The Liberator/Part 31

Day 110 of the Occupation of Milagro

"If you've got good news, Captain, I could use it," Mali admitted.

Half the galaxy away, aboard the bridge of the Guardian, Captain Brey-Sek smiled. "Good enough, sir, but perhaps I'd best leave that to someone else."

She disappeared, but after a moment the holoprojector rendered a full-body view of Aldayr, arms crossed and wearing a smile so proud half the Jedi Masters in the Order would've had a fit upon seeing it. "What do you think, Master?"

Mali caught himself staring and shook his head. "I think I'm either about to congratulate you, or I really am going to have to go back up there just to kick your ass."

"Well, then I'm happy to say you can stay at Milagro a bit longer, Master."

Mali tried to conjure up a smile to answer Aldayr's obvious pride, though he felt how half-hearted it appeared. "Glad to hear it. Second class?"

"So far."

"Well, most people get first class posthumously, so don't race for that one. What'd you do?"

Turning just a bit to ensure his new Corellian Bloodstripes were visible on his pants, Aldayr said, "It was a raid at Wistril. I planned and led the fighter assault on the enemy flagship, and when we blew a hole in the shields I led a commando team inside.  Some of the Dark Vanguard were aboard; one of them was in command.  I went at it with him…"

"And?"

"I finally killed one. No other Jedi, no troops, one-on-one combat.  Whacked him in the face with my lightsaber hilt, then got him with a blind reverse lunge while he was stunned.  We took over the ship after that, and when I got back…Admiral Keed is Corellian, and he awarded them to me."

Elata Cazars had appointed a Corellian admiral to a major command, even knowing Contemplanys Hermi was on the table? Was that an oversight, Mali wondered, or a strategy to keep Corellia happy? He opted not to vex Aldayr with that one.

"Watch those blind techniques," he cautioned instead. "Unless you're Kenza, 'blind' isn't usually a good thing to be."

"Well, it worked."

"Well done, Aldayr," Mali said, and even through his distraction he managed a real smile. "I'm proud of you, and Corellia should be too."

"Thanks Master." Aldayr bowed, then looked over his shoulder. "They're calling battle assembly, I need to get going."

"Good luck, Aldayr. May the Force be with you."

"And also with you, Master."

As the holo derezzed, Mali tried to hold onto his pride in his apprentice. Many Corellian Jedi won their Bloodstripes through their various heroics—aside from Mali himself, Tyson Dumiel had his, and Ainar had won both classes—but receiving them as a Padawan was uncommon, both because Padawans rarely had the chance to show that level of gallantry, and when they did it was always in the heat of the moment, where only a true coward would fail to fight when the fight was upon him. The Bloodstripes were for deliberately embracing danger despite knowing the peril; such an award should make any master proud.

It should, and it did, but try as he might Mali had trouble focusing on that feeling; Milagro's woes kept intruding, as they did every time he tried to meditate. Just as the Republic Army was beginning to develop its counterinsurgency strategy against the Army of Free Milagro, Mali had gotten an answer to the question he had asked Haleya and Trajan: apparently some witnesses to whatever had happened in their battle with the Pastor had escaped, and had simply been biding their time. Nobody seemed sure what to call this new remnant of Jeh-Kro's followers, though Flame of Retribution had been scrawled or burned on enough sites that Mali's staff seemed inclined to take it as a group name rather than a motto.

Nissi Enkolfo had deployed her delaying strategy, but while many beings seemed willing to accept the explanation and allow the investigation to proceed, Intelligence had reported increased anti-Republic chatter, including, for the first time, a significant undercurrent of anti-Jedi sentiment. Rather than rile it up, Mali had pulled back the few Jedi who remained onworld, just when they might have given the Army an edge against AFM.

His head hurt…

When his beacon transceiver buzzed, he pulled it out with a frown, wondering why Aldayr would reach out to him again so soon. When he read the name, it took him a moment to really appreciate it before he jammed it into the holoprojector, muttering, "About damn time…"

The holo came to life, and Mali said, "Where the hell have you been?"

Tirien Kal-Di raised an eyebrow. "Good to see you too."

Mali sighed. "Sorry. Things…it's not great here, Tirien."

"I got the report of your initial victory, and I saw that Milagro voted to join the Republic. What did I miss?"

Taking a deep breath, Mali plunged into a summary of the past four months, walking laps around his desk before finally sitting in his chair. Tirien spoke only to seek clarification, nodding once in a while so Mali knew the holo hadn't frozen on his unreadable face. Even with mentions of the nascent insurgency and the execution of Kysl Ssron, Mali only managed to draw emotion out of his friend once.

"The Republic sent Khofin of Knylenn to be Administrator?" The way Tirien stared, they might have sent Darth Saleej.

"Yeah." Frowning, Mali asked, "He was cleared of all charges, wasn't he?"

"In Master Phnyong's death? Yes, he was."

"So what's the problem?"

"I have…let's call it a personal distaste for him."

"Well, he's a bureaucrat, and you know how much I love bureaucracy," Mali commiserated. "But that's the point—he can do all that while I'm trying to deal with the security issues…"

Mali described the rise of Flame of Retribution, then reclined in his chair, sipping from a water bottle; just describing it all was exhausting. "So?"

"Where would you like me to start?"

"Got any tips for dealing with the insurgents?"

Tirien took a moment to reply. "You believe Trajan and Haleya?"

"I…yeah, I do." Mali narrowed his eyes; something about the way Tirien asked registered with him. "Have you ever known a Jedi Shadow to be wrong about that sort of thing?"

"Yes."

That was not at all the answer Mali wanted, and it chipped at his projection of confidence. "Well, whatever happened, I still can't let fanatics set buildings and people on fire."

"No." Tirien's face cleared. "No, they have to be stopped. You should be able to get the people on your side against them, at least; there's no animating political ideology, and mass murder doesn't attract adherents—if for no other reason than that the ones it would attract were already working for the Sith when you showed up."

Mali chuckled. "Fair point."

"As for the Army of Free Milagro…I'd say capture rather than kill, if you can. Use stun weapons as much as possible.  The more you show restraint, the more it demonizes them and undermines their base of support.  The Milagro Resistance wasn't a self-contained society, it was mostly fighters; it counted on the public for logistics and aid.  Rufos must know that, and the others too.  Turn the public against them and they'll wither."

Tirien was not the first to say it—Nissi Enkolfo, wearing the hat that supervised public relations, had advised that very strategy—but Mali was reassured to hear an outside perspective. "That's the plan."

"And…"

"And what?"

Tirien crossed his arms. "It'll be difficult, since Milagro's going to be strategically important long-term. But…"

He looked off-screen and rolled his eyes. "No of course you can't keep them…I don't care how cute they are, put them out of the ship!"

Mali raised an eyebrow as Tirien turned back. "Should I ask…?"

"Best not. Anyway, the Republic's going to have a major military presence there for a long time, and it'll be supervising supply and logistics for whatever we can run up from Pax.  But as much as possible, don't drown them in Republic symbols and culture.  Let the Milagroans handle whatever they can, even for security.  I know Rufos is giving you all of security as your purview, but you have enough to manage with Gasald on the horizon—anyone would.  Train the Milagroans, then trust them to do their jobs."

Training takes time, and I need solutions now, he might have replied, but he had fought that battle more than once too. Instead, he said, "You know, I haven't asked: how'd Darkknell go?"

Tirien grunted. "That's a story for another time. We…I said I would tell him," he added sternly with another sideways look. "Patience, Padawan."

"That Narasi?" Mali mustered a smile. "Hey kid."

"Hey Master Darakhan!" came back faintly.

Tirien rolled his eyes. "Narasi sends her greetings to you and Aldayr."

Was that just her friendly nature, or was there something to be gathered from her insistence? Mali thought about his conversation with Aldayr; maybe the feelings were mutual. But Aldayr was right—at this stage, there was no point burdening Tirien with that particular dilemma. "She'll have to get on her own transceiver for Aldayr…"

Mali explained his apprentice's assignment in the campaign against Aresh. Tirien was suitably impressed by Kenza's victory over Seldec and (once the significance was explained to him) Aldayr's Bloodstripes, but he asked, "And what's your feeling on Aldayr's command?"

"He's ready. Not for a fleet, mind you, but under proper supervision of a senior officer…he's earned his stripes.  Literally, today."

Tirien nodded, looking thoughtful. "And you? How do you feel sending your Padawan to a different front?"

"It's definitely different, but I have faith in him. We have to trust them; it's the only way they grow."

"I've learned that of late too…"

What in the galaxy had happened on Darkknell? Before Mali could ask again, Tirien seemed to come back to himself with a shake of his head. "Well, we need to get the Second Chance serviced; it's been a while, and I want to be ready to launch again as soon as something comes up. Do you need us there?  I could speak to the Praxeum Council…"

Nothing was more tempting than the idea of having Tirien Kal-Di here; apart from his friend's advice and guidance, and the ready availability of a sparring partner who could truly test him, it would be worth it just to watch Tirien talk circles around Khofin of Knylenn, Obveluus Gonzed, and Zemma's more laborious advisors. But, being honest with himself as a Jedi had to be, Mali knew the answer he had to give.

"No. I appreciate it, brother, and Force knows I could use your brain here, but right now Jedi are kind of a touchy subject; I'm burning most of the goodwill I still have making sure the loyalists here trust the Republic and don't think we're here to convert Milagro into a glorified staging base.  Bringing in new Jedi that most of them don't know is stoking a fire that might die down if I just leave it be for a while."

"Understood. I'll try to be more accessible."

"Than being off the grid for four months? Yeah, try and work on that."

Tirien smirked. "May the Force be with you, brother."

"And also with you."

Mali had just enough time to grow wearied of reviewing troop dispositions on the ground, but not enough to start banging his head into his desk, when the administrative assistant Khofin had sent him to replace Aldayr buzzed on the comm. "Excuse me, General. Administrator Khofin would like to see you."

"Did he say why?"

"No sir."

Once—perhaps as late as the previous week—Mali would have replied, Send him in. Now he knew better. "All right, I'll be down the hall in a minute."

Exactly what purpose Halicon Karzded had in mind for the spacious office at the other end of the top floor was something of a mystery; Deordis Bevrelles had been given an office below to make clear who really ran Milagro, and Kysl Ssron had operated out of one of the prisons the Republic Army had broken open during the invasion. It had been unoccupied when the Republic took the building, Mali had left it alone, and Zemma had kept using Bevrelles's office, which already had the infrastructure and systems to communicate with other government agencies. Mali and Zemma had discussed the Prime Minister's office eventually moving to the top floor, but when Khofin of Knylenn had arrived, he had taken over the vacant space instead. Now most of the top floor offices not serving the military command were filled with the Administrator's staff, and Mali had to navigate through a hive of aides and staffers on his way to Khofin's door.

"The Administrator's just finishing up with the Prime Minister, General," Khofin's secretary informed him. "If you'd like to wait…"

Mali frowned. "He just called down to my office."

"Yes sir, he wanted to make you aware so that when they finished—"

Mali tuned him out; he could sense conflict in the room beyond. Ignoring the secretary's awkward attempts to waylay him, Mali strode into the office.

Khofin and Zemma sat on opposite sides of the desk; Mali caught only a snippet of their argument before they fell silent at his arrival. Mali took the chair beside Zemma, laced his fingers together, and smiled. "What're we discussing?"

Khofin cleared his throat. "General…"

"Food supplies," Zemma said flatly. "The Republic hasn't brought in sufficient foodstuffs for the outlying sectors."

"The Republic is providing as much foodstuff support as it's able," Khofin argued. "The difficulty and expense in circumventing Lady Gasald's territory to come up the Enarc Run make it a far more expensive proposition than merely the cost of the food involved."

"Didn't the Senate approve an aid package to Milagro?" Mali asked.

"That's my point," Zemma said. "But the Administrator seems to feel he knows better than I do where my people need the influx of credits."

Khofin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Prime Minister, as I've explained, all the foodstuffs in the galaxy won't serve if they can't be distributed, and Milagro needs to think beyond the short term. By investing in the restoration of infrastructure, you enable supplies to reach outlying communities more easily and at substantially less expense."

"So my people receive food quickly next year and starve now?"

"Prime Minister—"

"And what about the housing crisis? We don't have enough jobs in the cities to accommodate the refugee influx, but we can't send people back to the outlying provinces where we don't have enough shelter for them, and your cap on refugee departures ensures they have nowhere else to go."

"It is not my cap, Prime Minister, the Core Worlds are unable to support—"

"Have you ever lived on a street or in a drafty warehouse for a Milagroan winter, Administrator?"

"Of course not, but—"

"I have—just this last year. I watched people lose fingers and toes and lives because of cold, and I saw good fighters waste away from hunger.  Providing for the future serves nobody if my people don't live to see it."

"But neither can you lurch from one crisis to the next without a plan! Milagro requires a long-term strategy if it's to survive and thrive, especially until military strategy expands to accommodate a campaign in this sector."

"You think you can plan Milagro's future better than—"

"Maybe I can help," Mali offered; Zemma had given him a vivid mental picture of the poor Milagroans left out of both warm surroundings and the debate.

Khofin narrowed his eyes. "In what way?"

"Well, devote the Republic credits to infrastructure repair; maybe fix up a spaceport or two."

"Mali—"

"Hear me out, Zemma. The money goes to infrastructure repair, but we buy some foodstuffs too.  Once they get to orbit, I'll have my fleet deliver them by troop transport."

Khofin was frowning, but some of the hard lines in Zemma's brow eased. "And housing?"

"We have a couple prefab garrisons on the destroyers I could bring down. I can't house a whole city, but I could bring a few thousand people out of the worst of the cold."

Khofin shook his head. "Leaving your fleet short both ground assault vehicles and forward projection bases."

"I've got it from no less than Master Elata Cazars of the High Council of the Jedi Order—" Mali had learned that more words made things sound more impressive than they really were to politicians, especially when the words were part of a title. "—that my fleet is not supposed to be conquering this whole galactic neighborhood. We don't need many troop transports for raids, and dropping a prefab garrison is kind of opposed to the spirit of a raid."

Zemma laughed—just one snort of amusement, but at least it was something, and Mali gave her an encouraging smile. Khofin seemed less amused, but he sat back in his chair and Mali sensed his mind at work. After a long moment the Kuati sighed. "You know your force's needs and capabilities far better than I, General. If you can spare the forces and materiel, I can free up some of the budget for additional food purchases.  But prices are rising, and even the Republic can only buy at such a discount; the loss of Taanab and other agriworlds has been felt the Republic over, and hunger is not unique to Milagro."

Mali sensed Zemma had recovered her commander's cool. "Please do whatever you can, Administrator."

He bowed his head and Zemma rose, but as she left she squeezed Mali's shoulder. Mali waited until the door had closed behind him before he said, "It's that spirit of cooperation that gives the people hope…"

Khofin looked quite put-upon. "General, civil administration can not always be solved with the same strategies that avail military campaigns."

"Solved this one."

"But at what cost? Let us assume you're correct and the deployment of transports and garrisons has no impact on defense readiness; you're the military commander, I trust your assessment.  But even for transports which can land in outlying areas there's the cost of fuel, and transports must be piloted.  Garrisons must be erected by soldiers who are now no longer available for other projects, such as assistance to civil engineering or increased patrols in districts infested by AFM.  Nothing is free, General Darakhan; the most we can do is shuffle the costs around."

Mali sighed. "I'm familiar with logistics, Administrator."

"But military logistics are a battle, an operation, a campaign; civil logistics are an entirely different matter. You have to ensure your soldiers are paid, but you don't have to raise the taxes to pay them or plunder planets for spoils; they're paid from the public treasury, managed by civil servants and funded by taxes collected by civil servants.  You need to direct tibanna gas and blaster packs to the troops and ships that need them, but you don't need to refine the gas or manufacture the packs, let alone procure them; civilians serving the military handle your procurement.  Even your force here has only survived as long as it has because Senator Rose has put her boot on the throat of every other senator brave enough to talk to her, and Diktat Daikros has pressed his neighbors to provide as much extra aid as they're capable of."

Touched as he was by Jendaya and Diktat Daikros's intervention on his behalf, Mali wasn't willing to concede that easily. "Both sides contribute to the mission, Khofin, I've got it."

"But my role here is not just to facilitate your mission, General. You need to defend Milagro against outside aggressors and root out internal threats; I need to provide for Milagro's future five and ten and fifty years from now, and that is a far more comprehensive and far-reaching mission."

"Can't Milagro get loans from the Republic?"

"Loans are the only reason Milagro's been appropriated as much as it has. Enticing Republic companies to invest in a planet so terribly exposed to Lady Gasald is almost impossible, and every Milagroan industry is operating in the red except its manufacturing capabilities.  Most of that output is going to the Tapani, and they've been persuaded to pay fair value, but that's still—"

"The Tapani?" Mali stared. "I'd've thought Corellia or Kuat would've been clamoring to buy—Corellian Engineering and KDY…"

Khofin narrowed his eyes. "But the Tapani…General, do you not know?"

"Know what?"

"In exchange for supporting your campaign with their ships and Jedi, the Tapani sector received the right of first refusal for purchasing Milagro's industrial product; I believe Diktat Daikros intervened directly with the Jedi Lords of the Tapani to arrange the terms of the deal. I was given to understand something of the sort when I was on Coruscant, but Baron Obveluus confirmed it to me here."

Mali rocked back, baffled. "Raven and Raina didn't say anything about this."

Khofin shrugged. "It's possible they don't know. They're nobility by birth, of course, and descended from a famous Jedi, as I understand it, but the Tapani don't consider them of age, and nobles not of age don't participate in sector governance."

As Mali continued to stare, Khofin frowned. "General, surely you must understand that self-interest drove all the contributors to your fleet? The Tapani received economic incentives.  The Duros have renegotiated a mutual defense pact with the Corellian Sector Fleet.  Corellia, of course, protects itself by crippling Gasald's presumptive push toward its territory."

"And the Republic?"

Khofin searched him with a look. "Certainly you, who have the ear of the Diktat and Senator Rose and how many other influential Corellians, know the answer to that? Corellia remains in the Republic—Corellian influence, Corellian military forces, Corellian tax revenues.  And not just Corellia, but all the worlds that might follow it away."

Mali drummed the fingers of one hand on the arm of his chair. "Everything comes down to money, is that your point?"

"By no means; no amount of credits could buy off the Sith, and so the Republic needs the courage of its military and its Jedi to survive. But neither strategy survives independent of the other; it's not that your campaign has not required political fights, it's simply that the Diktat and Senator Rose have been fighting them for you—protecting you by doing what they do best, so that you can focus on what you do best.  But a wise politician considers both aspects of any given problem—as the Tapani, the Duros, the Corellians, and the Chancellor clearly have."

"I'm not a politician, Administrator."

"But I am, and I came to Milagro for this very purpose—to address the administrative and politicial concerns of the Republic, freeing you to focus on security. That you and the Prime Minister co-governed Milagro so long is a testament to your ingenuity and adaptability, but surely you must see that situation was untenable long-term?"

Mali sighed. "I just want to make sure we're not making things harder than they need to be. People need help now."

"People need help everywhere, General," Khofin retorted. "Many Republic worlds are rationing due to food shortages; consider, if you never have, Coruscant, and the difficulty of feeding the hundreds of billions of beings on a planet with no agricultural output of its own! The economy in the southern galaxy has experienced a downturn; investors are terrified that Lady Gasald will proceed unchecked into the Colonies.  Frankly, without your Milagro campaign, we might be facing a recession."

"Just the sort of impact I wanted to make when I came back…"

"General Darakhan, how old are you?"

Mali narrowed his eyes. "Twenty-nine, why?"

"Take it from someone far older: ensuring that corporations have sufficient investments and profit margins to hire and employ workers throughout the Republic—and that those workers are confident enough in the economy to make purchases and keep interplanetary trade moving—may be less glamorous than dueling Sith Lords and conquering armies, but it is no less important. If it weren't for interplanetary trade, Milagro would have no income at all, and its economic future would be ruinous rather than merely bleak."

Mali wasn't sure what Khofin read in his eyes, but the Kuati nobleman pursed his lips, rested his elbows on his desk, and steepled his fingers. "General, do you know why I came here?"

"I figured it was just what you told Nal and Kadelle: didn't like the climate on Coruscant."

"Hmph. I doubt even one of your Jedi Masters would relish serving each day alongside beings who smiled to his face when only months before they had called him a traitor and a murderer amongst themselves." Through a crack in the man's usually-disciplined mind, Mali sensed both anger and a surprising amount of hurt. "But I could have employed what contacts I still had on Coruscant for a posting more befitting my experience and skills, or returned home to Kuat, where House Knylenn and Kuat Drive Yards both made me generous offers. Candidly, had I not spent some months unjustly incarcerated while the seat was being filled, I might have taken Oteyda Falt's place in the Senate.  Do you know why I'm here?"

Mali shook his head.

"Because I, too, serve the Republic. I served most of my adult life in the Senate bureaucracy and the Office of the Supreme Chancellor, and even despite the wrongs I suffered myself, I believe in the Republic.  The Republic needs able administrators and bureaucrats just as much as it needs Jedi; without us, even if the Jedi exterminated the Sith tomorrow, they would preside over a lawless wasteland devoid of all hallmarks of civilization save that the Sith were gone.  Would you wish to live in such a world, General?"

"Better anarchy without the Sith than life under their rule."

"Would it be? The Sith are surely the enemies of life, but starvation, violence, robbery…every vice and evil that would thrive in the absence of government and order…how many lives would these things claim, with only a few thousand Jedi to shepherd the galaxy's quadrillions?"

Mali could think of no line of attack. The Sith had the dark side, which in Mali's mind made them qualitatively different than any other threat, but could a lawless galaxy of violence and might making right fuel the dark side just as much as the rule of an organized Sith Empire?

"I am not your enemy, General," Khofin said softly. "Or Milagro's."

Mali wiped one palm over his face and down into his beard, nodding with his hand over his mouth before he mustered the energy to ask, "I know. Is that what you wanted, Administrator?  To remind me we're on the same side?"

"Eh? Oh, no.  I shall continue to hope that goes without saying.  No, I wanted to discuss your plans to hand over command of the fleet."

That got Mali energized again. He frowned and asked, "Apparently you know more about them than me."

"I was given to understand Master Cazars would recall you to the northern front against Lord Aresh? Did you not already send part of the fleet there, and your Padawan as well?"

"Eventually I intend to return, yes, but there's no timetable."

"All the same, I'd prefer to have at least a general plan in place before your departure. Have you given thought to whom you would leave in command?"

Mali had given it thought, though he hadn't made much progress. The best thing that could be said for Baron Obveluus becoming ever more incorporated into the Milagroan administration was that he was unlikely to be offended at being passed over for command. Essely Kalliot was an able commander and had done well in the raids, but her willingness to exceed orders gave him pause.

"I'm told Admiral Vaskolt has done well," Khofin prompted.

Saikra Vaskolt supervised the fleet on a day-to-day basis, but Mali had always been within comms reach on Milagro's surface; it was a different matter handing over the fleet for combat. But there was an even more pressing problem. "The bulk of the forces up there now are Corellian ships, and Corellia gave me those ships with the understanding that I'd be in command. I don't think the Corellian Sector Fleet will follow a non-Corellian."

Khofin frowned. "That's troubling, General."

"We're not talking about Corellian ships handed over to the Navy, like my Jewel, it's Corellia's home fleet," Mali defended his homeworld. "They drew down the Corellian sector's protection to support this campaign."

"I'm well aware of Corellia's contributions, but perhaps you can understand why yet another sign of Corellia's growing isolationism would be cause for disquiet? The Duros ships are not commanded by a Duros, nor the Tapani vessels by a Tapani."

"The Republic ships are commanded by a Republic General," Mali countered.

"Because it's a Republic fleet. Your coalition, despite its component parts, is here as a Republic excursion."

"Put it this way, Administrator: I'm leaving, but you're staying. Do you want to be protected by a fleet that might be cut in half at any time, or do you want to maybe work some of your bureaucracy contact magic and see if we can find a Corellian everybody would be happy with?"

The Kuati blanched. "Put that way…what about this, General? I'll speak to the Republic Admiralty to see what Corellian commanders they have available and suitable for such a command, and you counsel Diktat Daikros and Senator Rose on the situation and see if they're amenable to a non-Corellian commander.  I assure you I will give genuine effort to my side if you'll do the same."

It was the best he was going to get—and, Mali could admit, not an unreasonable request. "Done. And see if you can get my extra shield generators here, would you?  The big regional deflectors aren't going to cut it; if the fleet has to scale down, you'll need every square meter of this system covered if Gasald comes back."

Khofin nodded. "Done."

Mali would have to start with Jendaya; her support could help convince the Diktat, and besides, Admiral Dorr would be apoplectic at the idea of handing his fleet over to a foreigner. He got to his feet and found the lightness he had felt in coming to Zemma's aid had faded; he actually felt heavier than he had coming in.

"General, in regards to the Army of Free Milagro, what are your plans?"

"The Rogeum City Constabulary's back on its feet now; they should be able to handle things in the capital. I'll deploy the Army where it's needed, but I'm trying not to look like the Sith did fighting the Resistance."

"But neither do we want an armed insurgency to gain traction when it might be rooted out swiftly. Have you considered the advisability of declaring a state of martial law in the areas most—"

Mali tried not to betray a wince at the term, but there was more steel in his voice than was really called for when he said, "I've declared martial law once on Milagro already. I won't do it again unless I have no other choice."

Khofin betrayed a frown but smoothed it over at once. "I trust you'll keep in mind the economic repurcussions of a continued insurgency, especially when Milagro's economy is—"

"I trust you to handle the bureaucratic and political matters, Administrator; that's your area. Leave security to me."

Khofin's hazel eyes were unreadable; he inclined his head without taking them off Mali. "As you say, General. Good day to you."