The Weaving Force: Chapter 30 (Patreon)

Chapter 30

Hannah

“Uttapau spaceport, this is Ghtroc 720 light freighter ID number seven-seven-six–L-I-N-four-six-nine, call sign ‘Vista,’ requesting permission to dock, please.”

There were days where Hannah worried for Dennis, and other days when she didn’t.

In the early days, when he was throwing himself into the jaws of his newly acquired passion for the fight against slavery… she half thought the boy was trying to commit suicide by pissed-off slaver.

But then, there were other days where he showed her that he was healing and moving. It was in his own way, at his own pace, and with his own stumbles, but it was happening.

This ship, for all that he complained it cut into his savings every time it needed repairs, and for all that he muttered and grumbled whenever its engine gave a piteous whine and he had to go back there and fix it with Rugess’ help… it had been good for him. It still was good for him.

The days of sailing across the stars, seeing the beauty of space, of exploring other planets with other species, and helping where he could… It let him see that life continued. It hadn’t all been wiped out in their little war-torn corner of the universe. And it let him feel like he made a difference.

Not on a galactic scale, or even a planetary scale, no. But it was a rare day that Dennis didn’t land on Mandalore and have a dozen people that he’d freed ready to greet him.

Mechanics that helped fix the ship at no charge, newly hired palace servants that perhaps slipped him some off world candies, or interesting foods.

Or even men and women bringing their kids, born free on a planet where slavery didn’t exist to meet him and shake his hand.

That, she thought, had helped him so much more than she ever could. That knowledge that he’d done something good. That, if he died tomorrow, as he was half certain sometimes he would, that he’d be remembered and mourned by more than just her.

She hoped it was a healthy way to recover. She wasn’t a psychologist, and Mandalore, with its previously warrior-minded society, didn’t put much stock in “Mind healers,” as they were called on other worlds. But she prayed that it kept doing the good she’d seen it do for him, that it kept him away from that blackness that had nearly drowned him.

She’d asked him, once, why he’d named the ship ‘Vista,’ when most days it seemed like if he were offered the choice between keeping the memory of those no longer with them in this galaxy or forgetting they ever existed, he’d take the latter option. If only to be able to forget.

It had been a split second. An instant where the facade broke and she saw his whole face crumple like he was about to cry.

Then the front was back. The smile slipped on like an old, well worn mask… and she didn’t have the heart to bring up whatever hurt or regrets had turned his expression so forlorn.

“Why not?” He answered with a cheeky smirk. “I think she’d like it. She always wanted to be a big girl!”

It had brought out a startled laugh from her.

Then she cried.

And he cried too

And so, Vista it was named.

“Understood, freighter Vista. This is Utapau spaceport. You are cleared for a landing in hangar seven, section E-4. I say again, hangar seven, section E-4. Please confirm you have received your flight vectors.”

There was a bloop from the comms, a bulb flashing from yellow to green.

“Roger that, Utapau spaceport. Vectors uploaded into the nav computer now. Coming in nice and slow,” Dennis answered, turning to Rugess, his co-pilot, and offering a nod. The Bith began flicking on several switches to let the auto-pilot do the heavy lifting now.

“I’m curious.”

The voice, which Miss Militia could admit was a very handsome one, brought her attention towards the other passenger, seated to her left: the Count, Yan Dooku.

The man was looking at her, so she assumed the non-question was directed her way.

She offered a shrug. “What about?”

“You are wearing Beskar, but you do not have a helmet. Or, at least, I have not seen it during our voyage.” He elaborated. “I was under the impression all Mandalorians wore their full warplate if they would wear any at all.”

“My husband is a Mandalorian,” she answered easily. “I haven’t taken the rites to fully join Clan Saxon yet. Once I do, I will have ‘earned my helmet.’”

In truth, she’d been in no rush, previously, to join anyone. Convinced that somewhere, somehow, they would find their way home.

Then, Aras walked into her life. Then, Jen and Dar right after… and she was suddenly much less inclined to leave.

Would she?

If, tomorrow, Alexandria found them a way home, or Dennis in his travels stumbled over something and told them... would she return?

She was a Hero, duty bound to help people, and that held even more meaning when the threat they faced was extinction. She knew she had a responsibility; to try and evacuate people into this galaxy if absolutely nothing else.

But she also had a responsibility to her children. And she wanted to see them grow up.

She wasn’t sure if she’d be brave enough to make the choice that served the most good. Not just her own.

Sometimes she’d like to think so.

Then other days she prayed she’d never have to put her family through that heartbreak.

“I see.” Dooku’s voice brought her out of her spiraling musings. “It is rare for Mandalorians to accept outsiders into their culture in this era, though, in ages past, the practice was widespread.”

“She’s a special girl,” Dennis cut in with a smirk, offering her a wink as he swiveled his chair around, leaning forward. “Right- so. We’re here. I assume you didn’t hire us just to sit on the ship, so how are we helping?”

Dooku, with one leg crossed over the other, fingers forming a cage over his stomach, dressed in well-tailored silks and finery, looked like he could have been sitting on a throne holding court rather than the passenger seat in a cockpit.

“Hego-Damask’s financial history is what we’re largely here to uncover,” Dooku answered. “Much of this, I can find through legal means with relative ease… at least that of what what he held that was legal.”

“What makes you think it wasn’t all legal?” Miss Militia asked.

“His taxes, of course.” Dooku snorted. “The Munn was good with his finances, at least in terms of how well he hid them. But that sum he handed Master-Sifo Dyas was several times his official net worth. Frankly; I know of several developed single planets that would have bankrupted themselves handing over the funds he did.”

Dennis gave a low whistle. “Alright. So definitely fudged a zero or two on his tax returns. I’m sure it was just an honest typo. Really.”

“Quite.” Dooku said drolly, unimpressed. “While I deal with the legal side and smooth things over with the banking clan and the official government, you-”

“Will track down any seedier associates he may have been acquainted with,” Miss Militia concluded. It wasn’t her first rodeo after all. Colin would have approached this in a similar way.

Of course, Colin would have simply used some tinker tech device to extract the information from government records under subpoena.

He wasn’t exactly a social creature.

The old Count nodded. “Indeed.”

“I assume you have a list, then?” she asked.

The elderly Count  pulled free a small holopad. “These are five… aquaintances, Hego Damask was associated with.” He noted. “They have attempted to go to ground, but I know at least one of them is here on Utapau from his last known location.”

“Who is it?”

“A Rodian: Dooku answered “named Guriwik. As far as my own investigations have determined he was Damasks…” He paused, pursing his lips as though trying to think of the word. “Facilitator. He moved his money.”

“Money Launderer  you mean.” Dennis nodded, bringing up the image of the Rodian.”

“Correct.” The count nodded. “When you approach- I’d advise caution, if the Sith is after Sifo Dyas, its possible he is looking for our target as well, should you cross paths, call me immediately.”

Dennis turned, looking to her; she offered a nod.

“Alright.” She said. “We’ll be careful.” She promised- then reached over to pocket the holopad. “For now- we’ve all got our jobs to do so lets get it done.”

(X)(X)(X)

Taylor

There was very little fanfare when Jedi went off to undertake their trials. I’d seen enough of them through my bugs to know.

They got their assignments, packed for the trip, went to bed, woke up and by morning they were on either a shuttle or taking a small light cruiser off to… wherever they needed to go.

I fully expected this to be the same for us, but apparently word spreads fucking fast… like… even by the temple’s usual gossipy standards.

And yes these insular monks were fucking gossips! Like -old ladies at a beauty salon gossips-

Didn’t they have to meditate on the force or whack eachother with lightsabers or something!?

So it was that our departure was… known. Well known.

So well known the Creche’s knew about it.

That’s right. The four and six year olds knew that we were leaving.

Quite a few of them didn’t know how to tie their shoes, or dress themselves properly; but they were well aware that we were leaving.

So Vicky and I had a… crowd.

“Bye Miss Taylor!” She heard Kyona shout from the rafters above, the little nautolan girl smiling, her head tails visibly twitching in her excitement that I could see even from down here.

“Iky!” A toddler, barely two years old babbled happily where Padawan Vebb was holding him. I had to wonder just how insistent the younglings must’ve been to get him out here to ‘send us off’ as it were.

“You’ll be great knights!”

“Ohhhh” Vicky cooed, waving back at the gaggle of gremlins on the balcony above us. She blew a kiss their way. “Bye kids. I’ll bring you guys a present!”

Excited chatter burst across the mezzanine and I wondered if Vicky realized just how much of a headache she just took on promising upwards of thirty kids at minimum, gifts when she returned.

And that’s IF word didn’t spread to the other creche’s.

If the kids took after the example set by their ‘elders’...

Yeah Vicky’s wallet was about to take a solid hit.

“I’m surprised you’re not flying up there to kiss them all goodbye.” I commented, shifting my own bag over my shoulder.

“Oh I am fucking tempted!” She answered honestly, still waving before turning around to walk facing forward again. “But, if I do, I’ll start crying, then they’ll start crying and then when we leave some idiot’s gonna give those poor kids a lecture about attachments being bad and they shouldn’t do it and I’m gonna have to kick him or her like a football for being an idiot and it’ll be this whole thing and Yoda’s gonna end up whacking me with a stick again-”

I snorted, swallowing down a laugh. “Almost like you’ve got experience with this.”

“There are a lot of people who need to get kicked.” came the cheeky answer.

We were leaving the main temple complex now, crossing the high walkway bridge towards the Jedi’s private spaceport.

Actually; I take that back to call it a spaceport was a bit too generous. It was more a giant ‘parking lot’ for exclusively Jedi owned ships. As the daughter of a dockworker who actually had worked on a port I knew damn well that any port worth its name  handled more than just passengers; but rather actual cargo that needed to be loaded and unloaded.

That’s not what this place was for.

Visiting dignitaries on the rare occasions they came, returning Knights, Masters, Shadows, Padawans and Masters departing for missions. That kind of thing.

They didn’t even really do repairs here either, that was handled elsewhere.

It seemed a bit of a waste of both space and money, but I suppose having an actual functioning spaceport would ruin the view from the Jedi council room. And having visiting dignitaries or Jedi touching down in a chop shop made for a poor first image and didn’t exactly give that impression of ‘peace and harmony’ that so many of them were keen to keep.

Ahead of me, walking along the underside of the bridge was a… small battalion of my insects. Just incase. Master Plo would no doubt figure out what I was doing, but he’d long since grown to appreciate my… genuine need for at least some reliable insects around me. This galaxy had a truly fascinating array of potential specimens.

I hadn’t ordered some of the more exotic species, (even though I really really wanted to), like a termite from a planet called Duxun that could eat steel… you know… in the spirit of compromise. But something that could sting, bite or otherwise hurt someone in case I needed to, was just something I genuinely needed. The few times I’d been without specifically in long space voyages my anxiety levels had grown significantly after a few days.

Master Plo noticed.

He’d tried to help after we returned by buying me a specially made crate to house a ‘small swarm’

I think, in hindsight; that’s the moment I started to ease my guard around him.

Ahead of us, coming within range of my eyes, Master Plo stood, talking with Masters Yoda, and Galia, Master Windu stood a little further away, quietly conversing with Master Yaddle.

Shortly afterwards, the insects I had placed over the masters came into the envelope of my power, Windu was either the first to notice or the first one to say something as he straightened and looked our way.

“The Padawans are almost here-”

It wasn’t really fair to say conversation died per-se but the five Masters did begin to arrange themselves to welcome us.

By the time we reached them, suitcases in hand and a small conga line of  bugs marching into the nooks and crannies of the ship I’d be traveling in- Vicky was already smiling at the five, waving happily. “Hi everyone.”

“Victoria. Taylor.” Plo-Koon nodded, happiness and pride threading through his aura in the force.

After a brief moment Master Plo reached into his robe and pulled free two datapads, handing one to each of us.

“Victoria. In your trial of courage you will be accompanying Master Galia on a Mission to Zygerria.” He explained.  “Zygerria, was long ago the seat of a thriving empire; it was however built on the backs of slaves.”

Immediately I saw Vicky’s face darken; I imagined that someone on that world was likely going to start having a bad day once hurricane Dallon made planetfall.

Master Galia cleared her throat, coughing politely into her hand before it returned to its place behind her back, her voice as calming and placid as ever. “We have reason to suspect some elements within Zygeria, possibly a rogue branch of their government or police, are attempting to re-start slave operations. While this will be your test of both courage and insight, I must stress that your evaluation is only a small part of this. We cannot afford to reach the wrong conclusions. If we accuse someone and we’re wrong, the Jedi and the Republic will lose hard fought goodwill in that system, but if we don’t accuse anyone and we’re wrong-”

Then they keep running slaves.” Vicky concluded.

The blonde took a breath before letting it rush out of her in a huff. “Tossing us right into the deep end huh?” She grinned. “Alright then! I’m ready!”

Yoda nodded. “Help, I will, only if I must. Wish to observe I do.”

Vicky gave him a smile as though they were sharing an inside joke.

Yoda smiled back. So that certainly didn’t dissuade that impression.

“Taylor.” Plo-Koon brought my attention back to him. “Your mission will be with Master Windu.”

“We’re heading towards a planet known as Halcyon.” Windu declared. “There’s unfortunately, been some unrest with the local populace.”

“What kind of unrest?” I asked.

“Separatists.” Windu answered succinctly. “Or at least they fashion themselves as such. They claim they wish to secede from the republic.”

“And you… don’t believe them?” I asked, wondering why he was being so specific about his words.

He must’ve noticed my confusion, because he elaborated further.

“There are processes on every world;” He stressed and it almost sounded like the Jedi Master was, if not angry at the very least indignant.  “-there are means by which they can leave the republic, diplomatically, legally and with no bloodshed. These individuals-”

“Didn’t take that option-” I deduced.

If he was irritated at my interruption, he didn’t show it, instead he simply nodded. “Correct. They’ve become violent, extreme. Threatening civilians, kidnapping officials, we’ve been asked to go and intervene.”

I felt my heart lurch uncomfortably in my chest.

This mission… felt a little bit too close to home to be a coincidence.

“Why choose me for this?” I asked; did they… somehow know? I’d told no one… not even Vicky- not enough for… this at least.

“The Trial of spirit you must undertake” Yaddle answered. “Difficult it is. Some say, the most difficult test of any Jedi.” The older woman nodded. “Sense I did, through the force, that this mission, help you confront yourself it would.”

“That’s it?’ I asked. Or, perhaps, demanded; my fingers tightening over the datapad “The force? Nothing else?”

“Choose wisely, Master Yaddle did- if unbalanced already you are. Hmm?” Yoda questioned

I snapped my mouth shut

My tongue felt thick in my mouth, the uneasy feeling in my chest now making me feel queasy in my stomach.

“Hey-” Vicky’s hand was suddenly on my shoulder; I turned, looking at her as I saw her face shift into a reassuring smile. “You got this.” She encouraged, offering the barest hint of a squeeze as she let her aura off the leash just a fraction, for that extra kick.

I huffed out a breath; having long since grown accustomed to that trick.

And yet it seemed to work in this instance.

I gave a nod, my stomach still unsettled, but I didn’t feel the need to turn around and head back to the temple to clear my own head.

Master Plo nodded. “Then, with that I leave you. I know you’ll make me proud.”

As he said this, the other Masters each offered their own approximations of bows before turning and walking towards the ship, whether to give us a moment of privacy or simply expecting us to follow I wasn’t sure.

Before I could leave, or do much of anything, Vicky’s hand on my shoulder pulled me a bit, and the next thing I know the blonde is hugging me tightly, super strength arms applying enough pressure to edge at that level of mild pain in a hug that was comforting.

“I’ll miss you.” Vicky said into my neck; hiding her face… as I felt a bit of dampness gathering over my collar

…

…

I knew her well enough to know she didn’t handle goodbyes well.

In spite of myself, I felt my own features soften, my control over my expression slipping again just a tiny bit as I returned the hug as tightly as I could, hoping she’d feel it past her force-field.

“I’ll miss you too.” I whispered.

I was almost startled to realize… I would miss her.

Three years.

Three years and we hadn’t been apart more than a day or two.

I… I don’t remember the last person I could truly say that about; not since mom died.

I suddenly felt my own eyes stinging, even as I blinked it away.

I didn’t cry as we parted, or as the ships took off.

But before we left atmosphere… I already wanted to go back home.

(X)(X)(X)

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