In a ship orbiting high above Malachor V

As Bao-Dur walked through the bridge, he gazed upon his general, and once again wondered how she came to be there.

Many times had he repeated himself that Jedi became Generals in times of war; many times he told himself that the woman whom he was looking at had proven herself repeatedly to the military genius who led the opposition against the Mandalorians - Revan himself. Many times had he said that she was a Jedi, that she'd been trained from childhood and had a connection to a mysterious Force that granted her preternatural abilities. Yet in his mind, there was always one idea: she was basically a girl.

Yes, his superior as she might be, she was not - could not be above eighteen years old. How could someone be forced to lead so many at such an early age? How come someone could even think about making her lead such a crucial war effort? Malachor V was heralded to bethe turning point of the conflict against the Mandalorians, thanks to the Mass Shadow Generator he himself had devised and helped to create, and she was there to oversee its use, to see precisely when they had to use it. Her shouldering this responsibility was nothing short of madness, and yet there she stood, silently, her eyes closed, facing the distant planet and the warring ships above it. Completely ignorant of his arrival, or so he thought.

-You have come, Bao-Dur.

-Yes, General. - He was mildly surprised, but this was not out of a Jedi's capabilities.

With a sigh, she turned and faced him, her eyes looking at his for a second before diverting back to the ship's window.

-The battle is going as predicted. Soon it'll be time to activate the weapon. - Her voice seemed to hide a feeling of uncertainty, despite her reassuring words. Was she reassuring him... or reassuring herself? - Is everything ready?

-Of course. The weapon is ready to be fired at a moment's notice.

The plan was tricky. Revan had masterminded it himself - they would gather any forces they had would use them to bait the Mandalorians to where they could be destroyed in one fell swoop. The death of every single person there was assured. Every Jedi, every soldier, every ship, all lost to the weapon he had created. A sacrifice for the greater good, to stop the butchery that the Mandalorians brought about, Bao-Dur had told himself. Repeatedly. None of those men and women knew what they were getting into. They thought it was just another battle, that Malachor V was a strategic location that had to be taken. Bao-Dur smiled sadly at the irony, for the planet was indeed a strategic location, one that they would use to defeat the Mandalorians once and for all - but for all the wrong reasons.

-Good. Their ships are closing in to the planet. It won't be long before the time comes.

With a wordless agreement, both the Zabrak and the Jedi turned to watch the space battle. Silence followed. Bao-Dur was watching when he noticed that she'd turned to face him. He returned the gesture, and after what felt like forever she simply nodded. He understood the signal, and fired the weapon. Quickly, he turned around to see if it worked.

It worked perfectly.

In a moment's notice, both fleets were sucked in by a gravity vortex that made the planet below completely impossible to see from their perspective. Every ship was being drawn towards a singular point in spaced, where he knew they would be crushed and destroyed completely. Anyone who was close, Mandalorian or not, was doomed to that cruel fate. The planet was once again visible after a few seconds, fractured to its very core, victim to the Mass Shadow Generator of his creation.

The General's perspective

Death. Death death death death death death death death.

Death was anywhere and everywhere. She could feel thousands of lives crushed and extinguished in but a moment. Continuously. There was nothing to drown that insufferable feeling. It was death all around her, everywhere, for what seemed like an eternity. It did not stop, it did not relent, the feeling of death and anguish and pain and horror and betrayal of the soldiers of the Republic who'd realized that they were utterly lost, that there was no chance of fleeing. There was no fleeing the sense of despair of the Mandalorians as they realized they'd been tricked and would die an honorless death, crushed alongside those who'd been their enemies.

She did not know how she still stood, how she still existed. It felt as though each and every dead pulled at her, tried to destroy her, blamed her and her alone for their fate. She felt the lost tug at her very being, and the pain was all too real.

She felt each and every death as if it was her own. She felt herself die a thousand times, and a thousand times after that, and a thousand times then. It would not stop, that feeling of the void of death encrouching her, devouring her and spitting her out to repeat the process once. And again. And again. And a million times afterwards.

It was the pain of a planet's death, all upon her shoulders. The feeling of countless lives, snuffed out. All together. She had never seriously thought about the magnitude of what she'd cause, the magnitude of the indiscriminate slaughter brought about by her command. The blood of each life lost was on her hands, in her mind. It was everywhere.

Bao-Dur's perspective

Victory had been achieved. The Mandalorians had been finally brought low at a terrible price, but the end was over at long last.

Yet at what cost? Every living thing and every ship in their fleet completely and utterly lost, irreparably sacrificed. A planet torn apart by his very own hand, thousands of lives lost alongside it.

He turned to look at her again. She looked at him as though she was looking at something very distant, her eyes void of any appearance of life. She nodded once again and left the room, leaving him alone.

There were no words for what either of them were going through.