Legend of the Harp
Episode III: The Crucible
Chapter 14: We Walked In The Sun
*** Jedi Knight Jors Zaemon, above Baetar Prime ***
We had the proper documents. Assurances had been given in both directions prior to our departure from Dandoran. However, it was taking a long time to get landing clearance.
I looked at the young Lieutenant in command and told him, "Just keep working on it."
It was frustrating, but it made sense. Baetar needed to take every possible precaution. In Baetar's living memory, ships like ours had arrived and been allowed to land, then defying all diplomatic norms, all of the Galactic Conventions and all of basic decency, disgorged groups of terrorist commandos and detonated themselves. Specifically targeting civilians, which was another violation of the Galactic Conventions. One such incident had been aimed at a large elementary school.
So, we went through the signs and counter signs. Eventually, we also accepted the scan crew and local pilot. Once the scan crew gave their okay, we were finally allowed to land.
I had expected to land someplace dark and grim. The dossier had informed me the main spaceport of Baetar was located on a coastal plain near their largest city and economic capital, Watchtower of Spring. Still, as we landed, I was surprised to find myself approaching a beautiful, tropical coastal port that would give Elysia a run for her money.
I came down the lift alone to be greeted by a woman wearing a very high-ranking uniform. I noted the uniform, simple and practical, was more like what most militaries would issue for office work, not a dress uniform. I made note that her uniform included a long skirt. Behind her were two troopers who looked well equipped, very capable and well-armed.
"Welcome to Baetar Master Dodger." She greeted me with a smile, then continued, "I am Chief of Staff Mal Basyah."
"Very nice to meet you." I replied.
I had worn non-descript clothing that was supposed to make me look like a modestly prosperous galactic business man.
"I have a speeder car prepared, we can repair somewhere and have our discussion." She continued.
"Seems like a good idea." I replied.
We got into a nice car which whisked us off the tarmac to a cosmopolitan looking expressway that ran along the beach. I noticed there was a car before us and one behind. It wouldn't surprise me to find out there were fighters discreetly in the air above.
We parked at a spot along the beach with a long wooden boardwalk. She led us out along the boardwalk. I was surprised to see people out and about enjoying themselves. They were mostly human, but of every size, shape and color I had ever heard of humans being. I also noticed the heavy gravity, it was literally a drag, but I was fit so I could stand it.
Considering all the security, I had been expecting to be taken to some deep armorcrete bunker. Instead we came to an open café deck overlooking the beach and the cerulean ocean beyond. Chief of Staff, a rank I knew meant she was the highest-ranking officer in the Baetar military, Basyah ordered from an actual human waiter and they brought us bread that was thin and crispy, a bowl of olive oil and a bottle of wine. The waiter opened the bottle and poured into the provided glasses.
Chief of Staff Basyah lifted a glass and I reciprocated, then we toasted, "To a good conclusion to our talks."
We clinked glasses and I replied, "Agreed."
We sipped the wine. I'm not a wine expert, but it seemed like the sort that would go for several hundred Credit's a bottle in the galactic marketplace.
I looked around and began to say, "I'm surprised…"
Only to be interrupted, "…that we're not meeting in some sort of bunker?"
"Yes."
"We know the identities of all enemy agents on planet. We let it slip that there would be a test firing for a new fighter engine today. The test firing will happen at a base in the far frozen north. The base's amenities are very pleasant. Unfortunately, the only nearby amenities for civilians are very expensive and unpleasant. It may take days before the much-delayed firing occurs. It may not happen at all. At which point transportation from that site may be delayed by weather. Several people who stay at those difficult accommodations may come home with very painful and unpleasant digestive ailments.
"We will have to adjourn eventually, but I haven't had lunch, and this seemed like a nice way to start."
Impressed I replied, "I'm grateful you took the time."
Apparently, one ate the delicious bread after dipping it in the amazing oil. With the wine, it was a very pleasant meal.
We then repaired to an office building, not a bunker, and began our discussions.
After some talk, some of which was attended remotely by Prime Minister Baru Zak, I got down to brass tacks, "In further consideration of the many things we provide for you, we want expanded delivery of torpedo warheads. We're ready to invest to help you expand production and what should be good paying jobs. We also want 24 of your best pilots, among them Gi Ora, to come join our fight. They would provide training, but also be called on to fight when necessary. It goes without saying that they would still be furthering your interests."
"You ask quite a steep price." Prime Minister Baru Zak replied.
"As you know, their presence in the Harp Fleet would be very much to your advantage. It would give you the opportunity to address long term strategic concerns in a far more direct way than you currently have. Even if it did not, we have provided and will continue to provide aid that has great strategic value." I responded, restating a position I had already made several times.
"Yes, but it would also weaken our immediate strategic readiness. We would be far weaker if we suffered a direct attack. I defer to you, Chief of Staff Basyah, is there anything we could receive that would balance this immediate loss?"
That was new.
Chief of Staff Basyah replied, "It has come to our attention that the Harp Fleet is producing their own capital ships. In particular, one class of ship you refer to as the 'Lola Sayu' class. In fact, we believe you have one under construction right now. If we could acquire that ship, it would improve our strategic posture in many ways. This could balance the loss of pilots."
So, there it was. I had to reply.
"That ship is quite a high price. Further, we have plans and missions already scheduled for that ship. Perhaps we could discuss further fuel deliveries?" I tried.
Chief of Staff Basyah replied once again, "While additional fuel supplies would always be useful, to balance the loss of a squadron of pilots we would need the ship."
We discussed it back and forth several more times, but that was their story and they were sticking to it.
"I think we should adjourn for the evening. Perhaps some new insight will be available tomorrow." I suggested.
They agreed. I was taken back to Bearer. I tried to contact Furry and Fio but got nowhere. I didn't want to give up the ship. Furry had felt it was acceptable, but it would be my troops who lost critical support by her absence.
The next day, Chief of Staff Basyah took me by speeder to the planetary capital, "Gift of Peace."
"I will leave you in capable hands." She had said as she left me to go into the Defense Ministry Headquarters. I had sympathy for her. The Harp had substantial forces under arms at this point. Probably more than 90% of Republic member governments. However, one area where we were relatively weak was size of ground forces. We had three battalions under arms. A government might have tens of thousands of troops. There were governments that had millions of troops under arms.
The exact size of Baetar's ground forces was a closely guarded secret, but they likely had somewhere around 100,000 troops. One reason Baetar's ground forces were difficult to estimate was because they had a relatively small core of professional troops, but a well-developed system of reserves. Nearly every citizen was conscripted into military service for three years when they reached the age of their majority. After the three years, the veterans remained available as reserves. In a matter of hours, the reserves could be mustered for service, multiplying the size of Baetar's available forces several times.
That meant Chief of Staff Basyah had a huge job managing this massive organization. She had already given me a remarkable amount of her time. Managing The Harp's tiny army was several full-time jobs. I could only imagine the mountains of work that had accumulated for Basyah as she played hooky with me.
So that left the question of into whose capable hands I would be left?
I didn't have to wonder long. Prime Minister Bar Zak got into the speeder from the other side.
"While we both consider our positions in the current discussion, I thought it might be pleasant and useful to give you a tour of our eternal capital city."
I couldn't ask for a better guide. In the days before the Clone Wars, a Jedi was always considered an important dignitary. It would not be uncommon for a Jedi on a mission to meet with the leaders of member governments, be squired about, to be treated as a VIP.
Still, this was new for me. I had been a Temple Guard. My duties had not included being squired about as a VIP. Then, my time as a military leader involved mostly eating cold rations from a can with a knife, not hobnobbing about with the leaders of societies. My tuition in the classics and the manners that had been beaten into me as a Padawan once again paid dividends.
The tour was amazing. Gift of Peace was an ancient city, built from quarried rock. Clearly it had been updated and living conditions were completely modern, but the mixture of ancient and modern was surprisingly appealing.
During the tour, I noticed a very mixed looking crowd of humans, which was an unusual sight in the galaxy. Most human societies stayed within distinct ranges of color, size and shape. My briefing documents had indicated that Baetar was the same, but clearly, she wasn't.
The Prime Minister must have noticed my look because he asked, "Why do you look so puzzled?"
"I didn't expect the people here to be so, so multi chromatic?" I admitted.
"Ah, that is a common misconception. The Baetari people were driven from this planet by our neighbors approximately a thousand years ago. All the Baetari who couldn't flee were murdered. Three hundred and sixty years ago, a movement arose among the exiled Baetari, who had generally suffered great discrimination wherever they were tolerated, to return to our homeworld and take it back.
"Against all odds, we succeeded. Baetari came from every corner of the galaxy to return home. When we returned, we found many Baetari had acquired the colors of their exile. Still, all are welcome.
"Most of our neighbor's claims to the planet and system are based on this period of occupation. By their belief system, the method of acquisition does not diminish their claims, though they will not honor our claims made on the same basis. Further, they are unable to accept that having held the system, they must now relinquish it, though they expect we will.
"Unfortunately, this means we must be vigilant. Based on our neighbor's past actions and current rhetoric, we would have to assume they would again massacre every man, woman and child should they ever reconquer us. The defense of this world is a sacred trust."
I had seen my share of massacres during the Clone Wars. I don't know how many times we would be hearing the darling of the galactic media, Count Dooku, spout off some sort of ever so idealistic prose over the Holonews, while we would be watching his troops clearly sent out with orders to massacre another group of helpless civilians. Knowing what had happened at the Temple. How every Jedi, even children, even non-Jedi support, had been savagely cut down, made the story of Baetar even more difficult to ignore.
The Prime Minister had been leading me on foot. Most of the ancient center of Gift of Peace had been destroyed during the occupation. Since liberation, the historic central city had been rebuilt with the greatest effort to respect the ancient structures and holy shrines, while making sure they had included modern amenities. They had even used the same gold sandstone.
The Prime Minister, after spending a few hours pointing out various notable sights, took me to an attractive central plaza. There were all the things one would expect. Old people sat around gardens and discussed what old people do. Mothers moved prams with infants while small children ran about playing, their shrieks of laughter echoing on the stone walls from time to time. He led me to a stand that had the very pleasant smell of roasting meat.
"This is a local delicacy and I thought you might be getting hungry."
The shop owner quickly provided us each with a sandwich comprised of a round piece of flatbread rolled up having been filled with roasted meat, vegetables, fried potatoes and a variety of sauces. It was delicious. PM Zak and I took our sandwiches to a small nearby table, protected from the fierce sun by a pleasant tree. We sat there eating our sandwiches, accompanied by small, ice cold bottles of some very pleasant small ale, while we both enjoyed the pageant of life, happily lived, playing out before us.
I realized that this was another bond between us. The Prime Minister and I both spent our lives trying to create this scene against relentless opposition. Relentless opposition that, as it turned out, could only wait till we consumed most, but not all our sandwiches.
A klaxon went off and the people responded in a quick, but orderly manner, to evacuate the plaza.
PM Zak jumped up, "That's an air raid siren. I have to get to my office. I'll have you taken back to your ship."
With that, PM Zak was up and away, and his speeder whisked me back to Bearer, still waiting for me at the Watchtower of Spring's spaceport.
When I boarded, the Lieutenant welcomed me with a brief salute.
"What's the situation?" I asked brusquely.
"Enemy fleets have emerged from hyperspace into the system. The Baetari forces are deploying to meet them. They are hopelessly outnumbered."
"Imperial forces?"
"No, Baetar's traditional enemies, but in numbers never before seen."
"Get this ship off the ground." I ordered.
As Bearer lifted off the ground, I tried to comm back to Furin, there was no reply. We were being jammed. I comm'ed down to Chief of Staff Mal Basyah.
She answered more quickly than I expected.
"We're a bit busy right now you know."
"Yes, I wanted you to pass something onto your troops, if they see my ship or any other Harp ships, don't to shoot us down. We'll do what we can."
"Oh," clearly she had not been expecting my offer, "we appreciate the help. We can definitely use it."
"What's going on? Why is this enemy force so much worse?" I asked.
"Historically, they have never come in these numbers. Worse, they have always come in capital ships without snub fighter support. It was our pilots against their cruisers. This time, they have massive fighter screens as well. It's not yet clear if we will be able to stop them."
"I see. Let us know what we can do to help."
As I said that, I was also watching screens showing the tactical situation. I was aware a large force of Baetari fighters were already moving out toward a group of invading vessels.
Why had I made the snap decision to help them? They were a key Harp ally, yes, but we had let others like Emberlene burn. I would be taking risks and committing our resources without any discussion. People would die.
I could make a solid argument for the tactical and strategic value of action right now, but that really wasn't why I was doing what I was doing. Part of being a Jedi is knowing the difference between right and wrong, having a moral and ethical center. I didn't do what I did, Jedi were not supposed to do what we did, because we flipped a coin and picked a side. Our choices were supposed to reflect time honored moral and ethical values.
The Baetari were just trying to live their lives on their own planet. Their enemies sought to do things which were a relentless series of abominations. There was a right and wrong here. I would commit to it.
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