The Fog of War/Part 22

"We're in your debt," Mali said, giving them a smile.

"Any time you want to start paying on it, let us know," Nal Chun answered pointedly.

Mali smirked. "I think Corellia's happy to have me home. They'll compensate you for your troubles."

"Really? CorSec still has a couple warrants out for us," Nal added.

Mali shrugged. "You didn't murder anybody, did you?"

"Not in CorSec's jurisdiction."

Mali rolled his eyes. "I'm just going to glean a 'no' out of that. I know a guy; I'll put in a good word for you."

"Be nice to have a line of credit if we feel like being charitable again…"

"I'm a Jedi, not the Diktat," Mali said dryly. "Don't push your luck."

"Worth a try," Nal said with a shrug. "Good luck, Jedi."

"You too." He watched her go, then turned his eyes to Kadelle, who had lingered. "Thank you."

"You already thanked us, General," she replied.

"Yeah, but this was your doing, wasn't it?" he asked.

Her eyes tightened above a faint smile and Mali knew he was right. "Nal's not wrong," she defended her sister. "We can't afford to keep running mercy missions for free. We're not Jedi."

Was that regret he sensed? "I'm not blaming you for it. But there were no credits in it when you helped Narasi, and your shields at our backs are the reason I'm standing here talking to you.  So thanks, Kadelle."

"My pleasure, General. Really."

She smiled that smile he liked, half-mischievous and half-sincere, and Mali made an impulse decision. "I suspect you two get up to some things I wouldn't want to know about, and couldn't condone. But if you ever find yourself in trouble in the Corellian system…tell the authorities There's a fog over Celadon City, and I'll see what I can do."

The smile widened. "Thanks. Until next time."

She followed Nal toward the hangar bay, and Mali strode to the viewport, looking down at his homeworld below. The mighty destroyer was one of a dozen in the home fleet, an armada of hundreds. He longed to sweep the whole force down on Milagro and smash Gasald for good and all, but that would have to wait. Wishing wouldn't conjure up a fleet of his own, and there was something to be said for Tirien's planning style.

As if his thoughts had called out in the Force, Mali sensed Tirien approaching. The Pantoran was still limping a little. "How's the leg?"

"Bacta patch should have it fully mended by tomorrow," Tirien said as he joined Mali at the viewport.

Mali drew a breath through his nose; the air still smelled sickly-sweet. Every one of them had been put in a bacta tank once the Second Chance limped into the First Brother 's hangar bay, apart from Slejux, who had made it through Milagro without a mark on him. Four of them were up and walking around now…

"You're still planning to head back?"

"Once we get the Second Chance up and running, yes."

"The Council's going to be livid," Mali warned.

"I'm sure they are," Tirien agreed. "But somebody has to own up to this. And you have work to do here."

Mali had been trying not to think of Tyson Dumiel; the thought of the renegade Jedi Master and how he had inspired the mission to Milagro, inadvertent as it may have been, just made him angry. But he knew Tirien was right. "Slejux going with you?"

"Yeah."

"And Master Kadych?"

Tirien shook his head gravely. "He wouldn't survive the trip. He needs a full medical suite; the Second Chance has a medkit mounted on the wall."

Mali had spent the past few days conferring with CorSec and Corellia's home fleet commanders, grudgingly dragging along an oxygen tank for the first couple days until the medical staff pronounced his lungs sufficiently recovered; Tirien had spent the same time in the medbay, meditating with Slejux, trying to accelerate his healing and Narasi's, and watching over Kadych. "What do you think?"

Tirien seemed to understand, because he sighed. "The doctors aren't sure he'll ever wake up. If he does, they're not sure how there he'll be.  Even if his mind still works, they're not sure he'll ever walk again.  There's too much unknown to say now.  I don't know everything the Sith did to him; the calcification's probably from Force lightning, and the smoke inhalation can't have helped…"

Drawing a deep breath for Jedi calm, Mali said, "We'll take good care of him here, I promise. The best Corellia's got."

"I know you will."

The both studied Corellia through the viewport in companionable silence. After a few minutes, Tirien said, "You have a beautiful homeworld, Mali."

"Yeah, I do," he agreed, but sighed. "But…this was my idea, Tirien, and now I don't know if it was worth it or I just led everyone into a catastrophe. What'd we accomplish, really?  One dead Sith Lord, with some Acolytes and soldiers.  And our losses?  A Jedi Master at death's door, Jossi Feld's got a resistance that's already breaking into factions, Milagro's developed an anti-Jedi party, we're probably all going to get arrested…"

"If it makes you feel better, Narasi and Aldayr are just Padawans, so they'll probably get out on bail," Tirien observed.

Mali laughed once despite himself. Tirien smiled, but then grew serious again. "There's more to Milagro than meets the eye, Mali, I feel that," he said in that distant tone of his. "Our actions foreclosed a lot of futures, but opened others that never would have existed otherwise."

Mali opted to take it on faith; dwelling wouldn't help, and who knew? Maybe Tirien was right. Considering anew the idea he'd been nursing for a day or two now, he said, "You were right, in a way. Sometimes having the plan and committing to it is more important than trying to put out all the fires.  We can't always save everybody."

Tirien nodded, accepting the concession, but said, "You weren't wrong, though. Being conscious of our actions and their consequences isn't the same as not acting.  Thanks for getting me back on track."

That decided him. Mali looked at his friend, then took his lightsaber hilt from his belt. "I'd never have the patience to be a Consular, but there are still things I could learn from a Jedi like you."

He extended the weapon, pommel first. He had wondered if this Jedi custom was arcane enough to slip beneath Tirien's scanners, but he could tell at once it was not. Tirien studied the weapon for a long moment, the gravity of the offer in every line of his face, then took his curved fencing saber from his belt. "And it's obvious I have more to learn too."

"Think you can fence with a straight hilt?" Mali teased.

Tirien snorted. "Think you can manage your Gamorrean hack and slash with a curved one?"

Mali laughed, and they exchanged weapons. The curved hilt did feel odd in his grip; it would take some practice, but a good Guardian never lacked for saber training. Tirien clipped Mali's lightsaber to his belt, then extended his hand, and they clasped forearms. "May the Force be with you, Mali."

"And also with you, brother."

Tirien started away, then paused. "I suppose I can give you advice from time to time now without annoying you?"

Mali patted Tirien's weapon on his belt. "Sort of comes with the package, I think. I'm sure it'll be annoying, but probably because you'll be right most of the time.  Why, what've you got?"

The Pantoran took a moment to consider his words. "There was a time I didn't value my apprentice enough; I had to learn to appreciate her for all she's worth, and she's shown me every day since then what a great Jedi she'll be some day. It's a privilege to have her as my student."

"I agree," Mali said carefully.

Tirien's yellow eyes were piercing. "Now you need to trust yours."

Mali grimaced. "It's not that I don't trust him—"

"Not to fight beside you or handle a mission," Tirien said. "To bear the disappointments we all face. To be let down by people who shouldn't let us down, and keep going anyway.  To be a Jedi."

Mali was still thinking long after Tirien left.

That night he knocked on Aldayr's door. When it opened the younger Corellian looked at him expressionlessly. "Yes, Master?"

"May I come in, Aldayr?"

Aldayr raised his eyebrows, but stepped out of the doorframe. The shipboard quarters the Jedi had been given were not spacious, but there was a little desk, and Mali took the desk chair while Aldayr sat on the bed. He laced his fingers together, watching Mali with a blank look that didn't reach his guarded eyes.

"Master Tyson Dumiel has called a conclave of Corellian Jedi," Mali started. "He believes we—all of us, all the Corellians—should abandon the larger war effort to focus our efforts on protecting the Five Brothers, and I suppose the Corellian sector at large."

Aldayr frowned. "Why?"

"Maybe because he's from Corellia, and he thinks we should be loyal to our homeworld. Maybe because Corellia's shouldered a lot of the fighting and keeps getting asked to do more.  Hell, maybe he's on the outs with the Jedi Council and he wants to do things his own way—easier to go green than Gray, if you will.  I don't know, honestly.  I won't until the conclave."

"Why didn't I hear about this? I'm Corellian too."

"Master Dumiel only contacted Corellian Masters and Knights. He left it to us to tell our Padawans."

Aldayr's eyes tightened. "Or not."

Mali sighed. "Yeah."

Aldayr took a moment to process it. "Why didn't you just tell me? Were you afraid I'd side with him?"

"No."

"Then what? What is it?"

Why didn't you trust me? was the unspoken question; Tirien had hit the target square on. "It was never about trust, Aldayr," Mali said. "I trust you with my life—and more importantly, with innocent lives, the people we're charged to protect."

Aldayr said nothing, and after a moment Mali began, "I've always been proud to be Corellian—proud of our history and what we stand for. Since I was Knighted I've been proud to be a Corellian Jedi, too.  But since Master Dumiel came out with this…since a Corellian Jedi I respected apparently decided people like Jossi Feld and Dorni Kossaboyt don't matter because they weren't born on the right world…"

He felt the anger rising in him again and took a moment to clear his mind. There is no passion, there is serenity. "It's frustrating to me. It makes me wonder what we as Corellian Jedi really stand for.  And you've had a rough couple years now…I didn't want you to lose that too.  I wanted being a Corellian Jedi to be something you could be proud of, at least for now.  I can't protect you forever, but…"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Master," Aldayr said coolly. He rarely bothered with the glove on his right hand when they were alone, and Mali could seem the individual durasteel segments and hear the servos whirring as Aldayr made a fist. "I haven't been for a long time."

Mali sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

Aldayr processed that for a moment. "When's the conclave?"

"Six days, downside."

"I'm going with you."

It was not a request, and Mali was a little disquieted by that, but he supposed Aldayr had earned the right to be present; he was a Corellian Jedi too. "I agree. You should be there."

Aldayr nodded, lacing his real fingers through his metal ones again, and said nothing else. Taking the cue, Mali got to his feet. He was nearly at the door when Aldayr said, "Narasi said something that bothered me."

"I thought you two were getting along now?" Mali asked. He hadn't fretted too much over the snippy relationship between the Padawans while it existed, but he hadn't been sorry to see it go, either.

"It was before we left for Milagro. I said 'there is no emotion', and she said something like, 'that doesn't mean there is no personality'." He looked up at Mali. "Is that what you think of me, Master?"

Between his blank expression and flat tone, Mali could see where Narasi got the inspiration for the comment, but he also knew Aldayr well enough to know how he would dwell on it. So recently resolved not to spare his apprentice's feelings, Mali thought for a moment before he spoke. "You've been different since Taanab."

"Bad different?"

"It's not necessarily good or bad, it's just different," Mali answered. "Quieter, certainly. More intense.  You don't laugh as much as you used to."

He realized he sounded sad.

"For a long time I wanted to be you, but that didn't work out so well for me," Aldayr replied, opening and closing his mechanical hand. "I thought maybe it was all distraction—vanity. So I tried to boil down to essentials—train, learn, be a Guardian—and Narasi said I didn't have a personality.  What's the right answer here?"

Mali wasn't sure if there was a criticism of him in there or not, but he opted not to take it that way. Sitting back down, he said, "Aldayr, you'll never be me, just like Narasi will never be Tirien. I'm not my master; you don't have to be.  Yeah, you should learn things from me, and if I do things a certain way and you think it's worth doing that too, great.  But I don't have all the answers.  If you think another Knight does something better than I do, incorporate it into your style.  Tirien's a serious thing pretty much all the time, and it doesn't always make for great conversation, but it works for him.  Slejux is a philosophical oddball until it's time to throw down.  Master Cazars, Master Kadych, Kenza, See Klees…pick and choose.  There isn't one right mold that fits everyone.  Some day you'll be a Knight, and you'll have to solve problems your way.  Figure out what works for you."

Aldayr was quiet for a moment, then said, "I think…the bare essentials approach isn't working for me, Master."

"Well then, it's…" Mali smiled. "…my privilege to help you find what does work for you, until you're ready to be a Knight."