The Weaving Force: Chapter 37 (Patreon)

Chapter 37:

Dooku:

The accommodations provided by the local Utapau government in recompense for the trouble with their ship and the assault in the streets were adequate. Dooku himself was provided a fine suite with a bedroom, sitting room, fresher and kitchenette; Kronos, the Mandalorian and Rugess were not given such an expansive space for themselves, but they were given individual rooms on the same floor as his own just down the hall.

Security in the hotel was heightened, with round-the-clock surveillance and multiple redundancies to avoid any… further unpleasantness.

Not that he expected any further trouble. Komari had taken her shot on this world, and would seek to save her strength for the real engagement she intended to have with him.

Mining platform 13611 in the Galvatross system.

With Kronos busy overseeing the ship’s repairs with Rugess, diligently making damn sure all of the parts and engineers were up to a standard of acceptable quality, it was the Mandalorian woman who met with him every morning to discuss the approaching conflict.

Dooku considered himself a decent, if not prodigious, tactician. But a woman adopted into a warrior culture was certainly a welcome added perspective to these plans.

“It's been abandoned for decades now,” she noted, rifling through the information on the datapad. “Beyond privacy, have you considered why she might choose this place?”

“An asteroid mining platform, even derelict, is home to many potential hazards that can be used against even a Jedi,” he answered.

“Like turning off the artificial gravity or atmosphere?”

He nodded. “Quite. We will have to carry  equipment specialized for fighting in the void if need be.”

“I’ve never… actually done that,” she admitted with a cringe. “Mandalorians have simulations to train for it, but actual void fighting… no.”

“I admit, it’s something I’ve only done twice before in all my years,” he confessed.

“Could she be planning to take advantage of that?” the woman asked. “Are the Bando Gora or this Komari known for heavy duty void fighting?”

He was unsure, and the possibility that Komari was giving her assassins - if not herself - a considerable edge by preparing to attack them in a theater where they would be out of their depth - and her men wouldn’t be - rankled.

“It’s a… distinct possibility,” he said. “Kronos and Rugess?”

“Neither of them have ever fought that way.” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat as she crossed her arms. “I don’t like this.”

“I understand, but if we let them slip away now, they will attack again when we are vulnerable. Best to engage them on at least somewhat sure footing.” He tried to sound reassuring.

She turned her attention back to the datapad. “The complex is… enormous,” she observed. “Just three people and one ship can’t cover everything.” She looked to him. “Do you have anyone you can call? Other Jedi for backup?”

The thought of calling for help was… irritating. For many years, he’d demanded the Jedi Council follow up on his investigations into the re-emerging sith, and for many years they’d rebuffed or dismissed him. Whenever they did deign to step down from their ivory tower it was to determine that their findings were ‘inconclusive’

To go crawling back to the Council for help here, help dealing with his own fallen apprentice no less…

It was a disgusting thought.

But his pride aside, the derelict platform was the size of the Senate building. Three people were laughably insufficient to cover such an area..

“I will… see if they’re amenable.” He wasn’t sure if he was lying.  “Might you, perhaps, call on some Mandalorian assistance?” he asked as an alternative.

“Maybe,” she said. “Satine and Alexandria did send us with you to investigate this supposed Sith, so Satine might be willing to send some members of her retinue.”

He felt a disquiet thread beneath the surface of her thoughts. “Is something wrong?” He inquired.

She sighed. Then, strangely, a smile tugged at her lip. “My husband. If I call - and Satine agrees to send help - he’ll be the first one on a transport ship.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist. Beskar steel. A gift from him to her? Impressive.

“I’d rather he not be in danger,” she said.

“I see,” he replied neutrally, for lack of anything better to say. Jedi and attachments did not go hand in hand. While he understood, academically, what it meant to have a significant other, he had no personal frame of reference to empathize with her.

She sighed again, shaking her head. “Tell you what; I’ll make my call if you commit to making yours.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you believe I wouldn’t?”

She raised an eyebrow right back. “You don’t seem like you’re used to asking others for help very much. Are you?”

She wasn’t wrong, and his estimate of the woman went up a notch at her shrewdness.

He snorted out a huff of air that may have been a laugh. “Very well.”

(X)(X)(X)

Vicky

The silence in the ship wasn’t awkward, per se, so much as it was simply tense. Tense with anxiety, tense with Master Galia’s tightly wound emotions and nervous fidgeting.

Ever since Master Plo contacted them about the message sent by Master Galia’s undercover Padawan, (Vicky didn’t even know she had a Padawan; just how long had the woman been undercover?) the Tothlothian Jedi Master had lost the calm sense of serenity that she wore like a well-fitted cloak.

Vicky couldn’t blame her, really; in truth, she felt a little bad for her. An empathy Master Yoda shared; encouraging Master Gallia to go with barely a second’s hesitation.

Your Help, Padawan Tachi asked for. Your help, she will receive

She was worried about leaving Little Green alone on that slaving pit of a planet with bitchy Ms. Punchable face. But she was pretty sure Yoda could handle himself in a fight. Granted, she’d never actually seen him fight. But she’d seen Yaddle duel with Dooku once or twice, and the Grandma of the Jedi could kick some serious ass, so Yoda couldn’t be too far off.

Still, Master Gallia had clearly been thrown off balance by the recent happenings; and Vicky, being Vicky, tried to help.

So, when Master Gallia entered the dining area of their ship, Vicky was already cooking. “Breakfast, Master?” she asked, the skillet sizzling with the galactic equivalent of an omelet with meat, vegetables, and - most importantly - bacon. She’d paid a freakin’ arm and a leg for something equivalent to sweet, sweet bacon, but hell was it worth it.

“No, Padawan. Thank you,” Adi sighed. “Just… Just tea is fine.”

Vicky frowned. “Come on, Master G.” She smiled. “Breakfast is important. I’m sure that was in some Jedi lesson I didn’t sleep through…” she answered cheekily.

Adi took in a breath, her brows furrowing in annoyance - or some similar emotion - before she let it out in a huff of air that was almost a sigh. “Very well…” Then her eyes opened and she stared sternly at Vicky.

Oh wait- What’d I do?

“Speaking of lessons you slept through.” Adi crossed her arms. “Your anger on Zygerria.”

Vicky fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Oh boy, here we go.

“Look, Master,” she said, turning back to the sizzling skillet, “I got pissed; I got over it. It's hardly the end of the world.”

“Padawan-” She recognized that voice; it reminded her of her mom getting ready to lay into her with all the righteous fury of a parent who knew they were right. “Anger is an emotion that leads directly to the Dark Side above all others. To not guard against it invites disaster!”

Vicky tossed the Jedi Master a look over her shoulder before turning back to the skillet; “Lemme finish making breakfast, and we’ll talk about it, ok?”

Adi opened her mouth to say something but Vicky smiled ‘angelically.’ “Patience is a Jedi ~virtue,~” she sing-songed.

Adi’s mouth closed with a click, her mouth scrunching up in a displeased frown as she saw the rather blatant ‘trap.’

The delay to the coming conversation was rather short, honestly; omelets were hardly a complicated dish.

Serving the both of them, Vicky set the plates down and even made Master Gallia some tea - like she asked - as a preemptive peace offering.

Sitting across from the Padawan, Master Gallia rubbed at her forehead, clearly trying to decide how to begin the conversation.

She must really be off-balance with this undercover Padawan thing; normally, Master Gallia was way better at keeping up a decent poker face.

Finally, she seemed to decide on what to say as she took hold of her fork. “Why did you not release your emotions into the Force as you were taught?”

“Because I feel that’s a really bad way to actually deal with emotions,” she answered honestly as she took a bite of her meal then pointed with her fork. “The fact that the Jedi have defaulted into taking in kids before they can grow to know any other mentality or coping mechanisms just kinda inherently proves that. Those lessons don’t ‘stick’ with older recruits because it doesn’t make sense, so somebody a couple hundred years ago decided to cut out the middleman and just take kids that aren’t old enough to know better.”

“That’s not why we take on children as recruits,” Adi protested. “You’re making it sound like we’re brainwashing them.”

‘If the boot fits…’ Vicky didn’t say, stuffing her face to keep quiet.

There were so many times those kids had said things, or associated perfectly normal emotions for toddlers with “falling to the darkside,” that Vicky had grown, frankly, more than a little concerned for a lot of them over the pressure they felt to meet some absurd metric of emotional tranquility that seemed more sociopathic than any measure of “healthy.”

A three-year-old should be allowed to cry because her toy broke rather than get a lecture from her peers - or worse, a teacher - about how they shouldn’t be sad or attached because it led to the Dark Side or some shit.

“Then why do you take them so young?” she asked.

“It’s well established that the younger you are, the better you acclimatize to learning how to use the Force,” Adi answered.

“Uh-huh.” She smirked, pointedly pulling a bottle of hot sauce from across the room into her palm its little glass bottle jauntily floating across the air in a little jig.. “‘Established’ by who? Maybe somebody who thought indoctrinating impressionable kids was easier than teaching someone with an opinion?”

“I’m beginning to see why,” Master Galia answered dryly, though the barest hint of a smirk belied the joke before she frowned. “These teachings exist for a reason, Padawan. They’ve provided one thousand years of stability and peace to the Jedi and the Republic.”

That was true; it was hard to argue with ‘results’ of one thousand years.

“Yeah, they have,” she conceded. “But don’t you think the method is…questionable, at best?”

“You’re misconstruing it-” Adi argued.

“Or I’m seeing it as someone who isn’t born and raised into it would see it,” Vicky answered. “More objectively.”

Adi’s jaw muscle twitched, and Vicky took the opportunity to take another big bite out of her omelet. Adi herself began to do the same.

After a few moments of quiet thinking (and chewing) the Jedi Master began.

“Alright. You say it is unhealthy. Why?”

Vicky blinked. “Because… emotions are part of being… you know, people?” She gestured vaguely between them “Shoving your feelings into the Force is just another way to repress them, not actually deal with or live with them.”

“It is a way to neutralize the emotion without the danger. How is that not ‘dealing’ with it?” the Master asked, sipping at her tea.

“It’s avoiding it,” Vicky argued. “Grief and anger are… processes. People have to go through them.”

“People without the Force are different from Jedi,” Adi pointed out. “If a normal man gets angry, he might lash out, it’s true, but the damage he can cause is limited. If a Jedi falls, the damage he can do wielding the Dark Side is far, far greater, by orders of magnitude. Why risk that for a ‘process’ whose benefits to mental stability are questionable, at best, in comparison?”

“Because the Jedi methodology can and does fail. When you’re just overwhelmed by the emotion - anger, sadness or fear - and pushing it into the Force isn’t enough, the Jedi in question simply won’t know how to deal with it.”

“And you were not overwhelmed?” Adi asked archly.

Vicky snorted. “I got pissed, part of me is still pissed, but do you see me frothing at the mouth screaming ‘maim-kill-burn’ and swinging my Lightsaber at anything with a pulse?”

“A fall is hardly so literal,” Adi countered.

“Neither was I-” Vicky grinned, even as her tone of voice went utterly dry.

“And what is the alternative?” the woman continued. “Let emotions run rampant? When those that follow your methods fall - and they will - how much damage is ‘acceptable’ for the freedom to ‘live with’ and ‘process’ the emotions in a way that you believe to be ‘proper’?”

Vicky shrugged. “I’m not advocating for a system overhaul,” she answered. “Much as I might want to. There’re too many things I can’t be sure of ‘til I see it or read about it directly. I’m just telling you why I find the practice… wrong and why don’t think its something I’ll normally do.”

“Have you spoken about this with Master Plo?” Adi asked.

Vicky let herself grin. “Why do you think I’m ready to debate about it? We’ve gone over this a lot.” She thought for a moment. “I think our first conversation about it was when he caught me shouting at some asshat in the creche telling the Younglings they shouldn’t be sad or they’d fall to the dark side back when Master Quintos died”

“Padawan!” Adi chastised.

“What!? He was an asshat!”

The ship vibrated suddenly, translating back out of hyperspace and into realspace.

The comms started chiming.

She and Master Gallia stood quickly, remains of their breakfast forgotten as they made their way to the cockpit to answer.

Master Gallia reached the comlink first, hand pressing down on the pulsing blue button before-

“Tay!?” Vicky cried, a smile blooming across her face. “Why are you-”

“Master Plo called to tell us what was going on,” Taylor answered calmly, offering a small, barely-there smile. “We both knew you’d volunteer to go on a rescue mission, ‘Glory Girl.’”

Vicky shrugged. “Guilty as charged.” Then she smirked. “Missed ya, girl! Glad you’ve got my back again.”

Taylor smiled - a small, real smile - as she nodded.

The holo shifted, Master Yaddle replacing Taylor. “On our Way to Utapau as well, we are. Help your Padawan and rescue Count Dooku, we will.”

“I…”

Vicky turned her eyes towards Master Gallia The Master seemed struck speechless by the support.

“Thank you, Master Yaddle, Padawan Hebert. I truly do appreciate this.”

(X)(X)(X)

Komari Vosa:

The station was cold.

Not simply physically cold, but cold in the force.

It had been a long time since life had inhabited this place.

The atmosphere on the station was near non existent, the generators powering the life supports were nearly defunct, artificial gravity worked by a miracle of the force.

It made her insides itch; her bones ache.

Most of her men thought Her Master would be stupid to come here; the trap was so obvious. And they were right.

But he would come. He always was too proud by half-

“So, we’re clear.” she called, fingernails scratching at the hilt of her saber. “You can speak but when you’re done I will kill him.”

“When I am finished with Dooku you may do as you please.” The sith hissed standing tall and still, cowled in his dark robe and hood. The ships life support allowing him to breathe the artificial air without the mask needed beyond the bounds of its protective envelope.

Komari snorted crossing her arms. “What do you intend to get out of this conversation?”

“That is my concern.” The old man dismissed and without even a gesture Komari felt something thin and sharp, like the edge of a razor sharp knife slice into her personal Force bubble, grabbing hold of her throat enough to silence her.

She tried to fight it off, to rally her own aptitude in the Force to combat this intrusion but it was like scratching at a stone wall with fingernails. The Sith didn’t even turn around , staring off into distant space.

“And you will cease your inane questions assassin. Or I will cease them for you-”

She strained at the hold, her fury rising, her fear as well.

Was he so powerful that he could just do this with no effort?

Or was she still so weak?

The hold vanished, and she sucked in an unobstructed breath

(X)(X)(X)

Dooku:

Dooku was not looking forward to making this call. If there was one thing worse than returning empty handed, it was to ask for help completing a task.

Even worse when the help would be from those who believed you a fool and who would use what they learned to dismiss anything else you said.

After all, if his first apprentice fell; and the other was slain by another darkside user; of course Dooku would be seeing Sith everywhere.

Fools.

Still… practical considerations necessitated a greater degree of manpower to move through such a complex.

As he took a deep breath ready to send out the call towards the Jedi Council- his holo chimed blue.

Curious he answered.

“Master-” Kenobi… and he sounded rather strained.

“Knight Kenobi-” Dooku raised an eyebrow. “Is something amiss?”

“I should be asking you that Master Dooku. We’ve heard you’ve run into some trouble.”

Dooku raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“It’s a tad complicated Master; but suffice to say the Council has learned the Bando Gora are moving to attack you. Master’s Plo, Piel, Billaba, Gallia and I believe Master Yaddle are on their way to assist you.”

That made Dooku raise a rather incredulous eyebrow.

That was nearly half the Council.

“And you?” He asked.

“Anakin and I are on our way as well-”

“You’ve evidently made good time.”

“… Anakin piloted” Kenobi sighed.

Dooku felt a smirk tugging at his lip. “And you’re still intact?”

“You know-” Skywalker’s voice filtered in from somewhere “One of these days one of you is going to need my piloting and I’ll be inclined to say no.”

Dooku snorted. Then considered.

With so many Jedi Masters on their way… well… There was much that could be done with that level of battle strength.

“I take it all parties are approaching Utapau?”

“Yes Master.”

“Then we will have to redirect them-” Dooku answered. “The Bando Gora are not here anymore- but I know where they might be found.

Obi-Wan folded his hands into his sleeves as he crossed his arms. “Give us your orders and I’ll hail Master Plo and the others as soon as I receive their transponders out of hyperspace.”

Dooku nodded. “Good.”

(X)(X)(X)

So this chapter had a very quick turnover because its just the last bit of setup; next chapter... yeah.

Next chapter all this buildup is gonna reach its 'payoff' :3THAT having been said tho, next chapter has A LOT of moving parts. So I can't promise it'll be done quick. I have 3 "Padawans" 1 Jedi Knight, 2 Parahumans, 6 Jedi Masters, 1 Sith Lord, 1 Dark Jedi and 1 Rugess. (Do not forget about the Rugess!) and many *many* death cult Bando'Gora assassins to juggle.

So there's going to be *a lot* of things happening. And to do it properly that requires time; so yeah, I can't promise we'll have a super fast update for the next chapter. But I can promise we'll have fun when we get there :D

As a reminder there is a Discord where Patreon chapters can be discussed without fearing spoilers; I'd love to hear how you all think the upcoming battle is going to proceed :D

https://discord.gg/SMf7Zfb8