Across the Universe: The Answer is Blowing in the Wind

[Jorus Merrill]

Q-27​

Former Moross Crusade Territory​

Wild Space​

The Gypsymoth shuddered and went to sleep, and Jorus leaned back in the pilot's seat as what felt like six years of tension drained from him in a moment. Crystalline blue dominated the view from the cockpit in all directions, clear enough that he could pick out individual fish in their iridescent schools. It was night; he'd approached under repulsor power only, and submerged as quietly as possible. This was his longtime landing spot, a stretch of rock where the coral hadn't grown so thick. Now, of course, the Gypsymoth's landing gear left their impressions same as ever, killing little patches of one of the most virginal ecosystems he'd ever encountered. Alna's Pathfinder, the home she'd designed for them, lay farther down the coast, an angular shape in the water.

He stripped off his Levantine Captain's uniform, an odd Jal Shey creation in brown and gold, and donned a pair of the local shorts in rough-spun plant fibre. He knotted the tie and cracked the bottom hatch, revealing a circle of seawater.

The ocean hit him like a long hug after a long wait. He took his time getting to the surface, and then to the shore. A couple of miles down the coast lay the hut they'd built together -- local materials, local methods, all as much for the joy of it as to blend in.

"Daddy!"

He switched his cybernetic eyes to infrared a moment too late. Several dozen pounds of nine-year-old half-Zeltron burst out of the darkness and slammed into his knees.

[member="Alna Merrill"]

 

[Alndys]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Alna was a few steps behind, albeit walking and more bemused than estatic - not that she wasn't thrilled to see her husband, because of course she was, but he rather had his hands full at the moment. "She's been beside herself all day waiting for you." The mocha-skinned woman commented cheerfully, Leaning over Mara, she greeted the career insurgent with a warm smile, a hand on the chest, and a quick kiss. "Welcome home." She added; not in words, but in the placement of her narrow hand and the set of her shoulders, the quirk of a brow. Being a Lorrdian made such things natural, and she'd long since conditioned the man to recognize her little gestures and motions of affection.

Q-27 was their private little paradise, a planet more or less left to it's own indigenous, primitive population. It was here that she'd married Jorus, marked their bond with the tattoos running down either's arm in the custom of the people of the planet. Even now, that tattoo was proudly displayed, although her yellow bikini top couldn't have hid the markings even if she'd wanted it to. Her grass skirt rustled slightly as she settled back onto her heels, blown about her knees by the cool wind blowing off of the pristine ocean. "There's tea on, if you'd like - can't wait to hear all the latest news."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alna Merrill"]

He was no Lorrdian, but he'd been married to one for long enough that simple gestures spoke volumes. "I got the Sith off my back long enough to get out here," he said, and promptly grabbed Mara and turned her upside-down to the tune of various shrieks. "Didn't think I'd be finding one waiting to ambush me here! With tea!"

He'd spent most of his career swinging a sixteen-kilo lump of beskar, and insofar as the Force helped him at all in any way that didn't involve navigation, strength was probably it, but feth was the kid getting heavy. He didn't say it, of course. Body image and all that. She was just...growing up way, way too fast.

And the sad part was, even if he handed over all the holocrons to someone else, the Sith would just assume (reasonably) that it could be a trick, and he'd still be a target. He'd keep missing things.

"Tea sounds great." He deposited Mara on her feet. "Better than great. I've been running with the Underground most of the time -- the Rebel folks from the old days, plus some good new blood -- and we got pinned down off Schesa. A week living off a solid fuel/ration converter. We kept the hopper full of dirt and, uh, biomass. Suffice it to say, I'm absolutely down with eating or drinking anything non-recycled."

 

[Alndys]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Good, because I don't think they even know the word 'Recycle' here." Alna chuckled, taking Jorus' arm. It hadn't been THAT long since he was here last - maybe a couple months - but feth if he didn't look like he'd been gone years. Bags under his eyes where there aught to be laugh lines, the tension that developed in a man's neck when he'd been metaphorically looking over his shoulder for ages... it was worrying. If it was simply a matter of going back out with him and running from the Sith together, Alna would gladly jump aboard, they'd run from any number of threats together without much harm and were notoriously slippery for it, but there were other things to consider. More, a single thing to consider, and she was growing up quicker than Alna could keep track these days. Alna was fine going into danger, Jorus thrived on that environment, but Mara was just a girl. She wasn't ready for that lifestyle.

Which was the major reason they lived in this idyllic little corner of the Galaxy, far from prying eyes and eager sabers.

Leading her war-weary mate from the ocean waves towards the hut they'd somewhat cheated in building together, Alna smirked and gave Mara a little push. "Check and see if we have enough spring nuts and fish for a good supper, honey." She instructed warmly. While Alna was full to bursting with questions about news in the Galaxy - what Omega Pyre was up to, if the Vagrant Fleet was still mucking about, what the Rebellion was getting involved with and oh you haven't been shot lately right, such things could wait. After being chased around the Galaxy by Sith, Jorus was likely more than ready to let his focus narrow down to smaller, less stressful things - she could ask about the big news once he'd had a chance to relax and recharge. Avant Garde shipwright, antiauthorian salvager, dutiful wife, in whichever order she pleased. "Speaking of solid state, the Gypsymoth came in a little loud. I'll swim out there tomorrow and have a look at your atmospheric thrusters." Alndis decided, ambling casually toward their home.

Was it really that loud? Not really. But it couldn't hurt to do a little maintenance, and tuning up an engine sounded like the perfect break from playing primitive island mommy.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alna Merrill"]

"I'd love that. Think she's missed you." He grinned, rubbing his neck. "Maybe I'll take Mara out on a boat for a bit while you're down there."

He glanced over at where Mara was checking their food stocks. "The Moross Crusade's gone," he said quietly. "Burned itself out. The automated listening post on the moon is dead, or if it's reporting to anyone, it's not the Aesirs. There's nobody guarding this system now, or keeping it actively secret. Not a huge deal, so long as nobody else stumbles on it, but there are some worlds not too far from here that've gotten hit hard by leftover Vong. Kaalonia, Kaltes, Aurum -- we're talking genocide-level events. Not close, but not too far. I was thinking we might go up to the moon and try and rewire the listening post to beam hyperspace intercepts straight to your Pathfinder, or maybe a comm unit to keep here at the house. It's in hard vacuum, gravity about point-zero-five, and it's all Kathol technology, meaning it's not just military-grade, it's bizarre. That's if they didn't strip out everything, though I'm pretty sure they didn't. Either way, I, uh, I've got a big old Ranger transceiver in the Gypsymoth's hold. Subspace intercept and military-grade encrypt/decrypt for a thirty-parsec range. Might be able to get it working up at the listening post."

He massaged his eyes, the lids around his prostheses. "Frustrating that it needs to be done, but it could be fun. A break from...everything."

 

[Alndys]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

"I'd like that." Alna promised, sweeping into the main room of the hut. Focus on the project, less on the news of continued tragedies and genocides in the Galaxy. It seemed that people would find any reason to busily try to kill each other, and that was horrible, but part of the best things about living out here meant that she didn't have to deal with nonsense like that anymore. "Honestly, I'm amazed we didn't think to do it years ago." Alna admitted as she poured three cups of tea. For being reasonably clever, resourceful people, you'd think that either of them would have set up a protection safer than 'threaten/bribe people who show up'. An early alarm of people showing up was really kind of a 'duh' thing to do. "Guarantee that if they didn't leave hardware there, between the two of us, we can get that rangefinder working like new." She promised a moment later, lifting her cup with a cheerful smirk. Living on-planet hadn't meant that she'd let her skills get rusty - she'd just kept herself fit by swimming down to the Daragon to study and tinker.

"Speaking of which, Mara's proven herself a natural with a hydro-wrench!" Alna informed her husband/complimented her daughter, patting the girl on the shoulder as she dashed by on some errand or another. "You should see her, keeping that old Nanny-bot of yours running smooth. Tell you, that thing is a GODSEND when it comes to the academic things I'm a little rusty at." She confessed brightly.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alna Merrill"]

"Well, I think we were both operating on the assumption that anything we set up would get noticed a little easier on scanners than an underwater ship. But those were times when this whole sector was just unexceptional empty systems like this one comes across as. Then people started civilizing. Our old logics don't quite fit the current state of affairs. Now I just wish we could get a better transceiver. Rangers, the blueprints anyway, are a millennium old, but nobody makes better ones, not that's willing to part with'em. Plenty of militaries, big ones, still use'em anyway."

He snorted at mention of the nanny droid. "That rustbucket's still operational? I half expected to come back and find it trying to fit diapers on me. Nanny droids go rampant in the weirdest ways. But if Mara's getting her education, that's all I can hope. I..." A shrug; Alna knew his background, no point in repeating it. "Always wanted her to have better education than I did. Who knows. By the time she's grown up, she might be able to do just about anything." A reference -- veiled out of necessity -- to a moderately galactic-scale inheritance that would kick in about a decade from now. An inheritance that Mara didn't know about. But also a reference to Mara's indeterminate level of Force potential. At five she'd been knocking cups off the table, reaching things she couldn't have reached. Puberty was coming up sooner rather than later, and puberty plus budding psychokinesis spelled such fun times ahead.

 

[Alndys]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

"Might be an idea to shoot over to Silk, you know. A design for better Rangers." Alna suggest, having given up her seated position and tea in favor of fixing her husband something to eat. "If I knew half of anything about Astrometrics, I'd design something myself - but I don't." Knowing how to make a ship that raced like god's own thoughts.was a far cry from a remote detection array designed to serve as an early warning system. So, you know, it might take her a couple of weeks to read up on the technology involved and try and get something together. It was doable, just not today. But Silk Holdings likely had a couple teams of developers who could manage such a task, no doubt.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alna Merrill"]

"I know enough about subspace comms to boost their broadcast and intercept range, but not a dang thing about military-grade encrypt. That's what droids and slicers are for. I'm sure you're right, though; Silk could probably whip something up if they're not working on it already." He grimaced. "Of course, with Moross networks down -- what a waste of space trains -- Silk's R&D functions are a lot farther away than they used to be."

Mara came back, and nuts and fish abounded. The meal sat heavier than, perhaps, it should have; he'd spent too long getting his gut used to processed stuff. He'd been hoping to get plenty of stories out of Mara as they ate, but all she wanted was stories from him -- about Underground raids with a couple oldtimers from the Vagrant Fleet, about going head to head with the Lords of the Fringe and the One Sith, about the planets he'd discovered and the weapons he'd made, about resigning his commission when the Protectorate got taken over by a droid who built himself a throne, and getting it back once Sarge took over...about Auntie Rave and how she wasn't coming back. He went easy with the details on that one; Rave's temporal suicide was still fresh for him, and then there was the issue of what she'd left to Mara once her only niece grew up...

He had to excuse himself right around dessert time, halfway through a bowl of berries. Ostensibly to wash some berry off his face; practically, because he didn't want to tear up in front of Mara. A cool breeze came in off the sea, and he stared out across it, hoping for a little composure.

 

[Alndys]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

It was when Jorus stepped away that Alna decided to address what was wrong. After all, on his trips back, he usually spent the first whole of the trip burying himself in the company of his family tirelessly - even through hardship and grief, or perhaps more in the face of it.. That worried shake into his left hand wasn't something she noticed before, it had to be serious. But then, his sister had just died, so grief was to be expected. "Sweetie, it's late. Go get ready for bed." Alna instructed her daughter gently. They'd had a late supper in the name of waiting up for daddy, but it wouldn't be long before the girl would be sent off to sleepier pastures so as not to interrupt her schedules. Schedules are important things, after all. Schedules kept the world making sense once loved ones had passed away.

With that done, Alndys stood and stepped quietly around the table, and joined him at the window above the washing basin. She didn't offer words of comfort, because they weren't her native tongue and times such as these called for the comfort of natural language. Smoothing the cloth on her shorter husband's shoulders, Alna sighed quietly and then wrapped her arms around him in a loose enough fashion that he could turn around - or even slip out - if he wanted to. The point was that she was here for him and, a moment later, Mara returning and wrapping around his leg in a similar fashion made for a complete circle of the Merrill women comforting the man in their life.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alna Merrill"]

He thought of turning as Alna wrapped herself around his shoulders, but Mara latched onto his leg, and that was that. Elbows on the porch railing, he stared off into the sea. "Lucky to have you two," he said past the lump in his throat. Don't know what I'd do if I lost you too. It had always been a possibility -- their lives and homes had never ranked among the galaxy's safest -- but a risk known was a far cry from a risk felt. Rave's self-erasure had been, in its way, a mercy; she'd found the power to change her stars, and he couldn't mourn that. No, the impact came from a new and unavoidable knowledge that Alna and Mara could be taken from him too. It wasn't a tolerable thought. He'd experienced this before when his parents died, but that was the better part of two decades back.

He didn't cry. In the end, it wasn't necessary.

Later, much later, he lay beside Alna in a hammock overlooking the house. It was a clear night; Q-27 and light pollution were antithetical, and the only cloud in the sky was made of stars. Here at the edge of Wild Space, the galaxy stretched out visibly, almost from horizon to horizon. Humbling, to think how much of that he'd seen up close. Humbling to think he could never see them all.

"Thank you," he said, encompassing an awful lot. It didn't seem remotely enough.