Daily Entry 06.5: Commander CC-4242 (158 Days ABG)
I am elated. Thanks to the town's network of scouts – nicknamed "burrowrats" –I have located my men. They appear to be using the Scythan Plateau (a crescent-shaped range overlooking a large valley) as a rallying point, the region where the cruiser crashed. Apparently, for better or worse, my troops are taking the obvious choice.
Gala has agreed to escort me there and discuss the possibility of an alliance. I owe my thanks in this matter to Kali'sto.
I find myself impressed with him. He's defied everything I thought I knew about the Jedi. Turns out we're not so different, even beyond the obvious raised-in-isolation-and-trained-from-birth methods. Let's review their code:
There is no Emotion, there is Peace: Taken literally, this implies sociopathy. Kali'sto is collected, but he's not a drone. He clearly cares about these people, and as much as he might deny it if I told him, when he saw the state of this village, he was angry.
And, I think he cares about me. Enough to listen when I have grievances, certainly.
There is no Ignorance, there is Knowledge: This implied arrogance, that the Jedi think they know everything. Jango was really off the mark here; Kali'sto's wise, but he's admitted he's young and still has much to learn. He admits that he doesn't feel ready for the responsibility he now holds, any more than I do.
There is no Passion, there is Serenity: This, more than any other line in the code, is what made me see them as drones: No passion? Where's the passion for justice? The passion to protect one's vode (translation: brothers)? If his reactions to our current predicament are any indication, Kali'sto's certainly passionate enough about justice.
There is no Chaos, there is Harmony: This implies they think total peace is possible, that they believe in some kind of grand happy family. By contrast, Kali'sto seems to get that conflict is an inevitability. I think that instead, harmony means that in spite of chaos, we find our own harmonies. Everyone has a family, friends, people who they are close to. Even us Alpha ARCs, who inherited Jango's solitary nature, had each other. When I was transferred out, it turned out to be a blessing. My troops, my brothers, they're my family, all I have. Protecting them is my job.
There is no Death, there is the Force: Again, implies they don't care for others. But Kali'sto made me realize this really means that they just have to eventually let go after they lose someone. The idea is that they live on in the Force, and in memory. For Mandalorians like Jango, there is no afterlife, all they get is the lives they lead. They only live on in their legacy and the memories of those who stay behind. At the end of the day, no one's really gone, as long as they are remembered.
I remember when SiSev, eight years old, cocky after his successes in the Citadel challenge (which I designed), convinced me to tell Jango to tell instructor Kal Skirata to order those Null prototypes he drags around to sneak some uj cake into our barracks. When I objected, he pressed me, and justified it as a means to "learn the value of social connections." In the dim lighting of our barracks, our troops feasted that night.
SiSev, like me, hated his nickname, desperately wanting a real name, but he couldn't find anything he liked. Given how resourceful and clever he always was, I posthumously name him Balac (Translation: Opportunity.)
Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Bala'ner'vod. (Translation: I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, my brother Opportunity.)
