"Another Point of View"
Mit'teem had his left leg up on the arm of the empty seat ahead of him as he sat in the Galactic Political Science, or "Poli-G" class. The class covered the interstellar affairs in and out of the Republic. The beginning of the semester had started with the Great Hyper Space War of the Old Republic. The past two weeks had been about the ongoing Galactic Civil War, what was now being called the "Clone Wars". He knew that he had a bias as he listened to the current topics. His bias was one of having been on the battlefield and seeing it for real. He could still feel the vibrations in the hull of a starship's hull as it was hit with anti-ship blaster bolts and debris from other starships. He knew the smell of burning bodies as clones immolated inside their own landing craft. He could still taste his troopers' blood as it had sprayed across his face.
This woman likely had never left the university or Coruscant for that matter. However, what she said was saying was conceptually accurate. What had surprised him more than anything was how different the story being told to the citizens of the Republic was than what really happened. He could see it on the holovids as he now watched the war from the outside. It was a very polished…novelized…version of events.
"The viewpoints of the Separatists are important to understand," the professor said, "to them, they have been oppressed by laws written by a capitol government tens of light years away while that government turned a blind eye toward their needs and their plights. When they questioned that government, it would send Jedi Knights to," she lifted her hands and made air-quotes, "moderate the dispute." Mit'teem let a half smile sneak across his lips.
He'd been there and done that one. It was amazing how much progress could be made by placing a lightsaber on the table between two disputing parties. Suddenly they became more agreeable.
"And I will end with this," she continued. "It is interesting that in a conflict that is costing hundreds of billions of lives, it is the Jedi who lead both sides." Mit'teem slightly furrowed his brow. His first reaction was, that's not fair, but as she let the statement hang in the air and scanned the class with her eyes, he considered idea. "A former Jedi heads the Separatist Union, and the Jedi Order leads the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic." Mit'teem mentally examined past events. "Don't forget, next week is dead week, and the week are finals." Mit'teem barely heard her as he pondered the campaigns, the politics, what the Council had said and what it had done.
Students packed up their belongings as he remained in his seat and thought. He let the majority of the class leave before him.
"Hmmm," he grunted to himself as things lined up in his mind. He saved his notes on the data pad and slid it into his backpack. He took a deep breath. One thing was for certain, the Jedi were not tactical geniuses. He rose from his seat and slung the backpack on. The short time he and Plo Koon spent at the Kamino world overseeing the education and training of the clones, he learned more than a year in Jedi strategy sessions.
As he exited the building, he was awash in the splendor of the Coruscant landscape. While the main terrace was a thousand or so meters off the surface of the planet, it was still surrounded by buildings that reached high into the night sky. The tiny lit dots of traffic crisscrossed against a deep, inky, black night sky. For as hard and violent this war was, the capitol was not suffering that much…if at all. For as bustling, busy, and prosperous Coruscant was, there was still poverty on the massive city-planet. All one had to do was go to the surface to see that, but here, where the powerful lived, where the elite lived, there were no sign of it. There was no consequence of the war.
He felt the cool air flowing off the fountain in the middle of the campus square as he passed it. The water jets, illuminated from within the pool fired in an entertaining sequence making the water look as if it were alive.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he looked out across the cityscape. To the west was the Senate building where there were social events, parties being thrown, clinking of fine crystal glasses, and undoubtedly the abuse of power. He walked up to a railing at the edge of a walkway that overlooked the historical governing district. To his right was the massive mushroom shaped Senate building. To the left was the significantly smaller Jedi Temple with its large center structure surrounded by four spires. Mit'teem looked into the palm of his right hand and ran his thumb across callouses on his palm. At least Chancellor Palpatine seemed to have a grip on priorities. He seemed to be the only one focused on winning the war.
He sighed as he considered how the last year had gone. Being away from the constant presence of other force sensitives, no longer having access to the temple or commanding the clones, it was a huge paradigm shift away from the dogmatic bubble of the Jedi Order. It was almost like a breath of fresh air. The people he hung around were so very diverse from what he previously knew. He socialized with a range of people from pure intellectuals and professors to the tactically mindful of those in his sparing club. The closest association to his past was a fellow warrior, Dramin, a man who had fought a civil war against an oppressive species on his own planet. That was struggle. That was pain. No one here knew those realities.
Mit'teem had learned so much. While he missed the experience of having the connection to the Force, grasping it and wrapping himself in it as if it were tangible, being away from the Jedi had expanded his horizons beyond anything he could have imagined. He turned away from the railing and descended the stairs. As he did, he thought about what the professor had said. Where did the clone army come from? How did the Republic magic-it-up at just the right time? He scanned his ID card into the library and walked to the caff lounge. The Jedi were definitely doing things they should not. They were the negotiators, the bringers of peace. Now, he supposed, they brought peace in a different way, from orbital bombardment the swing of a lightsaber blade.
What if the Jedi were behind the war? What would they want to gain? Power? Control over the Republic? He didn't know.
Mit'teem noticed the normal looks he got as he passed through the lounge. All he ever needed to do to intimidate someone was throw a glance their way. Apparently glowing red eyes was fearsome. He never knew the difference before. Now that he was in the public culture, he knew better. That was something he never knew in the Order: discrimination. He had come to learn that because he looked different, he was treated differently by some. He paid for his caff and took a drink. That was fine. He pitied the fool who would pick a fight with him.
Mit'teem spent the last night pouring over gravitational constants and working problems in preparation for finals. The past several days and nights had been mentally and physically taxing. The days began with an hour in the gym lifting weights, the majority of the day was spent in lectures or study sessions. The late afternoon was sparing with the fight club, and the evenings were with the occasional lab, studying, and sleep.
He walked to the open couch, slid his backpack off and set it on the floor next to him. With finals week ahead of him, he was ready for a break from class to rest and study. He his data pad from his backpack and opened his notes. He read them for a minute felt himself drifting off. He took a sip of his caff and swallowed.
He was so tired.
He took a deep breath and set his pad down on the tops of his legs. He leaned his head back on the couch material and closed his eyes.
Nearly instantly, he slipped into sleep.
Suddenly, Mit'teem was back on Geonosis. The scream of the bugs and the terrible pattering of their wings was all around them. Blue blaster bolts crossed the landscape as the clones wildly fired at the Geonosians. He swung his bright yellow blade cutting down warrior bug after warrior bug. They had been ambushed from under the ground.
He reached out with the Force and pulled one toward him. Dragging it through the air, he impaled it with the yellow blade. The fighting had gone on for an hour, only an hour, and his men were dropping like flies. A wheeled rocket vehicle a thousand meters away fired a volley of rockets their direction.
"Take cover!" he heard Commander Gray say over the circuit. Mit'teem reached out toward the rockets with his left hand. With a Force push, he knocked them all off their courses, some spinning around in the air, some slamming into the ground short…but still too close. Hard clay and dirt bounced off their armor.
Commander Gray was shouting orders to hold their position. Mit'teem clicked the neck microphone on, and he keyed up, shouting over the sound of bugs wings and blaster fire.
"Commander Gray," we have to get out of the open. Another clone fell. "We can advance to that," he was cut off as what felt like a bucket of heavy liquid poured onto his right shoulder and across the top of his head. He felt the warm substance splash onto the right side of his face, and he heard a scream. He looked up to see two Geonosian warrior bugs fly over him carrying the severed torso of a clone trooper into the air as blood poured from the dying clone. He turned to his right hearing Wildcard scream. Two Geonosians violently lifted the clone off the ground by a leg and an arm. He screamed as they literally ripped his limbs off. Wildcard fell to the ground in a bloody impact.
Mit'teem screamed in rage as he felt a red-like rage flush through is body. He lashed out to the two Geonosians with the Force. He felt their exoskeletons and encased both in the Force. With the grip of a single hand and a primal scream, Mit'teem crumpled them like vacuum bottles as he crushed them both mid-air. They fell in a wet thump. Wildcard writhed on the ground in pain. Mit'teem ran to him.
"Medic!" he yelled and deactivated his lightsaber as he slid on a knee to Wildcard's side. "MEDIC!" he screamed with his entire being. He looked around and saw the battle field was very much occupied. Mit'teem watched blood hemoraging out of Wildcard's tattered stumps as they shivered in pain. Wildcard's left arm had been ripped off at the elbow, and his left lower leg was completely gone. His wounds were too large to treat with the armor's medical coagulant, and they ran out of tourniquets at the beginning of the campaign. Mit'teem grabbed Wildcard's helmet and looked directly into his visor.
"Wildcard," Mit'teem said over the clone's struggled screams. "Listen! There is only one way to save you right now." He held his lightsaber hilt up to Wildcard's visor. "Be still." Wildcard, beyond words as this point, simply nodded. Mit'teem held the clone's right upper arm down and turned the saber emitter down. He lit the blade with a snap-hiss, and it pierced the ground beneath Wildcard. He passed the blade through the clone's upper arm just above the wound and cauterized it shut. The bleeding stopped immediately. Mit'teem deactivated the blade and pivoted on Wildcard's torso and held his left thigh down, the tattered muscle and ligaments shaking in shock. With a snap-hiss of the lightsaber blade, he passed the blade just above the knee, through armor and everything. The clone's scream and stark stench of burning flesh and plastoid armor filled the air.
Mit'teem extinguished the blade and quickly inspected the wound. It was cauterized.
"Wildcard, don't move too much until the medics can come. You don't want the wounds to reopen. If you do, you will bleed to death," Mit'teem said.
"Ye-yes, sir," Wildcard managed to say. "Just give me a blaster, Commander. I can still shoot." Mit'teem scanned the battlefield and saw a myriad of weapons lying about. He reached his hand out and called a blaster pistol to his hand with the Force. It slid across the ground and slapped into the palm of his glove.
"Here," Mit'teem said as he put the blaster in the clone's hand. "Help is coming."
"Get them for me, sir," Wildcard said through gritted teeth. "Get them for all of us."
Mit'teem nodded once and reached out with the Force, mapping the battlefield with his mind. He felt his clones. He felt the Geonocians. He felt where they were and where he was going to go. He stood with fury...with half his face and white grieve covered red in blood, he felt hatred flood through him. With hatred in his eyes, he lit his saber.
Mit'teem's leg twitched and shook him awake. He quickly assessed his surroundings. His data pad was in his hand instead of lightsaber. He was still casually dressed instead of covered in a bloody mud. The screams of the clones faded away in his ears. Then he noticed his caff overturned on the ground.
"E-chu-ta," he cursed to himself as he reached down to right the overturned cup. He set the cup down and leaned back on the sofa backing. He took a deep breath and sighed.
It had been almost a month since he had these dreams...these memories. He pressed his eyes shut and slightly shook his head. It would be a while more before he was rid of these…but before he was, he knew there would be more, and they would be worse.