Desperate Times/Part 7

"Carfao has fallen. We expect the Empire to take Tierfon and Jendorn within the week.  After that…"  The young naval attaché was trying mightily for stoicism, but his scent betrayed his tension and his despondency leaked into the Force. "They'll have Alpheridies surrounded; if they're attacked, the Miraluka can't hold against the Empire forever. Not alone, anyway, and we don't have the forces to defend them.  And if the Sith go northwest instead, nothing on the Vaathkree Trade Corridor—or the long way, if they follow the Expansion Curve through the Choke—will slow them down.  The admiralty is considering Corsin the primary target."

Though he suspected the answer, Slejux asked, "And Gasald?"

"She's taken Gamor. Our last intelligence is that Milagro's still resisting, and she's left part of her force there.  But they've got production there at work; we think she's biding her time at Gamor to stage a major assault on the Allanteen system and capture the shipyards."

And empower a strike toward Corellia, Slejux thought. He had only his personal galactic map coded with scent triggers and names, and the Republic Navy could not update it daily—though Lieutenant Deseivric had done him the courtesy of a verbal, increasingly despondent daily summary since Slejux's return to Coruscant—but while he could not see the map before him, Gasald's goal was clear. Mali had seen it a year before, had predicted this very strategy. Slejux folded his hands and bowed. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Sitting in the Archives long after Lieutenant Deseivric had gone, Slejux tried to open himself to the guidance of the Force, but meditative tranquility was disrupted by ripples in the Force. Even here, in the heart of the Jedi Order, darkness was burrowing through the walls to make a nest for itself. It was not the corruption of the Sith, but an aura of despair that was perhaps just as deadly—Slejux's fellow Jedi could read a battle map even better than he, and they had surely come to the same conclusions.

And at the true root of that despair, the tragedy that clung to them, the calamity that had plunged the Republic into chaos and allowed the Sith to advance in the first place—the death of the Chancellor.

Master Phnyong had touched many Jedi in one way or another, and Slejux had observed that meeting the man was memorable even for those who knew him but a moment. Slejux, however, had known Master Phnyong considerably more than a moment; his own master, Nulu Thini, had taken Master Phnyong's seat on the High Council, and the two had been friendly enough to continue meeting throughout Slejux's Padawan apprenticeship. After Slejux was Knighted, Chancellor Phnyong had inquired after him now and then, showing genuine interest in his experiences and offering insight to his dilemmas. Even now, the thought of continuing on as a Knight without those occasional touches of gentle wisdom made him sad.

Dwelling on grief was not the Jedi way, but as Slejux attempted to move beyond it, the rip currents of anguish in the Force threatened to tug him back out to sea. The scent markers heralding Mali Darakhan's arrival came as a relief until the Corellian threw himself into a chair opposite and spoke.

"I can't keep doing it, Slejux. It's painful talking to him."

"Did he open up to you at last?"

"I wish. No, he just…sorry you're not going to get this one, but the look in his eyes…it's like…"  Words evidently failed him. "I can't look him in the eyes for long, it makes me too sad."

Slejux might have commented about how the air around Tirien was all but choked with hormones of stress; he had recognized the scent at once upon his return to Coruscant, having become uncomfortably familiar with it these past few weeks… "Sadness surrounds us, friend," he offered instead. "Perhaps that—"

"It's more than that. I know he's your friend too, but…"  The tremors on Slejux's cilia told him Mali had moved his hand beneath the desk, perhaps to the curved lightsaber on his belt. "I should be able to help him."

"Isn't that why you're here?"

A Human, Slejux reflected, would never have noticed the tic—even a Human Jedi, for Mali's mind was agitated only by concern for Tirien. But his scent key changed, and Slejux's cilia told him of the subtle shift. "I can't catch Alecto if nobody will tell me where she is."

"Intelligence still has nothing? I've imposed on Lieutenant Deseivric's kindness only for a general picture..."

"Nothing. Well, nothing real," Mali corrected himself. "We got word, but it's a dud; fed to us from a source we know is a triple agent for the Sith. We let him feed us disinformation, even take the harmless stuff now and then, so they don't realize he's blown and start looking for our real sources.  But I think they've got something nasty planned this time."

"What's the intelligence?"

"That Alecto's on Skorrupon. Know it?" When Slejux shook his head, Mali said, "I didn't either. Unaligned planet in the Mid Rim on the Hydian, northwest of the Choke.  Not far from Wayland, in fact."

Slejux tried to recall galactic geography. "That would place it near Alpheridies, then?"

"Exactly." Slejux heard commander's cunning in Mali's voice now as the Human ticked off features on his fingers. "It's unaligned and small, which would explain our lack of corroborating intelligence. Saleej is moving nearby, which adds urgency.  And it's believable, too.  We only managed to throw up blockades on the Perlemian in those first hours after Anaxes; if Alecto had gone up the Hydian at Brentaal, she could've dodged everything we tried to throw at her."

"A clever ruse, but it brings us no closer to Alecto." When Mali only nodded, Slejux added, "But Alecto isn't the only reason you're here."

Mali started. "Dammit, stop doing that! You and Tirien, I swear…"

Slejux gave a gentle laugh and, as he had hoped, Mali joined in, though ruefully. "You're a man of action, Mali, and the raids are still going on, even if they're accomplishing little; you wouldn't be here idly if you had any other choice. So what is it we see that you wish we didn't?"

Mali turned his head left and right, and Slejux felt him stretch out with the Force as well. When he was sure no one was nearby, he said in a low voice, "Corellia's senator contacted me three days ago. She wants me to intercede with the Council for the Chancellor election."

"With the Sith advancing, more than ever we need a Jedi at the podium."

"She knows that. Besides, I think the request came from the Diktat himself.  They don't want the podium for her."

Slejux saw where this was going. "They want it for Master Arodion. Because of Milagro and Gamor?"

"The Diktat can read a tacmap too," Mali admitted. "The Council's leaning even more on the Five Brothers since the assassinations, with Anaxes still on high alert and Kuat trying to make sure everyone's karked except them. If Gasald does take Allanteen and gain the shipyards…"

"If she does?"

When Mali spoke, his voice was very careful. "A lot of worlds on the Corellian Run look to Corellia to lead, and to protect them, and Corellia takes that responsibility seriously. If Gasald takes Allanteen, a lot of leaders in the Five Brothers are going to start reconsidering their priorities."

Slejux spared Mali further pressure. "And thus, Chancellor Arodion?"

"You couldn't force the job on me at lightsaber-point, and I'd be laughed out of the Council chamber if I suggested Master Dumiel, so she's their next favorite child. Despite her—our—views at the conclave, she's still Corellian.  The High Council obviously trusts her, and she's got the diplomacy bit…y'know, Consular…"

"And, like many leaders of worlds whose devotion to the Republic is…wavering, she's Human."

Mali firmed his jaw. "I will not believe that was part of their reasoning. She's a Corellian and a Jedi Master."

Mali's Force signature twitched, though, and had he been a gambling Melitto, Slejux would have bet quite a few credits that Tirien had not failed to make that insight, either. "And what are your views?"

"Master Arodion's a great Jedi. I have enormous respect for her; my master always did too."

"But…?"

Mali laughed that same half-laugh. "Believe it or not, Tirien and I are on the same screen. Master Cazars—it has to be Master Cazars.  Master Bnodd might not be bad, but the Council'll never go for him.  The Sith have been emboldened since Master Phnyong's death; we need to hit back, and hard, and not stop hitting them until Saleej is on his knees, we can give Corellia Gasald's head on a platter, and Aresh and Seldec—"

Slejux raised a hand, concerned as the darkness in the Force came closer. "Peace, friend. They may have to die, all of them, but we shouldn't enjoy the killing."

"You haven't been there, Slejux; you and the Seventy-Second have been chasing the bloodstains Lakalt leaves behind, waiting to find the corpse. It's different up north, fighting the Dark Vanguard at every corner while they stare at you with those same, soulless eyes, and liberating concentration camps of non-Humans only to find they scorched the people along with the earth.  And the Empire's just as bad, only five times the scale."

"And the Jedi who fell to the darkness, and joined those enemies? How many of them do you think went to war with the Sith in Jedi calm?"

Mali blew out a breath. "Sorry. It's…been rough, since the Chancellor died."

"I know that too well."

Slejux waited while Mali composed himself, sensing the darkness ebbing back as the Corellian Knight anchored himself more firmly in the light. Then he asked, "What does Aldayr think of Corellia's request?"

"I haven't told him about it yet."

"Still not communicating well?" Slejux heard the disapproval in his voice and felt his own hypocrisy. "Forgive me. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay. It's not that, it's just that I don't know how I feel about it yet.  I don't know what I'm going to do.  Maybe I should talk it out with him, maybe he'll see something I've missed…"

"Does that help, do you find?"

Even translated through a vocoder, Slejux's voice must have betrayed something, because Mali's voice was sharper with attention as he said, "The relationship's supposed to have an inbound and an outbound lane; he's already taught me a lot." When Slejux pondered in silence, Mali said, "Now you're not telling me something."

"Tirien has rubbed off on you."

"Concordance of Fealty." Mali's voice carried so much ache that Slejux flinched in sympathy; perhaps Mali felt it inside as well, for he continued at once. "So?"

"Have you seen Narasi?"

"Since we got here, you mean? Almost every time I've gone looking for Aldayr.  She's taking it hard?"

"More than you know. More than I know, perhaps.  I remember trying to advise you about Aldayr last year…I am only now beginning to understand how arrogant that was."

"Hey, it was good advice."

"Still…" Slejux sighed. "I thought I understood, then. When Tirien came to me, still reeling from this catastrophe, from Master Phnyong's death, and asked me to step in and be master to Narasi…  I wasn't blind, if you'll allow me the idiom.  I knew how much Narasi means to Tirien, and he to her—or I thought I did.  But even when he said I was the only Jedi he could trust with her training, I accepted without hesitation…to ease his suffering?  From arrogance?  I don't know…"

"A Jedi doesn't hesitate," Mali argued. "When we know the will of the Force, we act."

"And yet in acting, did I do the Force's will, or merely accept Tirien's without question? A Jedi doesn't act rashly."

Mali crossed his arms. "What's the issue, exactly?"

"I've been blessed with the friendship of many Jedi who have Padawans, Tirien especially, and of course I've spoken to Master Thini many times since I was Knighted, but…I don't know that I understood, Mali, really appreciated the gravity of it. What she does, or fails to do—when she surmounts a trial, or fails it—that's on me, isn't it?"

Mali was quiet for a long time, and the fine cilia along Slejux's neckline told him Mali's eyes were downcast at the table. "It is," he finally admitted. "But you can't really get it until you have a Padawan. I didn't.  I'm not a perfect master now, either—you pointed that out to me, and you were right.  We follow the Force as best we can, Slejux; even Tirien can't ask more of you than that."

"What do you advise?"

"What does Tirien say?"

Too many times Slejux had wondered that very thing. Was he fulfilling his obligation to be Narasi's master by taking her learning in hand, or ought he to keep Tirien engaged? Was the separation healthy for them—would it ease Narasi's attachment—or was he simply being callous enough to harm two friends in the guise of meaning well? Mali knew Tirien better… "Do you think Tirien is in the right frame of mind to be asked?"

"I…" Mali winced. "All right…all right, look. It's hard, and you're gonna screw up, especially if Tirien…if this lasts a while.  We all do.  But in the end, you have to do the right thing, and let the rest follow.  It's not your job to make her happy, or make you happy, or be her friend.  If that happens anyway, great, but it's not the point.  Narasi and Aldayr…we have to make them Jedi.  We have the privilege of training them to be worthy of Knighthood—warriors capable of conquering the Sith.  Do what you have to do to get her there."

Slejux nodded, firmed in his resolve even if the ache had not subsided. He could only do what was right, as best the Force would show him that path—regardless if it made Narasi happy.