Nathaniel opened the tough packaging around his rations, it was typical Republic army food, about as delectable as a Hutt's spit. But he decided that he couldn't complain, he was alive after all and it wasn't like the jungles of Dxun are the safest places in the galaxy. But Nathanial was only a private, as was the dozen other troops eating around him, their company was leaving for an assault on a Mandalorian base the next morning and everyone was on edge. The plan was to distract the Mandalorians while a stealth and explosive squad slip in and destroy the base. The explosives squad wasn't with them; they had taken a different route through the jungle to slip in from another direction.
Their only order was to survive long enough to blow up the base, essentially… they were expendable.
Everyone knew there would be a lot less of them by tomorrow's dinner as there is now, a dozen Privates against a base of Mandalorians; couldn't get much grimmer than that. It was only thanks to the General that some of them hadn't abandoned their camp… well, the General and the millions of vicious carnivores in every direction.
Nathaniel was cynical about most things in his life, so he expected any leader of theirs to be a useless, secluded coward that would send them off to get killed with no trace of sympathy. He was surprised when not only did this turn out to be completely wrong, but they'd be under the command of a Jedi as well. Whatever they were doing, it must be important.
As Nathanial was thinking about their Jedi General, almost on cue the General walked out of his tent and looked around the camp. His lieutenant, an elderly woman with decades of experience, went up and started talking to the General. While their eating area was too far away to hear what they were saying over the sounds of the jungle, Nathanial could still see the Lieutenants looks of concern. Bad news.
Eventually, the General dismissed the Lieutenant, but Nathaniel could tell that it pained the General to do so. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Nathanial saw the General give a heavy sigh, and then walked towards them. This was something that impressed Nathanial the most, not only did the General talk to them all like people, he even sat and ate with them, almost like they were old friends. He even requested they not refer to him as General but by his name. A strange man to be sure.
As Doran sat down amongst his troops, they greeted him with the typical hellos, many fighting old habits of calling him General.
"Good evening Gener…. Doran," one of the younger troops said.
Doran gave him a simple nod of recognition. It didn't feel right to reply in any other way. The troops continued to eat their rations in silence. He could feel their concern and anxiety even without the Force. He had to decide if he would try and alleviate their worries and potentially distract them for tomorrow's mission, or let it remain and maybe keep them focused. The choice was made for him.
"Excuse me, Doran," said Nathanial, one of the more serious troops under his command, "There's something I'd like to ask if you'll allow it."
"Speak freely, Nathanial."
"You've been a Jedi all your life right?" This was not the first time a troop had asked him about his Jedi past. It was only natural they would be curious, after all it's thanks to Revan and the other Jedi that the Republic is pushing the Mandalorians back.
"That's right, I grew up at one of the Jedi academies," Doran responded plainly.
Nathanial nodded, "What exactly do they teach you there?"
The rest of the camp was paying close attention now, what the Jedi learnt was a mystery to all of them. None of knew what it was like or even what it took to become a student, except that you needed to be sensitive to the Force, whatever that meant. A laugh echoed from one of the tents and everyone turned to see the Iridonian step out. He had been signed on to their squad as weapons maintenance but he kept to himself so much that Doran had trouble remembering his name.
"I don't think the General would be allowed to spread Jedi teachings to those not able to understand, am I right, General?"
"I'm afraid he's right, Nathanial. It'd be fruitless, and even potentially dangerous to tell you Jedi secrets."
Nathanial half-expected this, the Jedi were always so secretive. But as far as Nathanial knew, he wouldn't be here by tomorrow night; he had to learn something about this Force.
'I understand General, and I apologize. I'm just curious about this Force I'm always hearing about. I have no idea what it is." A number of the other troops nodded in agreement, even the Iridonian came and sat down amongst the troops to hear what the General might say.
Doran was silent for a moment. How do you describe the Force to someone who hasn't felt it? It would be like describing colour to a man without eyes. But in his time alone, Doran often thought about the closest possible comparison he could give to the Force. Perhaps it would suffice…
"Have you ever been to one of the orchestras on Coruscant?" He asked, surprising everyone.
"Not personally sir, but I have heard recordings."
"And you know what makes up an orchestra, yes?"
"Yes sir. Dozens, sometimes hundreds of musicians all playing in unison." Nathanial wasn't quite sure where the General was going with this.
"Do you ever focus on any particular instrument or sound when you listen to the music?"
Nathanial thought back to the last time he heard the recording. "Sometimes sir, but I try to listen to the music as a whole."
"It's beautiful isn't it? Every player has a purpose, every note and sound leading into another, leaving with it a lasting trace of beauty and virtue so pure and clear you can close your eyes and be lost in the realm of sound it has transported you to."
The troops were taken aback by this description. Many of them found the music to be quite boring, yet the way the General described it… the music sounded almost magical.
"This is the closest comparison I can think of for you. The Force is the energy of all life, but it feels like more than that. Every individual life is short, fleeting, and in the grand scheme seems almost pointless; much like every singular note in a symphony. But when you step back, when you see all life everywhere and see it play out, echoing into each other… it is beautiful."
The General was almost whispering now, every trooper was leaning in close to him, spellbound by his words.
"All of you here are notes, isolated you are small but you have a purpose in the grand symphony of the Force. You will make your noise, it will seem small and insufficient but you played a purpose that made the music all the more beautiful. One day you will die, but your music will continue to echo throughout the Force."
Doran paused for a moment.
'But the Force itself is not the conductor. It does not direct the flow of the music, it is the music. Sometimes the tone will drop to a darker sound; that is the dark side. It is low, it is dangerous and it is menacing but it is still the music of the Force. The players will change again one day to a lighter sound, a purer sound. Perhaps again it will change but it will always play that beautiful sound. The sound of purpose, energy, life and beauty."
Doran was silent. Everyone's attention was set directly on their General, and many questions lingered.
"But, if the Force is the music of life, then what are the Jedi?" One of the older troops asked.
Doran smiled. "The Jedi are the ones able to hear this music. We can feel where it is pulling and what it is playing and can even change it, if we are powerful enough. But such an act will spread to every sound. Our actions affect the flow of the music more than any other. There are consequences to everything we do; it is something we must accept."
"And if you don't?" Nathanial asked darkly.
"Then we fall. Then our actions spread and cause chaos and disorder to the music of the Force. This is the way of the Sith. To gain as much control over the flow of music as possible but not care what damage is caused to the players."
Nathanial would always picture the orchestra in his mind whenever he listened to that recording. As Doran described the Sith, he saw a man covered in black, leaping into that crowd of artists and perverting the beauty they created. He felt ill.
"That…. is sickening. Who would do that to something so beautiful?" He said with an air of disgust.
Doran shrugged. "There is beauty in even the most dark and disturbing music's of the force. Dark or light, it is still music. But don't be fooled, the dark side is corrupting and dangerous, but it is still a part of the Force."
There was silence for a moment.
The Iridonian then slowly asked, "Does the music ever stop playing?"
Doran looked at the Iridonian for a moment. The thought of the music stopping never occurred to him, as far as he knew the music played forever. Even when the note, the individual ended, the sound echoed on in others. The symphony of life was just too massive, too powerful to completely stop.
Doran told them what they wanted to hear. "No, the music goes on forever."
There was a sigh of relief amongst the troops, everything Doran had told them mesmerised and encouraged them. Some even thought they would live on after they die.
"Is death… a happy experience?" The youngest trooper asked, echoing the thoughts of others.
Doran felt sorry for these men, they believed him to be the messenger of truth, the wisest man in existence that would enlighten them to the mysteries of the universe. How wrong they were. Doran was just a man; everything he said to them was a gross simplification for them to comprehend. He was not capable to accurately describe it, nor would he ever be.
An average student of the Force… Nothing special… A nuisance… Will lead to the Dark Side…
The echoes of his old masters words rang loudly in his mind. Doran stood up and looked down at all the men, all of them scared and desperately waiting for his answer. What should he say? He didn't know any more than they did.
"Go to sleep, while you dream you are experiencing the peace of death, only that it lasts forever and you will not be alone." Doran then turned and went back to his tent; he didn't even grab anything to eat. In his place he left confusion, but in that confusion laid a strange hope. As the troops entered their respective tents, they each pulled out a holo-recording and listened to their favourite songs, as they dreamed they pictured themselves as the notes. Formless, small, short; but beautiful and will never be forgotten.
A/N: I thought up this description once while on the bus, while I may not be a spirtual person I thought the comparison sounded nice. Hopefully you'll get as much enjoyment reading this story as I do writing it.
As always, constructive criticism appreciated.