Ask Two is Plenty

[Merian Sere]

"Madam, like I already told you-"

"You will address me as Knight Sere or not at all." Merian had changed into her full armor, all imperial might and authority, complete with the cloak and closed helmet so many Knights liked to go without.

"I've never seen him!"

"That's a lie."

"I showed you, he doesn't work here!"

"His employment status is of no relevance to me. I have it under oath that he can be found here, and you will open this gate or I will have you under arrest for obstruction of an Imperial Knight in the execution of her duty."

The old Jefi let out a mighty sigh. All he wanted was an uneventful evening, but it seemed no matter what he tried, no matter what he said, that uppity problem in front of him refused to walk away. He picked up his datapad from his desk again, had another look at the document the Knight had shared. An arrest warrant for Raask Harduun on charges of procuring, conspiracy to traffic illegal substances, and extortion. He sighed again. He did not want to deal with this. Deep inside, he knew it was a long time coming. He'd known the man was trouble from the moment he'd first laid eyes on him and his no-good Twi'lek associates. But that didn't help him now.

"He's not here."

"He is on the premises as we speak and you are disrupting the course of Imperial justice. Final warning."

"Okay, okay," the guard gave in. "Just... no shooting inside, okay?"

Merian gave a wicked smile. "Well that depends on him, doesn't it?"

The man input a command and the shimmering energy barrier before the complex was deactivated. "Alright, you're good to go. And, uh... who's this?"

Merian spared a glance at Maros by her side. He was in his own armor, the same one he'd crossed Merian's path with. They'd agreed this part would be hers.

"The informant. You'd know that if you could read."

Those were the last words spoken. Maros followed her past the booth and into the hangar Raask had entered with his cargo earlier, and the barrier activated again behind them.

They were inside.

 

[Maros Lasan]

Maros had - literally and otherwise - spent six months amid refuse and filth. He had known depths of misery lost to him since youth. He had suffered. Constantly. Become a criminal. Despite all that, he felt like the most obvious fraud standing silently behind Merian. It was always a treat to watch her work in the full light of her authority. She was a rogue planet, hurtling through space and smashing celestial bodies aside with the weight of her influence. It was an effort not to smile.

He was silent as they made their way through the gate. The guard looked over at Maros but he didn't pay it notice. He had been there before. Sometimes with Raask, usually alone, but never in hiding. That probably lent credibility to their plan so he hadn't seen a reason to tell Merian. She'd be mad when she found out - she always did - but he probably deserved it and if nothing else he liked watching her rage. Less than healthy.

"You really laid into him, poor man," Maros said. He looked over the hard edges of her armor; cramed into a uniform like some conscript. He wanted to ignore her. Force Merian to talk first and admit she missed his company. It had been so long though. So, so long. He couldn't stop himself from prodding at her, poking old buttons to see if they still worked. "I'm surprised he went with it. Admit Raask is here and you admit you let him in. Not how I'd have approached him, but it did work so I suppose I can't fault you. Still, not what I'd do."

 

[Merian Sere]

“There's nothing poor about him. Why is it they never comply at the first opportunity?” she asked in answer to his first point. Merian didn’t feel the slightest amount of responsibility for the turn the conversation had taken. She wouldn't have laid into the old Jefi so much if he'd done what she asked—what the law required of him.

She tried to ignore the rest of what Maros had said, knowing too well the game he was playing. Admittedly, the fact that he couldn't refrain from his childish taunts while on a mission made her think less of him. Or maybe she was the only one on a mission.

"Over here." She walked through the empty hangar with purpose, each step made heavy by her armor. Sometimes people had to jog to keep up with her and Merian relished that unimportant fact. She guided Maros on the path to the far wing, the place where she'd spied the unguarded turbolifts during her surveillance. Something told her Raask would have taken his cargo towards the ships. And all the while, it nagged at her. Nagged. Nagged.

"Letting us in is not an admission of anything," she said, almost a hiss. In any other context, Merian might have stopped and turned to face him and his challenge, but here time was of the essence. Vexed words as they walked would have to do. "The writing is on the wall when the warrant is issued. But just because we suspect someone can be found somewhere doesn't mean they will be. He had no reason to deny us entry. But by all means, tell me. How would you have done it? Choke him through the barrier and hope he kicks the right button in his thrashing?"

 

[Maros Lasan]

Maros stifled a smirk. He had forgotten what it felt like, having her around. She was so alive, so vibrantly emotional. Especially when she was angry. Even in the moments where she was calm and cool he could still sense it: Well hidden, subdued, restrained, but still there, simmering. She was the ideal Sith, if only she could recognize it. That was, he thought, what had drawn them together. Beyond the confines of impersonal cooperation.

Of course it was also fun to tease someone you knew would react. Probably the real reason, deep down. It was brief, but her willingness of engage was a welcome distraction. His stomach started to turn at the realization that she had probably not missed it as much as he had and this was likely a result of pity. He pushed that thought down. Time to wallow in emotions like that later.

"Well," he began as they reached the far end of the hanger. "I'd have probably thrown on some fatigues. Walked past him. But you clearly have something else in mind. I'm not sure why else you'd have spent an hour strangling yourself into that armor."

He paused. A cautioning hand went to Merian's arm. A squeeze, a glance, and they were walking in a different direction. That silent communication was as instinctual has the taunts had been - more so. For a moment Maros really was back a year. Back on deployment with Merian. Then the weight of how long it had been struck him all at once and their chance meeting was no longer an opportunity for that special kind of 'I'm Doing Great, Actually' grandstanding. He really was all over the place today. He'd need a long, long rest once he was back on his ship.

"Down the corridor by the turbolift. Ten men, Twi'leks. Raask's." The way he moved was casual but the words were hushed and hurried. "What do you want to do? If you let me talk to them I can handle it."

 

[Merian Sere]

In the moment, Merian was glad for the helmet that hid from Maros how his jab had landed. She had struggled with her armor, that clumsy thing she couldn't seem to get used to. She hated that it still felt like a disguise. Even though she was Merian Sere, Imperial Knight, using her name and uniform on official duty to execute an arrest warrant written by her own hand, she felt less like a Knight than an agent using what tools at her disposal to work around limited resources. This time, the armor fit her needs. She could hide in plain sight behind it, all high and mighty, and the administrative workers they came across got out of her way. They almost cowered before her. And they didn't ask questions.

Maros pulled on her arm and she followed without resistance, as much as he surprised her. She still expected to be in the lead. Did he even know where he was taking them? She'd laid surveillance on this place for the better part of a week. Could he say the same? But she didn't question him. She didn't trust his motives; she found she still trusted his calls.

"Raask's?" She questioned it. Men like these were Raask's as much as Jedi were peacekeepers: until the very first complication, maybe not even then. And Merian intended to be quite the complication.

"Impress me," she said. "Know I reserve the right to jump in at any time. I don't trust you fully."

 

[Maros Lasan]

Lazy and slow, like a wide river; that was how they moved. The key to not being noticed was pretending that being seen didn't bother you. They were off again, her following behind, headed for the small knot of men. They were closer than he had expected when someone finally noticed. They were dock workers, mostly. Still Twi'lek and still under Raask's thumb, but only two wore the tight tunics and loose pants of the slum nobility. One of them, a short, reedy man named Zezek, spoke.

"Well, well, well." He crossed his arms and gave a laugh that wanted to he more condescending than it was. The rest of the party turned to follow his voice. "Look who decided to come crawling back. Couldn't stay away, eh? I told you he couldn't stay away. I told you!" A moment's pause and his expression hardened. He gestured to Merian. "Who's Mr. Short and Ugly?"

"Hello Zezek." Each syllable was sharp and articulate. "I'm glad to see you're doing more than cleaning restrooms these days."

"I asked you a question."

"And I ignored it."

"No, no, no, you don't get to do that anymore." The group of aliens had formed a loose semi-circle behind Zezek. Their attention was like a needle on Maros. Their attempts to seem only casually interested were failing. "You throw your big tantrum and storm off you don't get to come back and act all high and mighty."

"I was-"

"No. I know you didn't just stumble in here. Who is the costume wearing freak and why is he with you? You wanna see Raask you're gonna play nice today."

Maros half turned to look at Merian. His eyes looked for something in the lifeless visor. He turned back to Zezek and began to speak.

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian took a step forward. She felt indignation rise in her, fueled by their treatment of him. It would become rage if she let it. She wanted nothing more than to wipe the arrogance off the face of this bottom of the barrel trash, these common thugs, lowest of the low who didn't deserve to feel smug over anyone at all. Play nice? She'd show them nice until they begged for death. So what if they were ten. Maros and her, lightsabers drawn, they'd make short work of them. Short work and bits of flesh.

It hadn't been hard to believe he was with them. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, Maros Lasan had never been above this kind of petty pursuits for power. He was a Sith in exile. He did what he pleased with whom he pleased. Which brought on further questions. What had caused the falling out?

Merian stayed behind, her eyes trained on Zezek, and let Maros go on.

 

[Maros Lasan]

"This is an old friend, Lilith." The lie passed from his lips without a trace of concern. It was like breathing. "Raask said he wanted an apology present, right? Well here it is, another Sith." He gave Merian's pauldron an appreciative smack. "This one even has armor."

"She isn't covered in filth either," Zezek said, though he didn't bother to give more than a glance. "Maybe we just kill you and see if she wants a job."

"I would eat you alive."

"What?"

"If you so much as tried," Maros said, and something in his eyes gave Zezek cause to step back a pace. "I would eat you. Alive. You're not even human."

"Shut up."

"Let me go see Raask and I will."

"Shut up. Get out of here."

"Make me."

There was a long pause. It oozed malicious intent until both men were drowning in it, but Zezek came up for air first.

"Listen," he started, suddenly very eager to be sympathetic. "You know what's gonna happen if he isn't glad I let you up there."

"He'll kill you."

"He'll kill me. You can't expect me to risk it, Maros."

"You think I won't?"

Zezek looked like a thoroughly kicked puppy.

"Tell him you had to beat me, tell him..."

"I'll tell him you put up a good fight," Maros said and clasped Zezek on the shoulder as he stepped past him. "Let's go, Lilith. Turbolift is waiting."

 

[Merian Sere]

She followed without a word, quick and deliberate. The temptation was strong to shoulder check one of the Twi’leks as she went, if only to make a point, but they gave her a wide berth. Merian had to content herself with looking down on them from within the turbolift, Zezek’s ego acceptably bruised.

Then the doors closed. Merian looked over the options before she selected their stop: orbit. The lift would take them all the way to the shipyards, her destination—and with it, to Raask Harduun, his.

They were silent. Merian wanted to talk, or for him to say something for her to respond to. He didn’t. How has it been, since you left? she wanted to ask. She wanted to know the tantrum Zezek had referred to. To tell him how she’d wanted to kill them all for their misplaced arrogance. How good it felt to be a Sith. No one had called her that in over a year, but it was what she was. That truth was taboo with the Empire and its Knights, like they were expected to collectively forget what every one of them had come from. Merian didn’t forget. She was a Sith, and she’d chosen loyalty. That made her invaluable, a true believer, one who’d had every reason to leave but refused to be tempted. The Empire didn’t see it that way. She was a security risk, a traitor waiting to happen. And Maros didn’t talk.

“I risk death, meeting here,” she spoke after a long moment of silence. “Treason. I hope you can still appreciate that.”

 

[Maros Lasan]

'Say something you idiot,' Maros thought. 'She's standing right there. You've been waiting for this for a year. Say something.'

That armor suits you. No. Red is a good color for you. Even worse. I've missed looking at you. What? Throw yourself out of the lift. Maros clenched his jaw and looked out into the fading atmosphere. They were surging along the cable now, up through listless clouds that faded to swirling whisps of vapor. 'That time you got sick on the Keffier Mag-Train. She loves that story.' No. He loved telling it to her, she hated it because he'd thrown up on her boots.

Maros had pictured the moment so many times, in idle thoughts and vivid dreams. He'd had a million things he wanted to say to Merian, each one a sharper retort than the last. But now: nothing. Then another thought struck him, like some kind of celestial impact. I wish I had stayed with you.

He blinked. What. Absolutely not. Shut up. You don't mean that, you thought it, but you still absolutely do not mean that. Maros let out a long breath. What the hell had gotten into him? Was this morning the start of some terminal mental decline? Was that what was happening? His nerves were dying. His brain was failing. The only explanation. Because he really didn't mean it. He wished that she had stayed with him.

Maros looked over at her, resolute, like a statue. Damn it all she was so stiff. His own shoulders shifted back reflexively. Suddenly she had spoken, and he was so busy cursing himself for not beating her to it that he almost missed the words. He stared into her visor, blank faced. The good thing about being really stunned was that it made you look apathetic. That was what she needed to see. Apathy. Once she'd finished speaking and he'd stared for a few moments longer he turned away from Merian. The silence lingered.

"I know." Maros stared out the window. "I -" I've always appreciated you. I've never doubted you. I wish that risk was mine. I wish things were different. "I'm sorry. No one will know once I've left."

 

[Merian Sere]

She nodded. So that was that.

She didn't know what she'd expected, saying it, but it hadn't been an apology. It felt strange from him. Unnatural. The words, I'm sorry, alien to his mouth. But Merian made no mistake. This was now, and when things changed, he would always hold that power over her. Blackmail her with it when they went their separate ways, knowing he could come forward and have her Empire turn on her like he'd always wanted. Perhaps he'd do it just to drive her in his arms.

Around them, the skies had grown much darker. They had to be in orbit now, though Merian couldn't see the shipyards directly over their heads. She had to stand on tiptoe to look down enough to see Botajef's surface in the window, so high they were. The ride wouldn't be much longer.

Knight Lasan. It had a nice ring to it. Wouldn't she do the same, if she had the power? Merian liked to think she respected his choice. Condemned it, grieved it, questioned it, but respected it. She would bring him back willingly or not at all.

"You would look stunning in red. It's like that armor was made for you."

The turbolift chimed, and the doors opened.

 

[Maros Lasan]

Maros felt like he had been slapped. She was toying with him, she had to be. Maybe that was projection. He wanted to call it out of character, but that wasn't even true; Merian had always been good with words. It was just so sudden. Unexpected. She was supposed to be mad at him, he deserved her anger with how flippant and distant he was being. So many possibilities wrapped up in so few words.

He stepped out of the lift. The orbital docks were a sprawling expanse of thin, metal corridors but it was nicer than anywhere he had been in ages. He took in a deep breath. The clean air filled his lungs, the smell of sanitizing chemicals. It was restorative, truly, in a way Maros had worried he might never feel again. Merian came to join him as he had his moment and he turned to look at her.

"Red has always been your color," he said with a faint smile. It was a shame the helmet hid her hair. It was nice. Full and voluminous. "I wouldn't want to upstage you. Now, why are you here? It'd be awkward if we said goodbye and then both starting walking in the same direction."

 

[Merian Sere]

She half-listened, her senses on alert from the moment the lift opened. There was not a soul in the immediate vicinity. Merian swept the area for cameras, found two obvious ones, then breathed. She didn’t have to hide. She was Merian Sere, Imperial Knight, and no one had yet realized her warrant was a sham. She doubted anyone would. The old Jefi guard didn’t seem like the type to scrutinize it further after he’d let them in.

Maros was right. With her auburn hair and reddish eyes, red was her color, though a richer, darker one than the bright scarlet of her armor.

“Command center,” she mumbled. She wouldn’t say more. Maros likely had no love for Darth Andruil, but best to keep him out of the imperial assault on what represented the former Sith Empire. The one they’d served together. And where was Raask? The place was built like a maze. Again, Merian sorely felt the missing ISB support. She would have had a map.

“I don’t suppose you know the layout by heart?”

 

[Maros Lasan]

"No," he started, following after her not nearly so on-edge. Maros had been to the shipyards before, not longer after his arrival. His first, rather short lived, attempt at recovering his ship. "But I have a good enough idea. The command center is in the hub of the station, directly above us. I'll need to go through it to get to the arm where Raask is."

He followed after her in silence for a few more steps. He could go his own way, slip through corridors and maintenance ducts and get there quicker. But he liked the company. The slanted walls and harsh, inset lights made for an oppressive kind of atmosphere.

"You're welcome to come along," he added. They passed through a set of blast doors and into a a sloping hallway; one of six identical passages that rimmed the lower edge of the hub. He gestured off to the right set of blast doors. "In the next corridor. The staircase and the passage to the outer dock."

 

[Merian Sere]

Despite Maros being the one of the two who knew the way, Merian strode ahead and let him follow closely behind. She progressed in accordance with his instructions, found the staircase, climbed the steps two at a time. It had to be off-hours, but a skeleton crew of technicians and security guards kept the shipyards manned at all times. Every so often, they came across someone. The looks they received here were noticeably more inquisitive than they'd been on the lower levels, but Merian didn't give them an inch, all purpose and momentum. Her hand hovered by her blaster again, the woman not quite at ease.

"I have to come along," she rectified when they were alone, pacing a long hallway that stretched all the space between two docks. She nodded to another of the ceiling-mounted holocams as they passed by it. "They expect me to arrest him. But it won't get to that point, will it? You have goodbyes to say."

 

[Maros Lasan]

"That bothers you?" he asked. His pace was casual but he still tried to look at her face. His features a polite mask. "You've never had an issue with business like this before. A soft spot for criminals and traitors now?"

 

[Merian Sere]

No, just the one. Even now, the thought tied her guts into a knot. The time for that had been years ago if it ever existed. Before she'd surrendered her lightsaber having not thought to consult him, knowing he'd do the same. Trusting. How could she possibly tell him now? Was it even still true?

"Actually, I'm counting on it. My hands are full enough without having to watch over dead weight you could so graciously rid me of." Matter-of-fact. Deadpan. Cold. He'd get it.

"Which way now?" The corridor was coming at an end.

 

[Maros Lasan]

He pointed off towards one of the half-obscured service passages to the right of the hall, near the blast doors. The wall lights were a bit dimmer there.

"Through there. There's an access ladder that leads up to a similar corridor on the top level. There should be a door directly into the control center." Maros paused and looked Merian up and down. How she always was: unashamed, for better or worse. "You'd be a bit conspicuous up there."

 

[Merian Sere]

"We don't have to go by the control center first," she offered. "You could lead us to Raask." But she was stalling. He was right, of course. Truth was she'd spent so much time looking for a way in, she wasn't sure how to proceed now that she'd found one.

"I know," she thought aloud. "It's bound to be manned. I haven't decided if I stand a better chance sneaking without the armor or forcing my way through. Forge another warrant, perhaps. For a search."

 

[Maros Lasan]

"An imperial inspection...in a neutral system without any kind of imperial presence." He quirked an eyebrow at her. His arms crossed. "You haven't really thought this through, have you?"

Maros advanced on the set of blast doors and they hissed open. Stale air diffused between the two hallways. He moved through and then half-turned to look at Merian.

"If you feel inclined to come along and watch I'll show you something that might help in your mission before I leave. If that wouldn't be too familiar of me."