Su'cuy! We're coming to the end of Book 4! Please enjoy what you read, and reviews are welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor did I develop the Mando'a. However, I did compose the song Adriaan sings following Vode An. Do you guys like The Fires of Death? Let me know!
Chapter 26
Adriaan knew that she had things to do, but she didn't care. No one cared; everyone had become like dead men. No one ate, talked, or slept. They had hidden in the mountain ranges in the North for five days before the Republic retrieval squad had found them. Emaciated, dejected, and ready to die, they had been led back to a trooper gunship, which had taken them to the Republic cruiser called the Victory. There, they had all undergone bacta treatment, to cleanse their bodies of any diseases they may have picked up on Umbria. They had then been given quarters isolated from the main barracks. Who was in command of the ship, Adriaan did not know. He was a clone, she knew, because she had been taken to the bridge to speak to him, but she had been too brain-dead to ask for his name. As far as she knew, no one had asked; they were all tired, and they didn't care.
It was all her fault. All ten deaths: Terry, Kien, Minir, Tau, Delta, Comet, Brannd, Jys, Vikk, Shakir ––– they had all died because she had been a stupid general. She shouldn't have ever left them alone; she should have gone with Red Squad to bring the lightsabers to the command center. She should have been at the command center to defend her Padawans against General Grievous. She should have let the clones run ahead of her, instead of letting them lag behind. She should have taken the datapad containing the copy of the tactical droid's memory banks, instead of letting Jys carry it. She should have gone immediately to fight Grievous, instead of delaying the confrontation. There were so many things that she should have done, but did not do. She should be shot for being so incompetent. She should be demoted to the rank of a Sergeant, at the very least.
No one demoted her, and no one shot her. She was still General ell Talaan of Ade Verda Legion, because no one cared.
"Ma'am."
Adriaan looked up to see a clone naval officer standing stiffly at attention. It was the commander of the Victory ––– clone Commander Nibral. So she had paid attention to the clone's name, after all. Nibral. Adriaan felt a surge of fury overtake her. Nibral was Mando'a for "loser" Who had given him such a name? He was no failure, but Adriaan was. Who had named her "Lightning in the Storm"? Surely Nibral was a more suitable name for her.
"Incoming transmission from Triple Zero," Nibral announced, awaiting her consent to put the message through. She nodded, knowing that she couldn't avoid her duty any longer, and he pressed a button on the console that activated the message.
"General ell Talaan, we have received a report of your mission," Master Windu began.
"I failed, Masters."
"Blame yourself for Grievous' escape, you will not," Yoda said.
"Yet I will take the blame for the casualties that resulting from this 'blue-milk run'" Adriaan said bitterly, mocking her words before the mission.
"Casualties are inevitable in a war, General," Windu said. "It is not necessarily your fault."
"Many Padawans, you lost; sense their deaths, I did," Yoda said. "Gone are Terry, Kien, and Minir."
"Yes, I lost ten, seven of which were killed by Grievous," Adriaan replied, struggling to keep her voice neutral. "The other three were incinerated by the scan gate as we were escaping. I feel that I could have prevented any of this from happening, if I had only kept them by my side…"
"'If' there is not," Yoda scolded.
"I'm sorry, Master, I'm not myself at the moment. I've lost so many men: Vikk, Jys, Comet, Brannd…"
"We grieve for your clones' deaths," Windu interrupted. "But it is of the lost Padawans were wish to hear more about."
Adriaan stared. "Excuse me?"
"Clones die all the time, General," Windu said. "It is inexorable; they are soldiers. They live to fight. We feel great pain that they die so frequently, but clone casualties are not the Jedi Council's priority. We need only to hear the deaths of our own, ell Talaan. I'm sorry."
Adriaan couldn't believe this. The Jedi way was to respect and care for all life, including the lives of clones. They didn't value any species or society over the other; all beings were equal in their sight. "I lost Tau and Delta, the inseparable," Adriaan said, ignoring Mace's request. "Comet, who could fly as well as a Jedi; Jys, the best scout in the five oh third; Vikk, who loved spicy food; Brannd, a pyromaniac. They're just as important to me as my Padawans; all the clones in Shadow Squad are. They're my boys, my brothers. They may not be my Apprentices, but it is nevertheless my sworn duty to train and protect them."
"Well said," Mace Windu conceded. "I apologize, General, for my dismissal of the clone casualties. With this war going on, with so many people dying, it's easy to become immune to deaths of people you hardly know."
It was rare indeed for a Council member to apologize ––– not because they were arrogant, but because they rarely did things that called for repentance ––– but Adriaan was too upset with her own failure to take much notice. "It is I who should apologize, Master Windu," Adriaan said. "I failed to complete the objective; I let Grievous escape. I barely even fought him. I must return to Umbria immediately and catch him…"
"Fled Umbria, Grievous has," Yoda told her. "Sent another Jedi team after him, we have. Your assistance, require it we do not. Rest for the next few days, you must. Honor the fallen during this time, you will."
"The best way I can honor the dead is by completing the mission that had cost them their lives," Adriaan interrupted. "My Padawans and the squad can take a break if they need it, but I need to go after Grievous now. Where is he hiding?"
"Master ell Talaan, your attitude is inexcusable for a Jedi of your repute," Windu said sternly. "I think it best that you temporarily leave the warfront and come back to the Jedi Temple to reflect on your attitude. All Jedi are required to go on a meditative retreat, and your time for one is long overdue."
Adriaan stared. "You'd have me forsake my companions for the sake of a meditative retreat?"
"Take your Padawans with you, you can," Yoda amended. "Good for them, a vacation from war would be."
"Masters, I have nothing against my Padawans going on a meditative retreat, but I cannot be taking leave while my own troops get no time themselves for rest and relaxation. If I am to go on retreat, give my troops a furlough as well."
"I'm afraid the Council is not authorized to do that," Mace said.
"But you're supposed to be one of the commanding officers of the Republic army; surely you have the jurisdiction to grant my soldiers just a few days of leave. They need the rest, and if you won't give it to them, I will just have to bend the rules and let them go AWOL."
"Angry and desperate, you have become," Yoda said. "Attachments you have formed with your troops. The Jedi way, this is not."
"Masters, it has become increasingly obvious to me that one cannot be both a good Jedi and a good military officer," Adriaan blurted out. "Jedi are keepers of the peace, not soldiers ––– you said that yourself, Master Windu, did you not?"
The Jedi Masters exchanged looks. "If that is so, which life do you choose?" Mace countered.
Adriaan paused. "I think," she said carefully, "I think that ––– for now, at least ––– my priority should be being a competent General, instead of a proper Jedi."
"Adriaan, think well on your words, you must," Yoda warned. "Your mouth get you into trouble, too often it does. Learn, you must, the power of silence."
"I cannot keep the truth silent," Adriaan replied. "When we chose to lead the Grand Army of the Republic, we all chose to be officers instead of Jedi."
Kan stood with dry eyes among the congregation of troops and Jedi, passively watching the flaming pyre burn in honor of the comrades who had fallen on Umbria. The bodies had been impossible to retrieve, so they had just had to make do with an empty pyre. There were no possessions to remember the dead by, no holos to prove their previous existence. Except for the small, ragtag group huddled in around the funeral fire, no one knew that the ten who had died on Umbria had ever been born.
Adriaan stood with folded arms at the head of the group, dressed in a plain black military suit, blond hair cropped short. Gone were the long hair and proper Jedi attire. Rumor had circulated that she had had another infamous argument with the Jedi Council, so she was openly stating her rebelliousness by wearing nontraditional garb. Kan sincerely hoped Adriaan hadn't gone all the way and quit the Order. They had their disagreements, but Kan felt he owed Adriaan a debt for her agreement to become his Master. They didn't get along anymore, but Kan still depended on her. She was his only hope at becoming a Jedi Knight.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Shektaraysh, Cuir, Tracyn, Parjai, Ka'ra, Tor, Jahaala, Kad'la, Nuhuna, bal Vhekad," Adriaan chanted in Mando'a. "I'm alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, Tau, Delta, Brannd, Vikk, Comet, Jys, Shakir, Kien, Minir, and Terry. The Force is with you and with us; you and the Force are one. Someday, we will meet again. Someday, we who are still alive will be joined with the Force."
What was up with Adriaan speaking Mando'a? She wasn't Mandalorian; she was a Jedi. She couldn't be both, for the Mandalorians and the Jedi were traditional enemies, adversaries even before the formation of the Republic. Jango Fett had been a Mandalorian, and he had worked for the Seps. What did Adriaan mean by speaking an enemy language? Was she showing everyone where her true allegiances lay?
"Ma'am," Ember spoke up softly. "Do you mind if we sing Vode An? It's a war chant, but I think it functions quite well as a lament, too."
Adriaan nodded, her eyes reflected blood-red in the fire's angry, consuming light.
Ember nodded at his men, who stepped into line and clicked their heels together, as if they were about to begin a military drill. They began to beat out the rhythm by drumming their fists on their chest plates. Then, as one, they began to sing:
"Kote!
Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.
Bal kote, darasuum kote,
Jorso'ran kando a tome.
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an.
Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.
Bal…
Kan felt the hairs on his neck rise. The sonorous baritone voices of the clones, coupled with the haunting tone of the song, was spine-chilling. His heart started to pound, and he suddenly felt cold all over. The song was more frightening than invigorating; more for fey men, doomed to die, than soldiers trying to get psyched up for a battle. It caused his thoughts to turn to death, and Ruru, instead of glory in battle.
"Kan. My young Padawan. Kan Enik. Kan."
He saw his Master, lying in the blood-red dirt of Geonosis. He was curled up into a ball, as if he were just asleep. If it weren't for the crimson fountain spouting from the hole in his chest, Kan might have believed that Ruru was, indeed, just asleep…
"Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.
Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r.
Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.
Aruetyc runi trattok'o.
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an!"
Suddenly, a woman's voice entered the fray.
"Glory!
One indomitable heart, Brothers all!"
The voice was unlike any Kan had ever heard before. It was like the soft falling of silvery raindrops upon shiny emerald leaves. It was the voice of a fire-sprite, free-spirited and pure, and the last person Kan expected to be the owner of that voice was his own Master.
But it was her that was singing. It was Adriaan ell Talaan who had the voice of gold.
Everyone in the group stared at Adriaan ell Talaan, their mouths hanging agape. The creature who stood before them singing with a voice as clear and fresh and vibrant as a moonlit night seemed alien, unlike the General they were accustomed to. This was a different side of Adriaan they could only glimpse and wonder at. It was the real Adriaan ell Talaan.
The clones stumbled in the rhythm of the chant, shocked at the sound of a soprano female's voice, which contrasted piercingly with the resonant tones of the male chorus. However, when Adriaan faltered in the sudden silence, they started again, this time in Basic.
"Glory!
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.
We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.
And glory, eternal glory,
We shall bear its weight together.
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.
We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.
And…
Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.
Our vengeance burns brighter still.
Every last traitorous soul shall kneel.
Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.
Our vengeance burns brighter still.
Every last traitorous soul shall fall.
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all!"
It was not a chant that inspired men to be brave; it was a dirge for those who had died. It was a rallying call devised to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies. A requiem of men marching to fight against hopeless odds. A song of death. Ember was right; it was more of a threnody than a marching tune. Kan found himself blinking back tears when the keening stopped.
Vode An may have been over, but Adriaan was not finished. As the last words of the song faded away, she started on a different note, and switched to Mando'a, the language of Jango Fett, the clone troopers' "father"
Kyr'am tracyn hettir mhi an
Kando be kote atin'la bah jorir.
Cuun ka'rtase brokar solus sa mhi taabir
bah tal'galaar par hut'uune.
Naasade n'ulu meg mhi'cuyir
Naasade n'ulu meg ven'mhi cuyir
Naasade n'ulu par Vode mhi ganar echoy'la
Par narser beh b'ash'ad vercopa
Kyr'am tracyn hettir mhi an
sa mhi tal'onidir par auretiise
Mhi darmav akaan'ade beh shabla Tsad Droten
A cuun tal'onidir cuun kartase mav!
"Let us also remember and honor today the men who gave their lives during the CIS occupation of the Syleeto system," Adriaan said, her voice ringing in the vast emptiness of the hangar bay. She was crying now, and everyone began to shift uncomfortably, for Adriaan never cried. She was always so pragmatic and calm; never before had she given way to grief and pain. "Today, I wish to honor the death of Commander Urak, whose services I did not duly appreciate. He died during the invasion of the Kiyp Belt, and in my lack of compassion I took no time to mourn for the dead. Urak, I wish to make up for that now. Forgive me, for the evil I have done you.
"'Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still.' I swear by the lightsaber I built with my own hands, I will avenge every clone's and Padawan's life that was taken in this war. This is my promise to you; the Separatists and the sith will pay for what they have done."
The Padawans exchanged significant glances, but they were too afraid to speak up. They knew that the vow Adriaan was binding herself to was wrong, and would lead her to the dark side, but something in her face held them back. Her bright blue, gold-flecked eyes shone with a fey light; her face was bloodless, her expression calm. She looked like a ghost.
Kan felt something inside him crumble as he looked at his Master. Something in her had died that day, and he knew that she would never be the same again.
Even though she remained by his side, Kan felt alone, for he knew that he was losing her.
* * * * *
Wolf tore the armor panels from his body glove, threw his kit on his bunk and sat down on top of it, staring blankly at the wall. He hadn't spoken for days; there was nothing left for him to say. There was no reason to even continue his existence any longer. Wolf had never seriously contemplated suicide before ––– he had always figured that the Seppies would do the job for him if he ever wanted to die ––– but after this mission, he didn't see any reason why he should not take away his life. He hadn't chosen to live, he hadn't chosen to become a clone, he hadn't chosen to be a slave soldier boy who protected a corrupt government that didn't really care for him, but he could make the choice to end his life, here and now.
Wolf no longer wanted to live because he just couldn't stand to watch another brother die. He just couldn't. He had seen many clones expire ––– in all different and in all horrible ways possible ––– but how Jys, Comet and Shakir had perished seemed the worst of all. One moment they had been there; the next, they were gone, leaving nothing behind for anyone to remember them by. The memory of it was killing him day by day.
Cor, who had been stretched out on the bunk next to Wolf's, sat up and began to thunk Wolf on the head with his bare foot. "Hey, Wolf, sleeping?"
Wolf grunted.
"Better get some, vod, 'cause we'll be shipping out of here for another mission by tomorrow, knowing the GAR," Cor said, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"I'll be dead by then," Wolf muttered, but luckily Cor's attention had been turned to the arrival of their Captain, who had just strode through the door in full gear.
"Atten-SHUN!" Onor barked, and the boys that lay sprawled on their bunks jumped hastily out of bed to give their Captain a deferential salute.
Ember waved at them to stay at ease. "You boys have had enough time on your feet," he said, taking off his helmet, revealing a sweaty, exhausted, yet pleased face. "I'm about to receive a call from little Rez, and I thought you grunts would like to hear him."
Cor groaned and covered his ears. "Oh, please, Ember; since when have we found the sound of Rez's voice pleasant?" But everyone knew that Cor's insouciant comment was a guise to hide his relief at finding that Rez had made it through the Nebula. He and Rez had always been close friends, and the separation had been gnawing at Cor lately, making him irascible.
"Heard that, you Hutt spawn," Ember's comlink chirped.
Cor grinned. "Good."
"Well, in that case, I guess you don't want to hear this absolutely hilarious joke I learned from the chaps in Reek Battalion…"
"Are they named 'reek' after the animal, or because they stink?" Skipp quipped.
"Both. Hey, Skipp, is that you? I swear your voice has gotten one hundred and sixty-seven phons louder," Rez shouted.
"Nerd," Cor jeered. "Who the heck knows what a 'phon' is anyway?"
"A phon is a unit of the perceived loudness of sounds," Nano supplied.
"Thanks, professor," Cor said. "Now, how 'bout that joke, huh?"
"Or," Wolf said, sitting up in bed, "how about we tell Rez that there are only thirteen members of Shadow Squad left?"
Ember gestured desperately at Wolf to shut it, but it was too late. There was a strangled cry on the other end, followed by a Chiss expletive. "Fierfek," Rez said, once he had composed himself again. "Ember, why didn't you contact me before?"
"We couldn't; we were stuck on Umbria for an entire week after the infiltration," Ember said gently. "I'm sorry, son."
There was a brief silence on the other end as Rez struggled with the news. "Who died?" he asked finally.
"It was…" Ember cleared his throat awkwardly and tried again. "It was Jys, Comet, Shakir, Tau, Delta, Vikk, and Brannd."
More silence. "Jys would've liked the joke Reek Battalion taught me," Rez said sadly. "It was such a good one-liner, too…in a bad sort of way. I was going to tell it to him when I got back, but now…"
"Rez, get it together," Ember said. "I know this news hit you rather hard, but I haven't slept in five days, so if you can't give me a proper sitrep, I'll have to contact you later…"
"No sir, I'm okay," Rez said with an effort. "That just hit me rather hard. Seven of us dead? How could it happen so quickly…"
"Death always comes when we least expect it."
"You're starting to sound like the General."
"Adriaan's a good girl; she's made of the right stuff. She's got the guts, but not the glory…not yet, anyway."
"She's an excellent General, an intelligent warrior, and a high-minded person, but for some reason the Jedi don't think she's so great. Jedi like General Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are taking up the spotlight; they've reached celebrity status out here in the Core. The boys in Reek Battalion are absolutely raving about Kenobi's and Skywalker's numerous campaigns against the Seppies."
"Is that where you are right now? The Core?"
"Yeah. We're taking a Pelta-class medical frigate to Triple Zero."
"So the Padawan is still alive?"
"Jordin is alive, but in very bad condition. When the pod got out of the asteroid field, we were nearly captured by the Separatist fleet, but Captain Nibral got us aboard the Victory and had the girl checked into the medical facility. They chilled her down and inserted a shunt to drain out extraneous fluid, and they put her on a saline drip, but the medical droid clearly expressed its concern that she would not make a full recovery."
"Few patients with that sort of injury return to normal condition."
"I called you instead of General ell Talaan because even though Jordin is going to live, there are some complications. Basically, it will be a miracle if she ever regains consciousness."
"You mean she might be comatose for life?" That was horrible news. Jordin would probably never return to the warfront, or be able to continue her Jedi training. She could very well have to be put on permanent life support.
"I was allowed to represent her custodian in place of General ell Talaan, so I made the final decision to move her to Coruscant, where the Jedi Temple is located. I've heard that they have a medical facility at the Temple that is the best in the galaxy. The doctors there are Jedi, who have healed many seriously injured patients. I'm not expecting them to be miracle-workers, but I am confident that they will take better care of Jordin than any of the GAR-issued doctors."
"You're right; those GAR medics don't act like doctors at all. More like butchers."
"Hey, the med droid that examined her was really quite nice. At least it didn't give the usual recommendations for people with Jordin's condition ––– you know, 'you're a burden to society so you really should consider getting euthanized, blah-blah-blah.' Anyway, we came out of hyperspace ten minutes ago; that's why I called you. We'll be at the Jedi Temple within two hours. Will you relay this report on to the General? I'm not sure when I'll be available to contact you again."
"Affirmative. Take care, Rez. Have fun in Coruscant; don't spend all your time sitting in the waiting room of a hospital worrying about a comatose girl, understand?"
"Yessir. I'll contact you if there's any change in the situation."
"Copy that. Shadow Squad out." Ember closed the link and immediately whirled on Wolf. "Was there any call for that, trooper?" he demanded.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about. You know how anxious Rez gets when he's separated from the squad, and you have to blurt out at once that seven of his brothers were killed? You didn't even say hello to him first, or give him fair warning. You just right up and slapped the news across his face with less tact than a HoloNet news announcer."
"You would have preferred that he not be told at all? That's just plain cruel, and you know it. He deserved to know."
"Yes, but what he didn't deserve was to be told in that way. You know how close he was to Jys."
"We were all close to Jys."
"Rez had no idea that it was coming…"
"Well, neither did we."
"At least we were there!" Ember shouted, in a rare display of temper. "Rez was the only one who wasn't with us when it happened, he was the only one who wasn't present at the memorial service, he thought everything was all right over here, so you shouldn't have broken the news to him so suddenly. He's the youngest in the squad, Wolf; he's not as used to death as we are."
"You can't get used to death."
"You can if it becomes a daily occurrence, and it is an extremely common hazard in war."
"Rez has seen people killed before."
"Yes, but he has never lost someone he has been particularly close to before. You have."
Wolf did not want to be reminded of that. "Stop assuming that having a friend die is easier to bear if you've experienced it in the past," he said angrily. "Because it isn't; past experiences make it a great deal worse."
"Well, it's not mine, Rez's, or anyone else's fault that some boys in your batch died in the live fire training exercises on Kamino, so stop making us suffer for it."
Wolf stood. "This conversation is over." He started for the door, but Ember stood in front of him.
"I'm not finished, trooper!" he said.
"Well, I am," Wolf said, and then he shoved his captain out of his way and ran out into the hallway, dodging crew members and clone troopers that filled the passageway. He randomly selected a room that was marked as unoccupied and ran inside, throwing himself facedown onto the unforgiving contours of the first bunk that he reached.
He dug his face into the datasheet-thin pillow, pulling the flimsy army blanket over his head to shut out the noise of outside. The sheet was too short to cover his entire body, so his lower half stuck out of the blanket. He didn't care; he had locked the door, so no one could come in and see him.
He didn't care if no one ever came. He just wanted to die.
* * * * *
"Wolf!" Ember ran out into the hall, knocking over several crew members and utility droids in his haste to catch the soldier. "Get back here!"
He rounded the corner just in time to see Wolf run into a room and slam the door. He hit the control panel and groaned to see that his brother had locked the door. "Open the door!" he yelled, kicking it with his booted leg.
"What's going on, Ember?"
Ember looked up to see Adriaan making her way down the hall toward him. Perfect; a Jedi just when he needed one. Adriaan's Force powers would have the door opened in a snap.
"It's Wolf," Ember said. "He, ah…well, it's a little hard to explain…"
The Jedi closed her eyes. "You don't need to tell me what's wrong. I already know. It's about what happened at the scan gate…"
"Yes ma'am. We're all upset about that, but we're just going to have to adapt. Except that Wolf doesn't want to adapt; he wants to stay mad forever, as if that will bring Jys and the others back to life. He's always been a bit strange. He didn't come from my batch; rumor has it that he was the last surviving member of a squad that failed a training exercise. Whatever happened to him back on Kamino, I think the memory of it is affecting his judgement now. I just don't understand him; he gets so angry at people getting killed, and he shouldn't…"
"Why not, Ember?" Adriaan interrupted. "Why shouldn't he get angry?"
"It's not a soldier's way, ma'am; death is a common thing in the military. We have to get used to it early on…"
"No, you don't get used to it. You can't, that's just too much to ask out of a being. You can't seriously say that you're used to death, Ember?"
"I'm not, ma'am, but I've gotten to a point now where I don't shed tears over every dead man's body, either. The batch I trained with back in my training days on Kamino was called the Spartan Squad for a reason, General. We never broke down, no matter how brutal the training exercise was. Do you know how I got the name Ember? A hatchmate of mine dared me to keep a campfire going all night outside Tipoca City. You know that it always rains on Kamino? Well, I sat out there for twelve hours, shielding a little bitty fire with an inadequate cloak. But I made it through, General; I kept that ember going all night, through the wind and the rain. The Kaminoans exposed us to such discomfort and pain because they wanted to toughen us up, make us able to endure the suffering of seeing so much death. They said we'd get used to it."
"They're dead wrong. You can't treat killing as if its a mild, humdrum sort of thing, something that you can become accustomed to witnessing. You can't be expected to become like that."
"I shouldn't be expected to fight for a people that cares nothing whether I live or die, either, yet I have to do that every day. We're slave soldiers, General, and slaves are meant to do all the vile jobs that are too filthy for normal sentient beings to do.
"Talk to Wolf, ma'am ––– command him to stop this moping around. He'll listen to you, because you're the General. Order him to grow up."
"I can't order someone to grow up, Ember. You may be slaves to the Republic, but not to me. This is a person we're talking about, not my personal slave. If I'm going to go in there and talk him out of this mood, it will be an eye-to-eye conversation, not a General ordering a trooper around."
Ember didn't like that idea so much. Wolf had always had a soft spot for Adriaan, and allowing him to talk to her as an equal could encourage him in the wrong direction. "Ma'am, I do not approve of that sort of relationship forming between you and Wolf…"
Adriaan appeared taken aback at the suggestion. "Oh, please, Ember, have a little faith in me; I'm a Jedi, not a girl in search of a boyfriend. It wouldn't be fair to treat him like that ––– I may not be the best Jedi in the Order, but at least I conform to the rule of keeping attachments strictly nonromantic. I'll treat him like a sibling; we'll be sister and brother only, understand?"
Ember was still dubious. "Just make sure he understands that that is how far your relationship can go."
"He'll understand."
"But I strongly advise you to command him to stop; orders are what he understands and responds to, not brotherly love and compassion. We're all like that because we grew up listening to orders; no one ever asked us if we wanted to do something. We just had to do it. I tried that brother-to-brother talk, but all he did was shrug me off, because 'If it ain't orders, it ain't worth hearing.'"
"He didn't listen because you weren't gentle."
"Gentle? He's a soldier, ma'am, and gentleness makes soldiers uncomfortable. Discomfort is familiar to a trooper, therefore discomfort is more homelike to us than gentleness is. How can being gentle to Wolf help matters?" Ember knew that he wasn't making much sense now, but he was swiftly losing patience with the young woman. Gentle, indeed! What Wolf really needed was a good smack in the rear end.
Adriaan just smiled one of those strange smiles that always made Ember feel that he was made of transparisteel, as if she could see right through him. Being a Jedi with all those Force abilities, she probably could. It gave him the creeps.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said.
* * * * *
"Wolf, open the door," Adriaan's muffled voice repeated for the sixth time as she continued to rap gently on the barred entrance.
"I'm trying to get some sleep, ma'am, and I think you should do the same, so go away, please," he said.
There was a brief pause. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
Wolf just waited. Maybe if he didn't respond to her, she would leave.
Unfortunately, locked doors did not stop Jedi from going where they pleased. All it took was a little flashy Jedi trick, and the door was Force-pulled open.
Wolf may not have been in the mood to see Adriaan, but he would never be disrespectful to her, no matter how unwelcome her presence was. Out of habit, he rolled to a sitting position and started to stand for a perfunctory salute as the girl entered the room, but Adriaan shook her head at him and gestured impatiently for him to lay back down.
"Please, Wolf, this isn't a formal audience. You can remain sitting."
"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to stand," he answered evenly.
Adriaan let out an exasperated puff. "Wolf, I'm not in here to order you around and have you licking my boots. Can you cut the formalities for once and stop calling me 'ma'am'? Can we just forget the war for a few minutes?"
Wolf opened his mouth to spout out trooper protocol at Adriaan, but the pleading expression on her face made him reconsider. Forget the war for a few minutes? He looked around the room, shaking his head at the amount of armor, guns, and equipment strewn haphazardly around him. Impossible. Pretend that Adriaan was Adriaan to him, and not ma'am or General ell Talaan? Again, not possible.
"I'd like to, but you can't expect me to forget who I am, and what you are," he said finally. "We're clone and Jedi ––– soldier and officer ––– and it can't be anything else, no matter how hard we pretend."
"Okay, let me rephrase this: is it possible for an officer to be good friends with one of her men?"
The idea intrigued him, for had he not harbored that very same hope deep in his heart? That he could ever have a friend outside the squad? Ember didn't approve of his boys forming attachments with people outside the squad ––– he thought it was bad for morale ––– but that still didn't keep Wolf from wishing for a friend that was…different.
"Okay," he let out in a rush. "Just don't let Ember hear about this, all right? He'll have my hide if he finds out that I ever called you anything other than 'ma'am'"
"No words leave this room," she said solemnly. "Now, about what happened last week…"
"Please ma…Adriaan, there is no reason to torture ourselves by recalling painful events."
She nodded. "I agree; as a Jedi, I was taught to move on, and not over-think past mistakes. This teaching of the Jedi I agree with, but find hard to live by. Things were done to me when I was younger that are hard to forget, let alone forgive."
"I think we share a similar grievance. My time spent on Kamino was anything but happy. But I realized early on in the war that the only way I could move on in my life, pathetic as it is, is by letting go of people and things I fear to lose."
She leaned forward. "And you truly believe this?"
"I do."
"Then why are you acting this way? All you are doing is giving others pain. Is that what you really want?"
Wolf put his head in his hands. "No. I hate seeing my brothers trying vainly to comfort me, but they just don't get it."
"Get what?"
"They've accepted this loss with such ease. I don't know how they all do it. I know I should be like them and let go of my dead brothers, yet I balk at the idea of forgiving murder."
Adriaan was staring at the floor. "You know, lately I've been wondering if there are things so horrible in this universe that they can't be forgiven," she said finally. "Like my neglect of mourning the men who died at Syleeto, or the gruesome trophies Grievous keeps as memos of the people he has slaughtered. Is revenge the only way to find peace from this pain in my heart? I know I'm starting to sound like a sith, but how can forgiveness be right in the face of such wrong?"
"I don't know," Wolf said. "I feel so inadequate, not knowing these things. It sounded so easy back on Kamino: obey the Jedi, obey your COs, take care of your kit, and serve, serve, serve the Republic until you die, or until orders state otherwise. It turns out that life is much more complicated than that."
Adriaan seemed to take a sudden interest in the pattern of scuff marks on the floor. "You probably know why I'm here, right?"
"Of course. You want me to forget, to pretend it never happened."
"No. But I don't want you to make your brothers suffer like this. If you are to grieve, hold your misery in your heart. A wise man once said that if you are sad, keep your sorrow secret, so no one will come to pain at seeing you in distress. Someday, your day to avenge your brothers's deaths will come, but how can you expect to be ready on that day if you allow yourself to be wasted away in grief?"
Wolf clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. How typical of a Jedi, to ask the impossible out of him. As if it weren't enough that he had to serve an army that gave him inexperienced officers, food that tasted like cardboard, armor that pinched him in all the wrong spots, no civil rights, no leave, and yet expected him to fight until he died. He began to feel a lump in his throat, and he fought the unexpected urge to cry and reveal to the entire galaxy just what he really was: a scared, sick, unloved little boy in a cold, hard universe.
"Wolf, are you okay?" Adriaan sat down beside him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off her body, yet not close enough as to make him uncomfortable.
He swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm…sorry, Adriaan. You shouldn't have to see me like this."
"I don't mind if you do, you know."
"Do what?"
"Cry."
Cry?! How the heck did she know… "I'm a man, General, not a baby," he said stiffly.
"Cut it out, Wolf; it's Adriaan, remember? Besides, even for men there is a time to cry."
"But I'm not just any man; I'm a soldier. A clone of Jango Fett. I'm better than this. My brothers and I were designed, bred, and trained to be the most effective, physically fit army ever produced…"
"First you say you're a slave, more wretched than the lowest lifeform, and now you say you are better than a normal being. Make up your mind: are you subhuman or superhuman?"
He shrugged. "Both; having superior genetics only makes me a more valuable and therefore more expensive product. Even though I'm a slave, I'm still a man, whatever the rest of the galaxy thinks."
"But you're not a man yet, even as I am not a woman yet. You're eight years old, Wolf, no matter how old you look and act. There's boy in you still, no matter how hard the Kaminoans tried to breed your child nature out of you. Since the first moment I met you, you've never once let down your guard and shown your true personality. Be a boy, for once. You can't be expected at eight years old to be an adult, at least not all the time."
Then she reached over and draped her arm over his shoulder, and that one little touch seemed to break something inside him. He leaned forward and let the tears fall, unleashing all the pent-up anguish and outrage he had felt since the day he had seen Jys die at the gate. Adriaan's arm tightened around him, and she drew him close, allowing him to turn his head and weep on her shoulder. She sat very still, crooning the lamentations of the strange songshe had sung at the funeral, waiting patiently for the deluge to cease.
"The fires of death consume us all
The weight of glory is hard to bear.
Our hearts beat as one as we march
To spill our blood for cowards.
No one cares who we are
No one cares who we'll be
No one cares for the brothers we have lost
For the sake of someone else's dream.
The fires of death consume us all
As we sweat blood for traitors
We are the slave army of a doomed Republic
But our sacrifice sets our hearts free!
The words to the song ––– so resigned to a horrible fate, yet so proud and so full of hope ––– strangely affected Wolf. Instead of feeling anger at the injustice in his life, he felt unexpectedly uplifted, for it made him realize that in his sorrow, he was not alone. His brothers and the Jedi officers all experienced and felt the devastating pain that the war had brought. Though they fought for a doomed Republic, the clones' self-sacrifices set them free, made heroes and men out of them. It gave them the strength to go on, to let go of what they had lost ––– not in the sense of forgetting the dead, but in honoring their memory, and learning to live in a constantly adapting universe.
As Wolf came to this revelation, he began to feel the warmth of Adriaan's body against his, to hear the calming, rhythmic beating of her heart, to breath in the delicate, sandalwood fragrance of her skin. As these things registered in his brain, he came to the realization of something else, something he hadn't noticed before, but something that had been there for a long time, something very wonderful and beautiful and potent and impossible at the same time…
He loved Adriaan.