Chapter Text
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....
After months of trade deals and hunts to appease the Black Sun’s many requests and keep the gigoran’s settled in peace on Andelm IV, Móni was able to maintain them under her control and the race of white giants had finally received their freedom with a few loose strings: they could not receive work elsewhere or leave the planet. With no real chains attached to the crime syndicate, Clan Nebak have been helping their fellow race survive the Imperial occupation on Gigor through several channels of remote factions who have been sparking protests across the galaxy.
Crimson Veil has been prospering under its expansion in the underworld, with Móni continuing her part in forming new alliances and contributing in small jobs for the syndicates, but Maul still needed the influence of those who operated closely with the Empire and its politics. Well acquainted with the affluent part of the galaxy, Dryden Vos made several proposals to a member of the Commerce Guild and the owner of a shipbuilding corporation who had many connections with the guild’s leaders and its members. However, Executive Owin Surk had fallen silent in the middle of negotiations and Maul had taken it upon himself to make him talk.
Currently, Móni was in the middle of a heist in a medical facility on Carida in the Colonies Systems. The planet also held a base for an Imperial Academy but her dear friend was in desperate need of equipment and she wasn’t going to let a swarm of mediocre soldiers who couldn’t shoot a bolt between the eyes get in her way…
***
A Crown of Flowers
Purus Medical Center was among the most highly regarded hospitals in the system with their groundbreaking discovery—in the time of the High Republic—of a cure for a rare disease carried amongst several species when in the womb. Their fame continued to escalate and were the top pharmaceutical source for advanced medicine against a number of illnesses, rehabilitation, severe wounds, and respiratory functions. The facility carried its prestige inside and out, their halls glossed with sanitation and gleamed with a hue of soft blues and whites. The tranquil setting lost some of its sheen from the Empire’s banners displayed throughout and the stormtroopers who guarded every exit and entrance; always on alert for the many who sought medical attention without the proper documentation to be accepted.
Whirring down a corridor blaring red with alarms was a service droid with its body spray painted silver to blend in with the medical droids who walked or hovered about.
“Betts,” Qar-Tan’s voice whispered through her comms. “Where’s Móni? Why is the whole place going on lockdown?”
“How should I know?”
“We’re already at the room with all the penicillin stims we need.”
“Alright.”
The comms muffled on the other end followed by harsh whispers between two people.
“Listen here you stupid, worthless piece of scraps,” Shysha broke through. “She’s not answering us, and you were the last one she contacted.”
“What do you want me to do? Go back and save her from the den of stormtroopers she woke up?”
“What?” Qar-Tan and Shysha shouted in unison.
“Móni is contacting me,” Betts shut down her audio sensors at the explosive argument they were trying to have with her, “Goodbye.”
She switched transmissions and was met with an equally riled being.
“Betts!” Móni huffed with blaster fire in the background. “You better be at the pharmaceutical wing.”
“Getting there.”
“How are you not there already?” Her aggravation reached a high pitch.
“I’m not the one who decided to press random buttons and summon a legion.”
“I didn’t--!” A stormtrooper choked over the comms followed by another who hailed orders over their men. “I wasn’t pressing them randomly. I was looking for something.”
There was a long and speculative pause that ached with judgment, “You pressed the wrong thing didn’t you?”
Betts was picking up blaster fire through her internal and external audio sensors. Around the corner behind her, Móni slid across the floor and collided her shoulder and helmet covered head against the wall, red bolts shooting past her.
“Roll faster!”
“I roll how I please.”
Móni rushed after the droid, propelling herself with the Force and pulled Betts with her past the threshold that reached the end of the corridor. She shoved the service droid toward a panel.
“Can you close the blast doors now, please?” She ducked behind the wall when a collection of white Imperial soldiers fired at them. One threw a thermal detonator and she Force pushed it back at them, forcing them to fall back before the explosion.
Her scomp link already in the port, Betts turned the gears and shut out the stormtroopers temporarily.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Móni shoved Betts to get moving. “And close the other one that’s on the way there. Gotta stall them as long as we can.”
“Perfect. More work,” the droid moseyed along after her master.
Qar-Tan observed both ends of the corridor, biting away his nerves to his nails, “Where is she?”
“I should have seen this coming,” Shysha moved two cold crates on repulsorlifts. “The woman is a walking disaster.”
“I’m not worried about the stormtroopers,” with two hands he rubbed the thick skin of his hairless head then down his face.
Shysha dialed down her temper when she gave her friend’s distress more thought, “You know Móni is the last person in the entire universe to let Kyp down. He’s going to be fine.”
“I know,” he flexed his mouth to the side at a poor attempt of reassurance.
“Speaking of which,” Shysha put a hand on a hip at Móni speeding down the hall.
“You have them?” Her voice carried down to them.
“Obviously,” Shysha stepped aside for Móni to examine the crates. “Heard you decided to start a little party.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Oops.”
“Get back in!” Qar-Tan shoved the others inside the room. “A probe droid!”
The storage room was chilled to maintain a proper temperature for the medicine stocked within; shelves of canisters, crates, and stim cartridges of many fluids contained behind locked cases, one of which was missing two crates.
“We’re going to need a new escape route,” Móni whispered. “Blocked the one we had planned to stop the Imperials.”
“Of karkin’ course,” Shysha turned to Betts expectedly—the droid’s photoreceptors shining bright in the dark and staring into nothing. “Hello! Did you not hear what Móni just said?”
“Pipe down,” Qar-Tan scolded.
Betts' vocabulator glowed a groan before displaying the facility’s blueprints from her holographic projector.
“Here,” Móni pointed to an exit on one of the rooftops. “Where that protocol droid came from is a way to here.”
“We have to go through a medbay to get there, though,” Qar-Tan zoomed into the area. “How are we getting through? The whole place is on lockdown no thanks to you.”
“Sorry, okay?” Móni pressed her fingers to the wall, feeling through the Force for the probe droid and stormtroopers. “I was… looking for something.”
“What were you looking for?”
“Instead of sealing our exit, she contacted an Imperial officer,” Betts cut through swiftly.
“You watched me do all this and didn’t say anything?” Móni dragged her fingers down the black helmet’s face. “I hate you,” she moaned.
Qar-Tan pinched the bridge of his nose, “You two are the worst to team up with. Ever.”
“Shut up,” Shysha waved at them. “There’s a maintenance shaft here that leads towards the roof. Thing is, it’s located a little close to the landing pad.”
Qar-Tan hummed his skepticism, “There are definitely going to be Imperial troops there.”
“We don’t have time to find another option,” Móni pressed the door panel. “Let Zione know we’re changing the rendezvous point. Let’s go.”
At the maintenance shaft Betts was splicing through, Shysha noticed Móni take a sharp inhale.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think they know where we are.”
“That’s not good,” Qar-Tan had a blaster raised with insulated gloved hands.
Shysha slapped Betts’ head, “What’s taking so long?”
“They’ve locked down the shafts as well.”
A probe droid came around the corner and blasted them on sight. Móni pulled Qar-Tan away from getting hit and deflected the bolts back to the droid.
“Time’s up, Betts.”
When the shaft opened a group of stormtroopers ran into the vicinity and opened fire at them.
Móni Force pushed the unit to the ground, buying them a few seconds time, “You guys ready?”
“Ready for what?”
Qar-Tan got his answer when he was vaulted by the Force up the shaft, his scream fading in his ascension.
“No! Stop!” Shysha went to grapple Móni but was sent away with him.
“You better not,” Betts extended her arms and swung up the ladder.
Móni lifted the crates with the Force and dodged the streams of red shooting past her as she flew up after the others.
Betts had already reached the exit and was working on opening it while Qar-Tan and Shysha were huffing out their nerves—clinging to the railing for dear life.
“You guys alright?”
“No!” They glared at her.
“Hey, look at that. You two agree on something for once.”
Blaster bolts fired at them from below and Móni used the crates for cover with Qar-Tan and Shysha firing back at the bucket heads peeking in.
Sunlight shined on them when the shaft opened and were directly beside an Imperial shipyard.
“Oh no…,” Qar-Tan groaned. “It just keeps getting worse.”
Shysha scanned the area and pointed, “There’s the rooftop we need to get to.”
They analyzed the community spot with gardens, winding paths, and trees to provide shade, and was filled with patients.
Qar-Tan drummed his thick digits, “Those people may be a problem.”
“They won’t be for long,” Móni held the crates with the Force with one hand and her free one went to move a fuel canister to a droid refueling a TIE fighter. “Throw a detonator over there.”
“What?”
With an audible scoff, Shysha shoved Qar-Tan to make room for a perfect throw directly on the canister. The droid realized too late the blinking device and exploded in a cloud of black and red, alerting every Imperial in the vicinity.
“Get moving!” Móni flew out and passed off the crates to her companions when some stormtroopers caught them. “And don’t stop,” she sent them a firm stare at their hesitation.
She lifted the troopers and flung them to the side, then propelled a barrage of bolts back at another group. Descending at their pick-up location was Zione’s starship hovering above frantic patients who were making their way back inside the building. A TIE fighter lifted off the platform and angled its wings for an attack, but Móni held it with the Force.
Her free hand Force pushed an incoming group and she dug her feet into the ground, pivoting her body, and drove the TIE fighter on top of several stormtroopers.
“Móni, we’re in,” Shysha’s voice carried into her helmet’s comms.
After one final push to a group of Imperial pilots, Móni Force jumped on top of a docked TIE, then an edifice, and finally to the open ramp of the starship hovering past.
“I’m in. Let’s get out of here.”
They exited the atmosphere and safely escaped into hyperspace.
The lounge area was thick with unease—everyone’s attention on the locked quarters where Kyp, Shysha, and Granny Nyla were inside of. Móni’s knee bounced against her elbow while she mindlessly scrolled through the holo-net to keep herself occupied and Zione’s tail twitched every few seconds, playing a game of sabacc by himself.
“Can you sit down?” Móni stopped Qar-Tan. “The amount of times you’ve walked past here you could burn a hole through the ship.”
Qar-Tan chewed on a nail and sat beside Zione.
He stood back up, “I can’t sit still.”
“Your pacing is making me nervous.”
“You should have seen him, Móni,” he spoke softly so his voice won’t carry into the other room. “I’ve never seen him so sick before.”
“I know,” Móni motioned for Qar-Tan to come over and squeezed his hand. “This isn’t his first time. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. You know that.”
Her words weren’t enough to take away his worries, but the tension in his hand loosened along with the tight emotions that afflicted him. Móni finally turned to Zione who was riddled with remorse since the moment he contacted her about Kyp, but it expanded into her senses when Qar-Tan spoke.
“What?” the amani smacked a card on the table with extra force.
“You know it’s not your fault.”
Zione closed his fan of cards with a snap then rested them gently on the table, his spike of annoyance settled back into frustration.
“Should have known better than to have him step foot on planet with strange plants on his own, even after I told him several times--”
“But Kyp should have also known better than get too close to strange things,” Móni cut in with a counter and a growing smile. “As usual, he was being a rebellious little monkey-lizard.”
He eased into acceptance at her words, but his tail whipped to the side, “I wasn’t careful in keeping count on his medicine knowing how weak his immune system is. It’s been getting harder to obtain them with the Empire overseeing every major hospital in all the systems.”
“For next time so we can avoid Imperials, let me know when you’re running low so I can put in an order to send to M—”
Móni bit back from finishing the train of thought and the turbulence that came with it.
“You haven’t spoken to him still?” Qar-Tan easily absorbed her drama to deflect his worries. But he rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth when he was stung by the intense brightness of her eyes.
Zione picked up his set and casually looked them over, “Can we know what happened between the two of you, yet?”
Móni banged a fist on the table, the mess of cards lifted several centimeters off the table, “No! Stop asking me.”
“So,” Qar-Tan rubbed his chin, forgetting the warning Móni gave him, “was it like a breakup?”
She lifted a determined finger to reject every connotation behind the statement, but Móni’s brain overloaded with images of that night and couldn’t send the right message to her mouth to formulate any words. Because it most certainly did feel like one.
Qar-Tan shared a quizzical glance with Zione then back at the woman who short-circuited from the simple question.
“Were you guys a thing?”
The glowpanels flickered under Móni’s deep inhale, but the males didn’t bat an eye from the small outburst; instead, they gaped with Qar-Tan being the first to react by bringing his hands flat together in prayer and pointed at her.
“I’m going to assume that’s a ‘no’ to preserve my peace of mind and believe you’re not that crazy.”
Móni stood fast, “And explain to me how that would make me crazy?”
“I mean,” Qar-Tan stammered, perplexed by her defensiveness, “isn’t it obvious?”
“Explain.”
With arms crossed over her chest and a chin stuck up with defiance, Móni glowered at the younger being, refusing to acknowledge the truth but somehow needed to hear it—that she may have really gone mad. Even after all these months without seeing tattooed red skin or hearing the low rumble of his voice… her heart continued to tug for him across the star system.
The door to Kyp’s quarters opened and Qar-Tan, dropping the conversation so fast, vaulted past Shysha and Nyla.
“Don’t smother him. He ain’t dying,” Shysha called out, but gave up with a huff. “Ridiculous.”
“How’s he doing?” Móni asked but was given a pat of reassurance from the old theelin.
Shysha stretched with a satisfying groan and her antennapalps naturally reached for the ceiling as well, “He’s already recovering. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired from being chased by Imperials no thanks to your cross-wired brain.”
“I still got us out of there in one piece.”
“Whatever,” she waved and disappeared into her quarters.
From the lounge table, Zione and Nyla trapped Móni with their weariness like parents ready to scold.
She sighed with defeat, “Say it already.”
“This affixation with the thug…,” Zione spoke slowly and with warning. “If it came down between us and him who would you choose?”
Móni spun on her heel and held back everything she wanted to say about him—about the crime lord she knew and not who they saw. Someone who a wishful part of herself believed wouldn’t make her split allegiances between those she loved and her loyalty to him. By the stars she hoped.
“That’s not fair. You know better than anyone on this ship how much I care for that kid. I’d give my life for him.”
“Would he let you, though?”
No, the answer came so easily it struck her with a painful realization she didn’t want to ever consider.
Maul would plow through anything he judged as insignificant to make way for her potential and his victory.
“Móni,” Qar-Tan broke the tension. “Kyp wants to talk to you.”
“Perfect timing,” she mumbled and ducked from Zione’s studious eyes that have learned to read her after several years of friendship.
Kyp’s quarters glowed with the soft lighting from the terrariums secured in sections along an entire wall’s face. Their colors illuminated the ship’s steel dullness and gave another sense of presence other than the sentients who occupied the area. They were calm and filled with life, expanding their leaves and petals in a comforting environment by someone who cared for them daily.
Their caretaker was on his back on a raised cot with arms crossed over his chest, blinking gently at the ceiling before catching Móni in the corner of his eye.
“You and Qar-Tan had an interesting conversation,” Kyp smiled.
“Heard all that?” she winced.
He chuckled, “He’s pretty loud.”
Móni sat on the floor and put a hand on his still ones, “Was the plant worth you getting this sick over?”
Kyp pointed with his eyes at a flower with purple and blue bioluminescence in its petals and the veins of its leaves.
“Yes!” he grinned with astounding accomplishment.
“You seem to have had adopted Nyla’s hobby into pure dedication,” she removed a strand of hair from his eye she saw was bothering him. “Do you know where she picked up how to do this sort of stuff?”
“Um,” Kyp pressed his lips together and blinked with a quick thought. “No. Never thought to ask.”
“Hasn’t she been your caretaker since the Clone Wars ended?”
“Yeah,” he said simply and without any intention to elaborate further.
Móni had never been particularly close with the old theelin, her inclusion in their small family meant to assist Kyp while she, Betts, and Zione worked at the diner on the Abolition. But Kyp was ecstatic when he encountered her, the specifics of their story hadn’t been made quite clear to her, but Móni shared his content to have befriended someone who wasn’t critically problematic like herself.
“Poor Zione keeps blaming himself for not keeping an eye on you,” she shifted, knowing the subtle signs of Kyp wanting a subject change. “But I know you’re more than capable to handle yourself, young man.”
“It was my fault for not taking the allergic reaction seriously. Got worse because I didn’t say anything,” he shrugged.
“Next time tell the guy everything,” a smirk stretched to the side. “He can’t catch all your not-so-subtle lies.”
“You’re right,” he laughed. “Spare myself everyone freaking out over a little cold.”
She rested her chin on the palm of her hand and relaxed into the conversation, "How are things with you? Besides the obvious."
"Picked up a new freelance gig," Kyp scrunched his nose in thought. "It's with Dryden Vos' sister, actually."
"Oh, yeah?" Móni's interest piqued with some concern. "Vos recommend you or something?"
"Don’t think so," he said with disinterest. "Pure coincidence, I guess. I'm just updating the estate's security for some event and keeping an eye on the guests. Easy money," he sighed.
Coincidence, Móni thought with bitterness, or not. It could have also been nothing and only her hatred of the Force clouding her judgment.
Kyp deflated into a more somber emotion and searched Móni’s downcast eyes.
“What about you? How are things?”
“The same,” she picked on a loose strand on the hem of her pants. “Black Suns are easier to deal with. Gigorans are settling in better. Avin is a lot happier to be doing something other than killing people. And I’m just strolling on by with missions to expand the syndicate.”
“You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually.”
“I don’t see why I need to be the one to make the first move,” Móni ripped off the string and picked on another. “He was the one being an idiot.”
Kyp hummed his disapproval which incited Móni to slap both hands on his cot.
“Are you taking his side?” if she raised her voice any higher it would have sounded like a shriek. “You can’t be serious.”
“You told me yourself he’s unfamiliar with, you know, stuff like that. Probably didn’t know how to respond because… he really didn’t. And,” he side-eyed her with amusement, “you weren’t that nice to him either knowing this.”
“I was--!” Móni stopped to reflect on how she spoke with him, expecting him to understand how and why his words stung then punishing him for his lack of experience.
“He hurt you. I know,” Kyp bit the inside of his lip softly. “I won’t forgive him for that. But you’ve been different since this happened between the two of you. Not depressed or angry just… sad. So, do you want to mend things or not? If not, then it’s time to move past him.”
Móni couldn’t deny how much her body ached for his Force presence. The harsh heat of anger like the summer solstice gales trapping her air and carrying the unique scent of wet stone and a dark flower that bloomed without sunlight. She closed her eyes in pain at the memory of his quiet smiles and restrained laughter, then lowered her head inside the crook of her elbow.
“I want things to be how they used to, but I’m so scared I ruined everything.”
If only I held back. If only I chose not to act on my feelings. If only I buried it and not let it invade my thoughts.
If only…
The crater the sugis ran to operate the beetle mines on Andelm IV sprouted clumps of green through dry cracks and housing developments were clean with sturdy foundations. What used to be a massive drill to dig into the hard soil was transformed into a platform augmented with directional particle beams to break new layers.
Working through the scaffoldings—in and out of the cliffside’s entrances—were some immigrated species who found their way from the Empire’s control and amongst them were the large gigorans wearing vocoders to communicate with their co-workers and organizing the forces to maintain the mine’s infostructure and operation.
Móni pushed the second crate they picked up in Purus Medical Center to a growing settlement on top of the cliff and nestled under a canopy of the planet’s massive trees that filtered the sun’s harsh rays from hitting the gigoran’s homes directly.
A group of children playing in the dirt and soiling their white fur jumped at the sight of the woman coming towards them shouting her name with glee. They jumped on the crate, the repulsorlift’s power fading under their weight, asking a million and one questions in their language.
“Yes, I know,” Móni picked up on their vocabulary. “It’s expensive medicine in case the heat gets to you.”
They ‘ooh’ at the same time and went to search for the console to open it.
Móni laughed at their struggle to raise the lid, not knowing she was using the Force to keep it in place. When they caught on, they started to shove her to release her hold which only made her laugh all the harder infuriating them with giggles.
“Hey, hey,” a deep male voice burst through the commotion.
Si’hen waved an oil-stained hand to shoo the critters away and stopped to give Móni a hard pat on the back.
“Cooling systems are acting up again?” Móni pushed the crate over to Si’hen to take.
“We’ve been pushing these machines past their limits since we have a pregnant female who needs to be kept cool. The heat could kill her.”
“I’ll ask Kyp and Avin what parts they need to make a new one for you guys. Ziton isn’t going to agree to spend another credit for another cooling system,” Móni curled her lip back at the Black Sun leader’s name.
“When will your warrior be returning?”
“Next rotation maybe? They’re on their way back from a mission already last I heard from him,” Si’hen nodded but the Force still stroked her with his unease. “What is it?”
He removed his vocoder and his coal eyes bore into hers, [There’s been some development on Gigor. A new faction has landed to help our people.]
“Can they be trusted?”
[I’m not sure, but they are fighting back against the Imperials and that is enough for me. And it gives us hope for our planet’s freedom.]
Móni rubbed her neck with doubt plaguing her thoughts at the rising factions popping out of the voids of space, but she had no means to dissuade Si’hen and his clan from negotiating with them; understanding she couldn’t relate with their grief of losing their planet in a single night. All she could do was give advice and have Kyp help in any way he could to connect with their families.
“Do they have a name?”
[The Partisans is what they call themselves.]
“Never heard of them. I can look into them for you if you’d like?”
[I’d appreciate that.]
He returned the vocoder over his mouth and started to take the crate away, but Móni took hold of the soft fur on his arm and pulled him gently.
“I know you’re desperate, Si’hen, but don’t rely on others for your freedom. Take what little help these people will offer, and don’t trust them. Not until you know everything about them.”
“Are you telling me this from experience?”
Móni slid her hand off his arm, the strings of his long hair clinging gently between her fingers.
“I’ve joined a gang once, not knowing who the leader really was. Their lifestyle and my… crimes haunt me still.”
A thick and heavy palm covered her shoulder, “I will take your advice to heart, Boudika. Thank you for the medicine and everything you’re doing for us.”
“Still using that name after knowing my real one?”
“You are the last of your mother’s clan. I am simply keeping her tradition alive.”
You’re not letting me forget, she wanted to oppose. But Móni supposed it was meant to be this way—to remember what she had neglected for years. To carry on Momma’s memories.
There was no course for Móni to run through when she trained on her own, but she made do with what the planet’s natural terrain provided. Once her forms were completed, she would find a canyon with sharp rocks, deep fissures, steep slopes, and loose boulders; all the perilous obstacles Master would be proud of her to conquer. It was the meditation that left her more battered than the nicks and bruises on her skin.
Without him there to anchor her to reality, it had been more difficult to remove her consciousness from the Force’s tangled veil of the cosmic and the living. And the dreams have gotten worse.
Móni felt him. Through regions and systems and stars and beyond the cosmic Force, she felt that same presence who scratched and screamed for her attention. He was becoming desperate to the point of discomfort, but she had no way to control an entity who lived in a void like the wind—could not be contained or seen. There was also the sickly planet he continued to enlarge in her visions, demanding her to touch its life force and connect with it. The Rogue Jedi was becoming more of a nuisance, infiltrating her daily thoughts and moments of peace to prove a point with vague messages she refused to decipher.
Annoying vermin.
Instead, her meditations focused on building impenetrable barriers around her mind, blocking the intrusion and shoving it back to whatever part of the Force it resided in. The daily practice had strengthened her resolve and confidence, but trepidation often pulsed fast in her veins of a future she was incapable of seeing, and one the Rogue Jedi seemed so sure of. All she could do was fight—exactly what she was trained to do.
Find him. Find the Heretic.
Their exploding voices tore her brain apart and Móni gasped out of her trance into a dark room she had called home since she landed on Andelm IV. Propped on a shelf and staring back at her through an empty visor was the Shadow Collective helmet Avin retrofitted for her use only and hadn’t been worn since Gigor. Its markings and horns stifled her with memories of a being she already had trouble forgetting in her daily activities. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, remembering the surprising softness of his skin and the bumps of his knuckles and twitch of his muscles.
Móni slapped a hand to her knee and stood, turning the helmet around and covering it with a simple black one she had been wearing—forged by Avin out of stormtrooper and Imperial pilot armor.
Littered around the area were traces of her Mandalorian friend: tools, equipment parts, and armor buffing gels. Items he brought when they discussed the mines, gigorans, Black Suns, and non-crime syndicate topics.
“How is he?” she had asked him one time while he was situated on the floor’s center, upgrading the specs of his helmet’s HUD.
“How’s who?”
Móni zoomed into the holomap display of the galaxy and into the Unknown Regions where Csilla was located, “Do I need to spell it out for you?”
“Always so touchy whenever he’s involved. And I didn’t bring it up this time.”
“If I don’t ask, I may implode from curiosity.”
Avin set down his work momentarily to regard her fully, “Why don’t you ask him yourself, then?”
“I wish it were that easy. You forget he’s not a casual conversationalist. And I seriously believe he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
He swallowed a sigh and returned to syncing his vambrace’s panel to the HUD, “And why do you think that?”
“Because he’s been sending me missions through Rook. Never have they come directly from him.”
“He’s probably too busy to deal with your drama.”
“Too bad he’s part of it.”
“Yes,” he hid his face in his work and the smile he held back. “Feel bad for him, actually.”
A pillow smacked his head and sent him into a fit of laughter.
“Shut your pretty face up.”
Avin’s laughter died when he seriously considered his brooding lord and how the lines of fury deepened in his marked features—casting shadows of guilt and turmoil.
“He’s the same since I’ve seen him,” he danced around the truth. “Not much to say.”
Móni stopped to consider the man who kept his head bowed away from her stare, knowing he had been caught in a small lie that shuttered around him. But she let it go, probably finding it best not to know in detail the traces of Maul's feelings since that night.
“Is he eating at least?”
“Ration bars and tea.”
She shook her head and exhaled loudly through her nose, “Typical.”
Unfocused on his task, Avin set aside the helmet and tools to place a heavy matter on his dearest friend’s shoulders when there was so much there already.
“Móni, you know who he is and his linear obsession with revenge. Don’t expect so much of him.”
The holomap of stars and systems hovered in a slow rotation above her—the galaxy Maul wished to conquer to usurp his master and rise above his failures. Móni selected a planet labeled Dathomir and watched the red ball turn. In the deepest part of the Force surrounding her, voices whispered to her from beyond. In her self-made sessions to combat the Rogue Jedi, she had developed a sensitivity to select what she heard and found the ones who spoke when she built her lightsaber: two males who called for their brother. It could have been any random set of dead beings from eons ago to the present, but they spoke with familiarity. And to her, specifically.
Savage expected trust, apprenticeship, and brotherhood with his brother. And he was given it.
Móni didn’t think there was ever a time Maul abandoned or betrayed his brother for his goals. In fact, he may have adapted to their bonds and embraced it.
She shut off the holoprojector and answered from the corner of the room.
“I don’t have any expectations, Avin. I just want,” to be by his side, “to not be a burden to him.”
And she feared she may have become one to him.
The chronometer read well past midnight and Móni groaned into her pillow. She never quite adjusted to the strange hours of the night she remained awake to cook and talk with Maul. Bored of engineering holo-vids and tired of looking at her own research across the mysterious cosmos, she swung her feet over the cot, called her lightsaber, and made her way to the crisp, night air.
Andelm IV did not have the heavy humidity or luscious trees that D’Qar’s jungle ecosystem had. The weather was often refreshing and the heat not as scorching. It was a pleasant change in atmosphere and Móni did not miss the opportunity to explore its terrain.
She flew out of the mine’s crater and landed just on the outskirts of a forest with trees blushing bright from bioluminescent leaves and shining through the crevices of their trunks. Under her bare feet, the earth pulsed with their roots and the beetle’s larvae they were mining for. Insects crawled through the dirt and hummed their songs, and the winds carried the scents of native flora across her skin.
Perched on the crook of the tallest oak, Móni weaved together crowns made from blades of plants and flowers, humming softly to herself; forgetting the zabrak who tormented her thoughts and consumed by her work she thought had been forgotten since leaving Devaron.
Struck with inspiration from experiencing a rare time alone, Móni held up a blooming white, baby gypsos and a wilting one by their stems. She concentrated on their life force beating through her fingertips and up her arms, then dipped into her own—raging and full of life. In small doses, she extracted parts of herself into the wilting bud and could feel sparks of revival healing its damaged cells. Then her senses expanded, touching every life form including the small, healthy bloom in her other hand—whispering softly and filling the Force with bountiful energy ready to be let go.
Its loud voice dimmed and was replaced with a new one that had Móni awaken with a startling realization. In her hands was one shriveled flower and the other was transformed into a floral with a thicker stem, larger petals, and a new tint of a yellow hue.
She wasn’t sure if the Force healing was a success or fail by creating a new species. She imagined the gigoran Elder would have seen the trial as a total error, but through Maul’s mentorship, he would have definitely seen the turnout as a success.
Móni hummed her concerns. Just once, she would like to do it correctly and see what it meant to sacrifice oneself for another.
After some endless minutes, she was lost in her activity, but the peace ended with a flash on her holodevice. Without giving it a second thought, under the assumption of it being Avin or Kyp, she accepted it with her eyes still on her weaving.
“And to who do I owe this late night pleasure? Good thing you caught me awake or I would have definitely ignored the transmission.”
There was a beat of silence that made her brows furrow and she ceased twisting the stem of a bright blue floral into the crown.
“Apprentice.”
Móni jerked her head up and a flood of emotions crashed into her lungs and buried her insides. The only thing left in her body was her heart beating fast against her chest and drumming in her ears.
She caught his gold eyes and did not release their hold—seizing onto what she missed dearly and reacquainting herself with the designs on his face, the quirk in his mouth, and twitch in his jaw.
How long have I been staring?
It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. There he was. Before her. And she was compelled to leap up and embrace the hologram of his full form, but the mixture of numbness in her legs and her mind exorcising restraint, Móni remained where she was.
Maul’s shoulders shifted uncomfortably, and she realized he wasn’t holding his usual dignified posture of status and control. They were worn down with vulnerability and his gloveless hands were balled into fists. He blinked back at her with a level of stress she had never seen before, but they searched—his gaze ran deep into her with a need she had only felt back on Gigor; when she vaulted him away before the avalanche took them and when she explained the vision of a life without him.
He pressed his lips together and was the first to break away, shattering their spell. But Móni reeled him back to her.
“How are you?”
Simple. Harmless. Silly maybe, but it plagued her every minute of the day. His wellbeing. Even knowing from Avin what his status was, he could only report what he saw on the surface—what everyone else saw of Maul and not what truly existed underneath the scowls and growls and fury.
The question had him flickering between Móni and his steel feet, a shadow cast over his eyes from the deep furrow of his brow ridge. He did not look her way when he nodded, then struggled with the next set of words. His line of sight flashed bright and directly her way, but something crumbled his resolve and placed his hands behind his back—shoulders squared and back straight.
To business, then, Móni did not miss the massive ball of distress chained to him and a certain part of her felt he was forced to make contact out of necessity. And it caused her throat to clench tight from the assumption she was beginning to believe.
I caused this. The awkwardness. The inability to express himself clearly just when she began establishing a foundation of trust with him before she allowed her emotions to run free. She was close to finding that person with amber eyes who had been waiting to be released. To be known and discovered.
And she blew it all away.
“The upcoming task will be the final effort into the Crimson Veil’s expansion. Afterward, we will combine our resources of the Empire’s network of affluent beings and make our move. And you are needed with me for this.”
Móni swallowed her feelings and stood before him as his apprentice, the unfinished crown of flowers held tight in her grasp.
“Is this an all hands on deck thing like on Gigor?”
“No.”
There wouldn’t have been a problem with the sudden response if there wasn’t a loud vex in his disposition which unsettled Móni in a way she couldn’t quite understand.
“Where is it at?”
“Vos’ estate.”
Móni tilted her head to one side. Then the other.
"This wouldn't happen to be the event his sister is holding is it?"
"You know of it?" Maul matched her confusion.
"Kyp was hired temporarily for it," she explained, swallowing the flux of apprehension at the occurrences sliding into place and doing her best to ignore the Force having some control in any of it.
And if it was? There was nothing she could do.
She returned to Maul, forcing out a facade to hide the unease.
“So,” she began. Slow. Taking her time to watch his nostril and upper lip twitch with irritation under her acute stare and smirk. “A gala then? And I’m going as your—”
“Apprentice.”
It took a moment to process the firm tone wasn’t a call but a statement of her role.
“I assume we’re not going as a Sith duo.”
“The specifics will be explained when you return to base.”
The order came across more as a question. Maul shifted his feet and looked anywhere but her face until he settled on the crown she was making.
He was fighting a part of himself that granted her the power of choice to return or not, which made her wonder how he felt from the time spent away from the other—if it mattered to him at all. His internal struggle shed a glimmer of optimism, hinting at the possibility her harsh words and brief separation rattled something in his fiery pit of fury.
Maybe I hit some sense into him.
Móni placed the half-done crown on her head, “I’m making some for the kids. The sun on this planet can be murder on their furred bodies, but they do love the fauna here.”
Maul’s uptight form eased but the slight shake in his arms gave away the rigid grip on his hands behind his back. And when he swept across her face and head, the air left her body at the flicker of softness caressing her emotions.
It faded as soon as it came, like an apparition that forms in shadows and corners, and no proof of its existence.
She tiptoed across the thick bough to close their distance. Móni didn’t have to give her answer by the way he unclasped his hands and released the deep tension in his face; leaving only subtle lines on his forehead and mouth.
But she knew he needed to hear it and he waited ever so patiently.
“I’ll head back home.”