Author's Note: This was originally an answer to a request in Trillian's forum, but it kind of took on a mind of its own. Anyhow, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own none of it. Don't sue, you'll only win a pair of boots.
She strode purposefully amongst the rank and file of battered Republic soldiers, her hand firmly grasping the hilt of her saber as she traversed through the dust and jagged rock. Her robes, singed by errant blaster fire and tattered by the raging winds of the planet, identified her amongst the throng of combat suits and Republic armor.
She was a Jedi. Had been a Jedi. Until she had heeded to a plea for help. Heeded to the call of the Republic to halt the advancing Mandalorian menace. Heeded to the call of war.
She had been a Jedi Padawan once, steeped in the teachings of the Jedi Code and well on her way to Knighthood. Her ability to wield a lightsaber had been unmatched at the Academy on Dantooine. She was one of few Jedi to master the skill of the double-blade; its mere presence in her hand conveyed a sense of fear in both friend and foe alike. But she had left her teachings behind. She had left to follow Revan and Malak and perhaps a hundred more like-minded Jedi to stop the Mandalorians. She had left to save the Republic. But years of constant battle, bloodshed, and loss had long since extinguished the fire that battle had once stirred inside her. There was no glory left to be found in the waging of war, only a weary resignation to see the job through... without losing anymore than she already had.
Nearing her destination, she stopped briefly to take in the sight which awaited her. She was on the front lines of another battle on another planet, and had yet another chance to finally end this war. The battlefield itself was a particularly grisly scene. Hundreds of crumpled bodies, all bearing Republic insignia lay scattered before her. The once rocky gray terrain that covered this planet had been stained with the blood of her troops. She could see thousands of small glints dotting the battlefield amongst fallen soldiers, as the waning sun shimmered off of the metallic body armor of felled Mandalorians. Her troops had given as much as they had taken. And now, perhaps the tide would finally be turned.
"Lieutenant! Status report," she called roughly.A young man, barely into his mid-twenties, turned to her and began to read the datapad he held.
"General, we have taken heavy losses. Estimates range almost 1,700 troops. Almost a third of the army. Many were killed by our own grenadiers," the man replied, his voice mixed with both sadness and disgust.
General Reyns eyed the man for a moment, sensing the disdain the man held for her tactics radiating from his voice. She turned her gaze back toward the battlefield, silently cursing the way battles had been won in the past few months. "Victory at all costs," Revan had demanded. But, unlike her commander, she knew all too well the costs. This was her brigade, and she was not inclined to sacrifice her soldiers for the sake of superior numbers. But orders were orders, and the chain of command was not to be broken.
"Lieutenant, what of the Mandalorians?"
"Estimates are still forthcoming, General. We're expecting more than1,400 enemy dead, sir. But recon reports that they still possess a fairly large detachment of stealth warriors, and may be gearing up for a counterattack within the day."
"Very well, Lieutenant. Detach a squadron to retrieve our fallen soldiers. They deserve to be honored. Not strewn about on the ground of this Outer Rim wasteland."
The lieutenant eyed her with a look she could not place. Was he shocked or appalled? It did not matter. She was not the heartless monster that many of her subordinates viewed her as. Far from it, in fact.
"And lieutenant, have a demolitions team accompany the detachment. For every dead soldier we recover, I want a mine placed in their remembrance. Then we're going to fall back to the Malachor Ridge. I want snipers at four points along the peaks. Grenadiers in position on above the infantry. If the Mandalorians want to mount a counter-offensive with a stealth force, then will make them pay for it."
"Aye, sir," the lieutenant barked and drew himself up for salute.
General Reyns simply nodded, turned and began her trek along the lines, reaching out with the Force to try and gauge the morale of her ranks. They were downtrodden and tired, but their hatred of the Mandalorians was enough to bind them together and keep the fire of battle within their bellies stoked.
They deserve better than this, she thought to herself. They are soldiers of the Republic, soldiers with homeworlds and planets that they are dying to protect. Not cannon fodder or expendable assets...
Her thoughts were cut short as she sensed someone nearing her. Turning, she was face to face with a winded ensign.
"Si... sir," the ensign sputtered, trying in vain to catch his breath. "I ha... have a communication from Commander Revan."
The young man handed her a datapad.
What in the Force is this about, she wondered as she carefully scrolled through the text.
"Have you gone mad Ensign!" she barked as she finished reading.
"No sir! Commander Revan has requested you be given immediate escort back to your flagship. A shuttle awaits you at Home Base."
"That is unacceptable Ensign! We have just now begun to retrieve our dead and wounded. And my recon units tell me that a Mandalorian counter-attackwill arrive today!"
"I'm sorry, sir. But Commander Revan is adamant. There is a rumor that he has slew Mandalore the Ultimate! The war may finally be over! He wishes to speak to you about this turn of events at once."
Slew Mandalore? Could this bloody affair finally be coming to an end? But... no, I will not leave these men behind. Their sacrifice is to be remembered.
"Very well, Ensign. But I will be returning to Home Base as soon as this conference is complete. I want a shuttle prepped and ready to go. Are we clear, Ensign?"
"Crystal, sir."
Tucking the datapad into the folds of her robe, she turned informed her second in command that the field was his until her return.
"And if the Mandalorians should attack before my return, Captain, alert me at once," she barked and then began to make her trek to the awaiting shuttle.
The shuttle trip itself was made in silence. The idea that the war was coming to a close elated her. The Republic would finally find itself at peace and hopefully begin the road to recovery.A road that had been long overdue. But a feeling of dread carefully tugged at the back of her mind. There was something the Force wanted to reveal to her, but it was just agonizingly out of her reach. She brushed the thought aside as the shuttle docked with her flagship, the Risen Star, and she exited.
The ship itself was abuzz with life. Tacticians carefully analyzed battle plans while technicians scurried about to and fro repairing or upgrading systems of all sorts aboard the ship. It had been almost a week since she had last stepped foot on this ship, and today, the mood of her subordinates seemed to be particularly upbeat.
No doubt the rumors of Mandalore's death, she thought.
She made her way into her quarters and approached the holo-viewer. The distinct silhouette of Revan, clad in his infamous black robe, cape, and mask, awaited her.
"Hello, Jul," came the eerie mechanical voice from behind the mask.
"Commander," Jul Reyns responded with a nod. "Rumors run rampant that you have slew Mandalore the Ultimate. Congratulations. Perhaps this war is finally at its end?"
"Yes, I have felled Mandalore. But there remains one final attack before we can draw this war to its end."
"Another attack, Commander? I would have assumed the Mandalorian clans to be in disarray after learning that their leader has been bested."
"A reasonable assumption Jul, though it is unfounded. With Mandalore the Ultimate usurped, another like-minded tyrant will simply claim the title of Mandalore and the fighting shall be renewed. That is why we must strike now, while the Mandalorians battle amongst themselves for leadership."
"Commander, my forces have taken heavy losses. We have only within the past hour begun to retrieve soldiers. A final assault may decimate the remnants of my armies," Jul replied, as her previously discarded feeling of dread began to creep closer to the front of her mind.
"I was not referring to a ground assault, Jul. Even with a complete victory over the Mandalorians at Malachor V, remnants of their race remain stationed elsewhere. No, we need a victory that will crush the Mandalorian morale throughout the galaxy. One that will strike fear into the hearts of the bravest Mandalorian soldier when he hears the name of Revan."
"You mean the name of the Republic, sir."
"One in the same, Jul."
"What do you propose," the General asked uneasily.
"I believe it is time that we triggered the device,"was the reply.
"The device, Commander?"
"Yes Jul, the device that you informed me of a few weeks ago when we first laid siege to Malachor. The device you're Iridonian tech has since finished constructing."
"The Mass Shadow Generator? I did not know that you were aware of its completion, Commander..."
A dark laugh emanated from the bluish-black silhouette.
"You did not inform me of its completion that much is true. But I long ago implemented measures to keep me fully abreast of activity among all my officers."
"You have resorted to spying on me then, Revan?" Jul replied, pouring her indignation into the name.
"Such harsh words, General. But you may call it what you like. I have since had the weapon delivered to Malachor's surface. It is activated, and should be engaged immediately."
An overwhelming sense of shock and rage roared with Jul's very soul.
"Immediately! Revan, we still have troops on the surface! My troops. Not to mention the number of capital ships which are still in close orbit of Malachor. We don't know how devastating this weapon is... it could wipe out the entire fleet!"
"I've taken the liberty in performing my own calculations, General. Our losses will be minimal. The major components of the fleet are safely out of range."
"And what of my troops? It will take days to evacuate them from the surface, and the Mandalorians will no doubt come to their own conclusions about a hasty retreat when the war is so close to being over!"
"This is war, General! Sacrifices are to be made! And they are not your troops. They are mine. And if I deem the sacrifice to be sufficient, then it is. My orders stand, General. Engage the mass shadow generator, immediately."
"Revan... what you ask is... is... murder!"
"No Jul, I do not ask anything. I'm the Commander of the Republic fleet. I order you to engage the weapon or be stripped of your standing and thrown into prison."
General Jul Reyns stood as if her feet were imbedded in permacrete. She could not move, she could not think, she could not breathe. She had been pushed, in the past, to accept Revan's tactics for warfare. Tactics which became more and more violent and unforgiving as the months had passed. But this was by far the most heartless order she had ever been given. It was no longer war. It was murder.
But she knew she had little choice.Even if she were to relent,she would be cast down and imprisoned, and another would be given the task. Knowing his desire to impress Revan, the task would be sure to fall to Malak. No, she would follow orders, and hope that her shoulders were broad enough to bear to the weight such an act would bring. After this final act, perhaps the war would finally come to an end.
"You are my Commander, and I am your General. I will do you as you order Revan," came a hoarse reply.
"Very good, Jul. I have also arranged transport for you to my flagship at 1100 hours tomorrow. There are certain matters we need to discuss in private."
"Yes, sir," she responded with a bow. When she looked up, the holo-viewer was blank.
Stepping away from the device, she fought the overwhelming nausea that ripped through her body. Slightly shaking she pulled her communicator to her now stammering lips.
"B...Bao-Dur... report to the Bridge..."