The Weaving Force: Chapter 80 (Patreon)

Chapter 80:

Dennis:

“Cook.”

“Saxon.”

Dennis didn’t quite manage to fully suppress his smirk at the greeting. Most would call it curt, even cold. But he knew Militia’s hubby well enough to know that if he knew your name then he liked you well enough.

Usually his greetings for people he didn’t know or like were grunts or glares.

Aras looked at the two with him, nodding once to Ventress and muttering another rumble of “Rugess” towards Dennis’ Bith friend.

The large man stepped aside from the door, gesturing them to come into the humble abode.

His home was as it usually was. Clean, organized. Ventress quietly made her way towards the living room seats.

“Oh!” Shmi perked up wandering in from the kitchen with a tray of tea in her hands, smiling as she caught sight of them. “Mr. Cook, its good to see you. Hello Rugess, Hello Ventress.”

“Just Dennis is fine Shmi.” He smiled at the woman; he’d told her before, but… he supposed that since he was the one that pulled her out of Tattoine, she felt he deserved the formality, no matter how many times he reassured her otherwise.

Rugess happily marched over to help Shmi with the tray and offer her a hug, the two old friends beginning to catch up as though no time had passed at all.

Dennis himself was allowed to enjoy a momentary instance of schadenfreude watching as Shmi started fussing a bit over Asajj.

Asajj very clearly wasn’t used to it and didn’t know how to react. Her eyes darting towards him and Rugess for help that would absolutely not come to rescue her.

Ahh he’d probably pay for that later.

Dennis for his part though, took the time to pass his eyes over the living room, spotting a few more pictures decorating the mantle that hadn’t been here the last time he showed up. .

A fingerpainting from Jen. Images of the twins dressed in their brand spankin new school uniforms and another of what he guessed was a picture taken during Aras and Hannah’s anniversary; She was in a beautiful white and burgundy red dress, the colors of Clan Saxon and he… honestly didn’t look that bad with his dark blue suit, white shirt and red sash tying it all together. .

Cute.

…

Shit… had it been ten years already?

It had hadn’t it?

Ten years…

Aras stepped up beside him; Dennis noted the mountain of a man following his gaze, his brows knitting together, as they landed on the picture clearly unsure of what to say before he decided on something factual.

“You were in the outer rim at the time.” He rumbled. “Your work is important. She did not wish to interrupt you.”

So it had been a party? Made sense. But still- Damn.

“Sorry I missed it.” He said sincerely, looking at the man out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something else, stuffed into a corner beside the entry door.

“You’re being deployed.”

Aras turned his head to him, perhaps surprised or simply confused before he followed his gaze towards the suitcases, then, simply nodded. “Yes. The Mandalorian government will be sending officers to the GAR. I will be one of them.”

“You agreed to that?” Dennis asked, genuinely surprised.

Aras didn’t answer, holding his silence for a long while.

“Why?” Dennis demanded. He couldn’t imagine Militia was happy about it at all. Or even Aras himself for that matter. The man had a past with soldiery, one that Dennis was fairly sure wasn’t a particularly nostalgic or kind one.

Again the man held his silence, taking a deep breath, his answering statement, almost a consolation when he finally deigned to give it.

“I have been assured I will be placed under the command of Jedi Dallon or Hebert.” He said. “It was a condition of my posting.”

A condition set by him? Or by Militia?

Either way, no doubt it’d been Alexandria that had tugged that particular string. She was the only one with the necessary connections to do it.

He still didn’t understand, still didn’t know what to say.

Aras had a wife, a family. And he was volunteering to go off to a war that had fuck all to do with Mandalore why exactly? Dennis for the life of him, didn’t understand and judging by the man’s granite expression and steely silence he didn’t seem willing to enlighten him any time soon.

…

“Don’t die.” He finally demanded..

Aras’ eyes shifted back to him.

Dennis shrugged. “You make her happy.” He affirmed, quietly enough only they could hear as he looked at the anniversary picture of the two of them.

He’d never quite seen that expression on Militia’s face. Not ever in two lifetimes.

“Not sure how much it matters.” He continued. “But I don’t think I’d forgive you if you died.”

A beat of silence.

“She will be down shortly.” The Mandalorian finally said. Dennis wasn’t sure if that counted as acknowledgement or dismissal.

And the mountain of a man stepped away, marching towards the adjoining hall.

Dennis lingered a moment longer in front of the picture, before Shmi, promising to bring Ventress some sweets, had him take pity on the pale woman and marching over to ‘rescue’ her.

“I’m fine!” It wasn’t quite a snarl, and perhaps that wasn’t quite a blush and Shmi perhaps wasn’t quite ignoring her either.

“I’m sure we have some leftover cake.” The desert born woman mumbled to herself marching towards the kitchen.

Ventress leveled him with a miserable, mullish glare where she sat. He very definitely did not smirk. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She accused.

“No-” He crowed “-what would give you that idea?”

Her glare promised certain suffering and inevitable death, soon.

Before he braved getting in arms reach of her, he heard the sound of footsteps drawing close.

“Dennis?”

He turned at the sound of Militia’s voice, finding her with a head of damp hair fresh out of a shower.

He nodded. “Hey Miss M.”

She smiled, marching forward to give him a tight hug that he returned.

Was it stupid of him to feel like he was being welcomed home?

Probably.

—

“Nar-Shadaa?”

The question was said almost innocently- as though the name alone didn’t carry all sorts of baggage and problems in his near future.

Even so, Militia nodded, her features grave. The cup of coffee in her hands sending up strings of steam into the air. “It's where our leads on the Death Watch are pointing us to.”

“Hmmm.” He thought for a moment. “Smart I guess. Hutt Space and Mandalore have been butting heads for years now. A rebel faction smack dab in the middle of their territory isn’t gonna be reached by the royal guard or republic agents easily.”

Beside him, Rugess spoke up, his hands gesticulating quickly to emphasize his point.

“He’s right.” Dennis nodded. “Fact is, last time I showed up on Nar-Shadaa, I practically shit on the front porch of the Hutt Cartells, the Black Sun, the exchange and the slave marketeers there. We show up there again- every bounty hunter and cut throat within twenty systems will be burning fuel to be the first one to get their hands on the bounty.”

“What’s the matter dear Kronos? Can’t handle a few two bit hunters?” Ventress teased.

“With my gorgeous glow-stick wielder next to me absolutely-” He teased right back. “But your sword arm is going to get tired, and we just did your nails.”

For show, the woman did indeed check her nails. “You’re right. Better to let you boil alive on Tattooine.”

He snickered, and Militia snapped her fingers.

“Focus now, flirt later.” She demanded, staring at him with a serious expression. “It is dangerous I know, but there are some advantages that you have.”

“Your ship.” Aras rumbled beside her. “It is new. Few know the Vista was destroyed. Less the model you’re using now. It will give you anonymity upon arrival.”

“True, but that won’t last long.” He contested. “Nar-Shadaa is the single most monitored place in hut space. I couldn’t spit off the side of a building without ten DNA scanners finding out who I was in seconds.” He turned his attention back to Militia, still finding her expectant gaze staring back at him.

He sighed. “Scale of one to ten, how urgent is this intel?”

“Eight at least.” She answered. “Most of our other leads have dried up. The remaining ones are far less likely. As you said. What better place to hide than somewhere that hates the Duchess government?”

She paused, taking a breath through her nostrils as she leaned back in her seat. “Yes- this is dangerous, but you know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

“No, you wouldn’t-” He sighed. “And I know you well enough to know you’re also not sending me in there with just me, Rugess and Miss Manicure over here.” He jerked his thumb toward Ventress, ignoring as she flipped him off with one of those perfectly manicured nails.

“You’re right.” Hannah smiled softly for a moment before it fell away. “The Duchess is willing to provide a full six man squad of her royal guards, and Master Fay has volunteered two Jedi Knights of the Enclave here… and I’m calling in a personal favor?”

“Oh?”

“Victoria.” She clarified.

His eyebrows rose. “That’s a big pull;” He said. “She’s leading a war now. What makes you think she’ll have the time?”

“You know Victoria.” Hannah answered. “If its for her friends, she’ll make the time.”

“I suppose she would.” He half laughed, half scoffed. “Out of curiosity, why not ask Hebert? You get along with her well enough too.”

“She scares you.” Hannah answered.

This time, he did snort. “Yeah, but on Nar-shadaa she’ll scare everyone so an overall plus in my book.”

“You can ask either of them when we see them.” Aras spoke up, sipping at his tea. “Regardless of which one can agree to go, their strength will be a boon if it comes down to a fight.

“True enough” He nodded. “Still- Six Royal guard Mandalorians, two Knights, and Collateral damage Barbie…” He  chuckled. “Damn Miss M. I always knew you cared but I didn’t think I was your favorite son.”

She smiled good naturedly. “Don’t push it.” In the next moment, her smile dropped. “Now, to get more specific about the intelligence we have.” She continued. “We know the… general location of where the Death Watch base is located.”

Rugess cut in.

“On a moon sized city; I’m afraid General location is the best we can do. We’ve narrowed it down to a single Hab-Bloc”

Which is about comparative in size to Manhathan island.

Great.

“We also have reason to believe they’re brokering various alliances with the mercenaries and bounty hunters in the area. Using old Mandalorian ties to rekindle old friendships.”

“Old friendships can also mean old rivalries.” Ventress cut in. “We might use that.”

Dennis nodded. “Not a bad idea, but we need more specifics before we can even get into that.”

“We don’t know exactly how many Death Watch Mandalorians are present but preliminary intel suggests anywhere between twenty and thirty.”

“And that’s not even factoring in the potential hutt involvement, either for or against them.” Dennis sighed, rubbing at his forehead to try and push away the rapidly developing headache. “You certainly don’t ask for easy jobs do you.”

“Sorry.” She said, and he had no doubt it was sincere but that didn’t make him feel much better right now.

His head turned, swiveling between Ventress and Rugess on his right and left. “What do you guys think?”

Ventress shrugged. “I’m fairly sure I could have run this alone while you two hid on the ship, but this much backup I don’t see why not. It’ll be an easy job for easy credits.”

“Not worried about any of the opposition she mentioned?’ He deadpanned.

“What opposition? Bounty Hunters and over the hill relic Mandalorians pining for so called ‘Glory Days’? Yes. Very fearsome.”

Aras snorted, whether that sound was one of amusement or one of him taking offense, he couldn’t tell.

Rugess most certainly didn’t share Ventresses enthusiasm or confidence, but in the end, he did give his tentative consent to the general ‘plan’.

Dennis laughed. “Okay then I guess we-

The doors opened.

“Mom, Dad! We’re home!”

Instantly, he found a smile spreading across his lips, turning to the door was the two kids marched in, still dressed in their school uniforms.

Jen was the first to see him, startling. “Oh, Uncle Dennis!”

Daryan immediately perked up, his head poking above his sisters by the doorway.

He was already growing taller than her. He wondered how either twin felt about that.

The sandy haired boy beamed, as excitable and joyful as ever. “Uncle! You’re back! And Uncle Rugess too!”

“We sure are.” Dennis said, standing up out of the chair before leaning down a bit to be closer to their eye level as he made a show of eying the two up and down. “And look at the two of you! Academy uniforms and everything!”

“Academy uniforms that are crumpled…” Aras said, staring at the two, or more specifically, Daryan. “Boy…” He rumbled, the one word carrying both a reprimand and a demand for an explanation all at once.

Daryan hesitated, trying, in vain, to straighten out his crumpled uniform.

“Brother got into a fight.”

Oh. Well… shit.

“Why?/Explain.” His mom and dad said at the exact same time with two very different tones.

It was almost amusing if it wasn’t so eerie… and slightly uncomfortable.

“Ahhh… well-” Daryan blushed, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot, clearly struggling on what to say.

“Come on kid, just take it easy and we can fix it alright?” He tried to help. Uncles were supposed to do that.

His sister, of course, came to his ‘rescue’.  “Mother, father, do you remember Hontu Vega?”

Militia’s features scrunched up. “Vaguely. Was he the boy you fought Daryan?”

“I do not care who.” Aras growled. “I wish to know why.”

“And why didn’t the school inform us?” Hannah said, though Dennis caught a raised eyebrow from Aras, as if to say ‘why would they?’ Not that she saw it

Must be a Mando cultural thing thing.

Before the conversation could diverge too much. Jen ‘rescued’ them all again.

“He kissed me.” The little ten year old girl said as nonchalantly and factually as humanly possible.

No intonation, no tells in her voice. She placed two fingers on her cheek as if to show where it was.

The silence from both parents was broken only by the chortles and snickers from Ventress, Rugess, and himself.

Jen didn’t seem to notice the awkward silence. “Daryan saw… ran over and punched him.

Militia’s breathy wheeze seemed like it was trying desperately to strangle the laugh that wanted to form while it was still in the cradle.

“Daryan-” She breathed.

“Well done boy-” Aras grunted at the reflexive punch his wife delivered to his bicep, covering up his reaction as he sipped a rather large gulp of his tea.

Dennis laughed, walking over to pat the kid on the head. “I ever tell you two you’re my favorite niece and nephew?”

Daryan beamed.

“We’re you’re only niece and nephew.” Jen deadpanned.

(X)(X)(X)

Pay attention to these plot threads. There are a few here, and they will be important... SOON :3