re concerned that I want you out of the way. That I’m simply placing you in a place where you can’t interfere with anything I might be planning because I know you’ll object. You’re worried that placing you with a person you don’t find objectionable is simply an easy way to placate you.”

“And are you?”

“In a way.”

The admission was so careless that it actually floored her, that had certainly not been what she’d been expecting.

“I won’t lie.” Alexandria answered softly. “Take that for what little my word might be worth but… I want to return home, Militia.” She answered easily. “I want to be there. Even if it's just to die. Perhaps… especially if it’s just for that.” She shrugged. “Even if it's to buy ten minutes… or ten seconds… its where I should be.”

“And us? Me and Dennis?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Are we just in your way? Things to be sidestepped?”

“I’d rather you not die.” Came the reply. “If I can, I’d rather make it so you and he could live here or anywhere in this galaxy you choose for yourselves. Away from the murderers, the thieves and the rapists. From the Endbringers and from Scion.”

“That’s not your choice to make.” she contested.

“No.” The admission came easily. “But I think it's the only one I’m comfortable making at all anymore.”

“And just what am I supposed to do with that!?” Militia protested, her hand gesturing towards Alexandria. “I want to help you, but that can only go as far as you want to be helped, you know that!”

“So do you.”

Silence fell. Heavy and oppressive.

For once, Alexandria was the first to look away.

“I told you yesterday, you don’t need something like me to validate who you are.”

Militia’s fingers dug into the flesh of her arms, teeth grinding quietly in her mouth.

How exactly does one help someone who was convinced they neither deserved or wanted it?

Is that even what this was? Was she being deceived and manipulated… again? Or just her trying to find the best in the woman she once considered to be the closest thing to a mother figure she’d ever had?

She didn’t get an answer, and as her doubts ate away at her; Alexandria started marching away.

“Go check on your Ward, Militia. I’d do it myself, but I rather doubt it’d have the same effect.”

(X)(X)(X)

In the end, she did return to Dennis’ room.

Partly out of worry, of course. Partly because she genuinely had nowhere else to be just then.

She had no mission, no job, at least not quite yet while Satine spoke with Cadera to assign her a place as an auxiliary guard of sorts. The thought of searching for information while Dennis was still dealing with everything alone in his room didn’t sit well with her at all, and she doubted her own ability to sift through information effectively right now with her mind split between her worry for Dennis, worry for Alexandria and the disquiet surrounding all of their futures.

So… she went back to his room and tried to convince herself she wasn’t just hiding like a coward.

Opening the door, she felt her heart uncoil from its tension ever so slightly when she saw him.

Sitting across from Rugess with what she assumed was a deck of cards he looked… better than last night.

Not ok, not yet. But better.

Rugess turned to her first, waving his unbandaged hand happily.

Dennis looked up a moment later, offering her a small, almost apologetic smile.

She tried to smile back, trying to assure him without words that he had nothing to apologize for.

“Hey.” he greeted her quietly. “Rugess here’s just teaching me Pazaak. Basically fancy Space Blackjack.” he shrugged. “... So what’d I miss?”

She took a breath. “We’ll be staying in the palace for a while.” she admitted. “We’ve accepted a job… of sorts. Guarding the Duchess and helping both track down and arrest the insurrectionists that attacked yesterday.”

“That’s it?” he asked, his voice calm, almost bored.

Perhaps she imagined the pointedness to the question. Projected it. Her own conversation with Alexandria not ten minutes ago rang in her mind.

Could he deal with her doubts? Should he? He’d already been pushed to the brink. She saw that yesterday. Did she have the right to add to his worries or deceive him?

She wasn’t sure.

Perhaps… in the end… the lie was easier. Better- than her doubts. Better- than the truth.

“We’re hoping to use the time to gather more information on how to get home. Satine has agreed to call others that might know more. The Jedi we heard about.”

It wasn’t a lie. But she didn’t tell him what he needed to know either.

She wanted to protect him, guard him. He’d already been through so much.

And yet she felt dirty all the same.

He looked at her then, and she felt like he could see right through her.

If he could, or if it was just her own guilt playing tricks on her, she couldn’t read it on his face.

He held up his deck of cards. “Wanna join us? Rugess was right… the math helps.”

She swallowed the apple in her throat, forcing a smile onto her face.

“I’d love to.”

(X)(X)(X)

Tal Merrik

He hadn’t been lying when he said the painkillers would wear off soon. They indeed had worn off, and now his shoulder and side were little more than thorny, angry veins of fire, pulsing across his nervous system.

The doctors had been protesting vehemently against his leaving, and rightfully so. One didn’t exactly “walk off” an overcharged disruptor rifle shot.

Ten days.

If that shot had just been taken ten days earlier, they would have killed her.

It should have worked. Everything had been in place. The men, the lack of guards, the exposed position.

All of it was perfect.

And all of it was thrown out the window by a single shield upgrade ten days earlier and some random passengers on the transport vessel.

He hadn’t even had time to read the reports regarding those passengers. He’d just been scrambling to cover all his tracks, get the cells to abandon their safehouses and move operations elsewhere before the Royal Guard and the city watch had a chance to crack down on them.

He’d have loved to stay in the hospital but if he did, he very much risked being discovered. As it was, the “coincidence” of his arrival occurring on the very same hour the attack took place was hardly going to go unnoticed to anyone who wasn’t Satine and took a serious look in his direction.

She should have just bloody died.

As Merrik prepared to send out the last of his messages, he gingerly shifted his weight on the living room couch, hissing at the sharp, thin needles of pain radiating out of his wound.

Note to self, invest in a personal shield of his own.

He hissed out a breath as he pressed the button on his holo-

“Merrik. You’ve got a lot of frakking nerve calling me-”

“Shut up, Vizla, we don’t have time for your posturing.” he hissed, the pain making him impatient alongside the urgency. “They’ll be cracking down soon, you need to move your men before the ones you sent break.”

“Oh, is that all I need to do is it? Just pack up and go down the merry old road to my spare base? Frak you, you stupid schutta! You botched this! You told us, no guards, no preparation, no nothing. Just point and shoot. A total blue milk run. Ten of my men are prisoners now because of you-”

“Just get it done, Vizla, or we’re both dead men. Pacifist she might be but last I checked, treason is still a death sentence, you preening peacock!”

He shut off the holo, unwilling and possibly unable to keep arguing. Bellicose and crass he might be, but Vizla wasn’t entirely stupid. He would move and he would move quickly.

He leaned back in his seat, head falling onto the couch’s armrest as he focused on taking long, slow breaths.

“My my, wasn’t that interesting.”

Merrik’s eyes snapped open, his heart lurching in his chest so badly he was certain it had fallen down into his feet as his gaze snapped over towards the balcony door.

The balcony door, seventy stories above the ground.

A woman, the armored passenger woman that had helped rescue Satine stood at the balcony, her dark cape catching in the wind.

He scrambled to sit straight, the pain in his arm flaring outwards. “Wh-How the hell did you get in here!” he demanded.

The woman didn’t answer, one hand rising to rub at her chin. “I wonder just what the Duchess might think if she came to realize her old friend was the one who’s been orchestrating her death all this time. All those close calls. All those unfortunate setbacks… my my.”

He sneered. “You have no proof.”

“I hardly need any.” The woman didn’t smile. “A whispered word here and there, perhaps to Captain Cadera… he’ll discover something, I’m sure. I doubt you’re as careful or clever as you think you are.”

Merrik went very, very still.

“You want something.” He concluded at length, forcing himself to his feet, forcing himself to walk forward, planting one foot in front of the other until he stood directly across from her. The pain of his wound made his movements slow and jerky, but he made it. Standing until he was almost pressing his nose against the glass of the balcony door between them. “Otherwise you’d have already gone telling her. What is it? Credits? Favors?”

The smirk that tugged at her lips was cruel… malicious.

“You don’t get it Merrik… I own you now.”

Merrik’s eyes narrowed, his blood boiling.

Own him. Own him!

Fine…

Let her think that. She’d find a blaster bolt between the shoulder blades soon enough.

Her smirk widened.

“You can try.” She said out of nowhere, much to his confusion. “Until then you and your men will be doing exactly as I say.”

(X)(X)(X)

I can already hear people gathering their torches and pitchforks for Alexandria, likely thinking she's just repeating old mistakes and hasn't learned anything... Just wait. Really, its not as bad as it first seems I promise :>