"Keep up, Widget!" Kenza Rowkwani chirped. "Generals get snippy when you keep 'em waiting. Well, maybe not this one, but, y'know…good habits."
W1-J8 rolled along in Kenza's wake, keeping up a consistent enough litany of beeping, boodling complaints that Kenza could slow up when the astromech droid got too far behind—which happened less and less these days, after all the after-market upgrades Kenza had wheedled out of the ship's maintenance crew. She had watched them at it and picked up enough to keep Widget in fighting trim, but she had to outsource the actual work of upgrading—invariably there came a time to "unplug the green wire" or "detach the gold-colored circuit board", and leaving an instruction like that in Kenza's hands was begging for trouble, not to mentioned a pile of scorched gears where an astromech had just been.
The corridors aboard the Coronet's Jewel, like most of the galaxy, arranged themselves for her in shades of gray—enough to give her the fine details of shapes and objects, although reading took a little more effort. Kenza understood what beings meant when they spoke of colors, because she had seen them in others' minds; most of them had shown her willingly, though when she had been a Padawan, trying to wrangle her powers, she had snatched a few thoughts from the unwary who strayed nearby. She knew that 'blue' fit best for the warm, gentle light around her fellow Jedi and her close allies, while 'red' was the closest descriptor of the fiery aura that emanated from Sith, the Dark Vanguard, and other threats. It made her glad the Jedi Guardians had settled on blue as their blade color; it seemed fitting. She wondered if a Miraluka had started the trend.
Some of the Jewel's naval crew had never seen her—or, apparently, any other Miraluka—and they moved well out of her way, staring at her blindfold; she had folded her robe and balanced it on top of Widget's dome, which she thought might account for some of the droid's sulky burbling. Others recognized her, and a few offered greetings.
"Ah, Jedi Rowkwani! Haven't seen you in a while."
Kenza beamed without breaking pace. "I haven't ever seen you!"
"No, we've met, I'm Lieutenant…oh. Oh. Oh, yes…"
Close to the bridge, a Herglic petty officer was chewing out a Rodian, pointing a finger in the smaller being's face. It sounded serious, so Kenza opted not to point out that they were taking up most of the corridor; Mali kept nagging her about the importance of military discipline. Without saying a word, she dropped to a crouch, duck-walked under the Herglic's arm, and popped up to her feet on the other side; by the time they both processed what had happened, Widget had rolled past them too, and Kenza nodded, pleased with her contribution to the system.
"How does the day find you, Jedi Rowkwani?" Captain Londenau asked when she strolled onto the bridge.
"Spiffy! I've done my part to further good order and discipline, Captain," she replied.
The cyborg Human paused for a beat. "I shudder to imagine. General Darakhan's in the war room, if you're looking for him."
"Thanks. C'mon, Widget," she said as the droid rolled onto the bridge at last. "No time to waste."
The droid gave her a surly warble, spun in place, and rolled in pursuit.
Once the Republic Marine guards let her through the door, Kenza led Widget into Mali Darakhan's war room—little more than a holotable dominating the floor space, with a communications console installed in one wall in case Mali felt like issuing orders while staring at his holotable, his favorite pastime of late. She thought he was at it again as she walked up to the table, but then she noticed he had a datapad in his hand.
Haloed in warm, blue light, he glanced up when the door hissed shut. "Kenza. Widget."
"What's up?" Kenza said. Widget beeped.
"What'd you find on Phaeda?"
"A handful of traders and miners, a bunch of dirtbags, and a whole bunch of scared non-Humans."
"No sign of the Dark Vanguard?"
"They weren't there, if that's what you mean, but they're making their presence felt anyway." Kenza crossed her arms. "Same thing Intel's been saying all along—Aresh is pushing Rimward. A lot of Human populations that feel like they've been lost in the shuffle are rallying behind him, and a lot of non-Human populations have nobody to protect them. I met a bunch on Phaeda who're trying to get smuggled to Republic space; they thought they'd have a better chance if they avoided the major hyperlanes, but the smugglers are taking them for every credit they have."
Widget warbled and nudged her hip, and Kenza nodded; she could feel herself getting heated, and she went through a calming exercise in her head. More than once on Phaeda, she'd had to remind herself that fleecing defenseless refugees wasn't actually a lightsaberable offense. Of course, the Jedi Order hadn't issued any rules about mind-tricking smugglers into transporting them for free, but Kenza didn't feel the need to bog Mali down in minutiae.
He didn't reply at first, and Kenza softened her voice as she added, "Nothing about Aldayr, and I did ask a couple people who seemed like they might know."
Mali's sigh went on and on as he leaned against the holotable, but he nodded. "Thanks, Kenza."
She gave him a chin nod. "What're you reading? More good news from the High Council?"
He snorted. "Only in a very roundabout way. Nah, this is from Tirien."
Tirien and Narasi's survival of the bloodbath at Eriadu had been the best news to come to Mali's fleet since Mali himself had returned. Smiling automatically, Kenza asked, "What're they up to?"
"Oh, something brave and stupid…"
Kenza cocked her head. "That doesn't sound like Tirien. That sounds more like you."
Mali gave her a dry look. "You know, one of these days, we're going to have to have that conversation about the military command structure and formal courtesies…"
"That definitely doesn't sound like me…"
Mali laughed—just one short bark of amusement, but it was better than nothing; Mali didn't laugh much these days, and Kenza grinned to encourage it. "So c'mon. What nobly ignorant thing has Narasi dragged Tirien into?"
"Tell you the truth, I'm not sure which one of them did the dragging…"
He said nothing else, and after a few seconds Kenza put her elbows on the edge of the holotable, set her chin in her palms, and smiled sweetly as she stared at him. "Imagine I have eyes, then imagine I'm batting them at you. I'd take my mask off, but I feel like that might hurt more than it helps."
Mali snorted once, but Kenza felt him wavering. "This is serious, Kenza—deadly serious, actually. You can't tell anybody, and I mean anybody—not even the High Council."
Kenza's smile faded as she straightened back up, but after a moment she nodded. "I trust Tirien and Narasi, and I know you do too. All right, I'm on board."
Mali filled her in on the handful of communications he had received from Tirien on Pelagon—distress, complaint, resolve, and at last the beginnings of scheming. When he finished, Kenza took it all in for a minute, then nodded. "Yep, gotta say, that is pretty stupid."
Mali nodded, pacing around his side of the table. "I wish I could go, more than I can tell you. Tirien's my brother, and after everything so many people sacrificed on Milagro—after how much faith those people put in the Republic—the idea of just writing them off as the fortunes of war…"
"You can't go, Mali," she told him; she sensed he needed to hear it rather than say it. "The fleet needs you up here, and Aldayr has to be your first priority. I get that, and Tirien will too."
"Yeah, he has," Mali said, waving his datapad. Sighing, he added, "Before you go there—figuratively or literally—I can't spare you either. We need you here."
Kenza rolled her head, then remembered the latest program she had wrangled and nudged Widget with her foot. The astromech pointed her holoprojector up. Pushing her sight a little harder than usual, Kenza could make out the hologram—a pair of disembodied eyes, projected in midair. They pointed at Mali, rolled, then derezzed.
"…how long did that take you to program?"
"The point is," Kenza pressed on, "you win one duel, and suddenly you're indispensable."
"Yeah, that 'one duel' was with a fallen Jedi who was one of the Order's top duelists in his heyday, not to mention Aresh's apprentice and best field commander. I can't spare you, Kenza; you're like our fleet's Tirien."
Genuinely touched, Kenza gave him a smile. She usually blew past all the compliments and pseudo-mystical predictions about her potential; like Mali and Tirien himself, she had gotten a little sick of hearing it. That sort of farsighted optimism had always been a little too self-congratulatory for her tastes; she had a job to do, so she did it. It was different coming from Mali; not only was he her peer, rather than some Jedi Master far from the field, he was also Tirien's best friend, and he knew—probably better than Kenza herself—everything Tirien was capable of. "That means a lot, Mali."
He nodded once, then waved the datapad. "But what else to do? No other Jedi's going to make a difference—they already have Tirien and Raven Kaivalt, and it sound like some of these Tapani Jedi might be decent too. Besides, other than you and me, who else could we trust with this?"
Kenza might have thought he was deliberately stirring her heart, except she knew Mali wasn't that kind; it was one of the reasons she respected him. And looking past his praise of her, she knew he was right; there were precious few Jedi who would keep a secret from the High Council for Tirien. But she owed it to her friends to help them when she could, so she leaned back on the holotable, puzzling over it while Mali paced and Widget warbled.
"You know…"
Mali paused. "Maybe, but tell me anyway."
"Other Jedi might not make a difference, but that's not the only way we could help."
Mali shook his head. "I couldn't even cobble together enough ships for a diversionary attack, let alone the real thing."
"So don't send a fleet—just send one unit."
She told him her thought, and even before she finished, she could see the idea taking hold. He half-smiled and said, "Sometimes I forget how sneaky you are."
"You know me…" She grinned. "I do well with things unseen."
Mali groaned. "You must be tired after your long flight! Please, don't let me keep you from your bunk even a second longer. Please don't."
Laughing, Kenza spun toward the door. "Give them my best."
"And here I thought you wanted me to give them some of mine."