Chapter 20: The Weight of Command

The hangar began to clear, the low hum of engines and the distant clang of tools filled the space. Auren lingered on the command platform, his hands resting lightly on the railing as his eyes followed the dispersing soldiers and Jedi. He could see them in quiet conversation, some laughing softly, others carrying the weight of the battle in their silence. These were the people he had sworn to protect, the ones who made the sacrifices worth it. And yet, for every victory, there was the shadow of what was still to come.

Malak stood at his side, silent for once, his usual bravado replaced by a contemplative stillness. Together, they watched as Captain Velos organized the detachment that would remain on Obredaan. The planet's resources, its people, its strategic importance—all secured, at least for now. But Auren's mind was already elsewhere.

"The Mandalorians didn't run," Auren said softly, almost to himself. "They're regrouping."

Malak glanced at him, his brow furrowing. "You're sure? Maybe they're finally realizing we're not so easy to push around."

Auren shook his head. "This isn't retreat—it's strategy. They're shifting their forces. Preparing for something bigger."

"Prazhi?" Malak asked, leaning slightly against the railing. "That's where they'd go. It's close enough to regroup and fortified enough to hold us back."

"Exactly," Auren replied. "But I won't gamble on guesses. We need confirmation." He turned, his cape sweeping slightly as he began to walk toward the turbolift. "I'll send an Admiral to investigate."

"You could call Orithan," Malak suggested, though his tone was half-mocking.

Auren's steps slowed, his expression hardening. "No. I don't trust him. Velos will handle the occupation here, and I'll find someone who can give us answers."

Malak smirked. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"Dislike isn't the right word," Auren said, stepping into the lift. "Distrust is."

As the doors closed, Malak turned back to the hangar, watching the soldiers below. They'd won today, and yet the weight of the campaign only seemed to grow heavier. Auren's unease was infectious, though Malak wouldn't admit it. The Mandalorians weren't done—not by a long shot.

Hours later, as the fleet prepared to leave Obredaan's orbit, Auren stood alone on the bridge of the Resolute. His officers busied themselves with departure protocols, their quiet efficiency a stark contrast to the chaos of battle just hours before. Auren stared at the planet below, its swampy surface now dotted with Republic outposts and fortifications. They had won, yes, but the cost of every victory weighed on him like a stone.

"Commander," Velos's voice crackled over the comm. "The occupation force is secure, and the last transport is en route to the Indomitable. We're ready to break orbit on your command."

Auren pressed the comm panel. "Acknowledged, Captain. May the Force be with you."

"And with you," Velos replied before the line went silent.

As the Indomitable turned toward the stars, Auren allowed himself one final moment of reflection. The war was still young, but already, he could feel its toll. Every battle, every decision, every life lost or spared—he bore it all. Yet he knew, deep down, that this was his path. He had chosen it, and he would see it through to the end.

He straightened, his voice calm but resolute as he addressed the bridge. "Prepare the fleet. Set course for Dantooine."

"Yes, Commander," came the reply.

As the stars elongated into streaks of light, Auren closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself one last thought before the next chapter of the campaign began.

Auren stood in the communications chamber aboard the Indomitable, his arms folded behind his back as the hologram of Chancellor Tol Cressa flickered into life before him. The journey back to Dantooine was calm, the Indomitable and its escort ships sailing through hyperspace with their battered but victorious fleet. Auren's expression was composed, though the weight of Obredaan lingered in his mind.

"Chancellor," Auren greeted, bowing slightly as the shimmering blue image of Tol Cressa steadied.

"Auren," Cressa replied, his tone warm but tempered with formality. "I've received your initial reports from Captain Velos. Congratulations on your victory at Obredaan. The Republic owes you a great debt."

"The credit belongs to the soldiers and Jedi who fought there, Chancellor," Auren said, his tone neutral yet sincere. "Their sacrifices made this victory possible."

Tol's holographic image nodded, his face showing both pride and concern. "And what of the Mandalorian forces? Have they been routed entirely?"

Auren's jaw tightened slightly. "No, Chancellor. The Mandalorian cruisers retreated before we could deliver a final blow. I believe they are regrouping, possibly at another Mid Rim system—Prazhi, or a nearby target. They won't stay idle for long."

Cressa frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Concerning, but not unexpected. Your instincts have been right before, Auren. Do you have recommendations?"

"I've dispatched a request to Admiral Crelin to investigate their movements discreetly," Auren replied. "However, I advise against a public display of pursuit just yet. The Republic fleet is stretched thin. Until we know their next move, we must consolidate our recent gains."

"Wise," Tol said, nodding. "And Obredaan itself? Is it secure?"

"I've left Captain Velos and a detachment to oversee the planet's defense and ensure the mining operations are stabilized. With cortosis deposits secured, we can begin replicating the armaments captured on Taris. Obredaan will serve as a critical supply line for the Republic's efforts moving forward."

Tol's face softened into a smile. "Excellent. Your ability to turn each victory into a broader strategic gain is why the Senate continues to approve resources for your campaign. Speaking of which…" The Chancellor leaned closer, his tone shifting slightly. "I've authorized the deployment of additional warships to your fleet. Larger vessels with heavier firepower. The Senate is beginning to see the necessity of the Crusaders' efforts, even if some members of the Council remain... resistant."

Auren raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "What of the Council?"

Tol hesitated for a moment before speaking. "They've requested another audience. They've made their opposition to your methods clear. I've delayed the meeting until after your recent victories are fully debriefed to the Senate. It's my hope that by then, the Council's protests will be drowned out by the gratitude of the Republic."

Auren nodded, appreciating the Chancellor's deft political maneuvering. "The Jedi who follow me believe in this cause, Chancellor. They've seen what inaction costs. The Council may disagree, but they cannot ignore the results."

Tol sighed, a glimmer of frustration crossing his face. "I fear their stance is becoming more entrenched with every success you achieve. Be careful, Auren. The Council's influence remains strong."

"I understand," Auren said, his voice even. "But this war cannot be fought from Coruscant's towers. The Republic needs leaders willing to act, not meditate."

The Chancellor chuckled lightly, though the gravity of the situation was not lost on him. "Spoken like a true commander. Very well. I'll continue to shield you from their scrutiny as best I can. In the meantime, prepare for the Senate's next session. Your recent victories will need to be presented in detail. The more united the Republic appears, the harder it will be for the Council to sway opinions against you."

"I will be ready," Auren assured him.

Tol's expression softened. "One last thing, Auren. You've achieved much, but don't let the weight of this war crush you. The Republic needs you steady. I need you steady."

Auren allowed a faint smile, though his eyes remained sharp. "I won't falter, Chancellor. I promise you that."

The hologram flickered out, leaving Auren alone in the chamber. For a moment, he stood still, his thoughts drifting. The Chancellor's faith in him was reassuring, but the shadows of war were growing longer.

Malak entered the room, a faint smirk on his face. "If he keeps giving us shiny new ships after every battle, we'd better keep winning," he quipped, leaning against the holotable. "What's our next move?"

Auren glanced at him but didn't immediately respond. His attention remained on the holographic map, his fingers tracing invisible paths through the stars. The light from the projection illuminated the lines of tension on his face. "We're close, Malak. We've managed to push the Mandalorians back to the edges of the Mid Rim. Another few decisive victories, and we'll have them retreating into the Outer Rim where we can focus our efforts under a united Republic banner."

Malak tilted his head, studying his friend. "Solid plan. So why are you worried?"

Auren exhaled sharply, his hands bracing against the edge of the table. "We've taken two worlds and a supply lane, yet most of the Senate sees it as some grand, final victory. They think we've broken the Mandalorians, but they don't understand." His voice lowered, his frustration evident. "I am no closer now to finding Mand'alor the Ultimate than I was when I defied the Council."

"You put too much pressure on yourself," Malak replied, though his voice was tinged with concern. "It's only been a few weeks."

"Raka Sitaaz," Auren murmured, his tone dark and contemplative. "Czerka. All of it is connected. I can feel it, Malak, but I can't yet see the full picture. Mand'alor isn't just waging war. He has a plan—a strategy that reaches far beyond what we've seen. I need to find him, Malak. I need to end this before billions are slaughtered." Auren ran a hand through his dark, disheveled hair, his exhaustion evident. The stubble on his face gave him a rugged, almost wild look that belied his calm demeanor in battle. "And to do that, I need to divide our forces. I need Jedi Generals I can trust—leaders who can take systems in my name while I pursue Mand'alor."

Malak remained silent for a moment, digesting his friend's words. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but tinged with disbelief. "You would give me command? Let me lead in your name?"

"Of course," Auren replied without hesitation, turning to face him. "I need creative thinkers as well as warriors, and you are both."

Malak hesitated. "Yes, but not to your level. Besides, I don't have the trust of the others like you do."

Auren smiled faintly, his tone carrying a weight of certainty. "Alek didn't. But Malak does."

Malak's gaze shifted, and a sense of gravity settled over him. "Where would you have me go?"

"You'll assist at Prazhi," Auren said, pointing to the glowing planet on the holomap. "Join the Republic forces already stationed there. Investigate where the Mandalorians retreated to after Obredaan. I expect regular updates, but I trust you to conduct your operations as you see fit."

Malak nodded slowly, though his mind was still racing. "You mentioned others you trust. Who else will lead?"

"Danar, Vira, and Zharak," Auren replied matter-of-factly. "They'll each take portions of the new fleet arriving from Coruscant. I'll send them to liberate key systems."

"And what of Meetra?" Malak asked, stepping closer to Auren. "Surely she's proven herself. On Obredaan, she was instrumental in forcing her troops through the Mandalorian line."

Auren didn't turn from the viewport, his silhouette illuminated by the swirling blue light of hyperspace. "Meetra has potential," he admitted, his voice softer now. "And in time, she will lead. But she remains a Padawan, and the Jedi Knights and Masters may not take kindly to taking orders from someone of lower rank."

Malak frowned but said nothing. Auren continued, his tone steady but resolute. "Amidst all our perceived flaws, we are still Jedi, Malak. We will not become what the Council accuses us of—traitors or heretics. We still serve the Jedi Code, even if they refuse to see it."

Malak nodded, though he held back his own thoughts. He knew his friend well enough to understand when silence was the better option. Bowing slightly, he turned to leave, his mind racing with the weight of his new command. As the door hissed shut behind him, Auren remained at the viewport, staring into the infinite expanse of hyperspace, his mind a storm of strategies and doubts.

The Senate chamber was alive with energy, the murmur of hundreds of conversations filling the domed hall as representatives from across the galaxy prepared for the Chancellor's address. Holographic projectors buzzed faintly, their images flickering to life as senators attending remotely joined the session. The massive chamber's grandeur was on full display, its polished surfaces gleaming under the soft golden glow of the overhead lights.

When Tol Cressa stepped into the central podium, the chatter faded almost instantly. He was dressed in the regal yet practical attire of a wartime Chancellor—subdued tones, a clean-cut jacket with the Republic insignia prominently displayed. His face was calm but determined, the weight of leadership etched into his features. As the room stilled, he glanced once around the chamber, noting the attentive faces of some and the wary gazes of others.

"Senators of the Republic," he began, his voice carrying across the chamber with practiced ease, "I stand before you today not just as your Chancellor, but as a representative of every world that values peace, freedom, and the sanctity of life. I bring you news of hope in the midst of war."

A murmur of curiosity rippled through the chamber before he raised his hand for silence. "The Republic has won a critical victory in the Mid Rim. Obredaan, a world rich in resources and of strategic importance, is now free from Mandalorian occupation. Its people, long oppressed by invaders, now look to the Republic as their protector."

Polite applause spread through the chamber, but Tol's expression remained solemn. "This victory was not achieved without sacrifice. Brave soldiers and Jedi gave their lives to secure freedom for the people of Obredaan. Their courage will not be forgotten, and their sacrifices will not be in vain."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "We owe a great debt to the Jedi who have chosen to fight for the Republic. In this dark hour, they have answered the call to defend our shared ideals, just as they did in the days of old. The Jedi Crusaders have proven themselves not only as warriors but as guardians of the Republic's spirit. They have stood alongside our soldiers, shedding blood and sweat for the cause of freedom."

Some senators exchanged glances, their expressions varying from approval to skepticism. Tol continued, his voice firm. "I know there are those among you who question the necessity of the Jedi Crusaders, who worry about their independence from the Council or their growing prominence in this war. But let me remind you: this war is unlike any we have faced. The Mandalorian threat grows with each passing day. Their forces are relentless, their tactics merciless. We cannot afford to turn away allies willing to fight for us."

He gestured toward the distant senators attending remotely. "The systems that have contributed ships, resources, and manpower to this cause—your support has made these victories possible. With your continued help, we can turn the tide of this war. Obredaan is just the beginning. Together, we will ensure that no more worlds fall to the Mandalorian threat."

The applause was louder this time, lasting several moments before Tol raised his hand again. His expression was serious, though inwardly, he allowed himself a moment of pride. This speech would galvanize the Senate, solidifying support for the Jedi Crusaders and the war effort.

Yet, as he glanced across the chamber, his gaze fell upon General Orithan standing at the edge of the Senate floor. The Supreme Commander of the Republic Military was engaged in what appeared to be a private conversation with Senator Gellin Treel of Scipio. Treel, ever the shrewd and calculating politician, leaned in closely as Orithan spoke, his expression unreadable.

Tol's stomach tightened. He kept his face neutral, but the sight unsettled him. Orithan had made his dislike of the Jedi Crusaders known, and Treel was no stranger to undermining efforts that didn't align with his corporate interests. What were they discussing? And why now, during such a pivotal moment?

He forced himself to focus. This was not the time to dwell on suspicions. The war effort demanded unity, and distractions could cost them more than political goodwill. But the image of Orithan and Treel remained burned in his mind, a shadow over an otherwise victorious day.

Tol drew himself up, his voice rising to conclude. "Senators, we must remain steadfast. The Republic has weathered many storms in its long history, and we will weather this one as well. But we cannot do so alone. Every ship, every soldier, every ally strengthens our cause. Together, we will ensure the Republic endures. Together, we will prevail."

The chamber erupted into applause, though Tol barely heard it. As he stepped away from the podium, he couldn't help but cast one last glance toward Orithan and Treel. Whatever machinations they were plotting, Tol knew he had to remain vigilant. The Republic's future depended on it.

Tol stepped through the atrium of the Senate Building, guards flanking him on either side. The aide who accompanied him handed over datapads detailing engagements and appointments scheduled for the afternoon. Yet the oppressive crowd around him forced Tol to wave them aside, heading straight to the turbolift and up to his office. His aide followed him in, the guards dutifully by his side as they ascended. The constant chatter of his aide was drowned out by Tol's thoughts—of Orithan, Treel, and however many senators and public figures conspired in the shadows.

The light streaming from the window as they entered lit up the portraits of former Chancellors, seemingly giving them an ethereal presence. Tol envied them—to be a Chancellor of the Republic during peacetime, to look down upon those who succeeded them with a sense of gloating. The Mandalorian Wars were a conflict unlike anything seen in generations, and Tol saw them as a cancer that had grown slowly and needed to be excised if the Republic was to ever recover. He sat down in the chair behind his large desk, offering an occasional "Yes" or "I agree" to the enthusiastic aide standing opposite him, though he paid little attention to the notes and memos slid in front of him. Secretly, Tol wished his holocom would beep and the leader of the Jedi forces would appear, offering updates on their progress against the enemy. But alas, here he was, bogged down in the mundane as the political games of Coruscant continued.

"You can tell the Council, yes," Tol said abruptly, prompting his aide to fall silent, looking confused at the comment. "You said the Jedi Council sought a meeting with me, did you not? Well, surely we've delayed too long."

The aide seemed stunned but nodded before speaking. "When should I schedule it for?"

Tol sat for a moment, his eyes now truly focusing on the young man who had followed him from the Senate floor. "I would like it to be here. Whenever the Jedi Council can manage will suffice. I will not go far."

He smiled politely as the young man shuffled out of the room, datapad in hand. Letting out a long, drawn sigh, Tol stood and moved toward the vast expanse of Coruscant visible through the thick glass—the only thing separating him from freedom. As a child, Tol Cressa had often marveled at the sight of the Jedi Temple. To him, the Order had once been a beacon of peace and justice in a city so rotten with crime and decay. Cliegg Halcyon had often met with Jedi as he instructed Tol in the arts of diplomacy, recognizing their abilities to negotiate and compromise as valuable lessons for aspiring politicians. When Tol met Auren all those years ago, he had seen the fire in his eyes—here was someone who could inspire hope in a galaxy so polluted with injustice.

Would the Council treat him with disdain as they had his friend? Or would they brand Auren a heretic, claiming he had created disharmony where there was none? The pedestal on which Tol had placed the Jedi as a child had fallen lower over the years. Yet, without his friend, there might not be a pedestal at all.

Auren and Saul walked into the fields near the base, days of rain had rendered the ground soft underfoot but the early morning sun promised a change to the stagnation that had hampered progress these last few days.

"Additions to the fleet will arrive soon, Commander. Do you mean for your original plans to go ahead?" Saul said, his face contorting in disgust every time his pristine uniform threatened to be splashed with mud.

"I do. Malak, Danar, Vira and Zharak are more than capable. I cannot be everywhere, and they are the next best thing." Auren replied, studying the captain's reaction.

"I don't doubt you but are resources are running thin, even with these new ships, how do you plan garrisoning recaptured worlds" Saul replied as the pair mounted the crest of a hill overlooking the golden plains.

Auren watched as animals grazed and the breeze tugged at loose strands of his hair, the question was a good one he knew and one he had reflected on for days as the lack of news provided ample time to do so, "What is the biggest difference between us and the Mandalorians?"

"Commander?", Saul asked bemusedly but Auren merely looked at him as a teacher might ask a confused student to which Saul spluttered before answering, "Well they're savages with no place amongst civilised society. We don't kidnap the young or burn villages and cities to the ground in conquest".

"But we do expand. The Republic ever seeks to move outward into the far reaches of the Galaxy, how are we any different?" asked Auren taking in Saul's reaction, a mixture of outrage and confusion, "We do not seek to control or dominate but merely expand. We do not need to Garrison these territories, Captain. Miktris and Obredaan have a small guard to defend should our enemies return, yes but the people are far better at protecting themselves than we give them credit. Fear creates an illusion of control

whereas hope provides the tools for unquestioned devotion. Both are dangerous but both can be used to create balance. Our enemies must fear us, and we must provide hope to those who have none, lifting them up and inspiring them to fight for themselves" he concluded again studying Saul intently.

Saul looked at him, his lips a thin line as he pondered Auren's words. "But Commander, with all due respect, what does this have to do with our current predicament?"

"Everything", the Jedi said, stepping down from the small hill to better be in Saul's eyeline, "I do not plan to Garrison these recaptured worlds, Saul, because I do not need to. The Jedi I have selected, whether they know it or not, possess qualities which will help win this war and reshape the Republic. They are warriors who will strike fear into Mand'alor's brutal war machine and the worlds they liberate will rise to defend their homes. Legend isn't born, it is made, and as our reputation grows so too does our consolidated strength and we'll force them back into the darkness."

Saul Karath looked at him. There was no apprehension in his eyes, Obredaan and Miktris have proved he had a tactical knowledge that he nor the other officers could understand. He was unpredictable yes, but the Republic fought alongside the Jedi from the Great Hyperspace War to the Sith Wars of Old, how were they to know how influential they were during those times and by what right did he have to question it. How could the Republic allowed them to separate themselves from the Order? They were in peacetime yes, but they had relegated them to engage in minor affairs. Would the Republic be better off, if Jedi Chancellors were still commonplace? It was hard to say but the proof in Auren seemed to suggest so.

Saul straightened before asking, "do you mean to inspect the ships when they arrive?"

Auren considered this for a moment before replying, "you are the naval man, as long as they are to your standards, I trust your judgement."

"Very good sir, is there anything else?" replied Saul steadily though the idea that his Commander trusted him with such matters, removed all other thoughts from his mind.

"There is. Contact Willem Onasi, we'll need soldiers to replace those lost on Miktris and Obredaan. I can think of no finer than those on Corinthian." Auren replied, dismissing him and the Officer saluted before turning and heading toward the base.

Meetra walked through the med-bay, her steps light but her mind heavy. The lack of movement in recent days was making her anxious. She was surprised to see Malak, usually so eager to push forward, sitting tranquil and somewhat satisfied. Meetra wondered if her master had spoken to him, perhaps assuring him that plans were proceeding as expected. If so, it only deepened her own insecurities. Auren had not spoken to her in recent days—not really. He had encouraged her to train with the younger Jedi, like Leira Syn, but even Leira had taken time away to study with her own master, Danar. Feeling adrift, Meetra decided to check in on the Jedi who had been injured during the campaign on Miktris.

Kuun Vatay and Marus had been in critical condition when they landed back on Dantooine. By the time they departed again for Obredaan, their statuses had barely improved. Now, however, Kuun had been conscious for several days and was taking nourishment provided by med droids and Republic doctors. Marus, the older of the two, had regained consciousness a few times but remained in worse shape. Meetra allowed herself a small smile as she saw Vira Thenn helping Kuun to his feet. His legs shook, and he leaned heavily on her for support, but there was a grin on his face—progress, however small, was still progress.

Her commlink beeped. The smile on her face widened as she answered, hearing Auren's familiar voice. "Meetra, meet me on the plains beyond the training yard."

"Yes, Master," she replied quickly, already turning toward the door.

Half-walking, half-running, she moved through the hallways, brushing past troopers and Jedi alike. The doors to the training yard slid open, revealing the figure of her master, just as he had said, beyond the yard. He stood beneath the shade of a lone tree, gazing out across the vast plains. He did that often, she thought—stood as though his body were present, but his spirit was elsewhere entirely. When she had left with him from the Temple on Coruscant, he had worn the imposing mask of a temple guard. Even now, with the mask long gone, he was no easier to decipher.

"I am here, Master," she announced as she approached him.

He turned, a soft smile lighting his face as the sun climbed higher into the sky. "Meetra, it's good to see you. No doubt you've been frustrated with me these past few days, and you have every right to be." His sincerity was disarming as he moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Meetra took in his presence. He was a head taller than her, his aura radiating power and authority. It was unlike anyone else she had ever met. "It's okay," she said softly. "I was just worried about you."

"You are kind," he replied warmly. "But I have neglected to keep you informed—a mistake I intend to remedy." He gestured for her to walk with him. Together, they left the shade of the tree, stepping into the golden plains beyond. "You will have noticed the lack of movement, of course. After Obredaan, many within our ranks expected us to press the advantage and move on to the next world. Do you know why I have waited?"

Meetra's mind raced as she tried to formulate an answer that would satisfy him. "The situation in the Mid Rim is complicated. Though Obredaan was a victory, much of the Mandalorian fleet jumped into hyperspace."

"Yes," Auren said, nodding for her to continue, "and?"

"Many among us assume they retreated to the Outer Rim," she continued. "But you suspect they haven't gone far. You believe they wouldn't abandon worlds they've conquered just because Obredaan was lost."

Auren smiled again, pleased with her reasoning. Clapping his hands together, he said, "You always were observant, my friend. I plan to send a select few Jedi to reclaim these worlds in our name. Malak departs later today for Prazhi in the Expansion Region."

"You suspect they've regrouped there? Why?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"It is likely," Auren replied. "Prazhi, unlike other worlds, is not resource-rich but harbors many of their factories and armament facilities. It's by no means their largest base, but it is the closest to the Mid Rim. They are clever, though. Mand'alor the Ultimate has adapted traditional Mandalorian tactics into something far more unpredictable."

"And the other worlds?" Meetra asked after a moment.

"I will send Danar, Vira, and Zharak, each with a portion of the fleet. If the Mandalorians try to retreat to Prazhi, Malak and Admiral Ralos will be waiting to obliterate them."

Meetra nodded, though deep down, a knot of disappointment twisted in her chest. She had hoped to be chosen to lead a mission, to prove herself. She buried the feeling and asked, "What about you? Where will you go?"

For a moment, Auren said nothing, his gaze drifting toward a calf struggling to catch up to its grazing mother in the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a note of quiet determination. "I am going to hunt Mand'alor the Ultimate," he said, a faint edge of malice coloring his words. "And you are coming with me."