So Close To Falling
By Kudzu
"We walk in the dark places no others will enter. We stand on the bridge and no one may pass"
Captain Martel, Babylon 5
A long hunt indeed, thought Echuu Shen-Jon as he listened to the banter of the clone troopers standing helmetless around his encampment.
He had tracked Sev'Rance Tann, murderer of his Padawan, Stam Reath, here to Krant at the edge of Bothan Space. His new Padawan, Stam's sister Naat, had been captured by the red-eyed Dark Acolyte. The stage was clearly set for endgame. But whose end? Echuu wondered.
The rage that kept him going was dangerous. Echuu knew that. He brushed the edge of the dark side to fuel his Vaapad fighting style, passed down from his Master, Mace Windu. But the dark side also gave him strength…and Echuu was now sure that without it, he could not have come this far.
It was time to kill Sev'Rance Tann and end this. Only then could he afford to abandon the dark side, and then his fury would be tempered.
Fury. Not many Jedi named their lightsabers. However, Master Windu had a tradition of naming his sabers - one that he had passed down to Echuu and his more recent Padawan, Depa Billaba. Echuu had lost his lightsaber on Aereen, the moon of Krant where his armies had laid waste to the Neimodian entrepreneur Plure Barron's illegal mining operation. Nobody had missed the resources that he had skimmed off the top of Barron's captured stash. His new lightsaber, he had christened Fury. It seemed so very appropriate.
Maybe after he was done here, he could construct a new one and maybe give it a name that the Council wouldn't so much disapprove of.
The leader of the band of Wookiee colonists that Echuu had discovered living on Krant, who had allied themselves with the clone army for the same thing that Echuu wanted - revenge on Sev'Rance Tann - approached him with a groan. Although Echuu couldn't fluently understand Shyriwook, he had taken to using the Force to sift through the Wookiees' thoughts to get a better understanding of what they were saying. It worked quite well, although the Wookiees who had expressed wonder and puzzlement at his apparent understanding of their language had been quite befuddled when he replied that he could not in fact comprehend their Shyriwook much at all.
Salchokk, as the Wookiee leader called himself, apparently wanted to know when the Republic forces were going to be ready to move against Tann's western outpost. "Soon," Echuu promised him. "Very soon."
Salchokk cocked his head and made more animalistic growling noises, which Echuu divined with a brief touch from the Force to be requesting that the Jedi Master have his gunships deployed in front of the assault wave to clear out the Separatists' ground defenses. The Jedi nodded. "I can have that be done."
The Wookiee grunted satisfactorily and lumbered off. Echuu let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding.
"He's stressed," Private CT-45/630 said again, jerking his thumb towards General Shen-Jon.
"And I've told you," Lieutenant CT-71/203 snarled, "whether he is or isn't, he's our General, and it's none of your business."
"I don't mean to undermine his authority, Lieutenant," CT-45/630 replied in a meeker voice. "Or yours, sir."
"Glad to hear it," CT-71/203 retorted.
CT-13/666 wondered again for the umpteenth time whether or not someone might have spiked their clone lieutenant's cloning vat. He was always so ornery.
He risked another glance towards General Shen-Jon. He was sitting alone, as he usually did nowadays, gazing distantly out into the colorful woods of Krant while detachedly chewing on a blackened piece of nausage. It crumbled in his fingertips even as CT-13/666 watched, and yet the Jedi Master didn't even seem to notice until he brought his hand to his lips and found that his food was no longer there.
Shen-Jon whirled around on the rock upon which he was sitting and used his Force to call a new plate of nausage straight out of the hands of some poor clone trooper who was just sitting down to eat after getting his food off the artificial campfire and onto his plate. He began biting into these new nausages with gusto, eyes blazing in a way that didn't feel quite…right.
"I saw that too," CT-53/190 muttered into his ear, startling him slightly.
"Wonder what's up," the clone trooper replied, abandoning his own plate of undercooked breakfast.
"Dunno," CT-53/190 replied. "Probably wouldn't be smart to ask."
CT-13/666 watched as the Jedi General devoured another nausage with primal savagery, looking more like an uncivilized barbarian hunter-gatherer than a sophisticated Jedi Master of the Republic. "No," he finally agreed. "I don't think that it would."
"Hey, you two!" CT-71/203 barked. "Eat now or you'll be starving by the time we march on General Tann's stronghold!"
"Belay that order, Lieutenant," General Shen-Jon snapped from his position on the boulder. "Go ahead and eat at your own pace, troopers. Lieutenant, save the disciplinarian-Sith Lord act for some place where it's actually applicable or you'll find yourself mopping the floors of the Argent rather than leading a company of soldiers. Got that?"
CT-71/203 saluted. "Yes, sir!"
CT-13/666 and CT-53/190 exchanged glances.
"Damn clones," Echuu muttered under his breath. "It's frellin' breakfast, not a battlefield."
He bit into another nausage viciously, still furious about…what, exactly?
Tann.
Of course, that must be it, he decided immediately. She had killed one of his Padawans and had captured the other. Naat was at her mercy, and Echuu was sure that whatever passed for mercy in the mind of Sev'Rance Tann, there wasn't much of it. They had little time.
Echuu gave it ten more minutes, as so not to appear hypocritical about reprimanding that Sith of a lieutenant, before rising to his feet and calling out, using the Force to amplify his voice, "Get your equipment together! I want you all to be ready to march by 0800! Let's move, soldiers!"
"Good," Salchokk rumbled; Echuu jumped. He hadn't heard the big Wookiee coming, or sensed him. Why was that? he asked himself.
Tann.
Oh. Right.
"My warriors will be ready by the time that your 'clone troopers' are, General," Salchokk continued, unsheathing a wicked-looking Wookiee warblade. "They are prepared to fight to the death if need be. We must inflict a great hurt upon the blue woman with the eyes of the Ruurwrokk." This seemed to be the Wookiees' devil figure, this mythological Ruurwrokk the Scarlet-Eyed Destroyer. Salchokk and the others had referred to the character quite frequently in the past several days, almost always in relation to Tann.
"We will kill her," Echuu vowed, both to himself and to the Wookiee leader. "And you will have your colony back."
Salchokk growled an affirmative, then let out a deafening roar; Echuu grimaced and shielded his ears with his hands. Salchokk's exclamation was a call to arms. His entire Wookiee army roared back. Echuu nearly toppled back over his rock.
As he massaged beneath his earlobes gingerly, a thought rose in his head. Now, General Tann, it's on.
Fifty kilometers away, safe in her shielded stronghold, General Sev'Rance Tann heard Echuu Shen-Jon and smiled. Oh yes, she thought, it is most certainly on.
They marched. Clone Commander CC-101 led from the front alongside General Shen-Jon. To the clone army's left side stamped a column of towering Wookiees, somehow even more fearsome and terrifying in their silence than when making their animal-like sounds.
None of this was lost on clone pilot CT-42/190 as he closed shut the LAAT/i gunship's canopy. He was trained specially to be more observant than his fellow clones, and what he was trained in was his duty. Right now, he was ready for takeoff.
"Are we secure?" he radioed to the clones in the back hold. A chorus of affirmatives, all with the same man's voice, was his response.
"Then," he checked his readouts one last time, "we are green and primed to go. Let's move."
The gunship rose up off the floor of the Argent's hangar and flew free through the massive bay doors in the big ship's flank. The world shrunk below CT-42/190 as he took the gunship further up into the atmosphere of the world Krant. He banked his ship ever-so-slightly (it wouldn't be good to have his full load of nine clone troopers go spilling out the side of the gunship while in flight) to get a better view of the ground below. They were passing over the other clones now, accelerating to maximum speed.
"Mark," his co-pilot, CT-65/234 reported over their private comm channel. "One homing spider droid, twelve by chrono and dead ahead."
"Rockets," CT-42/190 replied instantly. "Fire three on my signal." He flew a little bit further, a little bit faster, dipping slightly down to line the spindly-legged droid up in the gunship's sights. The walled Confederacy compound lay just past in the forests beyond. "Go," he said.
The gunship's light rockets fired one, two, three, barreling straight into the unfortunate droid's orb-shaped body at 8,000 kilometers per hour. The droid's "head" exploded, sending its four long legs flying away from it. One hit a tree almost immediately, shearing almost straight through and toppling it -
And then they were over and past, wheeling through the sky over the Separatist base itself. Four Geonosian-built beak-wing starfighters rose into the air towards them, clearly intending upon shooting them down.
"All gunners engage at will," CT-42/190 ordered. "Prioritize immediate threats to us over any ground-to-ground targets."
Then the gunship was alive with green fire and rockets streaking through the air from it. The starboard turret gunner loosed a particularly well-placed laser strike that shredded one of the Geonosian starfighters in a mere second; two of the light rockets struck another, sending it corkscrewing down, down into the ground by way of hitting an unlucky platoon of battle droids. Three more gunships entered the scene and disintegrated the two remaining starfighters almost immediately with volleys from their own extensive weaponry arsenals.
The slaughter continued unabated. The Confederacy forces seemed caught entirely off-guard, almost completely unprepared for the aerial assault. Now LAAT/b gunship bombers were streaking in, pouring payloads of proton bombs all across the walled Separatist base. CT-42/190 allowed himself a feral grin beneath his yellow-marked helmet.
The comm chimed. Just on time, CT-42/190 thought with a smile. He thumbed it on.
"Gunship Lead, this is Commander One-Oh-One," the tinny voice, identical to his own, said. CC-101. "We need you to take out the shield generators reinforcing the gates. The All Terrain Tactical Enforcers are having trouble taking them down, and we lost our last pair of turbolaser artillery platforms to droid bombers on Aereen."
"Copy that, Commander," the clone pilot replied easily. "The shields will be down within this minute cycle."
"Train for triumph, Captain," the commander acknowledged with an old phrase used during the earliest days of their training in Tipoca City. "Field, out."
CT-42/190 switched for the frequency to communicate with all gunship crews in the squadron. "The commander needs the shield generators along those gate walls taken down, boys," he sang out, exuberant now with the heat of battle. He swerved the gunship to avoid a dumb-fire missile from one of the Hailfire droids rolling through the outpost, careful not to drop any troopers out the sides. "Make those top priority. Bombers, target those frellin' Hailfires, because they're bothering me. Gunship Lead out."
"Rockets, Captain?" This was the bored-sounding voice of co-pilot CT-65/234 again.
With a chuckle, CT-42/190 went back to communicate with his crew only. "Rockets at those two little guys backing right out against the gates. Look kind of like support buttresses, but with power coils."
"I see 'em," one of the gunners reported. "Lasers, Captain?"
"No lasers," the pilot decided. "Brighten up those Hailfires' day with them, will you? 65/234, fire six. Three for each, I think."
"On it."
CT-42/190 banked the gunship again, taking it down to below treetop level - about thirty meters, his altitude meter reported. A pair of white trails, then another and another shot from under the gunship's wings, scoring direct hits on the small shield generators. They shattered in tumults of blazing orange-and-white fire and spark showers. All around the vicinity of the gates, other generators were doing likewise as the other gunships dive-bombed them.
The clone pilot made a split-second decision to open a channel to Commander 101 again. "Commander?" he radioed hesitantly. "Permission to drop off my troops inside the base? Shields are down, repeat down."
"Got you loud and clear, Gunship Lead," CC-101 replied. "Permission granted. Keep those heavy vehicles off us as we blast the gates open."
"Will do, sir. Thank you, sir. Gunship Lead, out." CT-42/101 opened a channel to the squad in back. Commanding a gunship squadron was often very difficult work, taxing for handling both communications and the various weaponry and trooper squads. "This is your pilot speaking," he said. "You'll be landing shortly. Be ready to jump out. We all hope that you enjoyed your flight."
"Thank you so much," one of the troopers deadpanned. CT-42/101, laughing softly, set the gunship down on the dirt. The ground troops wasted no time in disgorging from the gunship, and as soon as the turret gunners reported that they were off, the craft was back in the air.
"New orders," CT-42/101 said over the squadron frequency. "Drop off your troops, LAAT/is, and start putting craters in the western walls, LAAT/bs. Lead, out."
Those western walls trembled under the combined fire of ten AT-TE projectile turrets from two kilometers away a split-second after the gunship captain switched back to crew frequency. A large crack appeared in one of the wall sections. The white-armored clone troopers and their Wookiee allies surged forward as that wall section crumpled under the weight of two proton bombs from LAAT/b gunships making a fly-by overhead.
The comm chimed again and crackled to life. "Commander One-Oh-One here. Good work, gunships. All ground forces, move in and engage at will. All units are free to engage. Do not hesitate, show no mercy."
"Train for triumph!" CT-42/190 roared along with the rest; the audio on the comlink spiked with the ferocity of the sound of sixteen thousand clone troopers shouting all in unison. The roars of the charging Wookiees were, miraculously, still audible over that racket and even through the reinforced canopy of the gunship fifty meters in the air and half a kilometer away.
Half an hour later, it was all over.
"General!" called Neimodian Corporal Rhums Feldh. "We've just lost contact with the western base!"
Sev'Rance Tann, General of the Separatist Droid Army, regarded him coolly with glowing red eyes. "Not unexpected," she said, "but pathetic that you continue to fail in planning properly, Corporal Feldh. Have you ever studied the technical specifications of an Acclamator-class Assault Ship, Corporal?"
"Yes, ma'am," the Neimodian said, throat bobbing nervously beneath his slimy gray-green skin.
"Then, Corporal," she continued, "you should well know that they are usually loaded with around sixteen thousand clone troopers and accompanying support equipment. You do know that, don't you?"
"I'm afraid it…might have slipped my mind, General," Corporal Feldh said, looking terrified.
Sev'Rance ignited her yellow lightsaber and swung it in a high arc that sent Corporal Rhums Feldh's head flying onto a nearby desk, where it bounced with a grotesque squelching noise and rolled off onto the tiled floor. All eyes in the room were now on her.
"Khondee Liesariys," she said, pointing to a female Neimodian who was doing her best to not quiver and cower in fear like the others were so shamelessly doing, "you're promoted to Corporal. Try not to be as useless as this idiotic slimebag." She thrust nimbly with her lightsaber, charring the late Corporal Feldh's carved nameplate into carbon, before deactivating it and gesturing for Corporal Liesariys to occupy Feldh's old chair, crumpled body still lying next to it.
"Oh, and could somebody clean this up?" she called as she exited the room.
Echuu surveyed the smoking ruins of the Separatist outpost in the woods with an appraising eye. Nothing had been left intact, least of all Tann's Decimator facility. A colossal and devastating tank design originally created by the Republic on Eredenn, Sev'Rance Tann had attacked the research facility, stolen the plans, and ran with them. The result? Her Separatist forces were now actively producing the tanks to add them to her arsenal. The primary Decimator construction factories were located here, on temperate Krant. Technically speaking, their destruction was Echuu's primary objective. Emotionally speaking, it was far from.
"If we take the east base, General," CC-101, the field commander, was saying, "then we cut off any reinforcements that Tann could call in from there. That will make mounting our final assault that much easier."
"Tann's stronghold is staffed with probably at least two hundred thousand battle droids," Echuu said. "Our reconnaissance from orbit reported heavy defenses. It won't be easy no matter what way we do it." But we will do it, he added silently. He would storm that fortress alone with his bare hands if he had to, but he would kill Sev'Rance Tann.
"Then, General," the clone commander hesitated. "Perhaps it might be prudent to return to the Argent and pound it from orb -"
Echuu whirled on him. "No," he snarled. "Naat's still in there, and I'm not going to throw her life away that easily."
"Is she still alive?" Commander 101 countered. Echuu noticed that he pointedly left off the General.
"Yes," the Jedi snapped. "No more talk of orbital bombardments. We will march on the eastern base and draw Tann's forces out. Then I will personally lead a gunship strike and insertion team into the stronghold to kill Tann and rescue my Padawan."
The clone commander straightened and saluted, his discomfiture with the situation displayed just seconds ago vanished without a trace. "As you wish, General."
"Salchokk!" Echuu shouted as CC-101 retreated to marshal the clone troopers. The Wookiee caught sight of the Jedi Master and ran towards him. As he approached, Echuu could still see the mad light of berserker frenzy burning in his eyes. "Salchokk, we're attacking the eastern base. It's a feint to draw out Tann's armies so that I can lead a team of gunships in to take out Tann and the Decimators and rescue my Padawan, Naat Reath. You got it?"
Salchokk snarled fiercely in a bloodthirsty affirmative. Echuu could tell that he would like nothing better than to tear Sev'Rance Tann limb from limb. So would I, Salchokk, he thought savagely, seizing his things. So would I.
"Your Master seethes and rages," Sev'Rance Tann informed her prisoner as she paced back and forth in front of the chained woman. "He goes to his ruin; if not physically, than emotionally and mentally." She turned to look straight into Naat Reath's eyes. The Jedi Padawan was glaring daggers at her, and if looks could kill she was sure that the murder visible in Naat Reath's dark eyes would have separated her head from her body as cleanly as when she decapitated Rhums Feldh in the command room. Good…good…
"And, of course -" she smiled "- so do you, my young friend. All you need to do is harness that rage and embrace that hatred, and you will have the power to break free…to kill me…perhaps to overthrow Count Dooku himself, and to unite the Republic and the Confederacy together in one grand and glorious New Order." This here was just playing to Naat's desire to be in power again, overbalancing it to compensate for her chronic thirst for it now that she was in chains and subject to Sev'Rance's whims.
Naat's expression flickered to one of thoughtfulness, then calm, but rage still simmered in her eyes. Suppressed, if just for now.
Everything was proceeding as Sev'Rance Tann had foreseen it.
They charged, a mass of white and intermingled tan, brown, black, and grey as the clones and Wookiees stampeded together towards the Separatist base. The tactical carefulness that had surgically dismantled the western base, leaving it wide open for total conquest had been abandoned here. This was just a diversion to draw Tann's droid armies away. Echuu just hoped that it would be enough to outsmart the cunning alien woman.
"Our reconnaissance starfighters in low orbit report that droids are pouring out of Tann's stronghold, sir," CC-101 informed him. Excellent. So Tann took the bait.
"Very good, Commander," Echuu said, imagining Sev'Rance Tann sprawled before him on the ground begging for mercy at the end of his lightsaber blade. "We'll give it a few more minutes, then."
The wild attack continued. Echuu realized that perhaps he was sacrificing clones and Wookiees for his own selfish -
No, he commanded himself. That's not the way to think. Tann must be stopped at all costs.
Then the waves of droid reinforcements started to arrive. Massive tank droids, tall homing spider droids, hoop-wheeled Hailfire droids, whirring droid bikers. They came, crashing through the forests with wild abandon, aiming and firing at whatever was in range. An All Terrain Light Enforcer clone walker went up in flames as two laser bolts caught it a direct hit.
"Time to go," Echuu said aloud. He waved to signal his landed squad of gunships, then leapt aboard the lead one. They rose into the air, all in perfect unison, and took off.
The wind whipped at Echuu's Jedi robes as he focused his anger and his hate, knowing that soon it would all be over and the object of his obsession would be dead. It makes you stronger, he told himself.
He remembered Master Windu's lessons on Vaapad. Form Seven brushes the dark side, Padawan, he had said so many years ago. It taps into aggression and channels your emotions in the heat of battle to strengthen you, allowing you to execute moves in close combat that would ordinarily be quite literally physiologically impossible.
For a Jedi, he had said sternly, nothing is impossible.
He would rescue Naat. He would give the Wookiees their colony back. He would stop the Decimator production.
And he would kill Sev'Rance Tann.
They were flying through enemy fire now. Bolts of red energy sizzled through the air, and the gunships answered with short volleys of green and deadly green laser beams. They dove beneath a high archway and into the middle of the stronghold itself.
Then a clear, cold voice drilled through his brain like a hydro-jackhammer, causing him to wince in pain from the mental force of it. Come into the plaza, Echuu Shen-Jon, it said. Come alone. Come, and we will duel. If you win, you have your Padawan, unharmed. Lose, and both of you will die and the Confederacy will hold this world.
If you come with anyone else, or if you refuse this offer, I will kill the girl. I bluff not, Echuu Shen-Jon. I allowed your forces to divert my stronghold's defenses. I would expect some gratitude. Come, and come alone.
"Wait!" Echuu shouted desperately as the clone troopers ran through enemy fire towards the walled pathway into the plaza. "Stop! Get into the air, quickly! Don't go near that plaza!"
"Yes, General," the clone captain said. "May I inquire as to why?"
"Because," Echuu's throat bobbed and hatred crackled deep in him, "I must face her, alone."
"Very good, General," the captain replied. "We will prep for takeoff."
"May the Force be with you, Captain," Echuu said, biting back a sudden urge to fly into a berserker rage and begin killing everything in sight.
"And with you, General." The clone hopped into the gunship and the flotilla lifted off into the air.
Echuu turned into the wind to face the long pathway down to his final confrontation with Sev'Rance Tann. One of them would live, and one of them would die.
He wasn't going to be the one who died.
He ignited his lightsaber, Fury, and deflected a few blaster bolts back into the droids who were now firing at him. Then he ran, the Force augmenting his speed, and he was halfway down the path before he could hardly blink. He slowed to a jog, and when he entered the plaza he was not even sweating.
Icy, bitter hatred filled him at the sight of Sev'Rance Tann, standing alone in the middle of the plaza. Behind her, Echuu's Padawan Naat Reath struggled with her electrified bonds, her connection to the Force apparently disrupted by them.
Tann's thumb twitched and her sun-bright yellow lightsaber flickered to life, extending to its full meter-long length.
"I've been looking forward to this, Master Echuu," she said quietly, pacing; he matched her stride, keeping an equal distance between them as they revolved around the plaza in a circle, never breaking eye contact.
"As have I," Echuu bit out, his anger growing. He wanted Tann dead, he wanted to get this over with, he wanted Naat to be freed…
"Patience, Master Echuu," Tann said, expression flickering to one of amusement, then blank once more. "Haste is…of the dark side, is it not?"
Echuu snarled wordlessly, glaring at her as if the force of his stare alone might kill her.
"I take it you know the rules of this engagement," she went on, ignoring this. "If I win, she dies. If you win, she is yours. I have my code of honor, Master," she added, evidently in response to the sneer that Echuu could feel crossing his face.
"It's a duel to the death, of course," she said, still matching pace with him. "Anything goes. Oh, and Master?" She smiled coolly across it him; the sight made him want to tear her into a thousand pieces and…
"Try not to give too much into the dark side," she said sweetly. "That's far too…what is it…dangerous for a Jedi to be using, isn't it?"
With a cry, Echuu leapt towards her, lightsaber swinging towards her head. She parried easily, sweeping downwards and across, trying to cut him off at the knees. He flipped up and over her blade and settled into Vaapad, feeling its calming battle rage flooding through his veins. He swung hard straight into her blade, and she nearly dropped her lightsaber from the shock. Again he flipped up, but this time over her head, slashing down as he did. The force of the strike sent her staggering, trying hard to keep her balance.
Again their blades clashed, and behind her Echuu could see the fire and sparks from their crossed sabers reflected in Naat's dark eyes. His rage increased, and the power of the dark side was rushing towards him, suddenly at his fingertips…
No, he told himself. Not this way…
But it was so very tempting, especially as Tann redoubled her assault, slashing high and parrying low, then shoving out her blue-skinned hand to deliver a telekinetic shove that sent Echuu staggering backwards. The Jedi Master stabbed out, but Tann spun around it, slashing downwards as if chopping a block of wood.
Echuu felt Vaapad take over, and the chop was countered and then suddenly their blades were crossed with his at her throat. He pushed her back off-balance with the Force and she went down, then flipped up - he had lost the advantage!
The duel continued unabated, both combatants struggling fiercely to contest one another, but Echuu was slowly wearing her down with the sheer power of his strokes. Then Tann's blade flashed high and she kicked out, catching him in the knees as he lunged forward. Calling upon the Force and with Vaapad in control, he did a sort of aerial somersault and swung as soon as he rolled to a kneel and leapt up to a standing position. Tann blocked - barely - and loosed another flurry of attacks, which Echuu blocked easily before throwing out his hand to send it flying backwards.
She lay sprawled out before him, his blade at her throat, just as in his vision. But her blade was still lit, and with a cry she struck out. Echuu countered and her lightsaber flew out of her hand…
Straight into her midsection. Smoke seeped up from the deep, deep slash in her belly, and there could be no question that the wound was fatal. Echuu again held Fury aimed at her throat.
"I win," he said coldly. He wanted nothing more than to end her, to make her death irreversible. He stretched out his hand towards Naat and focused hard, undoing the bindings one at a time. His Padawan struggled free.
She limped down towards him into the plaza, and for a moment it was just Echuu and her reunited there as Master and Padawan, but a hacking cough brought the Jedi Master's attention back to his defeated archenemy.
"The Jedi," she rasped, "are doomed. The Sith…will win this war…Echuu Shen-Jon. I am…but an acolyte…they are…the dominators. Soon, Echuu Shen-Jon…you shall know fear…" Her life force faded, and her breathing became shallow, and then stopped altogether. The light faded from her glowing red eyes, and General Sev'Rance Tann was gone.
Echuu Shen-Jon raised his weapon, Fury, to deal her another blow even now with her eyes dimmed in death, but Naat grabbed his arm. "No, Master," she said hoarsely, her voice one of being without speech for some time now.
"She killed your brother, Naat," said Echuu, his eyes still fixed on Tann's body. "She would have killed you."
"But she is gone now," Naat pleaded. "Don't give in to the dark side, Master. You'll be no better than she was then."
Echuu looked at his Padawan for one long moment. His thumb moved just ever-so-slightly and his blue saber blade retracted into nothingness. "You must go back to the battle in my place, Padawan," he said, his heart melting. What was I thinking? he wondered. He went on, deciding his new and different destiny even as he spoke: "You will tell the clone troopers that I succumbed to my injuries shortly after defeating General Tann, and that is also the report that you will give to the Council."
"No," Naat whispered, her eyes wide with fear.
"Yes," Echuu said firmly. "I came too close today, Padawan. The dark side will forever haunt me, and I am no longer worthy of my rank."
"Others have brushed the dark side, Master, look at Master Vos -"
"Padawan." Echuu's voice was firm. Naat gazed back at him. "My place is here. I will help the Wookiees to rebuild, and then I will live out the rest of my days on this world."
"But Master -" She stopped abruptly, seeing the look on his face. Then she nodded, slowly and painfully. "I will do as you ask of me."
"And what you will tell them is true, from a certain point of view." Echuu managed a smile.
"Yes," Naat agreed, nodding slowly. "I suppose that it is."
"Padawan, the clones would sooner defer to one of my ranking than one of yours," Echuu told her softly. She doesn't need to go through another change of Masters again, he decided. "Naat Reath, I hereby declare you -" he ignited his lightsaber again, now a nameless item of ceremony, and held it over first one shoulder, then the other as his Padawan dropped to a humble kneeling position "- Jedi Knight of the Republic. Go now, General Reath." His voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes filled with tears. "May the Force be with you," he managed, his throat suddenly dry as the Geonosian wasteland. "Now, and always."
"And also with you, Master Echuu," Naat said, eyes also brimming with moisture. She turned, and walked away, down the long path, never looking back. He watched her until she was gone, off into the chaos of battle.
He expelled a long and heavy sigh as he turned to find a place to conceal himself from the clones when they came into the plaza. After all, he told himself, it would be quite unbecoming if they knew that he had come so close to falling.