DbD Twenty-Two: Kalee, Part Six (Patreon)

After managing to get around the Huk jamming signals, Ali’ya had no idea if the Mandalorians would accept, or if her message had even arrived intact. But she could not focus on such worries. Not when the injured counted on her. Not when she had already failed so many of them as she recovered from her first attempt at battle-meditation.

Ali’ya split her time between the pilots and air-defense and the hospitals. She grew to know them, from Blackarm Quimu who could hit the engines of a starfighter as it descended from orbit to Warrior Liova who prayed to the gods of the harvest rather than those of war and Medic Imu who made even Baatar Sheelal flinch. The better she knew them the easier it was to connect in battle. Entering their mind, connecting the warriors to her and to one another became like greeting old friends in a tight embrace. She formed Force-bonds with the Tarkhans and Blackarms; the Captains and Sergeants. The bonds may have eventually arisen naturally, but this was war. There was no time for the calm meandering of Force-that-might-be. Ali’ya joined their minds repeatedly, shoving her memories at them and absorbing theirs until they knew each other’s presence like the back of their hands.

The Force bonds made her Battle Meditation much easier. She stopped flailing and started to swim. She used her bonds to tie the Tarkhans and Blackarms to herself, then used their connection to the soldiers under their command. Unifying the city’s air defenses and what remained of their fighter fleet moved from impossible to exhausting, then to something she maintain for hours on end. Ali’ya knew this wasn’t what she was supposed to do. She knew that forcing these bonds was akin to controlling the Force, ordering it and using it to scar and link minds. They were trauma bonds and when they snapped in battle the recoil was immediate and severe. Ali’ya absorbed the pain as best she could. When she could not handle it any longer (as the Huk bombers leveled another hospital, taking out sixteen of her bonded medics) Ali’ya threw her ill feelings–her grief, her anguish, her anger and rage–into the Force and shoved it at the Huk. It was Dark. It was Forbidden. But it kept the Kaleesh alive. It startled the Huk, made them stumble and turned them into easy targets for those of her bonded that still lived. In the month after the Battle of Khedive the Huk launched three major air offensives against the city. While they lacked the landing craft to attempt another takeover they did not lack for fighters or bombers. Using their cruiser for orbital support they launched wave after wave of their starships, each intent on destroying what remained of Kalee’s capital city. The Kaleesh responded brutally, ignoring Ali’ya’s half-hearted protests as they tied Huk prisoners to the roofs of their makeshift hospitals and emergency housing. The Huk pilots did not care. They bombed them anyway.

Ali’ya felt herself dying with the city. They could do nothing to prevent the next attack, only hope that they were able to repel it. Day by day they weakened. Their only solace was that the Huk were losing too, but that was an empty victory when previously untouched continents burned, the limited fighter corps of Khedive unable to prevent the firebombing. Communication lines with the Khagan and the main attack were severed after Huk bombing runs destroyed the com-towers in both locations. Older cables were sabotaged by the remaining Huk garrisons. In retaliation Baatar Qymaen jai Sheelal led a hundred thousand Kaleesh against the closest garrison, some fifteen hundred miles away. Ali’ya did not go, but she heard stories. Stories of Huk captured just so they could be tortured. Stories of the building torn down to its foundation. Of Huk prisoners set ablaze with their stockpiles of arms.

The Force felt darker on Kalee. Or perhaps the Darkness was simply more open. It lay hidden and waiting when they arrived. Now it appeared in force, claiming the souls of grieving parents, siblings, and children. Taking a desire for justice and twisting it into a lust for revenge.

When the Mandalorians came, corvettes and light cruisers launching hundreds, possibly thousands, of starfighters and assault craft, Ali’ya felt like crying in relief. Yet she held strong. Along with Qymaen jai Sheelal she took to the skies herself, locking into her Battle Meditation for what she could only hope was the last time this war. Her mind burned with the justice-vengeance-hate-anguish of the pilots and gunners. Her shields held, as best she could make them. Yet their feelings seeped through. They entered her mind and became her own, and Ali’ya lost herself to the sea of emotions. She cared nothing for the surrender that the Huk tried to display, instead coordinating a second attack on the reactor core. When a small fleet of Huk ships appeared from around Abaji Minor she paid little attention to the sorrow in the Force, save to throw it against the Huk. She drowned them in the facts of what they’d done, distracting them as the Mando’ade and Kaleesh tore through their shields and ships. When the last ship was destroyed and the last Huk life sign in orbit disappeared Ali’ya collapsed, a mannequin with cut strings.

“Is it over?” she asked Qymaen, voice desperate with hope.

“Soon,” Qymaen promised, and Ali’ya broke into tears.

*

They met in what remained of Khedive. The Khagan, his five surviving Khans, and Baatar Sheelal. The heads of Clans Eldar, Kryze, Wren, Gedyc, Awaud, Sharrat, Itera, Ordo, Sornell, and Varad. Jedi Master Sora Bulq and his padawan, Ali’ya.

“We are grateful for your assistance,” the Khagan said in Basic. “We would, however, know the terms that brought you here.”

“You are not aware of them?” Duke Kryze asked, perturbed.

“I was granted license to negotiate terms,” Ali’ya stated plainly, too exhausted for politics. “The communication lines were destroyed before I could pass the details on. Worry not, Khagan, Khans, I have not negotiated anything I am not personally able to pay.”

“Personally?” Countess Itera’s voice was incredulous. “How did an ad get that much money?”

“Does that really–”

“How much money?” Master Bulq cut in, and Ali’ya grimaced.

“The terms we agreed to were simple,” Count Awaud began. “A hundred thousand credits per Mando’ade per year. A quarter-million credits for each warship larger than a light freighter. A million credits per Mando’ade for everyone who arrived swiftly and remained until the war’s end.”

“That would be–”

“If the war ended today,” Count Wren stated plainly. “That would be some fifty-one billion credits.”

“Billion?” Master Bulq asked, not even bothering to hide his surprise. “Padawan, the Order cannot–”

“I am paying them,” Ali’ya repeated. “Not the order.”

You can pay? Master Bulq asked through their bond, staring at her with steely eyes.

I can.

We will be discussing this later, Master Bulq said ominously, before turning back to the group. “If the question of payment is settled, then we shall continue to the next step.”

“We cannot end the war here,” Qymaen said plainly. “We have won a victory thanks to our allies, but they will not be here forever. We must ensure that the Huk lose their ability to threaten us, at least until we can stand on our own.”

“The Khans agree,” Khan Kaloa said.

“As do I.”

“Normally, as Jedi we would not be able to assist in offensive operations,” Master Bulq said. “However, this is a mission to ensure peace in an area outside Republic jurisdiction.”

“Meaning the Senate doesn’t get to limit our actions,” Ali’ya said.

“Precisely.”

“We should wipe them out.” Several heads turned at Qymaen’s ruthless declaration, and few of them were in agreement. “The Huk have show that when given an inch, they take a lightyear. We cannot allow them to threaten us ever again.”

“I agree that they must be weakened,” Khan Orzo said hesitantly. “But to destroy them altogether . . . we must be better than our foes, not worse.”

“I will not assist any actions that lead to genocide,” Master Bulq warned.

“Nor will I,” Ali’ya agreed, flinching slightly at the rage that wafted off of Qymaen. “Though I agree that the Huk must be severely weakened. The main advantage they have militarily is their fleet, something that is now largely destroyed. If we continue the campaign with the purpose of destroying their shipyards and military vehicles, it would take decades for them to rebuild, during which time Kalee could have constructed their own shipyards.”

“We do not know how to build ships,” the Khagan warned. “Not like this.”

“There are experts you can hire,” Ali’ya stated. “I would be willing to finance this as well. I would recommend the Fondor and Sluis Van shipyards. Neither are nearby, but both specialize in higher quality ships rather than mass-production. Perhaps MandalMotors as well, given their similar philosophy?” Ali’ya asked, turning towards the Mandalorians.

“Perhaps,” Duke Ordo hummed.

“Why the preference against mass-production?” on the Khans asked in Kaleesh.

“Mass-production requires more materials,” Ali’ya responded in the same language. “More mining. More pollution. It damages the planet in ways that smaller production does not.”

“This will not harm the planet?” the Khagan asked.

“Not if it is done right,” Ali’ya answered. “In truth, the Mon Cala are perhaps the best to ask when it comes to such things. Fondor has all but destroyed the natural beauty of their world in favor of profits from what I recall. I would still recommend talking with the Sluis Van, however, if only because they are also reptilian and are famous for their focus on quality.”

“Very well,” the Khagan said, returning to Basic. “The proposal sits: destruction of the Huk shipyards and elimination of their fleet. The war will end when those are completed. Is this agreeable to the Khans?”

“Aye,” the five Khans said.