While the turbolift ride to the council chamber had always seemed excessively long, today it seemed to stretch on forever. As the chute climbed higher and higher above the megalopolis of Coruscant, Colm Derlis, Jedi apprentice and general screwup, examined his reflection in the glass of the turbolift door. Growing up, he had never been considered attractive and this had held true as he had become a man. His nose was hooked and slightly crooked. His hair shorn short in the traditional style of the apprentice was always messy, and its black sheen made it look as if it were coated in grease, a feature which carried over into his scraggly facial hair. Colm was tall and lanky, but had a near constant slouch that made for a pathetic figure.
The lift began to slow its ascent, preparing to stop at the top of the spire, and Colm straightened his back in response. He had been called before the council and he had a sinking feeling that he knew what this was about. Colm had never been a good Jedi, even before had been chosen by his master, Faada, a strict Ithorian with a grating voice and an arsenal of criticisms. His lightsaber techniques were sloppy, his force powers aggressive and unfocused, and he had never been one for meditation. He had never been sure why the Ithorian, who was one of the Order's better healers, had chosen him as his apprentice. Perhaps Faada had been bored and had seen the young human as a challenge, or maybe Colm's behavior had annoyed him and he wanted to change it. Whatever the reason had been, his master had apparently given up on him. Recently, Colm had been subjected to the trials that would allow him to pass from apprenticeship into knighthood and every time he had failed. Now, Colm figured, the Order had had finally given up on him. There could be no other reason that the council would call him before them.
To be honest, it wasn't a terrible fate. The beliefs of the Jedi were far too strict for Colm, who had grown up an orphan in the canals of Naboo. Plus, he held no real loyalties in the temple. He despised his master and many of the other teachers he had worked with, and his only real friend was a fellow apprentice named Kilki. She was an attractive Zabrak of around the same age as Colm who had been the finest duelist in their youngling clan. The two had been close when they were initiates; but ever since they had been chosen by their masters, they had slowly lost touch. If he was to be exiled today, he wasn't even sure he'd get a chance to say goodbye to her. Kilki and her master had been among a number of Jedi chosen for a strike team. Their mission had something to with with some sort of crisis on an outer rim world called Geonosis. Of course, neither Colm nor Faada had been chosen and neither were surprised. Faada was no warrior and the Order made no secret of the disdain it held for Colm. He often heard it whispered that he was the worst Jedi to ever be chosen by a master.
The turbolift at last came to a halt and the doors flew open with little ceremony. In the small outer chamber that served as a waiting room stood his master, doing his best to twist his alien face into what Colm assumed was a scowl.
"You're late," Faada intoned, sounding more disinterested than disappointed.
"Sorry, Master. Overslept," Colm replied weakly, not in the mood to argue. His master made the Ithorian equivalent of a grunt and motioned for him to follow. Colm complied and and the pair entered the council chambers. To his surprise, the room was surprisingly bare, its ring of chairs empty but for one, where a Gran council member sat. In front of him stood Cin Drallig, the battlemaster of the Jedi Order.
"The Council couldn't be bothered to be present to exile me, eh?" Colm asked with a bitter chuckle.
"Still your tongue," Faada cut in harshly, "You're not being exiled. Not today, at least. And if you paid any attention at all you would know why. The Galactic Republic is now at war."
"War? But… how could that be? The Republic hasn't been at war in years. We don't even have an army! I mean, I know the Separatist Crisis was getting out of hand, but war?"
"With the balance of the Republic at risk the Chancellor was granted emergency powers and he officially created the Grand Army of the Republic, utilizing the army of clones recently discovered by Master Kenobi. Of course, even with this new army, the crisis on Geonosis escalated into a full-on battle. The battle was fierce and the lives of many Jedi were lost. With our numbers thinned so greatly, the Order has seen fit to waive the Trials for a number of Jedi, including you. You are to be knighted, given rank in the army of the Republic, and in a matter of days, you will be assigned to a unit of Clone Troopers."
As Faada's speech concluded, a disquieting silence fell over the room. Frankly, Colm was shocked. He had come before the council expecting to exiled and yet here he was, about to be knighted and sent off to war. "I… I don't know what to say," Colm stammered.
"Then don't say anything at all," Faada cut back coldly, "Just kneel and try not to squirm. I'm sure you don't want me to cut off more than just your padawan braid." Colm opened his mouth to respond, closed it when he couldn't think of response, opened it again for a sarcastic quip, then decided against it entirely, and took a knee. He bowed his head, causing his padawan braid to dangle from the side of his head. His master stepped in front of him and was joined on either side by Cin Drallig and the Gran council member. They each ignited their lightsabers, Faada's silver blade flanked by green and yellow. "In sight of the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and this esteemed member of the Jedi Council," Faada began, "And by the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic." With a smooth guided movement, the Ithorian Jedi brought his lightsaber past Colm's ear and clipped the base of his braid, severing it. It dropped unceremoniously to the ground and the masters in front of him deactivated their lightsabers.
"That's it then?" Colm asked, breaking the silence. Faada nodded tiredly as the other Jedi began to make their exits from the room.
"You are now a full Jedi, Colm, and soon you will be an officer in the army of the Republic. Now go. I'm sure you need to prepare for what is to come and, at long last, you are no longer my problem." With that, his former master nodded in farewell and followed the other masters.
The week that followed passed about as quickly as a Hutt in a foot race, and with about as much excitement. Waiting was tough for Colm. He had never really picked up any particular hobbies and now that he was a Jedi Knight, he no longer needed to attend any of his master's boring training sessions. Still, he had to fill that time with something. Colm spent most of it brushing up on his lightsaber techniques. He was being sent off to war, after all, and it would do him good to be ready with his weapon as to not get himself killed. One day early into the week, he had made an attempt at meditating, but his thoughts were far too scattered and chaotic for him to find any peace. Mostly, he spent his time wandering the halls of the Temple. For the first few days after his knighting the halls were mostly empty, but as the week carried on, they began to regain some of their populace, if not any of their liveliness. Many of the Jedi he encountered seemed to be walking as if half-awake. Colm quickly learned that these were the survivors of what was now being called the Battle of Geonosis, the first battle of this conflict they were now embroiled in called the Clone War. Of course, he was not acquainted with any of the Jedi he passed, but on his final day in the temple, he encountered a survivor he did know.
He had just finished another round lightsaber training and had begun his usual rounds around the temple's sprawling halls when he had spotted a familiar figure shuffling his way. She had her hood pulled over her head and most of her face was obscured, but the lightsaber on her belt gave her away. After all, Colm could have recognized the bronzed hilt anywhere. "Kilki!" he shouted down the hall, moving quickly towards his friend. Her head jolted up in recognition of his voice, throwing off the hood as she did. Her amber colored eyes were distant and lacked their usual warmth and even her rich brown skin seemed pale. However, as she caught sight of her fellow Jedi, a small smile lit up her face, if only for a moment. Colm closed the distance between them and as he approached her, he noticed that, like himself, her padawan braid was gone.
"Colm," she replied, "It's good to see you."
"They knighted you too, eh? I guess your master finally realized you were ready. Long overdue, if you ask me."
"You didn't hear, did you?" Kilki said as the smile faded from her face, "My master is dead. He was killed during the Battle of Geonosis. One of those new battle droids shot a rocket at him. It… it hit him in the back, but… the rocket didn't kill him. He… he was burned pretty bad, and he wasn't… all in one piece. I watched him die, Colm," she trailed off, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, "I watched a lot of good Jedi die and now they're making us into generals and sending us off to war. Why is this happening, Colm? What's going on?"
Colm didn't have an answer for. He had never understood how to comfort people, especially not those deep in grief. All he could do was put a hand on her shoulder and hope that it would be enough. She looked up, eyes welling with tears and noticed that he too was missing his braid. "That's why they knighted you isn't it? They needed soldiers and they figured they'd free Faada of his obligations and ship you off to the frontlines." Kilki turned her gaze to the ground and grew quiet. The two stood that way for several tense moments before she spoke up again. "When are you being deployed?"
"By the end of the day," he replied flatly.
"Where are they sending you?"
"Kamino. They told me my company of clones isn't quite ready for deployment yet, but it'd help me integrate if I was there for some of their training. Then it's off to wherever the Republic wants us. And what about you?"
"I don't know. They've decided not to deploy me immediately. Give me time to… you know, grieve, I guess. If I had it my way, I'd be staying here permanently, but the Order seems to regard me as one of it's better swordsman and they're dead set on deploying me eventually," Kiliki explained with a sigh. "I'll have to lead clones eventually. I knew things in the Republic were getting pretty bad, but I don't think any of us saw this coming."
Colm echoed her sigh. "Things seem pretty glum, I'll give you that. But I'm sure this war can't take more than a few months. You'll see. We're gonna hit those Seps hard and before you know it they'll be crumbling under the pressure." He squeezed his friend's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, though even he wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying.
"Colm," came a voice at his shoulder, pulling him out his moment with Kilki. The young Jedi turned to face the source of the voice and found himself facing an aging Weequay. He recognized her as Jedi Master Kossex, one of the older members of the order and a master who had considered him for apprenticeship briefly. "Our shuttle will be boarding soon," she explained as the two met eye contact, "You should say your goodbyes now. We don't want to be late."
Colm nodded and turned back to Kilki. "Well, I guess this is me, then. It was good to see you, Kilki. I didn't think I would get the chance before I was shipped out." She didn't meet his gaze, but did give a slight nod as she turned away and began to head back the way she came. Though she would never have had admitted it, Colm had caught the tears that had been forming as she left. "Good-bye, Kilki," he said to no one in particular. He watched his friend go, until she rounded a corner and was out of sight. He let out another sigh, and joined Master Kossex as the two made their way to the hangar.
Much like the week that had preceded it, the shuttle flight to Kamino was long and uneventful. Being that it was in a backwoods neck of the galaxy, they were constantly dropping in and out of hyperspace to avoid the myriads of hazards along the way. For the duration of the trip, Colm mainly kept to himself. The passengers were few and almost all of them were Jedi, who gave him a wide berth. Not that he minded. He spent most of his time in his room, staring out the window at the stars passing by and imagining the battles that awaited him. Despite his fantasizing, he had no idea what awaited him. He and his master hadn't been sent on too many missions and the ones that they had gone on were mostly to see that some negotiation or another when smoothly. They had rarely seen combat.
When they had finally dropped out of hyperspace over the rainy world of Kamino, Colm couldn't help but think that it looked incredibly gloomy from space, with its wide swaths of clouds and muted blue ocean. It was no surprise that once they were within the planet's atmosphere, it was even gloomier, the constant rain and cloud cover making everything appear a dull shade of gray. Once they dropped below the clouds, it only took a few minutes before they were landing on one of the floating cities that the native Kaminoans called home. They disembarked in an orderly fashion and passed from the rainy platform into the sterile white halls in quick fashion, where the group was met by a number of Kaminoans. One in particular singled Colm out from the crowd and motioned for him to follow.
"You are Colm Derlis, yes?" the Kaminoan asked as he approached. He gave a quick nod in response. "Good. You have been assigned to B Company. I assume you have been briefed on the special nature of your clones?" When Colm only gave a confused look as an answer, his guide shrugged. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out when you meet them. Follow me." Without another word, the Kaminoan led him away from the others and further into the facility. They walked for several minutes in silence, Colm not sure what to say and his guide apparently uninterested in conversation, before they finally reached an unmarked door, virtually indistinguishable from the others they had passed. "These barracks will house the members of B Company as we establish it. For now, its only member, aside from you, is Sergeant CT-4192, though he's taken to calling himself Sergeant Bek. The clones seem to be taking on some strange personality traits, but I'm sure any disciplined commander could sort that out. Come," he said, passing into the barracks.
The room they entered was the standard military affair, with bunks lining one wall and equipment lockers opposite it. As his guide had said, its only occupant was a lone clone rooting through one of the lockers. He turned to face them as the pair entered the room, and it was only the that Colm realized the clone was missing an arm. "CT-4192," the Kaminoan said, bringing the clone to attention, "This is Jedi Knight, Colm Derlis. He has been assigned to B Company and will be Jedi General in charge. You will take you orders in the field directly from him. Understood?"
"Understood," the clone replied, saluting with his one arm.
"Right. I will take my leave of you then. Master Derlis, these barracks will also serve as your quarters. I'm afraid we Kaminoans do not often receive guests and, as such, have few places to house them. You will have to sleep with your troops. Anyways, if you are needed, someone will be sent to find you. Good day, Master Derlis."
"Oh, I'm not a-," Colm tried to interject, but when he turned to face his guide, he found that he was already gone, leaving him with Sergeant Bek. "So, Bek, is it?" he started, turning to face the clone. "What, ah… happened to your arm?"
He couldn't tell whether he had offended him or not, but the clone took a moment to respond. "Never had it to begin with," he finally stated, "And the flesh there is too weak and necrotic to support a replacement. Weren't you briefed on this?"
"Not really, no," Colm replied, uneasily. "They kinda just told me where I was headed and shipped me off."
Bek snorted derisively. "Well this is certainly gonna be a shocker for you. You're heading up B Company, the one and only unit for defective clones fit to serve in the field. You see, the Republic needs men for its suicide missions and who better than the clones that nobody will miss. The clones that were never going to reach their full potential anyways."
"That…" Colm started, beginning to piece together his situation, "That actually makes a bit of sense. Er, not the part about you not reaching your potential," he stammered quickly, realizing that he might have offended the sergeant. "I mean, the part about people nobody will miss. It figures that I'd get assigned to a company like this. That way the order can make it seem like they're giving me an important position and get rid of me at the same time. I should have guessed," he added, trailing off into a grumble.
"No use complaining about it," Bek shot back with a scowl. "You're a soldier now. You get your lot and you deal with it. When command tells you you to tackle a gundark and bring back its ears, you say 'Yes sir!' and do it with a smile. Otherwise, you're gonna be in for one rude awakening, Jedi."
Colm thought for a moment about giving a sarcastic response or putting the clone in his place, but he was particularly tired from the trip and he had a sinking feeling that the soldier wouldn't stand for Colm talking down to him. Instead, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm gonna hit the hay. Long trip and whatnot. Wake me if anything explodes or the Seps show up." Turning his back on the clone, he picked a bunk at random and flopped down on top of it. Within moments, he was drifting off to sleep.