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Chapter 4: Court Martial
"Aliette," Obi Wan smiled at his new Padawan and gestured to one of the chairs across from his desk, "Have a seat, Young One, I have a task for you."
Curiosity shone in her bright, gold eyes. The girl sat obediently, perfect in posture with her back straight and her ankles cross. She must have paid attention during the etiquette lessons that the Order required all Younglings to attend.
Not that she was, any longer, a Youngling. She was too old for that by then.
"Yes, Master?" she questioned.
Obi Wan pushed the pad he had been inspecting across the desk too her. On it was picture of a clone, scars marking one half of his face as he stared straight at the camera. His number was listed, as well as his basic biological information, and under than a list.
"This is Chopper, one of my Troopers in the 212th," he said, "He's going to be Court Martialed for taking, 'souvenirs' from the battle field. Due to… extenuating circumstances we're going to be preforming his court martial a bit differently from normal one. I would like you to take care of it, and decide it's out come."
Aliette accepted the pad, looking it over slowly. "Master? Is this a test?" she asked, her voice soft. Nervous.
He nodded. "It is." It would not make him reject her as a Padawan, but it would give him further insight into what she was like.
"Court Martial… I've never been a part of one before," she murmured, flicking down the page. He saw her stop on the medical history and felt his mouth twitch up. It was easy to see that Che had made her a dutiful Healer, but he would need to mold her into a Commander as well.
"Then this will be a learning experience as well," Obi Wan declared. He wasn't surprised, not many Jedi were until the last two years, after the war broke out. She wouldn't have had a need to serve on a council for it before then.
Her worry was easy to read on her face, trepidation flashing over her azure features. Her hands on the pad were still steady, surgeon's hands.
They had held up to Ventress remarkably well. He hadn't expected her to be able to hold her own for as long as she did when the assassin turned her attention from him to the new Padawan, but she had moved with a good deal of speed. She wasn't very well equipped for attacking, but her defense was extremely solid.
When she stood up he watched her tuck the pad under her arm. Her lower lip stuck between straight teeth.
"I will try and do what is right," she told him, bowing.
The Jedi smiled at his Padawan. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."
This wasn't the kind of test that one failed. There was no wrong answer for her to give him, at that point. It was just curiosity that drove him to give her the assignment.
After all, it was a relatively minor break of the rules, it would be very difficult for her to make the wrong choice, and no one would be overly bothered if it wasn't brought before all of the officers Chopper had worked under, and a Senate representative. All of their focus was on Slick, and while they would be watching his squad more closely he doubted it would present much trouble if he altered the rules a little.
If anyone asked he could always say that she was most impartial judge they had available.
"We'll put your braid together when you get back," he offered, and was amused to see a light go on in her eyes and a smile tilt her face. She may have been old for a Padawan, but she was most definitely still young.
She dipped another bow before she was out of his office and into the hall, off to see about a Court Martial.
The first things Aliette did when she was given the assignment was go to find out exactly how a Court Martial usually went, which was really the easiest part. There was a very in depth description on them on file, and she was surprised to see that her Master was showing some disregard for that.
It was supposed to a council of five people that came up with the judgement, a Jedi, a Senate member, two Clone Officers of Captain rank or higher, and the accused party's first commanding officer. She was only one of those.
So, it was really a test for her and no one else.
If she was going to pass she needed to know exactly what she was dealing with.
At first she had just skimmed through the information on the pad, checked the regulation that Chopper had broken and looked over the rest of his data. He was a strong soldier, he'd been on Geonosis, and had a truly impressive collections of demerits.
When she went through what each of them was for she was startled to see that most were very small infractions, things that most Sergeants would have looked over without much trouble, or just handled privately instead of setting on record. Things she would have let go without a word.
An untidy blaster, unsanctioned adjustments to armor, messed up bunk, the list went on into tiny, micromanaging of tasks that even Master Che would have never gone so far into.
There was something else on the file that bothered her.
A good chunk was labelled as classified.
It took her some time to work through the convoluted way she needed to get around it with her Commander Class Clearance to unlock them and find something interesting about their souvenir collecting clone.
A traitor and a Court Martial in one squad. That changed things.
As she walked along the paths of the military base, staying out of the way of the troops, she mulled over the information she had been given and what she could gather. The Padawan moved with silence, nodding politely to the clones she passed as she went.
There were four that she needed to find in particular.
The young Pantoran walked through the ship to the Mess Hall, where hopefully there would be at least one. From that one she could find the other three much more swiftly.
The Mess was, as always, crowded with troopers in their nice white armor or their grey-blue fatigues, nearly the same color as most Pantoran clothing, made from Jakobeast fur if one had the money for such sturdy, everlasting material.
She had only even touched its softness once, and had nearly lost her hand for the trouble of her curiosity. There was still a thin, silver scar on the back of her forearm from it, one that Master Che had ordered her to keep. A lesson in self-control and respect for her to remember always. When the bell of her sleeve shifted she could even see the marking.
Most men at least did not pay her too much mind in the Mess. They watched her for some minutes before going back to their activities, many nodding towards or saying something about her to their friends. The new-new Commander, Aliette Ansa. Jedi. Healer. Frost Bite.
Her lips twitched downwards at the derogatory term for her people. She had heard it before, she would hear it again, and so left the trooper that uttered the words alone. It wasn't important. She had been called worse in her life time.
She shifted through the men she knew and those who did not have the stylings of the one she sought, trying to find him without bothering the others with her quest.
It wasn't as hard as she first thought. In the end he was sitting alone in a back table, looking out over the crowd while he rubbed his fist with the opposing palm. Others would glance his way now and again before turning away again.
Aliette waited a moment before she was sure that he was the one she was looking for before slipping neatly through the tables and up to his. When he saw her coming he rushed to stand, or maybe it was to leave. She couldn't be sure for she gestured him down before he could.
He sat once more, never looking from her. She could see his knuckles whiten.
"Hello," she greeted, inclining her head in a soft of half-bow to the soldier. "Jester? May I join you?"
Jester, for that was now certainly who he was, nodded slowly. "Ye- Yes. Of, of course, Sir."
Aliette slid into the seat, aware that there were eyes on them. She smiled at Jester and pushed a small wave of Force Calm towards him, an offering he was free to accept or push away. When he breathed it in and his shoulders relaxed a small twitch of satisfaction settled over her. She hated bothering others, she was even less fond of causing anxiety when she had to do so.
When his hands settled into his lap, a mirror of Aliette's own pose, she began.
"I'm sure you know about the upcoming Court Martial," it was as much a statement as a question.
Still, Jester nodded. "Yeah, er, yes, Chopper's right?" he was still nervous, and there was a tell of a tic in his voice. A remnant of the light stutter he'd shown a moment before.
"That's right. I've been asked to participate in it, and I was wondering if you could give me a bit more insight into how things were under your former Sergeant," she explained, keeping her voice soft. It was rarely anything else.
The lines of his face tightened with tension.
"What did you want to know?" he asked carefully.
"Chopper has a very long list of demerits," most of their squad did, but he had the most, "I would like to know why."
Jester licked his lips and started rubbing his hand again. A nervous gesture, she decided.
"The Sarg- Slick. He, he hated Chopper. Hated all of us but Chopper most, then Punch. Every time Chopper did something Slick didn't like he'd find a way to punish him with Demerits or Extra Work," Jester said. He didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. She didn't ask him to.
"I see," she said softly, thinking over the information. There was more, she was sure, just Jester didn't seem to want to talk about it, in fact he was exceedingly uncomfortable with this. Perhaps it would be easier if she asked for the video files of their interviews for the other three in regards to the traitor Slick.
Deciding that she had tormented the clone enough for the day Aliette smiled at Jester. "Is there anything you would like to be known before a conclusion is reached?"
There a moment in which Jester hesitated before he sat a little straighter. "Sir, Chopper isn't a bad clone, a bad brother. He always tried to help us when he could and he was reliable in the field. He made bad choices but he wasn't a bad soldier."
Aliette stood up and bowed a few degrees to Jester. "Thank you for your time, you've been a help," she said honestly, "I look forward to our Formal Introduction."
Jester gave her a hesitant smile and saluted in returned. She was only half way through her Formals with her company, a personal interview held between soldiers and their commanding officers for a chance to get familiar with each other and their strengths and best placements. Most of the company she had cared for had volunteered to go first, only that day had she begun to see troopers she hadn't already met.
She had more scheduled for the afternoon, so she would take advantage of what time she had then to seek out the vids that were always kept for things like this.
She didn't go to find the other troops that had been in Chopper's squad, she would meet them on their own time and Jester's nerves still flickered under her skin every few minutes. They could be left alone, she just needed a few videos from Commander Cody, a no-nonsense trooper that worked closely with her Master. Her too, soon enough.
She would have to get used to his pragmatic personality and practical sense of dealing with things. That was part of his Center, Duty and Sensibility both holding strong.
It was interesting. All of the clones, for all of their similarities in face and voice, were very different from each other. Near all of them shared what she assumed was an ingrained line of Duty, but beyond that it was variable. There was Deka with his Humor, Long Shot with his Observation, and Cover who had died with his Loyalty.
It wasn't so obvious to others, maybe to fellow Jedi but not to extent that it was to her. To all Pantoran's. It was a born ability, to see the Center's of those around them. Hers was enhanced by the Force.
Aliette mused on these bits all through her walk to office that belonged to her fellow Commander.
She knocked thrice and waited patiently for an order of 'come in'. When she entered Cody gave her a cordial nod which she returned with a light bow, only a few degrees. A greeting for equals.
"Commander Ansa, what can I help you with?" he asked, sitting straighter in his seat. Like her Master his personal desk, issued to all officers, was cluttered with work. It was neat clutter though, everything in place with aligned edges and whatever organization he used.
"Commander Cody, I was wondering if I could get some files from you? Master Kenobi has asked me to help in Chopper's Court Martial, and I hoped to gain some insight from videos already taken from his squads previous interviews," she explained, her voice ever soft and formal.
She could feel his denial even before he shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't do that. The files are Classified higher than your clearance level."
There was the smallest purse of her lips. It didn't stop her from dipping her head without argument or question. She understood, classified was classified, and neither of them were able to change it.
"I see. Thank you for your time, sir."
He blinked his surprise but otherwise had no outward reaction to the calling.
"You're welcome. If you need anything else, or have questioned, my door is open to you."
This time Aliette awarded him a small smile. "Thank you, Commander. I'll remember that."
Even as she left his company she knew that she would probably just stick to her normal way of getting information. Reading and watching. She did not ask many questions, but she was quick to pick up on information and to store it away for later dissection. It was simply her way.
It wasn't going to work that well for her Plan B. She had been relying on the videos, but now…
It looked like she was going to have to do things the old fashioned way.
Even in his solitary space Chopper had heard of the new Commander, their Generals Padawan come to join the army. The guards that stood or sat outside the room he had been confined in had good things to say about her, especially her Healing prowess.
Chopper didn't know what to think of it. Their general, while an excellent leader and a strong Jedi, was not known for being any sort of doctor. It made him wonder why someone who Long Shot thought was so good at it was assigned to someone who relied as much on Bacta as they did.
He had let the musings fade in and out of his brain when it wasn't occupied with picking apart Slick, the way he'd acted and what he'd done, any sign that the five of them could have caught hold of to see what was coming.
He preferred thinking on a Commander he would never meet.
It wasn't like she would see him before he was shipped back to Kamino after they no doubt decided that he would be better of Reconditioned, a thought that made his jaw clench so tight he thought his teeth might break.
Chopper was working his jaw free when the door to the outside world split apart. Mismatched eyes darted to the door of his quarters, where he'd been told to stay until questioned, before they returned to the fall wall. It was Deka standing there in his copper trimmed armor, no doubt a terrible joke on the tip of his tongue.
Commander Cody had told him that they would bring him in for one last round of questioning before everything was finished. Chopper figured this would be it.
He was proven wrong when, out of the corner of his good eyes, something blue and grey appeared.
Only just looking he was able to see that it was woman. The blue was her skin, the grey was a loose shirt and skirt. She was standing next to Deka, her hands clasped in front of her with a belt falling sideways out from under the v of her shirt.
It was Light Saber attached to it that gave her away.
Commander Aliette Ansa, there to see the Collector. Chopper tensed further but rose like a good tropper, straight into attention.
He could feel as much as see her eyes, a gold like his right but deeper, dart from his face to the scarring on his head before they settled again on him. It was only years of training that prevented him from shifting like a Shiny under her gaze. He felt exposed, naked without his Armor. They had taken that from him as soon as Slick was in custody.
When she bowed to him he was surprised. It wasn't deep, only a few degrees down but Chopper had never had a higher up lower themselves to him before. It made him stand straighter.
A wave of warm air pressed against him from somewhere, like vaporized calm pushing against his skin. From the Jedi. He rejected it and snapped his eyes right to her, trying to hold them.
"Deka," she said, glancing to the clone at her side, "would you please step out?"
The smart mouthed clone frowned, an unusual look on his face. "You sure Commander?"
The blue woman nodded without further words.
Deka's shoulders lifted. "Alright, but call if you need me to step back in."
"I will," Commander Ansa said, moving into the room at the same time Deka moved out. The door shut with a glitchy click behind her. Lots of things went glitchy after Slick's betrayal. Lots of things.
When Commander Ansa looked back at him Chopper had to work not to turn the electric scar from her view. It was a habit he had determined Slick got him in to. He wanted to break that before he was sent back. Before he was Recycled. A last blow to the traitors legacy.
Maybe it was small, but it would have been something.
"I don't think we've met yet," her words tugged him out of his grim thoughts, "I'm Aliette Ansa, Master Kenobi's new Padawan."
Chopper stared at her for a few moments and was surprised when she looked away first.
"I've been told your name is Chopper?" she asked. He saw her hands go behind her back to rest, probably held together. What kind of Commander was this?
"Yes," he stated gruffly. Single word responses usually sent people off or ended conversations.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." A lie, obviously. Something polite the Jedi felt like telling him.
Not Jedi, Padawan. She was still in training. That was strange to think of.
"I've been asked to participate in your Court Martial." Her words were less fluid, less rehearsed now. He wasn't picking up tails and running with words the way most people did with prompting. Maybe if he threw her off enough she would just go back to her Master and they could get on with sending him to his fate.
There was one of the most awkward silences he'd ever been a part of for the next few minutes. Neither of them said anything, until he figured that a Padawan was more patient than he was stubborn.
"What else do you want to know?" he demanded.
A smile touched her features again, so small he could have missed the soft tilt of her mouth.
"I have the facts. All of them, about you and your squad. I would like more than facts now," she said.
It took him a minute to understand. "You want to know why I took the fingers." She could have just said so, it would have been easier. But Jedi, even not-yet-Jedi, were wrap-around in how they talked.
Commander Ansa nodded. "That's why I came. If you would tell me, I would appreciate it."
"And if I refuse?" he asked, meeting her eyes with an aggressive challenge. That alone could have gotten him a second trial.
"Then your reasoning with be yours alone," she said simply. Her weight shifted, leaning her back and away from him. Something like pride touched his chest before he crushed it. Was that how Slick felt every time Jester moved as far from him as he could, every time Sketch stuffed his drawings out of the Sergeants sight?
The thought made him sick.
"I wanted something back," he said slowly. When her head tilted with interest and genuine concern touched her eyes his mouth started moving without his telling it to. "They took my Brothers from me, my first squad, part of my head. I wanted something back. So I started taking back, from good shots, one hit kills on hard targets, rough fights that lost a lot of men. I took their fingers. Anything else was too big." His mouth shut with a click of teeth. He hadn't meant to say that much.
Chopper waited for some response. Watched her for any sign of how she felt. All he saw was a sadness in her eyes that made him balk in the face of pity. Rebelliously he dropped his attention and sat on his bunk, almost hitting his scarred head on the one on top of it. It was easier when he was staring at the floor.
There wasn't a reprimand.
"Did anyone else know you were doing it?" Commander Ansa asked. He didn't understand how anyone's voice could be that quiet and still echo around them in the silence.
Chopper's lips thinned into a line.
"Slick knew. And Gus," they had both known from the beginning, the Sergeant and his loyal pet. Not so loyal now.
He heard more than saw her dip herself to him again and wondered once more why she did that. He was on trial and she was a Commander. There was no need for it. If anything he should be bowing to her, if Tropper's did that.
"Thank you for speaking with me, Chopper. I hope to see you again."
He couldn't imagine why, but he nodded at her back when she left the room.
If he saw her again, he didn't know if he would be able to keep his tongue behind his teeth again, if he would start blurting things out in a full explanation of everything he'd ever done wrong, the way he'd wanted to just then.
It was probably a Jedi trick, messing with his head. Getting him to talk more than he wanted to.
Chopper fell back against the bunk and closed his eyes, breathing in at last the peace the Padawan had offered him when they started.
Aliette made her way back to the room she shared with Ahsoka, the emptiness of Christophsis settling deep into her bones while her mind worked away at the problem at hand.
Chopper.
He hadn't been malicious, for all he had made it obvious that he didn't want to talk to her, or probably anyone for that matter. His scars had intrigued her more than anything else, pulled at the medic inside of her until she was holding her hands behind her to keep from trying to reach out and see them, to check their damage and how far it had gone.
Troopers didn't normally have scars, not with Bacta's abilities and their own enhancements. Only truly bad injuries resulted in them, and that was one of the most interesting ones she had seen on any person, clone or otherwise.
Shame washed through her for her thoughts. He had been hurt and instead of concern her only thoughts were on curiosity.
Aliette shook her head and sat on her bunk, tucking her legs under her. Her shoulder had begun to hurt again, a phantom pain that happened sometimes after Force Healing. The Body remembered what should have been there while the Mind and Soul knew it to be gone.
The Pantoran closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting the stagnated Force of the planet twist around and inside of her, bringing with it calm and clarity. Or so she hoped, for the latter.
Meditation was something she was good at.
It was something you had to be good at to Heal. To Mend one had to let go of their Anger and Hurt and any ill intention, or else it would seep into the Healing and make things Worse than they had been. Push the wound open, tear the flesh apart.
Master Che had been very firm in her teachings, and had forced all of her pupils to watch recordings of what happened to those who Healed with a Grudge still in their hearts.
Even then, ten years later, the thought made Aliette more than willing to let everything fall away into the Force at least once a day. That day she did not let go the way she usually did. She called the Force to her and asked, softly, hopefully, for Guidance in the matter of the Court Martial. Her Master was trusting her with it, she did not want to let him down.
The Force whispered through her mind, fragments of thoughts and advice that whispered just beyond her reach.
Aliette opened herself to its wisdom and to the words it might have for her, breathing in the sense of Everything that the was All. It swirled in her chest, spread through her limbs. It was muted in comparison to the Temple but it was something at least. More than she thought she could get.
She breathed in the Force and let it curl inside of her, familiar and welcome. It was calm and soft, held onto her in the most comforting way she had ever know. Inside of her mind she cast out her questions, beseeching answers from the world around her.
The Force knew better than she what the fate of Chopper should be.
She did let herself hope that it was favorable, that it wasn't sending him back or anything horrible like she knew he must have been expecting, she had felt it the instant she walked into the room.
Perhaps the reason she wanted so badly to give Chopper a second chance was because of more empathy than sympathy in her part. Less Compassion, like Jedi were supposed to have, and more History of the Personal variety.
She let go of the past and pushed to the future, asking guidance in the choice she was about to make.
Aliette could only hope it was the right one.