Even in the midst of celebrations not seen since the death of Exar Kun, Coruscant is a bleak place, cold and grey. The Republic's Navy space dock is not a cheerful place to be, either, filled as it is with the burnt-out husks of the few Republic warships remaining after the end.

…remaining after Malachor V… Bao-Dur thinks quietly.

The entire crew of his ship is gathering here, ready to be discharged. Some of them, he knows, will stay, but most, like him, will take their final paycheck, turn in their government issue, and go home. There are so few of them, though. Half the bridge crew is dead, he knows, and all but one of the fighter-pilots, and a third of the techs, and-

"Sir? Lieutenant?" It's one of the younger crewmembers, a girl named…Kedma. Yes, that was it, Alexis Kedma from the sensor crew.

"Yeah, Kedma?"

"You staying in or getting out, sir?"

Bao-Dur looks at the girl sidelong, and says, "Getting out. You?"

Kedma smiles wryly. "Same here. Republic's got no need for a sensor specialist with no legs."

Bao-Dur winces slightly at her blunt statement, and his eyes involuntarily flick down to the repulsor chair and the sad, ragged stumps strapped into it. "Don't be an idiot, Kedma," he snaps out of habit. "If you re-up, you get put on the priority list for prosthetics."

Kedma rolls her eyes. "If that's the case, why aren't you staying on, sir? Gotta be hard to get a job as a tech when you've only got one arm…"

Bao-Dur smiles bitterly. "Perhaps, crewman, I am tired of war and bloodshed?"

Kedma shrugs. "If you say so, Lieutenant. You always seemed the blood and vinegar type to me, but…"

"…but Malachor V changed us all. I know," he finishes quietly. The ship's executive officer whistles sharply for their attention, and the crewmen turn to face him. The XO is a soft-spoken man called Col. Pearn, and he'd managed to survive three years of front-line duty by being the best damn shot in the quadrant. He was a good guy who'd done his best by them, but-

"Where's the General?" Kedma asked.

"I'm sure some of you are asking why I'm up here instead of the General, but the truth is, I don't know. I've heard that all the Jedi who fought in the war have been summoned by the Jedi Council, and we all know what that means."

There was angry muttering through out the crowd, quick gestures and sharp nods. They did know, quite well, in fact. Any Jedi who had helped fight against the Mandalorians had been going against the Jedi Council's directives. No one here had any love for the sanctimonious idiots living far from the war. Bao-Dur only hoped the General would be all right.

"I know that many of you are not going to re-enlist, are probably going to go home and rebuild. Others will stay in and try to bring back some law and order into the galaxy. Still fewer of you, I suspect, are joining Revan and Malak on their expedition into the Unknown Regions."

Around Bao-Dur, soldiers shift on their feet. He already knows what they will choose to do. That master sergeant over there believes in taking the fight to the enemy, and that engineer needs to go back home and see if the farm (if the family) survived, and that one was…

Bao-Dur reached up and held onto the stump of his left arm hard with his right hand. It was comforting, feeling the dull throb of the pain.

"Whatever you choose for your next life, know only that if you succeed there as well as you did under my command, you will be successful men and women indeed."

Bao-Dur convulsively clutched his left arm harder as Kedma shifted in her chair uncomfortably. A lieutenant ahead of them touched the metal plate around her new eye gingerly.

Relax. You won, remember?

"You have honored the Republic with your service, and it shall not be forgotten. Good luck, all of you," and here the XO hesitates, "and I hope to never see you again."

Afterward, as the others disperse, Bao-Dur turns to Kedma and says, "So, where are you going, Kedma?"

"Back home," she says nonchalantly. "That's only about a hundred kilometers away, by public transport."

He shrugs. "In that case, do you require an escort home?"

The girl eyes what's left of his left arm, then nods her head. "Sure, that would be great, sir."

He walks next to her, and nobody stares at the one-armed man guiding the girl with no legs through the crowd. Such sights are common now. Soon, the man and girl blend into the stream of ex-soldiers steadily flooding in Coruscant.

None of them are cheering.