The Liberator/Part 34

Day 136 of the Occupation of Milagro

"Is there any good news?" Zemma Rufos asked her ministers, restraining a weary sigh.

"My regional staff report that at least ninety percent of the children in Rogeum, Derresor, Kapulan, and Tarbunt City are enrolled in school districts," Nissi Enkolfo said. "Permanent housing is still a little confused, but the ones at shelters are being bussed to and from school at government expense."

Meaning at Republic expense, Zemma thought; yet another way Milagro was beholden to the Republic, and might be for generations, as Sendray Beethar and his party were kind enough to remind her every time she set foot in Parliament. But the alternative was to raise taxes even higher, and that would only destabilize Milagro further. Karzded had actually kept Milagroan taxes where they were upon invasion—he had just ignored the impoverished masses who could not help him, and selectively executed rich opponents and confiscated their estates. Zemma did not view her platform of don't murder people to steal their things as particularly radical, but the government had to fund Milagro's recovery somehow, and even those who had passed through the Sith occupation without any real change to their jobs or their homes took offense at raised taxes, no matter who was helped.

"Prime Minister?"

"Yes. Yes, that's good news, Nissi, but I want them to keep working until we're at a hundred percent.  We keep talking about expenditures and programs for Milagro's future; let's not forget that those children are Milagro's future."

"Understood."

"Anything else?"

Minister of Law Ziffano Colzoraddi half-raised his hand, then seemed to think better of it, sitting back with a frown. Zemma narrowed her eyes. "Ziffano?"

"It…might be something better for the Security Committee, Madam Prime Minister," he hedged.

One or two of Zemma's Cabinet looked annoyed, but the rest seemed unfazed or just took it in stride; given Milagro's conditions, Zemma spent considerable time with the handful of Cabinet officers who, along with Tago Tafen, Mali Darakhan, and Khofin of Knylenn, made up the Security Committee. Zemma nodded, then asked, "Anything else from the group?"

When no one spoke, she said, "You all know what you need to do. And remember, if you have reason to suspect you're in danger, speak up at once.  I'd rather you speak and be wrong than hold your peace when you were right.  We're adjourned."

They filed out but, as Zemma expected, Ziffano lingered, as did Nissi, Defense Minister Alferion Glywo, and Zemma's chief of staff, Meyt D'vorak. When the door closed, she asked, "Well?"

"It's very early on," he cautioned, "so this may come to nothing. But two Constabulary detectives have made contact with one of the AFM guerrillas.  Apparently this person—they haven't divulged any details yet—was one of the Beethar/Sepzee guerrillas during the war and kept following Sepzee afterward, but has since gotten cold feet.  Not sure whether it's because of their tactics or just because this person's not really against the Republic, but the detectives are going to keep working the angle, and we may—and ma'am, I can't stress may enough—have an informant inside AFM."

Zemma did sigh this time, but it was relief. She took Ziffano's qualification seriously, but the idea that there might, after over a month, be a crack in AFM's previously-solid wall was monumental.

"Can this person implicate Beethar in AFM's activities?" Nissi asked.

"We're not even close to that stage yet," Ziffano replied.

"It's unlikely a front-line operative would even know what's going at those levels," added Meyt D'vorak. "Particularly given how much Beethar stands to lose if he is implicated."

"Beethar's complicity or lack of it doesn't matter nearly as much as preventing more attacks," Zemma said before Nissi could reply. "Keep them on it, Ziffano, but don't tip our hand. On the subject of AFM, Alferion, is there anything you didn't add in the general Cabinet meeting about our readiness?"

"Nothing much to add, Prime Minister," the Defense Minister admitted. "It'll be months if not years before the Army's really rebuilt enough to be anything even close to what it was before the invasion. We'll be relying on the Republic for external defense—and to back law enforcement, when it's needed—for the foreseeable future."

Mali had shared enough of his woes in assembling his fleet and keeping it intact that Zemma wasn't thrilled with that prospect. "And recruiting efforts?"

"Bad, frankly. Of those who are the right age, and fit for service, and want to serve, the Republic's luring a lot of them away."

"A galactic profile for service, and they conveniently escape Milagro's danger," Meyt observed.

"They're not exactly out of danger elsewhere," Zemma reminded him.

"He's not wrong, though," Alferion sighed. "We're having serious difficulties recruiting, and without funds for enlistment bonuses…"

Khofin of Knylenn had shot that idea down. Much as the Republic is thrilled to see Milagro taking ownership of its defense position, the defense budget has already been strained to supply and support General Darakhan's fleet, he had told her. Surely it would not be tactically sound to take from that force merely to incentivize joining a local militia with less operational capability.

Zemma had been incensed to hear the army to which she had dedicated her professional life called a local militia, but worse had been the grudging admission that Khofin was right. As with its limping economy, Milagro was forced to rely on the Republic or surrender to crippling poverty and the inevitability of Gasald's return.

The door opened, and all the Security Committee members looked up as Zemma's secretary warned, "Ma'am, just a heads-up, but Administrator Khofin is on his way down."

Had she summoned him with her thoughts? I should get checked to see if I could be a Jedi. Zemma resisted the urge for a hysterical laugh; exhaustion was getting to her. "This isn't a formal meeting of the Security Committee."

"No, ma'am, but he said he needed to talk to you. And…General Darakhan's coming with him."

What did that mean? Zemma knew how to read people well, and she knew from the first days of the Resistance, let alone the last few months, that Mali Darakhan was a man much like her—a soldier and a leader of beings who had no time for politicking or bluster. As such, she hadn't been surprised when Mali spent even less time with Khofin than she did; more than once Mali had spent a whole day aboard the Coronet's Jewel or some other ship in orbit, reviewing readiness and meeting with his soldiers and pilots. He was a young man—far too young for his command, by any ordinary standard—but Zemma was forced to admit he was an extraordinary man, and he had obviously internalized what it meant to be a leader, not merely a commander, in a way beings twice his age sometimes forgot.

Khofin of Knylenn was another type of man, and though he was probably without peer in what he did, Zemma could not claim to relish his company. Nerves needled her at the thought of the two Republic officials coming down at once—her supervisors, as Beethar had called them just the other day, while his MPs cheered, Zemma's MPs booed, and Zemma resisted the urge to crack him across the face with Tago's ceremonial rod of office.

Perhaps, Zemma thought, Khofin was simply imposing yet another discussion of the upcoming awards ceremony on her. Or perhaps the Republic had gotten back to Mali and confirmed his successor; the order for his return to the northern campaigns had finally come in the previous week, and she knew he and Khofin both had been all but attached to their HoloNet systems, trying to arrange for someone who would understand Milagro's unique concerns. Zemma hoped for another Jedi—much as the Pastor's fanatics were still stirring up anti-Jedi sentiment, she appreciated someone with a perspective completely detached from the mainstream Republic government—but Mali hadn't given her much hope on that front.

Only five Knights are Jedi Generals, including me, he had said. ''And they're all on active campaigns. And the Council won't spare Jedi Masters just to hold the line against a siege that might never come''.

Just a reminder, if another was needed, where Milagro fit into the Republic's priorities. Its job was simply to exist, and it would be given just enough support from the central government to do that—keep existing—and not a credit more.

The ministers' tension was clear, but Zemma tried to set the example by waiting without expression until the two men came in. Khofin matched her cool expression as he sat opposite her at the table's middle, but for once Zemma could read Mali's agitation on his face; he had not looked like that since the night he had sentenced Kysl Ssron to death. Moving past that thought before she could wince in regret, Zemma said, "Good evening, gentlemen. What may we do for you?"

"Good evening, Prime Minister, Ministers, Chief of Staff D'vorak," Khofin greeted them. He waited, but Mali said nothing, and after a moment's pause Khofin continued. "I've had a day of worrisome conversations that I thought best brought to your attention at once."

A month of interaction told Zemma he would want a response rather than simply getting to the point. "Then by all means, bring them to my attention."

"As you know, through my connections on Kuat, I had secured corporate investment in Milagro. While Kuat Drive Yards, of course, has continued its Tactical Consolidation Initiative, HyperTech Industries negotiated what I feel would be a lucrative investment for both it and Milagro."

Particularly lucrative for HyperTech, Zemma thought; she had been forced to advocate to Parliament, through gritted teeth, for various tax exemptions for the offworld company. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but her people needed jobs. "I recall, Administrator. What's the bottom line?"

He frowned, but then smoothed the front of his robes and said, "HyperTech is growing concerned over the continuing insurgency. It believes the government's failure to take AFM in hand threatens the long-term security of its investment, and is considering pulling the deal."

Zemma bit back a number of choice replies but, as had been the case during the Resistance, when Zemma hesitated to act, Nissi was there to deliver the strike instead. "What more do they expect us to be doing?!"

"HyperTech suggested a greater military presence could help assuage its investors' fears…"

"A greater military presence?" Defense Minister Glywo repeated. "The Republic Army is Milagro's local defense force and half its police authority! How much greater a presence do these offworlders expect your Army to have?"

"Our Army, now," Khofin reminded him. "And whatever presence is required to stem these troubles."

"Milagro didn't overthrow one police state to replace it with another," Nissi fired back.

"HyperTech is not the only non-Milagroan body to express concerns," Khofin said. "The Tapani sector worries its expansion of its home fleet may be imperiled if it relies too heavily on materials Milagro can't deliver. Three Corellian companies with whom I've been negotiating have all balked.  And the Office of the Supreme Chancellor has expressed reservations about continued economic support to Milagro when so much of that support might be lost through terrorism or the diminished production that results from it."

Zemma didn't need her Commerce Minister present to appreciate how dire this news was. While she was weighing her response, Meyt said, "You've been quiet, General Darakhan. What's the defense force's position on this issue?"

Mali had been contemplating his hands, but he looked up. "Four days ago, a Republic Marine was murdered, along with her Milagroan girlfriend. She had served two tours against Darth Saleej on the Perlemian, along with one here, and she was genuinely respectful of Milagro's culture; the two of them had spent the morning at a Milagroan History Museum.  Apparently she and her girlfriend were just having lunch at a café when some cowards in masks rode up on speeders, yelled 'Free Milagro Only!', and gunned them both down."

As Zemma winced, Ziffano said, "We heard about that, General. On behalf of—"

"Two days ago," Mali overrode him, "a civilian Republic engineering crew were all murdered on the job. AFM again."

"General, we're monitoring these events as you are," Zemma said, "and believe me when I say we take them as seriously as you do."

Mali met her eyes, and Zemma's stomach clenched; there was something harder than usual there. Mali set a holoprojector on the table and opened his hand; the holoprojector slid across the table to its center. Zemma frowned in concern; she had never seen him use his Force powers casually. He waved a hand, and the holoprojector rendered the blueish face of a young Human woman.

"Were you monitoring this one?"

Zemma shook her head, looking down the table for help. Ziffano swallowed, but nodded. "My office received the report a few hours ago, General. I'm very sorry."

Mali looked at Zemma and said, "Tell the Prime Minister."

"She was a Republic Navy recruit who—"

"No," Mali interrupted; Zemma recognized a commander's voice, and Ziffano stopped talking at once. "If you're going to tell the story, you're going to tell it right. She was a Resistance fighter during Karzded's rule—one of yours, wasn't she?"

He looked at Nissi, who frowned and peered at the image. When it rotated to face her again, though, Nissi's eyes widened. "Oh, Banaji have mercy…"

"Fought all through the Resistance—bravely, too, from what I've heard. She'd been taken out of school in her last year, so she had to finish up, but while doing that these last months—and excelling, with top marks—she also found time to volunteer in reconstruction efforts with kids, and was one of the first Milagroans selected for the Republic Navy after the vote to join the Republic.  Her ship date is next week—or rather, it was, because last night AFM broke into her house, dragged her outside in front of her family, and blew both her kneecaps off."

Zemma gritted her teeth while Nissi covered her eyes with one hand and Meyt blanched. "Do we have suspects in custody?"

"No," Mali said, and the anger was there in his voice. "Funniest thing—in a neighborhood of apartment buildings, barely after dusk, nobody saw a thing."

Nissi drew her hand away, and for the first time since Zemma had met her she saw tears gleaming in the woman's eyes. "Sajie is…we'll do whatever we can for her…"

"She's being taken up to the medical frigate in my fleet right now, as we speak," Mali said. "Maybe, if we're fast enough, bacta can fix her knees. If not, we'll fit her with cybernetics at Republic expense.  After that, I'm personally going to write her a letter of recommendation for the Republic Naval Academy at Prefsbelt IV."

He swept the table with his eyes, and only Zemma managed not to flinch under that gaze. "And this is going to stop happening."

"General, you have to understand we're as appalled as you are," Ziffano said. "We're doing everything we can to stop these maniacs."

"It isn't enough."

"Respectfully, General Darakhan," Meyt said, "at the end of the day, the this young woman is a Milagroan citizen—"

"She's a Republic citizen too!"

"Quite right," Khofin agreed. "And from one end of the galaxy to the other, Republic citizenship—"

"I wasn't finished," Mali snapped. Khofin's eyes tightened, but Mali paid him no further attention as he turned back to Zemma and her advisors. "Milagro voted to join the Republic—did you think that was just for your protection? Or just so you could put a barrier of our bodies between you and Gasald?"

"General, you know I respect the sacrifices your forces have made for our world," Zemma said. "And I assure you everyone in my cabinet does likewise."

"I know you do, Prime Minister," Mali said, but if his face showed anything at all, it was a tic as he tightened his jaw against some darker expression. "But I have a duty to protect Milagro, and the people of Milagro, because every one of them is a Republic citizen. And people like Sajie Kraycer, people who take pride in their Republic citizenship and expect the Republic to protect them, deserve better than what we've given them."

"General, we've got an opening," Ziffano said, and he repeated what he had said about the informant. "This isn't the sort of thing we can rush…"

"And can this informant tell us about all these places?" Mali asked; he waved a hand, and the holoprojector changed, showing a map of Milagro's main continent with several regions highlighted. Zemma recognized the locations where AFM had been most active, including suburbs of Tarbunt City.

"We can't know that without more time."

"Republic citizens are dying now." Mali looked at Zemma. "Do you remember what Aldayr said the night you all persuaded me to execute Kysl Ssron?"

Nissi cocked her head and Zemma frowned, but when Mali took his lightsaber off his belt and tapped the hilt indicatively, it came back in a rush. Zemma swallowed. "He said 'No more dead Jedi'."

Mali nodded, returned the weapon to his belt, and said, "No more Sajie Kraycers."

Ziffano drummed the tabletop nervously with his fingers, looking from Mali to Khofin. "I…Prime Minister, are we actually talking about this?"

Meyt warned, "Beethar will eat the party alive in Parliament."

"This isn't about politics," Mali insisted, "it's about people's lives."

"And even if it were about politics," Khofin added, "the economic ramifications of this continued insurgency are political concerns worth considering with the utmost seriousness."

"And speaking of economics and poverty," Mali began, to general surprise, "the more people live on the streets or line up at food distribution points for enough rations to eke out another day, the more desperate souls there are for Jeh-Kro's fanatics to convert."

Ziffano said, "General, those terrorists are small faction. The general public won't be moved to support them."

"Now that your office has tipped them off that Jeh-Kro was behind the firebombings?"

Ziffano swallowed. "The release of that preliminary report was unfortunate and unauthorized, and my people are still looking into it, but nothing in the continuing investigation has undermined it. It may—"

"All that leak did was drive the Pastor's lackeys underground," Mali accused. "They—the Flame of Retribution—won't care; they're the terrorists, they know he was behind it. And maybe the Milagroans with enough food and shelter look a little more fondly on the Jedi; hurray for us.  But the people who have gone from living on the street because the Sith didn't care about them to living on the street because dealing with AFM doesn't leave the Republic any resources to help them?  Sooner or later they're going to lose patience and lash out, and if the Flames are the ones preaching that, they'll fall for it, pious or not.  And every terrorist incident feeds AFM too.  We need to cut the head off this monster while it's still young before it grows up into a world devourer."

Zemma turned to her ministers, but none of them seemed to have moved past being stunned. She looked back at Mali instead.

"I have a duty to Milagro's people," he repeated. "And to my successor—I'm leaving in a few weeks, and I can't leave a catastrophe behind me. I'll do this either way, but I'd rather do it the right way."

She grimaced. "If I take this to Parliament, the debate will go on for days."

"So don't. I'm not asking Parliament, I'm asking you."

Was that nothing more than political cover so he wouldn't complete his transformation in the public eye from heroism to villainy? Or would her compliance be something he and Khofin could take back to other Republic worlds—proof that Milagro wasn't a lost cause? There had been a time when Zemma and Ternis Sepzee, and her soldiers and his, had fought together against the enemy, the offworlders occupying Milagro. Now she was allying herself with the offworlder occupiers, and Ternis Sepzee and his soldiers were the enemy.

But Milagroans needed to eat; they needed jobs, and safety, and some semblance of a future. All of those things were within their grasp, but without the Republic they would turn to smoke that slipped through her fingers. Zemma had taken this post at Mali's pleading, run at his urging, assumed responsibility for all of Milagro to build a better future for her people at his side. She had thrown in her lot with the Republic, and there was no backing out now.

She gestured to the holo, swallowed down the bile rising toward her throat, and forced out the words.

"General Darakhan, as Prime Minister of Milagro, it is with great sorrow that I report Milagro's domestic law enforcement and military are unable to stop the so-called Army of Free Milagro in these districts, or guarantee the safety of Milagroan…of Republic citizens. So, on behalf of my people…"  She closed her eyes. "…do what must be done."