Dogma's Loyalty
Dogma had never really been the same after the Umbaran invasion. The event had made a severe mark on the young trooper's ideals: loyalty, honor, and discipline which were ingrained in the minds of soldiers. When General Pong Krell betrayed the Republic, Dogma felt the full force of the blow. It was degrading and humiliating to find himself, of all his brethren, the butt of Krell's cruel jokes. He was the fool, the biggest fool, that folded in Krell's hands; pulling the trigger when Krell pulled the strings.
The Private was now apart from the rest of the troopers. Sitting between crates of supplies in a utility closet, he ran through the order again and again in his head. Sometimes he spoke aloud.
To Dogma, Order 66 was sweet vengeance to slack his thirst. Twice he had been locked away. Once, for trying to defend the venerated Jedi, all to his shame. The second time, for killing the first of the traitorous cult. At first, he saw his incarcerations as a deserved punishment. But quickly he began to wonder the justice of it all. Hadn't his brothers been traitors first by going against their General without proof? Was Krell not an enemy? Did he not betray the Republic? His men? His own precious Jedi Order?
Dogma's anger grew with the tide of the war. Eventually, he forgave his brothers, those that were closest to him during that harrowing time. He began to see them as tools, tools bent just like he was. And certainly, that was not their fault. But the Jedi. For the Jedi, he relived Krell's execution until he yearned to experience it again. He dreamed of the desolation of the thousands, all to repay his wrongful punishment.
When the time came, the order that changed the galaxy came through the wire, and Dogma was released. He was handed a rifle and marched into the halls of the Jedi Order.
His bloodlust was paramount to his performance in the battle. Every Jedi and youngling he put between his crosshairs perished. In the end, standing atop the smoking ruin, he had his revenge.
And yet, the command structure largely remained the same. Dogma was credited as a hero in the Battle of the Jedi Temple. Yet those same people who locked him up were the ones bestowing that honor. A hollow honor though, as they seemed to stare straight through, congratulating him in the way a mechanic appreciates a good machine. All these people, the same ones who had betrayed him.
They had betrayed him before. Shunned him and laughed at his gullible nature. What had he really done? What vengeance had he gained?
Dogma was burdened as a hero to the New Empire, shown the traitors and told to quell them. But the task was too daunting. To his commanders, the traitors were clear. Dogma, however, felt the eyes of the betrayers watching him, waiting for him to turn his back. Who could he trust? Who would not squander his perfect loyalty?
The Umbaran forces kept coming. Dogma kept seeing them over and over, dressed in Republic armor, his own blaster bolts cutting through their bodies. He saw the bodies fall, the faces inevitably his own, and he screamed silently at the sight.
When he was found, he was already cold.