The Liberator/Part 5

33 Days Before the Liberation of Milagro

"Three hundred? Three hundred?" Mali said, pacing back and forth.

"At most," Jendaya Rose said. "They'll match what the Republic will provide to that limit."

"It won't be enough."

"It's what they're going to authorize anyway."

"And if the Republic foots the bill for most of the ground troops and fighters, they'll never go beyond Corellia's capital ship count too."

"No. But you said the Republic will protect Corellia, that you could make it happen.  Now the Republic has a chance to prove that its protection means something."

Mali stopped, looking at her. Few politicians he had ever met were easy to read, and Senators even less so, but something about Corellians made them a little bit easier to comprehend. Mali didn't consider himself exempt from that, but just now… "Something I'm missing, Jendaya?"

"I came to tell you this as a courtesy, Mali. We shouldn't be having this conversation in the first place."

"Jen…"

She raised an eyebrow, but sighed, crossing her arms and scowling. "It's Dorr. He knows the Diktat will either commit to an idea or not, so the only way he can shortchange the fleet is by portraying four hundred as too much.  He said two hundred would've been safer, but the Diktat wasn't have that."

"He's hoping I'll refuse fewer than four hundred, or the Republic won't even match the three hundred, this whole thing will fizzle out, and I come across as the bad guy," Mali fumed.

"I'm not the mind reader," she reminded him.

She watched him pace into the sunlight on the balcony of the suite Corellia had provided for him, staying inside herself, out of view of any lurking paparazzi. Most Senators Mali had known, even those he respected and admired, gradually became part of the Coruscanti political elite, adopting Coruscant's habits, dress, and mannerisms. Not Jendaya Rose, though. Sharp and eloquent as any in the Senate, she nevertheless contented herself with nice cloak over a snug jacket and pants rather than the upper-class Core gowns that looked almost like costumes, and she wore her strawberry blonde hair tied in a simple ponytail. Over objections from everyone from the Diktat to Mali, she went without guards on her homeworld but, like most Corellians of age, wore a sidearm.

"It is too few," Mali said after a moment, having run twenty scenarios through his head in the silence she had allowed him. "Gasald still won't abandon Allanteen, but she'll pull resources from the rest of her territory before we can get a solid hold on Milagro."

"So what will you do?"

Mali stopped pacing. "What would you do?"

They weighed each other, green eyes searching green. "If we revive the Corellian Empire in fact and all Five Brothers come together with us, most of the sector will fall in line—Coruscant seems more remote all the time, and Corellia's defended them all in the past. Nubia won't be left out, no matter how much it wishes it was Coruscant or Kuat.  And Duro's not in the sector, but if the whole sector joins the Empire, Duro will maintain economic ties in the interest of neighborliness and mutual defense."

Mali didn't need Master Tem-Fol-Rytil or Tirien to tell him how useful Duro's economic pressure might have been. "Great."

"Which means," Jendaya pressed, giving him a look, "that if Duro would rather maintain the status quo, it will probably support measures to advance that goal."

He got the message then. "Senator Lambed. Can you talk to him?"

She raised her eyebrows. "It's your mission, Mali, I'm just unofficially offering a word of advice."

"Yeah, but you said it yourself—more time to make the decision about Contemplanys Hermi, or Lord Dumiel, or whatever other catastrophes the Council can cook up." She rolled her eyes, and he smiled winningly. "Besides, you have a way with words I can only adm—"

"Oh, don't think that smile's still going to get you whatever you want, Mali," she warned. "It never would've worked long-term and you know it."

"Hey, all I want is a nice two-hundred-ship fleet from Duro," Mali said innocently. "I attach no significance whatsoever to the fact that you came to my private suite to tell me something you shouldn't while my Padawan just happens to be gone…"

Her eyes flashed and she brushed the handle of her blaster with her thumb. "How quick are you on those deflections again?"

He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Kidding, Jendaya. But seriously, you know Senator Lambed; I can't say much more than that I know who he is before I start feeling like a bad Jedi for dishonesty."

"That's what makes you a bad Jedi?" she asked; her eyes were still narrowed, but there was a hint of a teasing smile around her lips.

Mali smirked. "Ha ha, very funny."

She snickered once, then sighed and reverted to a serious expression. "I'll talk to Fraaki and see if Duro's willing to pitch in. But they've already contributed to the Republic Navy; Duro's home fleet may not have much to spare."

"Anything's better than nothing."

She nodded, but gave him a look. "Just so we're clear, Mali, this doesn't mean I support your views about the Republic, or that I think Admiral Dorr and Master Dumiel are wrong. It just means I think Corellia shouldn't rush—or be rushed—to its decision."

"And maybe that you don't want me to die horribly in a noble-but-doomed campaign?"

She smiled. "That one varies from moment to moment."

Mali laughed and held out a hand; she shook, but then stepped in and kissed his cheek. "Good luck, Mali."

"Thanks, Jen."

He stopped pacing once she was gone, but sat and drew out his datapad, working on figures and projections. The breeze through the open balcony door was warm, and it smelled like summer and home. Before long Aldayr walked in, wearing civilian clothes and an amused expression. "I passed Senator Rose coming into the building…"

Mali shrugged, not bothering with a denial. "She came to talk to me."

"I thought you weren't getting back together."

"We're not. She was just here discussing the particulars of the invasion fleet."

Aldayr smirked. "Now there's an unusual euphemism…"

"Don't make me smack you." Aldayr laughed, and a grin forced its way onto Mali's lips despite himself. "Moving right along, what'd you find out?"

"It's Corellia, so nobody's talking about being tense." Aldayr started pacing the same track Mali had. "But down at the docks they're talking about the difficulty of bringing some supplies in if the Run collapses any farther. People aren't happy with the Republic, that's for sure."

"Anything about the Corellian Jedi?"

"Not Master Dumiel's vision of us, if that's what you're asking. People know you're here, though, and that you met with Diktat Daikros.  Any hint how the Council's leaning?"

"Yes, actually—that's what Jendaya wanted. Listen…"

He told his apprentice the bad news about Corellia's contributions. Aldayr scowled and crossed his arms. "The Republic won't make up the difference, will it?"

"You mean five hundred ships, to get us to eight that way? No, I don't think so."

"And Duro?"

"If Jendaya's right and Duro is trying to put off this restored Corellian Empire as long as it can, then it's in Duro's interests to pitch in. But she's right about the Duros contributing to the Navy, too; two hundred might be a bit much to spare."

"Well, we—" Though they were alone, Aldayr stepped off the balcony, closed the door, and said in a lower voice, "—we said in that first tactical meeting that we might be able to do it with seven hundred."

"At a minimum," Mali reminded him. "I don't trust odds any more than the next Corellian, but there's a point where 'being Corellian' can become 'being stupid'. I'm not challenging Gasald with six hundred ships."

"And so far we've only got three hundred of them," Aldayr pointed out.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to set up a call with the High Council?"

Mali had given that one long and serious thought. "I'm…not sure that would work out the way we want it to. The demographics aren't the best, if you know what I mean."

"If you mean that two-thirds of the Council is philosophers and recruiters even though we're at war…" Aldayr grumbled.

The Jedi Knight part of Mali, the part that was master of a Padawan whose development he was trusted to guide, said that might a bit too disrespectful a way of talking about the High Council. Unfortunately, it was countered by the Jedi Guardian part of Mali, which felt much the same way—aided and abetted by the self-reflective part of Mali, which reminded him he had not only expressed that same sentiment, but actually used those same words. A balanced solution eluded him, so he opted for honesty and said, "Yeah, that. And even Masters Cazars and Bnodd might not want to cough up three hundred ships, even if they agree in principle.  Look at our fleet up north—imagine losing three hundred of those ships."

Aldayr grimaced. "Point taken. So what do we do?  We have to ask somebody."

"Well, we'll need to go back to the Diktat to officially be told we're getting our first three hundred ships," Mali stalled. "And after that…we'll take another trip."

"Where?"

"If I've found anything in my time in command, my young Padawan," Mali started loftily, and Aldayr groaned, "there are some conflict-redefining military campaigns you just don't pitch to your superiors by holo."

"The Valor?"

"The Valor."