Saga - PT Before the Saga A Shattered Minds Eye

And now Depa is at the beginning of the clone wars, meeting her friends and seeing them going to Geonosis.
Mayhem is sure there.

 

Yup. A part of me thinks there is definitely an inevitable degree of survivor's guilt for any being left behind. They may have tipped the scale but got stuck babysitting instead.
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Chapter 44: No Going Back (Part 1)

No official comment was made about the sudden change in routine. By Depa’s estimation the final number of Jedi accompanying Mace was 212, which left less than 700 Jedi, not all of whom were capable, left in the Temple to manage four times as many younglings.

It would inevitably be a chore.

A brief meeting of the remaining teaching staff produced a tolerable framework.

Jedi Masters Illena Xan and T’ra Saa would see the youngest initiates in the Grand Assembly chamber. They would take a period of meditation, then nap time. After most woke up, they could play party games for the rest of the day.

The middle group of children, seven to thirteen, would receive a series of unique learning experiences designed to expedite their specialized training.
Tera Sinube would set up a mock crime lab in the smaller refectories.
Cin Drallig would oversee lightsaber training drills in the room of a thousand fountains.
Jocasta Nu would host a study hall in the Archives.
Rig Neema would teach basic crisis aid in a side gallery, while Vokara Che taught advanced medical studies in the hall of healing.

Other masters would give the children a ride in the pilot training module, plant coral fauna on the rooftop gardens, cook exotic meals, a ride on a Kybuck mount or a roleplay of an intense diplomatic negotiation in Huttese among many other options.

Depa and a handful of the other senior Jedi would rotate between the stations helping where they could in the most popular locations. Despite their best efforts to appear happy and content, more than a few initiates seem to catch on to the fact that something was wrong.

It was late in the day when Depa found herself assisting with swimming lessons at the largest of the temple's internal reservoirs.

“Why do you look like that?” Caleb Dume asked her while she lifted him out of the pool after seeing him begin to sink during a failed lap.

Grabbing a dry mantel, she wrapped the cloth around the boy and forced a smile. “What do you mean?”

“You looked worried. Biting your lip and pacing.”

“Well people tend to look worried when their charge is on the verge of drowning.” Depa deflected the accusation with ease, but Caleb didn’t seem convinced. “What about Master Arraira? She’s looked at the chrono fifty times since I got here. And Master Tek, he’s got his arms crossed and his eye is twitching weirdly.”

Depa gave a passing look to the other two Jedi watching this group, on one side of the water body a plump elderly human woman with glossy white hair peeking out from under her swimming camp was demonstrating to a group of five year olds how to stay buoyant. Over on the other side a well built and handsome blond haired Chuhkyvi Man was helping a group of Teenagers, mostly Girls, to do a proper backstroke.

With a sigh, she recognized she wouldn’t be able to sneak anything past this child.

“The galaxy is changing Caleb. In ways you aren’t yet prepared to understand. I hope you never have to.”
“Hey, I'm almost eleven!” The boy crossed his arms in a far more defiant gesture than the Chuhkyvi’s own tentative expression of nervousness.
“I’ll be a Padawan in just a few years.”

Depa agreed in recognition of this fact. “Years that will feel a lot longer to you than me.” She responded. “And as much as I know you won’t, I’d rather you enjoy this peace while it lasts. Don’t grow up too fast.”
Caleb smiled. “Only if you do one thing for me.”
Depa raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Stand still.”

He then threw off the padding and jettisoned himself into the pool, soaking her with the splash.

“CALEB!” She shouted. But the boy was already performing a struggling underwater crawl that blocked out all outside noise. Depa just shook her head. He was growing more confident, and more cheeky, every single day.

Despite her students' most recent observations, Depa couldn’t help but glance at the Chrono herself, not simply out of worried trepidation.

“Ten more minutes before the evening meal!” she called to all in the room. They had a special buffet planned for the youth. That had been pushed back several hours to maximize the time available for activities before bed. “Don’t forget to dry off and change before going to eat!”

It was almost a full day since Mace and his team had left, and after replacing her own soaked robes, Depa Billaba patrolled the initiates refectory while the children ate. As the students began to filter out to their dorms, Depa could sense a relief flood the room from the gathered Masters.

It was a struggle enough that they needed to wait with bated breath for their fellow Jedi’s return from the field of battle, trying to account for thousands of children was near impossible with so few numbers. Fortunately, the eldest initiates, mostly the teenagers, were also eager to prove their own maturity and assist their instructors in ordering around their youngest peers, keeping them out of trouble.

“I will take the first shift.” Depa spoke wearily to the others. There always had to be a senior Jedi awake and alert along with the Temple Guard in the event a quick decision had to be made.

Somehow the quiet of the nights made the anticipation worse. Keeping the younglings entertained at least allowed for some mental distractions, with only the silence of the evening to keep her company she could almost feel the pang of every life lost in the battle going on a galaxy away. She did not want it to be true, did not want it to be real. Every moment ached in horror of those that may already be lost.

Over the last ten years the dark side had slowly obscured the visions of the Jedi, nobody could fully grasp the meaning of it. Only Yoda had managed to make any progress in achieving any moments of clarity by carefully prodding that shroud through long and exhausting meditations.

Where once the Jedi could visualize the galaxy before them, now they were blind.

Where once the riddle that was the future could be deciphered, now they only had the smallest pieces of the puzzle to fill in that blank.

Where once their instincts sang with clarity, now even the Masters were second guessing every decision they made

Where once every single Jedi death rippled like a stab in the heart, now news flooded in every day about a Jedi having fallen without being recognized as lost until their remains had been found.

So why did Depa now feel her heart constrict?

Why was this tear running down her cheek?

What was happening, on that sandy world, so far away?

Was it mere anxiety or something the force was trying to tell her at this very moment?

 

Depa and Caleb swimming was fun but caring for all the children in this time of grief. What will happen next with her?

 

The Kids must be protected from the horrors of the galaxy to all possible degree. (For all the good that will do them)
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Chapter 44: No Going Back (Part 2)

The next morning, they would see, the horrors of war could no longer be hidden.

First it was the wounded being filtered in.

K’kruhk, who had two scorching blaster burns in the side of his chest but otherwise seemed unconcerned with his wounds.

Eeth Koth was pulled in on a stretcher with shrapnel cuts all across his abdomen.

Yat fee was bleeding from her forehead and offering support to Xast K’Qoam who was trying to avoid putting weight on his right leg that was bent at an almost impossible angle.

So many more, wandering through the temple it looked like an army of the undead.

Every single one of them had a look of spiritlessness in their expression.

Instantly Depa Billaba gave the order to cancel all courses for that day, younglings were confined to their dorm, all medical personnel were sent to triage.

Depa was not a Jedi healer by trade, but the sheer number of wounded demanded every single individual with anything in the way of crisis aid training to do their part. As Depa started unspooling the bandages it occurred to her that the number of injured seemed to far exceed the number of Jedi actually brought by Mace to Geonosis.

Asking for some direction from Vokara Che, the Twi’lek healer pointed at a darkly tanned human man around her age who had strong features, a finely combed mustache, and thick brown hair that seemed to only just be beginning a subtle retreat back from his forehead line.

He was dabbing a badly burned woman with a bacta spray.

“She needs a proper tank.” Depa observed as she approached Pyletom Vuton with the bandage wrap. “Yes. She does.” He agreed. “But most are being occupied by more pressing cases.” He grabbed the gauze from her and dunked it in the small jar of kolto near him. “This will start the healing process at least.” He pulled at the dressing and gave her the tail end. “Hold this there.” She pressed it against a blackly charred burn on the woman's arm.

It occurred to Depa that Tom had vastly improved his medical credentials since his poor attempt to care for Rolek on Illum all those years ago. She hadn’t seen him often, though the reports trickling into the council indicated that despite his numerous youthful indiscretions, he had become something of a distinguished Jedi in his own right: accomplishing many difficult missions and even training a Padawan to Knighthood just recently. There had been some discussion of granting him the rank of Master before the order had become all consumed by the Separatist crisis.

He wrapped the entire arm tightly in two seconds flat and directed her towards the next injury. A Quarren whose lung had been punctured in an explosion. Quick thinking and impromptu action in the field had managed to keep him alive until now but he was really struggling. More intensive surgery would be needed.

Several hours passed, dozens of patience, and an uncountable number of injuries crossed their table, some more serious than others: Maks Leem had a blaster wound in the left arm, A’Sharad Hett was bruised badly along each of his legs (fortunately unbroken), Luminara Unduli had internal injuries, Listvan Qes was still bleeding from a poorly patched artery wound, Vi Mauqi had been badly scorched all along the left side of her head including the loss of one eye that she insisted she did not want replaced by a cybernetic. In the end Depa couldn’t help but think quietly that her injuries would make Even Piel blush.

By the afternoon, Depa noticed the first trickling of the uninjured survivors on the periphery of the halls of healing. One gave her a pleasant surprise.

“Finn!” In a moment of calm Depa ran to embrace her old friend. “I thought you were on Gyndine!”

“I was en route when I got the recall order.” The Jed Knight elaborated. “Too far away to join the initial task force heading out from Coruscant, but I joined the fleet when it arrived on Geonosis.”

“Have you seen Khaat?” Depa wanted all the information she could get.

Finn Ertay shook her head. “Too much was happening at once when I arrived.” She looked frightened. “But I heard there were very few survivors of the arena battle.”

The Chalactan passed her by, looking out into the hall, into the crowds of survivors, then back at the hundreds of medical tables being occupied by the wounded. “Khaat!” She called. “Jedi Khaat Quiyn to the main entrance!” She ordered with as much firmness as she could muster.

“I doubt she would hear you even if she was here.” Finn whispered.

“Look, Master Windu is putting out a list of known casualties. I was hoping we could go look at it together.”

Depa swallowed hard, before agreeing to join her fellow Jedi on this quest.

She glanced back one more time at the infirmary, and deduced she was no longer needed. The worst of the injuries had been attended, and Depa wasn’t much of a healer anyways.

They found their way to the War Room, where Mace and a handful of other Jedi were stationed, staring at the names flashing on the screen before them with a cold serenity.
- Joclad Danva
- Coleman Trebor
- Galdos Stouff
- Tan Yuster
- Ur-Sema Du
- Hyol Htin
- Chandar Kim
- Junt Vas
- Tchi Su
- Sember Vey
- Ohara Uam
- Fvorn
- Santara Garajak
- Loti Kansu

Depa looked away briefly, each name killing her a little on the inside. She wasn’t sure if she could take anymore, so many good Jedi, so many of her friends, so many of her students.

After recomposing herself, she looked back just as one more name flashed on the screen.

- Sar Labooda.

 

And so it is beginning, the killing of the Jedi during their missions as generals. Nice to see Tom mentioned

 

I will be following the canon timeline which states the Jedi didn't slot into being Generals immediately and there was some debate over whether or what role the Jedi ought to play in the war

I do like bringing in old characters where I can, and Tom having some crisis aid training fit well with the situation.

Smaller chapter for today, but I thought it important.
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Chapter 45: Ages Past, and Ages Future

It had been a long time since Depa Billaba needed T’ra Saa’s shoulder to cry on.

She was no longer a little girl overwhelmed with loss, or a young woman blinded by love.

A Master now, a Councilor and leader of the Order, teacher of many, the Chalactan had experienced great tragedy over the years, insurmountable challenges and had time and again found in herself the strength to overcoming them; perhaps not necessarily alone, but by her own capabilities and character.

Nothing she could do could bring her sister back, nor the two hundred other Jedi lost in that horror world. Depa Billaba could not stop the war, nor save those who would be killed in the coming months and years.

She could, however, trust her friends.

That T’ra Saa was. Even after all these decades the two kept a close connection: speaking at the annual tournament, eating together on those odd occasions both were present in the temple without other obligations, telling stories and seeking advice.

The two were once teacher and student, counselor and patient, all these years later now they were peers. If not in the literal sense, the Neti was certainly much older than her, in the practical sense as they were near equal in rank and maturity.

And even Yoda had friends.

If anyone could understand her pain it was T’ra: her sister was gone, one of her dearest friends was reported to be MIA; which to a Jedi was likely as good as dead, the longer they went without a report on her the more likely it was Khaat wouldn’t return.

When Depa arrived at T’ra’s quarters she was not there, this did not surprise her as she imagined the empath was rather preoccupied by the hustle in the halls of healing and the trauma carried by the survivors. The other Master certainly must be quite busy at this moment.

In theory Depa ought to be returning to her previous post as well and do her part to ensure everyone got adequate assistance. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she was mentally well enough to do good by others at this time.

To strengthen her own resolve, she entered a meditative position near the door, practicing the techniques T’ra had taught her so very long ago.

Images flashed in her mind, of her own life and what might have been.

Her mother held her sister close to breast, singing and whispering her love to her daughters.

Then there was the night her parents lost their lives, their trust in her to watch her sister and keep her safe.

How their lives could have changed, if her parents had returned, if Mace had not recognized Depa’s skill with the force, where they may have ended up?

Perhaps on an agri-world on the outer rim? Farming, attending school, gathering at the shopping center and spending all night on the comm chatting about mindless prattle. They could have played, loved, lived like a real family and had normal problems.

‘Depa broke my toy!’, ‘Sar read my Diaryl!’

These images brought a smile to her lips, and a tear to her eye’s. But they weren’t real, they were pictures out of a holo-drama.

Instead Mace had saved her, Depa relived the joy singing in her heart when the boys Master Cyslin Myr let the nanny droids take the protected infants back to their families. She saw Sar’s dark curly hair peeking out of her swaddle and the little girl believed at that moment the two had a bright future despite all the horror they had witnessed.

They had been brought to the Jedi, and separated from each other, such attachments were afterall discouraged. But even then Depa could sleep soundly knowing her sister was safe.

They wouldn’t see each other for another twenty years, where quite by chance they found each other during the Stark Hyperspace war, and at the time it had pained Depa to know her baby sister had taken her Jedi training to heart as the teenager remind cool and aloof long after the nature of their relationship had been revealed to her.

In another timeline they may never have lost that bond, even if they quibbled and argued they would still have loved each other. They could have served in the seat of honor at each other's weddings, Depa could have been the auntie who spoils her nieces with candies that were no good for them. It wasn’t lost on the Jedi Master that in this vision her husband had a very familiar set of baby blue eyes.

But no, this could never have been. Out of respect for her sibling Depa had kept a distance, only drawing her near as an assistant to aid in her charity outreach to the Refugee movement. In that time Sar had learned to loosen up a little, and had made clear she hoped their efforts amounted to real good in the galaxy. Whenever Depa had a class that went late, or needed to travel off world, Sar Labooda would be there to speak on her behalf and offer a Jedi’s wisdom to the organization responsible for transporting untold millions, including once her own family.

When she returned, Sar was happy to debrief her, elaborate on the challenges they needed to overcome and offer her own counsel on how they could achieve those goals. With time the younger woman clearly found purpose, freely quipping and speaking her mind as if she were Depa’s equal.

In another time they would have lived to their elder years, outlived their spouses and spent their final days being cared for by their grandchildren only feet apart on their deathbeds. Depa could almost see them now, watching their last sunset, clinging to the best memories as they began to fade, content that their sibling bond could never be lost even as they neared their graves.

But no, war tore them apart far, far too soon.

When Master Billaba opened her eyes she found T’ra meditating across from her. How long she had been there, it was impossible to tell. The wooden-faced women looked as physically exhausted as Depa was emotionally lost. Her bark locks were scattered out of their normal curls, her green cloak was smudged, with blood on the vest, and what could only have been tears on her sleeves.

Depa didn’t want to burden her more, but she knew her friend well enough to realize there was no place she would rather be. All Depa could do was lay her head on T’ra’s shoulder and stare blankly at the dark shadows of the hallway.

 

All those memories of her sister, how it could have been, how it was and T'ra meditating and comforting her in the beginning of the war

 

The worst part of war is what might have been.
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Chapter 46: Strategies for a Monster (Part #1)

The days that followed felt like something Depa was watching from afar.

The Chancellor and the Council entered a series of discussions relating to the Jedi’s role in the war effort, Palpatine had been quick to point out that it was the Jedi’s action that had spawned the initial trigger for the conflict, and he seemed quite adamant that they could not win without Jedi aid.

Numerous news stations were already throwing blame, most were naturally accusing the Separatists of launching the conflict, but there were more than a few vague innuendo’s that the Jedi were somehow responsible.

The longer it took for them to come to a decision on how exactly to proceed with their de facto leadership of the Clone Army the more critical the rhetoric became.

With what energy Depa could muster she argued against direct involvement on behalf of the Jedi. Far too many had already died and a peaceful resolution to this war demanded they not lose sight of the big picture.

If they had to be involved, let it be in an advisory or defensive position. Something more befitting of a keeper of the peace.

As these debates grew more tense, the battles grew fiercer. The cloud of war amplified the darkness of the force; innocents were dying, and worlds were under siege. Action needed to be taken. Every day more Jedi were sent to the frontlines, battling on the fringes of the galaxy to defend the Republic… if not yet taking the fight to the Separatists.

Perhaps the only escape from the problems of the world were the minds of the children Depa continued to teach. Following the events of Geonosis she had elected to step down from her position on the Reassignment council, and handed off several of her classes to younger teachers who still felt the fire of education within them.

Now, aside from situations of galactic importance Depa’s whole attention was on her clans, and perhaps most importantly one boy who never had enough answers to his boundless questions.

“Can you send people away?” Caleb Dume called out to Obi-Wan Kenobi during his scheduled lesson relating to the Jedi Beacon. Depa stood with a small gaggle of instructors watching the gathered initiates learning from the Order's newest Master who was fiddling with the computer that was designed to send messages to every single Jedi in the order at once.

“I’m sorry?” This question caught Kenobi off guard, and Depa couldn’t particularly blame him for not understanding the context of it.

“Can you send people away?” Caleb prodded again. “It can recall every Jedi at once. Could it warn all of them away?” This resulted in a number of harsh whispers and suppressed giggles from his peers. It was quite an unusual question, and one that carried unfortunate implications for any who thought on it for more than a moment.

Stepping forward Depa looked down on the child with mild reproach. “I think that's enough, Caleb.” She fired a brief scolding look at the other initiates who were still snickering unnecessarily. “Excuse us, Master Kenobi. We value your time.”

Yet Obi-Wan seemed receptive to the distraction, much to their astonishment.
“No, no. Please wait.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it could be used to warn Jedi away.” This seemed to only intensify the speculation among the gathered younglings, several of whom looked offended by the very suggestion.

“Students.” Estel Vahn stepped forward, her gray hair tied back in a strict looking bun that intensified the seriousness of her gaze. “There is no reason to-”
“No expected reason.” Obi-Wan unapologetically interrupted, before offering a caustic smile, while pointing in the air and looking back at Caleb. “Only what our young friend said: unexpected reasons.”

“What then?” An eager Caleb wanted even more answers. “If you send us all away, what then?”

Depa considered this intellectual exercise was reaching its breaking point, and Obi-Wan didn’t seem that far behind her. “The same as any other time.” He responded calmly. “You will obey the directive and wait for the next one.”

Kebobi finally dismissed the class, and he and Depa watched as most of the children ran off to join their teachers on the way to their next classes. Caleb however lingered.

“I’ll handle him.” Depa signalled, letting Obi-Wan go his own way while she was left entertaining the endlessly glib youngling for the next few minutes, and only after he had rejoined his class was she able to find her own breathing room.

Obi-Wan had been waiting for her near a window down the nearest corridor away from the security station and beacon. “You have a way with children.” His eye’s twinkled with bemusement. “So do you.” She said, “You put up with Caleb’s dilemma’s for longer than I may have.”

“It reminds me of Onderon.” He nodded. “I don’t think I gave you an appropriate thanks for speaking to Anakin when you did.”

“No need.” Depa dismissed the concern, just as her communicator buzzed. The Council was being called, again. She expected it was just going to be more war posturing.

“He just needed a break, and the best we can do for them is listen. Just as you were doing back there.”

The two entered a walk together, glancing at the silver cylinder Billaba was stumped by the meeting location apparently being in the halls of healing. She did not, however, make a comment on this to the other Jedi, who was distracted by his own considerations.
“Honest inquiry is a lot easier to handle than some of Anakin’s frustrations.” Her friend confessed begrudgingly. “I told Master Windu some weeks ago that he once had a point when declaring Anakin too old for the training.” Depa raised her head with fascination at this admission. “I fought the first decision when it was made.”

“And I appreciate it.” Obi-Wan raised a hand in what may have been a defensive gesture. “He is my best friend, but there are days I wonder if he is happy in our order, and if he will stay.”
Depa nodded with recollection. “Did he not try to leave once already?”
“Yes, A decision I managed to talk him out of.” The man placed one hand on his beard. “Yet if not for the war I’m convinced he would be gone again without a second glance.”
“Has he given you a reason to think so?”

As they entered a lift, the new Master crossed his arms thoughtfully, and Depa realized that offering context to his suspicions could be interpreted as a betrayal of some kind and thus did not follow up on her question. “You just got back from the front, yes?”

He gave an affirmative answer. “Muunalist.”

“The banking world, I’ve heard mixed reviews.”

“It has seen better days.” The two chuckled only a little, aware they were making light of a dark facet of the war, but desperate for some levity as well.

The lift chimed, letting them off.

“I’m being sent to Zaythan.” Depa declared. “Intelligence suggests the Separatists plan on attacking that world in the coming weeks and the Chancellor's office wants me to see to its security personally.”

Turning the corner, they were stunned by a large grouping of Jedi Knights and apprentices gathered outside the Halls of Healing where the Council was to meet. Something very unusual was happening.

Before addressing this curiosity Depa looked to Obi-Wan one more time. “Zaythan is a world of its own, and the holonet is sketchy in its area. I’m expected to be out of regular contact until after the battle at least.” He tilted his head with interest, clearly aware that she was about to make a request of him. “I hope it goes well for you.” He gave her permission to continue.

“I was hoping you could sit in for me at the Council meetings while I am away.”

The look in his eye seemed something she expected from a startled initiate just promised the rank of Padawan, not one of his rank and prestige. But then had she been any different?

“If that is really what you want, it would be my honor.” He managed with only a partial restraint.

“We are in serious times!” Depa called back to him as she finally began to approach the bizarre assembly before them. “We need every voice of reason we can manage.” She whispered mostly to herself.
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Spoiler

All of Caleb's dialogue and Obi-Wans responses come from the A New Daw Novel by JJ Miller.

 

Caleb Dume and his questions about the beacon. Almost prophetic. And Obi-Wan on the Council yes.

 

For a given definition of "on the council."
I'd say he's less so than Anakin was in ROTS because he only gets a voice when Depa's not around.
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Chapter 46: Strategies for a Monster (Part #2)

“Care to let me through?” She pressed on the outskirts of the circle. Two of those on the external ring of the gathering, the Ithorian Roron Corrob and dark skinned human Soon Bayts, backed off and let her push through a little easier. Depa Billaba heard some garbled utterings coming from those around her.
“Could it be true?”
“How could so many fall so quickly?”
“What kind of upgrades…”
“Where did he come from?”

The Chalactan glanced around, getting a couple good looks into the crowd. Over the last few weeks the Temple had appeared nearly deserted outside of the teaching staff, seeing so many Jedi in one location made it feel like the whole galaxy was watching this moment.

She saw Padawan Kybo staring intensely forward while Jedi Masona was trying to explain something to him that Depa couldn’t hear. The trio of Utrila, Puroth, and Bridger made up the front row pressing in at the entrance to the passageway to the medical wing.

Pablo Jill was stationed there, trying to ward back those who looked like they might swarm the council meeting.

He stepped away just far enough to let Depa slip by, but before the door could close behind her she felt a hand at her elbow. Looking back, there stood a human man around her age, his scarlet beard stood lighter than his darker hair. The lines on his sharp, clear and pale face betrayed a stressed man, but the glow in his light blue eyes revealed the elation felt upon seeing her.

“Depa is it true?” Ortatious Aski attempted to solicit information for an event she knew nothing of yet.
“Is what, true?” Depa freed herself, but paused at the door, hoping for some clarification concerning what had caused such a ruckus.

“A Jedi killing machine.” He spoke under his breath. “A droid that can fight a dozen of us at once and emerge victorious.” Depa shook her head, which seemingly briefly alleviated some tension in the hallway, but Ort saw right through her. “She doesn’t know.”

How was it all these Jedi knew what was happening before her? Ort’s soft smile did little to fix her annoyance at being left ignorant. “It’s the temple rumor mill.” The Corulagi Jedi shook his head as if to dismiss what he had just said outright.

“You know what it's like. Exaggeration and storytelling is the name of the game.” Looking away from her old friend to better catch her bearings, Depa glanced beyond the open door, into a room lined with beds and privacy screens. It appeared empty but that was expected. The meeting would be in one of the independent recovery chambers deeper in.

"Maybe.” Despite his reassurances, she had no doubt it was a mere brave face. “But you know as well as I do there is always some real-life origin for these tales.”

Before leaving him behind she called back at the crowd. “Get some rest, and trust in the force!”

Down the line of medical stations, Depa found her way to emergency rooms not far into the Medical Wing. Before opening the door, she took a deep breath and centered herself.

Inside she found Yoda, as well as Councilors Eeth Koth, and Adi Gallia standing in front of a blue tub of liquid. No other Masters were readily apparent; most were on missions far away from the Capitol. “You summoned me?”
They stared back without greeting.

“We have a new adversary.” Eeth Koth spoke harshly, and as Depa stepped forward she got a better look at the Bacta Tank, and particularly who was in it: Ki-Adi Mundi.

“He has just returned from Hypori, one of three survivors.” Adi Gallia clarified.
Depa had been aware a large task force had been sent to that corner of the galaxy to tackle a prospective droid foundry, one of the largest fleets they could muster with ten Jedi attached.

If what Master Gallia spoke of was true, this new threat must truly be formidable.

“He required intensive medical care.” Eeth Koth added. “But he was able to give a short statement before being taken by Dr. Neema.”

Across the room a blue holo sprung to life, of a battered and bruised Ki-Adi who looked a stranger to her. His robes were tattered, his skin blue, his eye’s crazed.

“A disaster… right from the start. Space mines, explosions… our ships crashed. So many lost.” His voice was harsh, his tone distant. “So many died so early.”

Ki’s frazzled features rise to face the projector head on, strong and defiant still.
“We were winning, outnumbered a thousand to one! Forced them into tight quarters.” The Cerean shakes his head as if he couldn’t believe what happened. “We could have taken them!” He cried. His eyes went hollow, and he looked down again, what might have been shame passing by his gaze.

“But then…. the survivors began to vanish. I thought it was just the stress of battle… just the overwhelming fight.” His pupils widened in horror. “Yath-Marique was lost in the ruins of hanger three, had we known…” He swallowed hard, his voice sounded pained. “Then Moonseeker’s defense of the fuel line collapsed. We…. I never could have guessed…”

Suddenly he was alert again, all tension gone he screamed. “Barrek!” He was breathing hard now. “Daakmen Barrek sacrificed himself, bought time so his Padawan could warn us. Warn me. I should have taken his words more seriously. I should have…”

In the silence that followed Depa found herself with mixed emotion. This tragedy was certainly unparalleled by anything else since Geonosis, but this wasn’t the unstoppable nightmare those gathered outside assumed. It sounded more like a coward that picked them off by surprise, one at a time from the shadows.

“Then…” Ki’s dry voice broke her musings. “Then we saw him. A monster…. General Grievous.” The stare he gave made it appear as if the Master was reliving every horrible moment as he recounted it.

“He gutted Thidoon Varan right in front of me. He was unstoppable.”

A feminine hand appeared on his shoulder. “You need to rest.” Rig Neema said in a soothing voice. “Please excuse us.” She moved to turn off the recorder, but the Cerean stopped her.

“Retreat, I ordered… Five of us! All that was left… Five! He slaughtered us, wiped us out! Murdered…”

The recording fizzled out.

The room was silent, nobody wanted to speak. Depa stared at the man in the tank unaware of how to respond to his closing remarks.

Before anyone could find what to say, the sound of the door sliding open broke their focus.
The newest member of the Council, Kit Fisto, strided almost casually, a friend by his side.
“Sorry I’m late.” The humor etched on his face was quite the shift from the somber tone that had just been permeating the room. “The traffic was far worse than expected.”
The Mon Calamari apprentice behind him froze in the entryway when he saw what they were gathered around, and Master Fisto himself clearly realized his joke was inopportune.
“Nahdar, wait for me outside.”

The younger Jedi bowed and left with an awkward taciturnity.

“Doctor Neema says he hadn’t slept in two weeks.” Eeth Koth broke the silence without hesitation. “And that he had three cracked ribs…” Adi Gallia moved over to the computer, gazing over the medical report precisely. “Two skull fractures, a concussion, and internal bleeding....”

Depa crossed her arms with anticipation.
“Are you suggesting he may be exaggerating the threat? Or maybe hallucinated it?”

The Chalactan had a powerful sense of deja vu. How many times had the Council handily dismissed a warning from a Jedi on the faulty assumption that their report was overblown?

It was the last minute of his account that unnerved her, while he hadn’t said it in as many words, the very implication that this cyborg had fought and defeated five Jedi at once gave plenty of reason for the fright of her fellow Knights.
“How about you catch me up?” Master Fisto spoke tentatively.

“Another recording we have.” Yoda stepped out of the shadows of their conversation, his conspicuous silence until now made his words all the more attention grabbing. “From those sent to rescue the survivors.”

Adi Gallia tapped a button near her, and on one of the screens on the wall a video was projected, the exact visual seemed condensed as if it were being projected from a T-Shaped visor. Several clone ARC Troopers came into view, passing through the wreckage of what could only be one of the fallen Acclamators.

On the edge of the screen, the soldier, through whose eyes they were seeing, was giving hand gestures. Several squads moved towards the high ground and the rest spread out in a wider perimeter.

Beyond a circular gap in the hull two figures were engaged in a duel to the death: A badly battered Ki-Adi Mundi and an automaton of the likes no Jedi had ever seen before.
It was a skeletal construct, with wiry arms and powerful claw-tipped legs.

Its skull-like face looked like one of the Kaleesh war masks Master Zen had shown Depa’s class some thirty years before, just without adornment.

Its eyes were reptilian and cruel.

The monster spun its arms with blinding fury, one lightsaber in its hand, another in its foot.

This killer was in the middle of a backflip, carrying its weapons down on the exhausted Mundi who struggled to defend himself. In an instant another beam of light appeared in the enemy combatants' other hand, and with two powerful swings the Jedi Master was disarmed and helpless.

The Clones intervened just in time, the commander ordered his men to fire, saving Master Mundi and forcing the droid General to retreat, falling back behind a series of large debris and allowing the Cerean to withdraw behind his allies.

“SHOOT HIM DOWN, SHOOT HIM DOWN!!!” The typically serene Jedi Master declared without an ounce of composure left within him.

The clones unleashed all they had…
Suddenly the lightsaber wielding maniac was running on the walls, and leapt down carving through the clones nearest to him.
Quickly the commander called for reinforcements, and a LAAT gunship burst through the wall forcing this unstoppable beast to give up its assault at last.
Then the recording stopped.

“Quite the show.” Kit Fisto murmured to himself, still seemingly unaware of the quality of the disaster he had just witnessed.

“How…” Depa held herself steady by grabbing the nearest counter. “Did the last five fall?”

This question would determine everything. Most importantly the caliber of threat this new Droid General would ultimately be for the Jedi.

“That, only the survivors can tell.” Yoda held his chin to his chest in a regretful gesture.

Spoiler

The events of this chapter are naturally based loosely on the events of Clone Wars (2003) Chapter 21.

 

Grievous makes his appearance well known in this horrible account of the events

 

He really makes quite the entrance. I did a little expanding here and there to better encapsulate his full character since his first introduction, and whether or not he did fight five Jedi is entirely up in the air. But quite intimidating either way.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 47: A Stab in the back of the Heart

“The fleet is maintaining position, General.”

That title, Depa Billaba would never be happy with.

Admiral Plom Hoom, now fat, bald and fast approaching his sixties, stood on the bridge deck of The Daunted in the Zaythan System. It had been months since her departure from Coruscant, and a lot had happened in that time. Though reports only flooded in sporadically, it had been announced the Jedi Council had officially agreed to take military command of the Grand Army of the Republic in her absence, as well as a number of perhaps hasty promotions of various Padawan’s to Knights, and Knights to Masters to fill the gap left by Geonosis in a way that seemed somewhat inauthentic to Depa Billaba.

All the while Depa had been drawn from sector to sector harassing Separatist Strongholds in the Region, a surprisingly untouched and isolated Zaythan was maintained as her primary point of defense.

It was a closed system, which made it an optimal fortress point for the Republic in an Outer Rim that had otherwise almost completely capitulated to the Separatist onslaught. Its primary Hyperlane was well guarded by a large space station, and numerous blaster turrets as well as a laser gate that could only be opened from a joint security point on the world below. ‘

If the Confederacy was going to attack, as numerous intelligence units had repeatedly stated they intended to, they would need to strike through an unauthorized route, all of which were cataloged and regularly observed by the Zathari and Thantako.

On Admiral Hoom’s suggestion the fleet had established a Xesh shaped formation facing the central axis point of the three known illegitimate hyperlanes that passed through this system.

It had been a tedious wait, Communications in this sector was spotty at the best of times and while Depa Billaba had received scattered reports from outside galaxy, most of her information came from the nearby Twelfth Fleet led by Jedi Master Pyletom Vuton in the Sloo sector. The fact that it was often second hand information meant it could often be outdated or incomplete.

Depa thanked the Admiral before turning to her sector map, her Clone Legion was stationed one part on the planet below, and the remaining split into sections on the two moons. Commander 10/994 was projecting from his bunker on Zaythan, highlighting key points along the existing trade route they could target while maintaining cover.

“Kalarba maybe, Boldur possibly… New Cove remains the primary target.” He was saying to the other officers, politicians and strategists that surrounded the table, mostly via hologram. “But it would require a significant investment.”

“One that would risk leaving Zaythan undefended.” The Thantako ambassador O’pabiTa croaked in her native tongue.
“Not if we could receive an equal commitment from the forces closer to the Core.” Captain CC-10/993 argued.
“You reveal yourself.” The Fury biped scowled again. “You only care for the Core, not for the Outer Rim Worlds.”

Technically this system was on the border between the Mid and Outer Rim, but somehow Depa doubted such semantics would earn her any favors.
“Calm yourself.” The Zathari Chief Ibidido spoke in a softer tone. “The fact that they are here at all shows they care.” The fleshy faced alien wore a cloak constructed of sewn, multi-colored leaves that didn’t translate well over the holo-link but surely must have been remarkable in person.

“But they continuously weaken our defenses in the name of defending the core!” his opposite argued. “We siphon some expendable forces to take preemptive action.” Depa interjected. “And they always return here when done.”
“Are any forces expendable?” Ibidido asked, his large eye’s staring into her soul in a mournful way.
“That's not what I meant.” Master Billaba sighed. She truly loathed military command.

“Every action we take is designed to protect this juncture, to preserve your worlds.”

CC-10/993 slammed his fist on the Console in front of him. “You’d rather we rot here and wait for the Separatists to build up their forces strong enough to wipe us out?”
O’pabiTa scoffed. “I’d rather your pacifist friends stop holding the military back and let them liberate this entire region, so we don’t need to rely exclusively on your exclave forces.”

A siren sounded just then, and Depa looked out to the viewport only to see nothing save for some red blasts fading into the distance. The Daunted rocked, and an explosion was heard.
“What is happening!?!” She called, Admiral Hoom was looking down at his Bridge Officers, who shouted back: “A fleet out of hyperspace sir!”
“But where!?!”
“Behind us.”

But that wasn’t possible… unless.

Depa turned back to the holograms, several lines cut out and the Clones flickered briefly.

Her Commander seemed to be trying to decipher what his own people were telling him. “The Joint Hyperrelay isn’t responding.”

“What have you done!?!” Depa cried to the Representatives who remained.
“Only what we must.” Ibidido, the Zathari, responded sadly.

“Your Republic has used and insulted us for too long. For what it is worth we are sorry.”

He cut off then, and Depa looked to the remaining ambassador.

“That XASCOG!” The remaining war-like alien screamed.

“I will tear him limb from limb! A thousand of his decendents will bleed!”

Depa pressed a button on her console to shut him up. “That isn’t helping.” Looking at the clones she closed her eye’s in grief. “The Zathari are a peaceful people, I can’t imagine they would throw in with the Separatists lightly.”

“We can’t hold this position General.” The Commander argued.

Depa gave the order. “Retreat.”

It would be a hasty one too, thousands of troops evacuated in minutes at most.

At least one of her ships had already imploded from the strain of fire, and Admiral Hoom was desperately trying to orient the others to buy them time.

They would have to go through one of the notoriously unreliable smugglers routes.

By the time she arrived back on Coruscant, over half her force was reported KIA.
It wasn’t long thereafter a report was published to the Holonet.
The Zathari Condemnation of the Republic
It is not easy for peaceful people to be forced to choose sides in a war, had we been left to our ways we would have hunted and grazed forever more, but you left us no options. As war came to us, we were left to choose between one power that promised us our lifestyle, and another that cared nothing for it. Either war, or war. It makes me sick to think any would be forced into such a situation, but a choice needed to be made, and we took the one that promised us hope.

We cooperated and compromised, allowed the mining of our world, and supported those security measures you insisted were necessary. We even took credit for starting a conflict a generation ago we had no part in.

We do not hold the Thantako responsible. Time was, they were an honorable people, of different virtue and values than us, but one committed to compromise and achieving a middle ground where we could respect each other's differences.

The Republic brought them wealth and prestige, pride and arrogance. The Republic taught them to view compromise only through what was lost. It is the Republic’s fault our forests weep, It is the Republic’s fault our people are left in poverty and children starve in the streets. The spirits have cursed our harvest, and you laugh at us when we suggest a mere step back. The Confederacy of Independent Systems promises us liberty, and reliable trade. Desperately needed supplies, my people cannot survive without.

They have suggested we will lead the system now, not at all what we would have proposed of our own accord, but perhaps for the best until our companions on the other world settle their tempers. We hope to treat our nearest neighbor with greater respect than they have offered us, perhaps one day they will understand. But until then I beseech all neutral systems to hear my call, the Republic will not honor you when the time comes.
- High Chieftain Ibidido of the Zathari.

These words left Depa Billaba speechless; she had considered the Chieftain a friend. His father had welcomed her efforts to bring peace so long ago, and while she knew their people held a bitter resentment for how that peace was concluded, the Jedi Knight had truly believed him when he said it was an acceptable sacrifice to ensure the protection of future generations.

Depa was responsible, deep down in her heart she could not deny it.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
LAST TRIGGER WARNING: After my next update tomorrow nothing will be the same.

 

Planets falling and Jedi loosing, that's what the great clone war was bringing

 

I like to see it as a big game of chess. Where one person is playing against himself.
And in that metaphor one thing is inevitable.

Spoiler

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 47: A Stab in the back of the Heart (Part 2)

So, when the Council summoned Depa Billaba to the East Tower Communications tower she went prepared to own up to her own mistakes but also remind them she had wanted a better accommodation for the Zathari when it had mattered.

As she stepped into that downcast chamber however, she sensed something else on their minds.

“You need to see this.” Mace’s grim features left no room for clarity.

On the holotable across the room an image took form. The recording had the distinctive T-Shape of a Clone visor recording, that brought uncomfortable memories back to Depa’s mind of the last time she had witnessed such a log.
*******************************************************************
“Anyone. Respond.” Visible in front of their observer, a grey uninformed clone deckhand set at the comm station was calling. “The fourteenth fleet, subdivision Cresh, is in dire need of assistance at Q-8 Sector 764-93. Anyone? Respond.”

The Commander, through whose eyes they were seeing, placed a hand on the officer's shoulder. “Anything?”

“No sir.” The other man responded, eye’s flicking to the commanding officer only briefly. There was the faintest trace of visible concern in that gaze. “They must be jamming our transmission.”
“General Skiel’s division is less than ten parsecs away.” The Commander whispered.
“Keep trying.”

Another crisis, typical. The Chalactan stepped forward, taking her place by her old teacher's side and folding her arms carefully, preparing for the worst.

The vision turned to reveal the bridge of an Acclamator-class cruiser, at the helm of which a very familiar Jedi stood, a glassy look in his eye and a dourness in his posture.
“General Aski.” The Commander saluted.
“All transmissions are being blocked, we are stranded.”

Depa grimaced a little, in part by the title as well as the implications behind the very message itself. Glancing at her master, his gaze was intently on her and she was left to wonder what he had expected. She was a Jedi Master now, long past her youthful fascination with her childhood clanmate. The Chalactan still wasn’t sure she wanted to know what kind of trouble the red headed boy had gotten himself into this time, but she doubted it was anything she wouldn’t be able to handle.

Ort nodded carefully, dropping his data pad on the holotable, and turned to observe the clone carefully. “The hyperdrive is down, we will either have to fight our way out or place our hopes in the escape pods.”

“Master!” A blond haired, petite fifteen-year-old girl ran into view. His apprentice, Aytaol Vooma if Depa’s memory did not deceive. “Captain Qary says they have trapped us in their tractor beam. They’re boarding.”

The man's long face recoiled, his hand rolled into a fist, and it looked like he was taking a deep breath. “Commander, ask for three squads of volunteers to hold the droids back at the airlock.”

“General, we are all willing to lay down our lives for the Republic.” As the soldier turned to give orders to his men Depa could just make out Ort mutter “All of us be damned for letting you.”

A powerful sentiment from the boy she once knew to never even consider speaking ill of anyone, even those who probably would deserve it.

“All others to the escape pods.” The Jedi Knight ordered without hesitation, moving off the bridge. “I’m joining the fight!” Aytaol professed, causing the commander to glance back in her direction, in what could only have been a sarcastic doubletake.
“Over my dead body.” Ort responded without hesitation.
“No, you mean over the clones' dead bodies! They’re sacrificing themselves for us.”
Depa wondered briefly what it was about Padawans that they always felt the need to test their teachers? Her heart was in the right place, but obviously missing the larger point.

“They’re sacrificing themselves for all, and I won’t evacuate until every living soldier is off this ship. Unlike you.” the girl looked almost comically outraged even in the grainy hologram. “You don’t mean?”

“You will be in the first pod out.”

Depa would have done no different in his place, though she imagined it still hurt forcing his apprentice to evacuate so early. The next generation needed to be protected at all costs, especially as they saw themselves as much more capable then they in fact were. A feature Depa had encountered far too often in her decades of teaching.

“We are Jedi!” She shouted.
“You are a Padawan, and the decision is not yours to make.”

To his credit Master Windu then fast forwarded the footage, and the Jedi watched the argument end quickly and the student stormed off the deck. The Commander was barking orders at his men, waving them towards the pods, counting them off.

Then the footage normalized. “65% soldiers and crew have been accounted for and evacuated so far, I have CT-2376 leading a squad to sweep off the lower decks to ensure nobody is left behind, but we can’t hold off much longer.”

Ort nodded respectfully. “I won’t let anyone die needlessly.”
Another white armored soldier suddenly forced his way into view past a dozen other men wandering one way or another around him. He saluted his superiors. “Sirs! The airlock defense has collapsed.”

“How long…” Ort tried to ask but was interrupted by a shot passing by his ear, his lightsaber came to life and the remaining clones began to fire at a series of B2 battle droids that had invaded the escape pod docks.

One of the enemy combatants fell with a dozen blaster holes in its chasey, the Jedi sliced a second in thirds, while one of the soldiers near the commander fell backwards dead.

Ort's blade warded off the blasts with ease, and together he and the other soldiers decimated a dozen more machines with only a couple other visible casualties on the screen.

The fight seemed over but the Knight held his blade out, something in his disposition betrayed an uncertain expectation of more to come. This battle wasn’t over.
“Commander.” The Jedi whispered. “Now we retreat.”
“Copy, General.” The soldier signalled to his men. “All into the lifepod, now!”

Several clones ran into the nearest opening, and a couple more pods shot out as the number of Clone Trooper grunts began to dwindle and for the briefest moment it looked like everyone might get out.

Then a scream was heard. The Commander turned and at last saw a number of droids of the likes Depa Billaba had never seen in her life. They were almost humanoid, with full craniums, two arms, legs, grey or white bodies and a red circular photo receptor in the center of the chest. A couple of them even had cloth wraps cover their metallic heads.

Ort instantly ran into action, striking at the nearest as those that surrounded it took out electric pikes and zapped those few clone troopers that were within swinging distance.

The Commander instantly started to fire his blaster, two shots knocked one off its feet and another three pelted a different droid that turned and swung at him. The pike collided at an angle just below the recorder, in a place Depa might assume to be his shoulder or neck and the recording went fuzzy.

When it came to again, The Clone Commander was seated at an odd angle on the ground, watching Ort take on five droids at once. The Jedi Knight was handling himself superbly, swinging his blade in a narrow arc, warding off various strikes in a defensive ward.

Depa recognized Form I, if any lightsaber style could survive such numbers, it was Shii Cho and that gave her hope. The random patterns kept the machines on their toes, and none could get past his line of defense. He disarmed one and grabbed its pike in an attempt at Jar’Kai. Depa hadn’t been aware he had any practice with such a style, and quickly it showed that he did not as while he managed to hold off a few waves of enemy strikes with a couple long swings of the staff, one of the droids managed to twist it out of his free hand without much effort.

Ortatious Aski fell back, in a two-handed grip he ducked under one blow and sliced that opponent at the knee just as one droid managed to jab him in the ribs.

Depa grimaced as she saw the electricity course through him and he cried out.

The Commander launched into action firing one shot after another, blasting the nearest droids to bits and still not stopping. He seemed to finally have realized these constructs could tolerate a lot more pain than their B1 cousins.

When that droid fell into scrap, the others turned to face their new opponent, buying the Jedi enough time to swipe several at the knees, and return to a leaping crouch that landed him behind one of the two survivors, piercing it through the chest.

The last one however made a mad dash to the clone commander, who attempted to fire into its armored plating but was too slow as the pole swung wide and Depa was sure it was about to smack him aside the head.

But a blue blade stopped him. Not Orts. As the droid fell in two with a long swipe, a thin blond girl with a wide grin came into view. “Commander Vooma.” The clone commander seemed out of breath.

“Ayti!” Or said, in shock and disappointment as he severed one of the crawling droids at the neck joint. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Well, if I wasn’t who would have saved the Commander?” She sounded so genuinely happy, it actually made Depa feel ill Get Out. She wanted to cry. Get Out Now.
“Well.” Ort smiled, his face a mix of worry and humor. “We’ll have to start calling him Grave. He’s got a habit of nearly dying.”
“Hey!” The Commander finally caught his breath, “Sinta was the kid's fault.”

Suddenly something changed in Ort’s eye, he turned his head in a way that most would not have noticed as anything but a glance over his shoulder, but Depa recognized a worried twitch in his features.

“Ok. Ok. Let's just get in the pod.” He finally stated. “We can bicker about this later.”
The commander raised his hand. “Children first.”
“I’m way older than you.” the girl snarked back.


“You weren’t planning on Leaving” A hollow robotic voice answered back. The Knight instantly spun, his lightsaber ablaze. Vooma soon followed.

“You impressed me.” There was a mocking tone now, and even before Commander Grave repositioned himself to see the entrance of the escape pod bay, even before his visor focused on the image, Depa Billaba knew who it was.

The cold claw like hands, that cruel skull-like war mask, those reptilian golden eyes

General Grievous.

“I was hoping we could play.”

So many Jedi would be panicking in this instant, anyone in his place would have a right to doom in all possible respects. But Ort’s demeanor wasn’t one of fear, he recognized the monster no doubt about it, but despite that fact his candor was one of calm resolve. “Escape now.” He stated defiantly. “I will buy you time.”

Then he dashed forward, the droid General already had one blue blade in hand to intercept his first strike. Then a second beam ignited to force him on the defense with a swift jab he needed to doge by turning around the attack, but it caught in his robe and he flung it off without a second glance. He was in the zone, a true defender of the light.

Aytaol, oh poor Aytaol. She was never going to sit by and let her Master sacrifice himself for her.

Instead, she dashed forward, her blade in hand ready for the kill, an animal-like growl on her lips.

She never even saw the third beam of light coming before it pierced her chest.

Ort froze then in horror, an opening Grievous exploited by bashing him across the room with the hilt of one of his lightsabers. The Jedi flew right into the clone commander. Once again, the screen blacked out, and as the footage recycled Depa thought at once that they all died. But when it clicked, and the image clarified she could only see the sad eyes of the redheaded boy ready to die.

“Run commander. That’s an order.” He whispered, giving Depa Billaba the first real look at the man he became, and she truly admired him. Ortatious Aski was the height of all a Jedi could be. A Master in all but Rank.

The two men rested there for one moment, the only survivors. General Grievous was spinning two of his blue blades before them, faster, and faster, and faster until they blended together in a blinding circle of light.

Depa looked away from the screen only momentarily and heard blades clashing in the darkness.

When she regained the courage to watch the screen, her friend was engaged with the Jedi Killing machine. An image of nightmares, but there was no fear there. His lightsaber bouncing and cutting off of the cyborg’s own weapons with a truly musical-like precision.

Absolute perfection.

Commander Grave raised his pistol, but hesitated. His two instincts fighting themselves. To run towards the fight? Or to obey orders?

Ort never gave him the chance. As he dodged one strike and blocked another, he pushed out his palm at the last soldier left standing who could tell his story. There an invisible wind carried him into the nearest pod, which locked behind him and he was jettisoned from the fallen carrier. Left no choice but to flee.

******************************************************************************************
As the hologram at last fizzled out again, Mace looked to Depa with anticipation.

What did he expect her to say? The implications were clear enough. It was the numbness she felt that worried her more than anything. Was she growing so cold to the losses in this Force forsaken war she no longer cared about the death of one of her oldest friends?

“I thought…” she finally managed to force something resembling a logical expression out of her lips. “That the Gott siblings reported that General Grievous was in the Anoat Sector?” She looked to Mace Windu with a forced serenity. “Q-8, that is the Roche sector, as far away from Anoat as possible.” A moment passed without answer. “When did they last check in?”

“Three weeks.” Mace whispered.

Which likely meant they had been lost as well.

Depa took a seat and found herself staring back at the frozen recording of that pod locking behind that poor clone commander, keeping him away from his purpose in life.

From Ortatious Aski’s final cruel moments.

At last, Depa Billaba confessed to herself, though not to Mace, that if this war did not destroy her body, it was certainly going to destroy her spirit.

It was doing so every single day it raged, with every single Jedi taken far too soon.

Not just the death and suffering, but the sheer joy their enemy got from it.

Nothing could make up for what was done. Not now, not ever.

 

AWW Ort in his final moments fighting Grievous and Depa has to watch it.