Ask Two is Plenty

Merian Sere

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“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 the Jefi couldn’t see. “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.
 
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Merian Sere

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“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? Choked him through the barrier and hoped he kicks the right button in his thrashing?”
 
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Merian Sere

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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 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.”
 
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Merian Sere

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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.
 
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Merian Sere

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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.”
 
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Merian Sere

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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.
 
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Merian Sere

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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?”
 
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Merian Sere

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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.”
 
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Merian Sere

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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.
 
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Merian Sere

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“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.”
 
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Merian Sere

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“I can sell it,” she said defensively. We’re invading Dathomir. It’s not the biggest leap.

Nevertheless she followed him, almost by necessity now. “You don’t know what my mission even consists of, Maros. Cut the act and say your piece.”
 
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Merian Sere

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Those words, a gut punch. Then that knot again. How did he so easily have her at a disadvantage?

“Do you want to try?” Merian let the words go before she could hold them back. She stopped to look at him, and for half a second her eyes shone hopeful behind her visor, stupid things. Then she sobered up. “No. Forget that.”

He was right. There was nothing to say. She wouldn’t apologize for doing the sensible thing, and he wouldn’t apologize for doing the brash one. Or at all. So that was that.

Before she could embarrass herself further, Merian drew her lightsaber, ready to find half a dozen blasters pointing at her, and walked through the door.
 
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Merian Sere

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When the door opened, everything made sense. His presence here, his willingness to help her. His bloodlust. That was all he’d been after. What history had those two, that had left the Fate of Stars in Raask’s claws and Maros stomping away empty-handed?

Later.

“Raask Harduun,” boomed Merian’s voice, the thunderous clap of a falling hammer. Even when she’d laid into the Jefi guard by the gate it hadn’t sounded like this. “You are under arrest for procuring, trafficking of illegal substances, and extortion. The rest of you, on conspiracy of the same. Drop your weapons. Imperial justice will see to your fates.”
 
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Merian Sere

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“Perhaps I killed Zezek,” Merian suggested as they inched forward, step by step, unbothered, menacing. These men knew nothing of her or what she was capable of and she would squeeze every last droplet of it. “Perhaps he wouldn’t let us through and I had to arrest him for it. Perhaps there’s ten fewer Twi’leks in the galaxy and there’s about to be five less if you don’t cooperate.”

Then the shots rang out and they were on the offensive. Maros leapt and she backed him up as if they’d practiced. She turned her attention to a group of two shooters crouching behind the Fate of Stars’ left engine, one of them taking aim at Maros from the side, and charged. With the Force, Merian was on their assailants in a second. The impact of her armored body sent one of the men crashing to the ground and struggling to get back up. By the time he located his blaster a good ten steps away, Merian had deflected two bolts from his partner and cut him in two at the waist. The first man was crawling towards his weapon. Mercilessly, Merian drew her own blaster and finished him off from where she stood.

“Two down,” the Knight called out, ever professional. This kind of barely trained goons almost didn’t count. The sounds of screaming and lightsaber swings told her Maros had struck true as well. Merian turned around to survey what remained of the battle.
 
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Merian Sere

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“And again,” Merian coldly remarked. “A chance to comply from the start. Always offered and never taken.”

Her lightsaber hissed as it cut out. Merian walked over to Maros and stood by his side in silence for a time, looking at Raask’s disembodied head, hands on her hips, like lost in thought.

“Still, a bit unceremonious,” she continued. “Knowing you, I expected a speech. And wasn’t I supposed to be shown something for my own assignment?”
 
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Merian Sere

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“It is something, undoubtedly,” she dryly teased, inspecting the device as she turned it around in her hand, but she didn’t let the joke linger long before speaking up with genuine gratitude. “Thank you. That simplifies things greatly.”

Then a pause. “How did you come to be involved with them? How did they come to have power over the Fate of Stars?”
 
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Merian Sere

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As he talked, Merian brought a hand to her helmet and pulled it off, a tacit acknowledgement that danger had passed. Her usually wavy hair had been flattened by its weight and a few locks clung to her forehead from perspiration. It didn’t like being confined to the helmet for long. Merian inspected the Sith’s shoulder as she listened, but it was quick work. It wouldn’t even need to be bandaged.

His words ached. Maros didn’t need to spell out his hurt for Merian to understand what he was trying to tell her: the Empire had sent him back to Taris. Rejected him back to the squalor and filth he’d been destined to and only escaped for being Sith. No wonder then that he held on to their teachings like gospel, every senseless word, every bloody edict.

She disagreed, of course. The Empire hadn’t driven him out. Wasn’t she standing there, in different clothes but still on duty? It could have been him. But Merian didn’t say it. He would know she thought it, and that meant she didn’t have to. And then he mentioned her, the Force bringing her to him in time of need, and Merian knew then beyond a doubt she still loved him. Impossible but real, and bound to end badly.

“Is there another reason the Force brought me into your path, Maros?” she probed. “Do you believe in second chances?”
 
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Merian Sere

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“Revisionism,” she called out. “You didn’t know. You drew your lightsaber on me.” She wanted to smirk, but instead came a pleased smile she couldn’t seem to get rid of. She hated it. Now was not the time for quips.

Merian took a step closer, within arm’s reach of him. For the second time today she leered at him with those piercing eyes of hers, a hint of red behind the brown.

“You always knew where to find me,” she said, holding her breath. “I was never gone. And it was the longest year of my life.”
 
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Merian Sere

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At last.

Merian threw herself into him, returning the kiss with twice the fire and all her pent-up longing. Their armors bumped and she cursed the cumbersome plate that didn’t let her get as close as she wanted. It didn’t matter. His hands were on her hips, her arms were around his neck, and they were kissing. She closed her eyes. Long overdue and still hard to believe. But those were his lips, his tongue, they wanted her. Then it was over.

He pulled back and she let him go. Almost regretfully, but he was here, he’d stormed back in her life for all the right reasons. There would be more of it, which made it easier to accept it was over for now.

“You… you wanted it too,” Merian exhaled, catching her breath. “I couldn’t be sure.”
 
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Merian Sere

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Merian was leaning back in when the alarm blared. Red light washed over their faces. A million thoughts raced through her head and only half of them were about Maros. Guilt flooded her, louder than the roaring assaulting their ears. The code cylinder weighed heavy in her hand.

For a short second, Merian wanted to panic. But she’d been ISB. She knew to hold her nerve, no matter what. With a last squeeze of Maros’ hands, a promise, she let go and stepped back, donned her helmet again, and already she had a plan.

The alarm was a warning—but not to them, of them, to the staff. Something told Merian the meager security they’d met in the complex would evacuate before they’d come rushing for them. Their death if they did. And meanwhile, the real intervention force would have to be assembled, make it to the complex, lock it down. That wouldn’t happen for several minutes. More if they had to take the turbolift from the surface. Ample time.

“They’ll take longer than we’d think to make it here,” she said, nonetheless in a rush. They’d killed Raask mere minutes ago, and his code cylinder would objectively save her time, but still. It wasn’t like her to waste time kissing on missions. “Start the ship and I’ll be back before you know it. Where’s the closest access panel?”
 
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