On the Morality of the Jedi Chapter Two: Crusade, a star wars fanfic

Crusade

A holy war undertaken on behalf of a religious morality.

"Your father wanted to you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow Obi-Wan on some damn food idealistic crusade like your father did." -Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker, A New Hope

"I am looking for a great warrior."

"Wars do not make one great." -Jedi Master Yoda to Luke Skywalker, The Empire Strikes Back

"Not every Jedi agrees with this war. There are many political idealists among us."

"But a traitor?"

"I'm afraid one can eventually become the other."-Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padawan Ahsoka Tano, The Clone Wars: "Sabotage"

"The Clones are warriors, professional soldiers created by the Republic trained to fight, and die if necessary, in our war against the Separatists."-Grand Army of the Republic Colonel Gascon, The Clone Wars: "Missing in Action"

Somewhere in the Mid Rim, a massive gray ship with red markings suddenly appears out of hyperspace. The ship glides silently towards a blue green planet, nestled astride a nearby nebula. Above its orbit lies two equally large wedge-shaped ships, hovering in formation. Before the new arrival can close with the others, its hangar bay doors open. From the belly of the ship shoots a dart-like fighter craft, which shoots like an arrow from a taut bow straight for the surface of the planet. Minutes later, out from behind the dark side of the globe, a swarm of interceptors emerges like flies, peppering the small fighter with green laser beams. The small arrow-like craft nimbly dodges these pursuers and vanishes into the cloudy atmosphere of the planet below.

"Ardent actual to General Eschrik, how read you?" A human man of middle age with a wide jaw leans into a holographic display, its blue light glinting off his captain's insignia. All around him, officers and technicians are tending their controls and displays, reading the Ardent's vital signs after its long hyperspace jump from above Coruscant. Several soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic stand at every portal to the bridge, taciturn, bearing blaster rifles and clad in white armor. One such man, a clone soldier sporting officer's markings on his shoulder, approaches the young woman looking out the view port to the rapidly approaching planet. "Major Reth, does my master always do that?" she asks. The clone officer strokes his chin, squinting toward the planet. "Yes, I'd say that little maneuver is standing operating procedure, Commander Rei." Faetōsa shakes her head. "Major, how many times must I say it? Please don't call me that." The major appraises Faetōsa curiously. Never before has he encountered a Jedi who has eschewed any honorific. "And how many times must I remind you, sir, that in the Grand Army of the Republic, regardless of your experience – not to mention your stature – all the Jedi have military ranks. And that makes you, as a Padawan, are a commander." Faetōsa grunts. "But I know nothing of military affairs! The rank is entirely without merit, and it's a disservice to actual military professionals like yourself," replies Faetōsa bitterly. Without warning, the doors of the bridge open with a soft hiss to reveal a pilot, who strides onto the bridge in a fury. "Speaking of military professionals..." mutters the major.

"Captain Drayen. I just came from the flight deck. My squadron's pilots are ready. Their ships are ready. I am ready. So why in the name of a droid's Great Maker did you send me there to stand by and watch General Eschrik take off alone into enemy fire in that modified Delta 7 of his? Doesn't he know everyone needs a wingman, even a Jedi?" The speaker is a raven-haired woman who stands in a full flight suit with a hand on her slender hips. Before Captain Drayen can respond, the holographic projector crackles to life where an image of Eschrik levitates in space. "Because, Lieutenant Commander Kittani, the 173rd is engaged in combat on the surface, and I am their wingman," says Eschrik in a mocking tone. Even though Eschrik's voice is distorted by the atmosphere separating him and the ship, Faetōsa discerns his tenor hardening. "And with all due respect to you and your pilots, Commander, I am faster when I am unencumbered by your clone pilot." Lieutenant Commander Kittani shifts in her flight suit. "Wouldn't count on it," she mumbles under her breath, casting a suspicious sideways stare at Faetōsa. Appraising his squadron leader, Captain Drayen suppresses a knowing smirk. Jayla Kittani had never played nicely with others, had she?

But Eschrik is apparently not in the mood for such humors. The sound of battle can be heard over the transmission, and Eschrik's proximity to their martial origins seems to have changed him. His once serious demeanor is loosened, animated now by a kind of pleased timbre like that of a confident expert about to perform a challenging but rewarding task. "Is my Padawan there, Major Reth? Good. Would you tell her that in accordance to her rank and station, I would like her to order her subordinate Lieutenant Commander Kittani to show more respect to her commanding officer?" Captain Drayen's smile vanishes. Reth holds a glove over his eyes while Kittani stares incredulously at Eschrik's face. Faetōsa pauses. The three officers now look in her direction. "Master Eschrik, surely –" begins Faetōsa, but the Herglic will not be deterred. "Faetōsa, do you think now is the best time for your incessant questioning?" Faetōsa is taken aback; perhaps Eschrik hadn't forgotten her stubbornness with Master Jerneja at the Temple two days prior, and this was his punishment. Flustered, the girl looks at the pilot, resigned to obey her master's steely resolve. "Lieutenant Commander Kittani, please listen to the briefing," she says, voice trailing off. "Don't you dare order me about, girl!" erupts Kittani. "You can go straight to –" "Kittani," interrupts Drayen. "Do as General Eschrik and his Padawan say." The pilot bristles, shaking her head and mouthing her incredulity. Reth stiffens and stares ahead, ignoring her protestations. Faetōsa dares not to breathe. Then, finally: "Yes...sir," Kittani mutters none too politely, and Faetōsa exhales in relief. "Excellent," replies Eschrik as if he had accomplished a great task. "Now that you have your house in order, Captain Drayen," says Eschrik, the sound of blaster fire and the echoes of explosions punctuating his speech, "let us review our orders from the Jedi Council."

"The Ardent is in position above Garos IV, General," reports the captain in assured tones. "To counter the threats of both the Separatist fleet and Garos' belligerent neighbor Sundari, we've entered a blockade formation around the planet with Constant and Oathtaker. With our firepower and their support capabilities, we shouldn't have a problem preventing any more Separatist and Sundari ships from reaching the surface. This should allow us to starve out their assault on the Garosian capital of Ariana and liberate the city to restore to power the Republic's allies in their government. As soon as you give the order General, we will launch our remaining gunships with the assault elements of the 173rd led by Major Reth and escorted by our fighter wing." The major steps forward. "Once we land, we'll link up with you, General, and move on the defensive redoubt that serves as the lynchpin to the Separatist siege lines around the city. My commanders on the ground tell me that its defended by elements of both the Separatist battle droid army and the Sundari colonial force. Therefore, this position won't not be taken easily, sir." The major stops, and Faetōsa follows his eyes: he looks not to Eschrik now, but to the Captain. "Sir, I request we hold the assault on this redoubt until we can requisition heavy armor to carry my boys across that the no-man's land that separates our line from theirs. Without that armor, we're going to get chewed up out there, sure as a bantha chews cud." Eschrik's voice is unmoved. "This is no time for such caution, major. If we wait, Separatist capital ships may arrive and challenge our blockade. An orbital bombardment and Lieutenant Commander Kittani's air support will have to suffice." Captain Drayen eyes the major with sympathy, and asks quietly, "Major, can your men take that redoubt?" The major glances to the pilot, who nods slowly back. Reth turns back to the captain, glaring through Eschrik's holographic visage. "Yes, sir, they can." "Good, major, good," says Eschrik absentmindedly. "Now, I must get to the front line. I await your arrival. And bring my Padawan with you."

Faetōsa is nauseous. Her stomach is churning, but not from the staccato motion of the atmospheric entry of the gunship. Instead, she clutches a lightsaber and feels ill. She has brought this weapon from the Temple, the same one given to her by Master Jerneja. Though she has used it since to refine her Form I velocities and to practice sparing with her master on the trip to Garos, the weapon has since been altered by Eschrik to allow for its most deadly power setting. No longer would it raise mere bruises and braises on those unfortunate enough to fall under its blade. The hilt is slippery in her sweating palms, and Faetōsa can hardly believe the energy weapons' lethal power can be contained by the thin cylinder of metal in her hand. Would she have to use the Jedi weapon to harm another living being? Worse, would even be able to defend herself? Could she die here, today, on some Middle Rim planet, never to see her home or Ty ever again? She shivers. Can you imagine the crucible of fear that an impending battle must inflict on its combatants who must experience it like an inescapable vortex? The degree of this terror would likely render a lesser person paralyzed. As for the young Pantoran girl, it nearly does. Her breath is caught in her throat, as she chokes on her mortal anxiety.

The descending gunship lurches in midair, and Faetōsa snaps out of her reverie. In the thick hot of the troopship, she tries to breath calmly, but manages only to gulp down the heavy air in desperate hyperventilation. A solider standing behind her sheds his helmet and puts a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Commander." Faetōsa rounds on the soldier, gripping the handrail as if it were the only thing between her and the void of space. "If you don't mind me saying to a superior officer, sir, this is my first deployment too. Name's Flash." He speaks cautiously but earnestly. "It's okay to be afraid before battle. Hell, I've been bred for combat, and I'm still scared out of my wits! The nervousness will generate adrenaline, which'll keep you sharp in combat." Faetōsa actually laughs. "You don't know much about Jedi, do you, Flash?" The clone soldier withdraws his hand and stands erect. "Just trying to help, sir." Faetōsa is surprised to hear the hurt in his voice, and she looks at him directly. "Thank you, Flash. Adrenaline aside, I'd sure feel better if you stay close once we land, okay?" The solider dons his helmet anew and salutes. "Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!"

"Thirty seconds! Final checks!" yells Major Reth from the cockpit. The soldiers load their weapons and disable their safeties. An alarm sounds and the gunships' doors slide open. Wind whips across the deck, forcing even the blindfolded Jedi to squint. Stretching her Force perception to its limits, Faetōsa is overwhelmed by the scene of violence around her. The rapidly approaching ground is pockmarked with smoking craters, ripped asunder by the Ardent's heavy cannons. Two trenches face one another separated by perhaps a quarter of a league, and between them, a fusillade of blue and red lasers create an impenetrable lattice of death. In the distance, the skyline of the city of Ariana is filled with dark columns of smoke. As the gunships descend behind the Republic's battle lines, Faetōsa realizes that the ground is littered with dead soldiers and smashed droids. Wheeling overhead, the Ardent's fighter wing of ARC-170 fighters led by Lieutenant Commander Kittani are confronting the Separatist droid fighters, sending their flaming hulks on a one way trip to the planet's surface where they explode in fireballs. The flight of gunships nears the ground behind the Republic line, their engines scattering debris across the landing zone. Faetōsa sees Eschrik's fighter, and she senses him nearby. "Welcome to Garos IV, gentlemen!" shouts the major. "Go, go, go!" Faetōsa leaps for the ground and begins to sprint away from the gunship, a platoon of soldiers in her wake.

The battle sows chaos all around the Pantoran girl. As she weaves her way between discarded munitions and burning debris, Faetōsa finds an unexpected measure of calm amidst the storm of combat. She begins to take stock of the cacophony around her and slowly starts to contain its whirling action in her mind's eye; never before has her Force-vision been tested in such a way. A wave of battle droids is overrunning the closest trench, and the clone soldiers there are engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Amid the shouts of soldiers and the whizzing of lasers all around her, Faetōsa hears Kittani's voice from the transponder on her wrist. "That's it, major. We've cleared the sky of bogies, and the ARCs are all yours." Faetōsa looks up. Two Republic fighter bombers scream overhead, waiting to be guided to targets on the ground. "Looks like your boys in the trench could use some help," crackles Kittani's voice. Faetōsa slows to a jog and raises the transponder to her wrist, and the clone soldier behind her ushers her behind cover. "Don't stop out in the open. Gotta keep your head down out here," says the solider. "Thanks, Flash," she murmurs, breathing hard as they crouch behind a bank of soil. "Kittani, can you see Master Eschrik from up there? Can you tell me where he is?" One of the ARC fighters high above rolls over, its canopy aiming earthward. The ace pilot laughs. "You mean to tell me kid, that you can't see him from down there?"

The loose soil of the trench wall, wet with blood and oil, crumbles as Faetōsa and her attendant platoon of soldiers slides down its face. "I can see his lightsabers from here! Just ahead!" shouts Flash. The Padawan and the soldiers rush forward. They round a bend in the trench; there, they are met with the imposing sight of the Herglic Jedi Knight in the heat of combat. Faetōsa and her platoon halts in disbelief. Amidst a crowd of battle droids and a heap of dead clone soldiers, Eschrik's blue lightsabers whine in constant motion, his fists pounding, his feet crushing. His huge frame twists and moves unnaturally fast. Overhead blows, slashing strikes, reverse cuts all decimate the droids, sending machinery and wiring exploding in a shower of sparks and lightning. What few lasers are shot in his direction by the droids are masterfully reflected, and the occasional beam that grazes his hulking frame do so with no appreciable effect. As the droids are felled by the Jedi behemoth in ones, twos, and threes, something in Faetōsa's heart quivers – though the droids are automatons made for war, it is her master that is the true killing machine.

Smoke from the broken machines dissipates. Eschrik turns, chest rising and falling as if in light exercise. "Ah ha! Here is my Padawan. Welcome to the field of battle!" He slaps her on the back, causing her to stumble. Laughing, the Herglic scans his surroundings, his gregariousness seemingly out of place in the field of slaughter. Though they have only known each other for no more than a month, he has never seemed to welcome Faetōsa's presence more than now. "Here it is, my apprentice: the place where we prove ourselves as Jedi. How I've longed to return." He clutches his fist. "But how disappointing that the enemy can muster only such weak opponents! They are no more formidable than the remotes with which you've been training." Flash looks at the slew of fallen clone soldiers in the mud of the trench. "They must have been more than remotes," says Flash quietly. Eschrik does not notice. He climbs to the top of the trench overlooking the no-man's land. "Now that we've repulsed the enemy's paltry attempt to break through our own encircling lines, we must carry the fight to the trench that they use to besiege the city and take that redoubt. Come, Padawan! Show us the way!"

Faetōsa tries to survey the enemy lines from the lip of the trench. She feels over the debris, through the smoke, and over the churned and blasted dirt, looking for a path forward. Though her master and the platoon are awaiting her word, something gnaws at Faetōsa, distracting her from the task. While she has yet to use her own saber, Eschrik has already been engaged in combat for hours. And rather than taxing him as she would have expected, he seems to be deriving energy from it. How? And more importantly, why? "Master, I don't know if a ground assault will be possible," she says. "I think Major Reth was right. Without heavy armor, I can't see any way across the no-man's land." She looks over her shoulder at Flash. "We'll all be shot in our tracks." Eschrik grunts. "Nonsense, Faetōsa. A Jedi is at home in battle. And when you are at home, you find surety, confidence, and victory. There is a way across, and we will find it." Unexpectedly, Faetōsa is overwhelmed by the last images of her life with her natural sight – the snow, the sudden heat, the explosion. Her father. She grimaces. She would never be at home in battle. Eschrik takes up a pair of electrobinoculars. "There. Do you see it?" Faetōsa squints, tracing the contours of the battlefield in her mind. "See what, master?" "Our way across," he replies enigmatically.. "There, in the middle of the field. That wreckage of a droid fighter." She espies the blasted hulk. Behind it cower several crippled battle droids, wandering in circles. "Alright, master, but what then?" She looks to Eschrik. "We will use it to get across the field, and draw their fire," he replies matter-of-factly. Faetōsa throws up her hands. "But how?" Eschrik grins. "Come, now, Padawan. Use a little imagination. Are you ready?" Faetōsa turns to Flash. "What about my platoon?" Eschrik's eyes remain locked on the wreckage. "Give them the command to follow us." Faetōsa halts. "But Master Eschrik, shouldn't we wait to coordinate with Major Reth and the rest of the Legion?" Eschrik looks impatiently at Faetōsa. "Do you have a comms link with Lieutenant Commander Kittani? Good. Then we have all that we require."

The soldiers line up on the wall of the trench. Eschrik looks to his Padawan. "Ready to do as I have taught you?" Faetōsa nods. "We'll be right behind you, sir," announces Flash. Eschrik finally turns in acknowledgment of the clones. "Try and keep up as best you can. Now, onward!" The platoon surges up from the trench and forward into no-man's land, sprinting towards the wreckage of the droid fighter. Red lasers from the enemy line begin to criss-cross the running formation, downing several soldiers. Flash returns fire wildly, and tries to protect his Pantoran commander by shielding her from the enemy fire. But Eschrik and Faetōsa are cheating physics to accomplish this passage unscathed. Somehow, the Herglic is moving with miraculous speed, pounding the ground in lengthy, earth-shaking strides. Meanwhile, Faetōsa has sprinted ahead and, with palms outstretched, takes a running leap into a forward flip. Flash and the other clones watch on as the girl leaps into the air in a somersault, practically flying along a long arc to safely land in front of the wreckage almost three rods ahead. "Jedi," Flash mutters and sprints on.

Standing upright, Faetōsa allows the long springs of light emitting from her hands to dissipate. Floored by her Force-jumping vault into the sky, Faetōsa smirks. She could do much more than lift vases it seemed! Shielded by the wreckage of the droid fighter, the enemy blaster fire cannot reach her here. Suddenly, two damaged battle droid emerge from behind the wreckage, raising their weapons. Reflexively, Faetōsa summons a new thread of light to slash the first droid, ripping it asunder. But the second droid moves too quickly and opens fire. In the speed of a heartbeat, Faetōsa's blue saber is ignited, and she maneuvers its blade to interdict the laser. The red light ricochets off the blue blade at a wild angle and disappears into the sky. Without a second guess, Faetōsa arcs the blade in downward slash as if in the middle of a well-practiced velocity, severing the droid in half. Exhaling, Faetōsa is relieved to be free of her assailants, but a nearby crunching of metal forces her to turn on the spot. A human boy, no older than she, wearing fatigues emblazoned with the emblem of Sundari, is standing with her directly in his gun sights.

Time seems to slow. With ignited lightsaber in hand, Faetōsa can simply reach out and strike the boy down. But the idea of dissevering a boy, evaporating bone, searing flesh, and vaporizing blood with the acidic plasma of her weapon is too much for the Pantoran girl to imagine. There would be no cut wires or sparks in the aftermath of this attack. But the Sundari solider shows no similar hesitation. Two quick bolts of light emerge from the muzzle of his blaster. Faetōsa swings her blade to deflect the first, but the rapidity of the shots cannot be countered. The second laser grazes her collarbone, ripping open her tunic and burning her skin. Falling to the ground, Faetōsa cries out in pain and outstretches her hand to blast the Sundari off his feet using the Force. This attack sends him careening into the shelter of wreckage, and his blaster rifle goes skittering into the debris. Before she can detain the man, however, a shadow falls over him.

Time begins to speed up. The titanic figure of Eschrik appears, causing a look of sheer terror to take hold in the boy's eyes. Holding his staff aloft like an ancient javelin and running at full speed, Eschrik unleashes the weapon into the air with a Force-aided throw and impales the young man with his lightsaber. The blade bores its way into the boy's chest with supernatural force, and Faetōsa averts her eyes at the ghastly sight. Eschrik approaches to remove his blade from the corpse of the boy, but the hilt of his saber is buried deep in the man's chest cavity. Eschrik stands over the Sundari soldier and uses his thick foot to pry his Jedi weapon out of the corpse. With a sucking sound, the lightsaber leaves a cauterized hole clear through the flesh to where the boy's heart was only a moment earlier suspended in his breast, frozen in fear. Ascertaining that his Padawan is safe, Eschrik moves to return the girl to her feet. Instead, she vomits on his outstretched hand.

The platoon of soldiers arrive. Panting heavily, Flash runs to Faetōsa, who is bent over her knees, shaking. "Are you alright, sir?" "She is fine, soldier," returns Eschrik. Flash leans over her. Dazed, Faetōsa looks up at the platoon. "So few. So few of you made it. I...I'm so sorry." Looking at Flash, then to the Sundari boy, tears well in her eyes. "Steel yourself, Padawan," Eschrik says annoyed. "Your emotions cloud your vision. Remember the your teaching of the Code: 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.' Besides, these soldiers and I am in need of your aid now," says Eschrik. As Faetōsa stifles a wracking sob, her master looks to the enemy line. "We must move this wreckage forward, toward the redoubt. We'll hide behind it as cover. That is how we will breach its wall." Faetōsa wipes a sleeve across her mouth and stands tall, clutching her shoulder. "I will try," she says weakly. Eschrik frowns at her. "Try? There is no try. Now, together." The two Jedi reach out their hands, summoning threads of Force. Bands of light encircle the crashed fighter, and with an uplifting motion from the master and apprentice alike, the wreckage floats off the ground and begins to wander forward. The clone soldiers lean against the wreckage, ducking around the sides to snap off return fire toward the enemy. As the little group steps over broken droids and fallen clones, Faetōsa begins to feel as if she might faint from the exertion. "A little more," whispers Eschrik, eyes closed. At the foot of the redoubt, the girl collapses. The wreckage abruptly drops to the ground, but it has traveled far enough. Eschrik pulls Faetōsa safely behind their shelter and rouses her. "It's time," he says.

Long shadows of dusk begin to crawl around the wreckage of the droid fighter. The appearance of the debris has since drawn the attention of a company of battle droids, who begin to pour from their doubt and close on the island of refugees so far from the Republic's line. As they pass between them what ammunition they have left, Flash encourages his fellow soldiers. Raising his comm link to his mouth, Eschrik hails the fighter squadron droning high over the battlefield. "Lieutenant Commander Kittani, I need you to deliver an airstrike to the following coordinates. I am uploading them to you now." Kittani's voice is piped through the speaker. "Yes, General Eschrik. I am on the approach. But sir," her tenor wavering, "these coordinates may be incorrect. They are practically right on top of your current position. With night falling, sir, I'm not sure that –" "Proceed as ordered, Lieutenant Commander," Eschrik says sternly. Faetōsa's head is foggy. She struggles to extend her perception beyond her immediate surroundings. She hears a voice through the fog –"Danger close, I repeat" – then, the import of what she has just overheard hits her all at once. Before she can speak, Eschrik wraps his gigantic arm around her waist and leaps into the air using the Force. "Wait, master!" The Padawan reaches out desperately for the ground. "Flash! Flash!" she screams. The clone soldier hears his name and looks upward in time only for his gaze to be met by a wreath of fire.

As soon as Eschrik lands with impossible softness in a nearby crater, Faetōsa scrambles away from the Herglic's grasp as quickly as she can crawl away. A pair of ARC fighters swoops away into the distance, their ordinance discharged. Climbing the crater's edge, Faetōsa looks back towards their abandoned shelter, separated now by a distance too great for a clone soldier to have traversed. All that remains of the platoon is an extensive stretch of charred ground and burning wreckage. The redoubt is gone, the droids are gone – and the clone soldiers are gone. Faetōsa sinks to the ground. Everything becomes a blur. Countless voices call out over her transponder. "We've got friendly fire. I repeat, friendly fire," reports someone solemnly. Seemingly from far away, the voice of Major Reth can be heard, desperately searching for answers. Then, the crestfallen voice of Captain Drayen comes over the comm: "Return to the Ardent immediately, Commander Kittani." The battlefield is swimming in Faetōsa's mind, and she collapses, tears flowing silently from her eyes. From behind her, the voice of Eschrik speaking into his comm: "The redoubt has been destroyed. All forces, stand down for the night. Make your preparations for the final offensive at dawn. Tomorrow we liberate the city." The disembodied voices blur together, and Faetōsa gives up listening. Wracked by grief, she slips into exhausted sleep.

Hours later, Faetōsa awakes. The world is no longer spinning. She sits up. The sky is dark, save for the occasional flashing light and later report of artillery in the distance. At the bottom of the crater sits Eschrik in silent repose. Faetōsa slides down to his side. "Ah, you're awake," he says. "The army prepares to mobilize in a few hours. We will advance right through the hole we punched in their redoubt. For the rest of tonight, however, we will keep our heads down here," he explains routinely. "Why? Master, why?" Faetōsa pleads. Eschrik opens an eye. "The presence of the clones so close to the redoubt concentrated the enemy's reserve forces in one place along their line, Padawan. Kittani's bombing, though it came at a steep cost, has now opened the path to our victory. Those clones did not die in vain. They served their purpose." Faetōsa sits in front of her master, knees to her chest. "Their purpose, master?" The Jedi opens both eyes now. "Padawan, I know this is your first experience in battle. I realize that it must be difficult for you. But you must understand that those troops were clones. They knew that their lives were meant to be sacrificed in the service of the Jedi." "In the service of the Republic, you mean?" Faetōsa shoots back. "The Republic and the Order are one and the same," explains Eschrik. "Do not forget, Padawan, that it was a Jedi, Sifo-Dyas, who commissioned their creation to save the Republic. Clone soldiers are always ready to die for the Republic. So must the Jedi be. You would do well to learn from their example." Faetōsa puts her head in her hands. "No," she says to the ground. Eschrik tilts his head. "Do you have something more to say?"

"No," says Faetōsa again. "Those soldiers were ready to fight for the Republic, not the Jedi. They were fighting for the ideal of democracy – equality, fraternity, meritocracy. But as a Jedi Padawan, I earned none of those things; I was given the rank of commander by my station in the Order. With no experience! Their lives were in my hands, and I failed them." Eschrik does not flinch. "I will have you know that I have and will continue to grind whatever grist the mill requires to serve the Jedi Council, Padawan," says Eschrik darkly. Faetōsa feels as if Eschrik's eyes are boring into her very being; she wonders if she should continue to speak. Finally, thinking of what her father would say of her silence at such a moment, she takes the plunge. "That may be, Master Eschrik, but that hardly means the Jedi should be willing to throw away the lives of clone soldiers lives in fratricide – or worse, suicide. They are people, sir. Flash was a person." The Herglic scowls. "Padawan, though it may be difficult for you to hear it, the clone army is simply the means for the Jedi Council to achieve its ends," the Jedi says rotely. "But master," exclaims Faetōsa, "No one elected any members of the Council. Unlike the Republic itself, nothing about the Jedi is democratic. Why should the clones fight and die for us?" At this, Eschrik stands, and Faetōsa falls silent. "The clones fight for the Jedi, Padawan Rei, because our ends are just. You should take solace in the fact that therefore, no death in the service of the Jedi Council in war is in vain."

The sky begins to lighten. Though her body is exhausted, Faetōsa's mind races; something about her master's logic is not right. "How can you say that, Master? What about the Sundari boy today? Was his cause not just in his own eyes?" Eschrik turns away from his apprentice. Faetōsa senses that he is calming himself. "His death is regrettable. The Sundari's practice of using child soldiers in their wars is indeed barbaric. They should have stayed off of Garos, which is under Republic protection, and their children would have lived." The exhaustion of the day begins to take its toll on Faetōsa, and the adrenaline of combat loosens her tongue – and her prudence. "But so too do the Jedi," Faetōsa impetuously, "and the Order uses children even younger than he or I – the whole Temple is practically full of Younglings to use in its wars!" "That is sufficient!" Eschrik roars, his bellow a deep guttural roar. At once, Faetōsa knows she has pushed the limits of her master's patience, and her heart races. The Herglic turns to her and she recoils. "Because you are young and do not know what you say, I will forget what you've just said," he murmurs. "But I warn you – if you speak like a Gray Jedi ever again, there will be consequences." Gray Jedi? Where has she heard this term before? After a pause, she remembered. "The Initiate at the Temple called me that, a Gray Jedi," says Faetōsa demurely. "What does it mean?" Eschrik glares harshly at Faetōsa and then sighs, his features softening. "Let me tell you a story, Padawan."

"Long ago, our Order began on Tython. The first Jedi were those there who communed with a power known as Ashla, what we now call the Force. These early Jedi discovered wisdom and virtue in their good-hearted communion with Ashla. Thus, the Light Side of the Force was discovered. But those who delved into this power with wickedness and greed in their hearts fell into darkness, which they called Bogan. In this way, the Dark Side was born." The sun began to climb into the morning sky as Eschrik continued. "As time went on, the community of Light Side Force-users agreed to institutionalize their commitments to good. This organization became the Jedi Order, and at its head is the Jedi Council, who represent the wisest and strongest of our number. This body leads our Order by example of their virtuousness. As such, Jedi who do not heed the council are known as Gray Jedi. They exist between the Light and Dark, dealing in dangerous ambiguities. This is a dangerous place to dwell, Padawan. Due to your rather brash line of questioning in your time with Master Jerneja, I imagine that is why you may have been labeled a Gray Jedi by your peer." Faetōsa's mind surged. "What happened to the Gray Jedi?" Eschrik's arms cross. "The Code reminds us that '"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.' But the Grey Jedi took their inquires too far. Now, most of the Gray Jedi have disappeared. Masters like Qui-Gon Jinn have paid for their misadventures with their lives. Others, like Count Dooku, have turned to the Dark Side. Dooku discounted the will of the Council and substituted his own ideas for their accumulated wisdom. His heresy is the cause of the war we are now fighting. We are fighting for the Light Side of the Force. The Separatists, led by Dooku, are fighting for the Dark Side." As Eschrik finished, Faetōsa had almost forgot Eschrik's temper, and she spoke without thinking. "Can there only ever be two sides in war, a right side and a wrong side?" Eschrik did not hesitate. "Yes. And the Jedi are on the side of righteousness."

The two Jedi are silent. Then, the major's voice comes through Eschrik's transponder. "General, good morning. My forces are in position and ready to advance." Eschrik stares at Faetōsa for what seems like minutes, but eventually he responds with orders to launch the attack. Faetōsa stands and grips her lightsaber. The master and apprentice climb the rim of the crater, waiting to join the wave of Republic soldiers crossing no-man's land. Faetōsa's mulls over what her master has told her during the night. Is this war really about defending the democratic ideals of the Republic, or is it really the Jedi getting their revenge on the Gray Jedi Dooku? How can a war and the Jedi Code possibly be compatible? A commitment to one seems to necessitate the subordination of the other, she thinks. Faetōsa ponders these questions as Major Reth appears at the crater; at his side are hundreds of clone soldiers and a handful of giant AT-TEs. "The Captain arranged for these after what happened last night," Major Reth says sadly. As the Jedi fall in with the troops, the major looks mournfully at the site of the death of Faetōsa's platoon. But there is no time to grieve. As the army dashes forward and through the enemy lines, overcoming the meager resistance of the few remaining droids, Faetōsa can hardly think straight. Her mind swimming, the Padawan abandons her reasoning over her master's story. It would have to wait. Dispatching the last of the droids and the Sundari soldiers, the Republic forces overrun the enemy redoubt. Then, almost without noticing, Faetōsa finds herself standing in an empty field facing the outskirts of Ariana. Nothing remains of the Separatist force. The battle is over.

Faetōsa stands on the enemy redoubt, surveying the scene. As Major Reth leads the column of AT-TEs into the beleaguered city of Ariana, the remaining clone soldiers begin to clear the battlefield of their dead and wounded. Faetōsa sees Captain Drayen conferring with several officers by a nearby gunship. Eschrik leans over the fuselage ofhis Delta 7, consulting with a hologram of Master Windu. Faetōsa decides to walk. She aimlessly meanders, but quickly finds herself gravitating to the site of Flash's death –here, she is surprised to see Lieutenant Commander Kittani kneeling in the rubble. Quickly, the pilot gets to her feet and springs to attention, her eyes glistening."Sir!" But Faetōsa shakes her head. "Kittani, listen. I may outrank you, but Iam not your superior. We both know that." Kittani is surprised, but says nothing. Faetōsa continues: "I was only following orders when I pulled rank on you yesterday. I regret it, and I hope you understand that I was just doing what Master Eschrik commanded me to do, no matter how unreasonable it was." Faetōsa looks around her. "I think you can understand that now, too." Both women aresilent for a time. "I was here when – when the soldiers were killed," says the Pantoran. "I am here looking for a friend, but I don't see much hope," says Faetōsa. The pilot stares at the scorched ground. Faetōsa walks away a few steps, and stops. "I forgive you. And I'm sure Flash would too." As Faetōsa makes to leave, Kittani reaches out and seizes her arm. "You may not have found the friend you were looking for, kid, but I hope you know that you found one all the same." Faetōsa smiles and nods, and the two shake hands. Eschrik appears."Padawan, the Council congratulates us on an excellent victory. The Ardent has orders to return to Coruscant. Are you ready?" Faetōsa nods half-halfheartedly, her baptism by fire complete.