Interlude: The Clone Wars -2 (Patreon)

Interlude: The Clone Wars - 2

Satine Kryze:

It wasn’t an immediate change. Few things in life ever were.

But when she noticed it, it was a stark change.

It first came to her attention… with Obi-Wan.

Alexandria would no doubt roll her eyes at that. 

But it had been a stray thought that crossed her mind one day when they were talking.

That she hadn’t seen Obi-Wan in Jedi robes in what felt like ages now. She only ever saw him in battle armor.

Once she noticed that, she realized that she saw most Jedi from Coruscant in some form of battle armor these days.

Gone were the days where a Jedi was recognizable by the simple, humble robes they wore. Now, only by lightsabers did she know them at a glance. Otherwise… they could be anything. Soldier, mercenary, even the members more inclined to engineering, or healing, had tools on their person; distinct looks about them. Only their scholars and sages, like Master Yoda, kept to the simple robe ensemble.

It was… pragmatic in a way the Jedi simply were not. At least, not in her memory. 

The war had certainly had this effect, but she had to wonder if it was only the war. If there were other things that had been contributing to this change.

It was too big, too wide spread of a change for it to just be one thing that caused it. Too universal. 

And then, of course, she had to wonder if the change was for the better… or worse.

She may have always had her disagreements with them - their hypocrisy of holding up the standard of ‘peace’ at the end of a lightsaber blade - but for all of those disagreements, she couldn’t deny that the Jedi had always professed themselves to be, first and foremost, peacekeepers. 

What would happen if they ever stopped adhering to that title and started believing themselves to be, first and foremost, generals? 

It would be a dark day in the galaxy indeed.

Which is why she was here, now. Sitting, listening to this proposal. A proposal a part of her did not want to agree to. She did not want to see her people dragged even deeper into this war than they already were.

Already, they had Mandalorian officers leading their clones and fighting alongside Jedi.

“And now you want more?”

The question was rhetorical. She got an answer anyway.

“Only logisticians and medical staff, strictly non-combat roles,” said Victoria Dallon. The Invincible Jedi. The Unbreakable. The Herald of Victory. Her list of epithets was long, and grew ever longer as the war dragged on. 

“Yes, and at first it was only officers. Only medical ships and supplies. Only networking information, and mercenary contacts from the Outer Rim. Your list of ‘onlys’ only seems to grow!” she bit back harshly, not quite snarling, but her lip was just beginning to curl up with her distaste.

“Lady Duchess,” interceded Anakin Skywalker. Another general. Another war hero. 

At barely twenty…

The Laughing General. The Successor. 

Master Skywalker now, she supposed, even as young as he is. Obi-Wan’s Padawan was dressed in robes, ironically enough, bowing his head. “It is true, we’ve asked much of Mandalore, and your people have answered with dignity and have proven invaluable but… if you’ll hear me out for just a moment?”

In spite of herself, she nodded, granting him the courtesy if only because of Obi-Wan, irritating as the man could be. 

Anakin smiled in gratitude, nodding. “Duchess… it's a recorded fact that… the stress of war can be extremely taxing for nearly all known species. Jedi are no exception to this, and that time away to rest, to relax for even a few hours, can relieve unbelievable levels of stress on the psyche of those in such situations.”

Her scowl grew more irritated. “You said non-combat roles. Was that untrue?”

“No, no, it’s true. But it’s all interconnected,” he swore, hand held up in a universal ‘trust me’ gesture. “Our medics are just as stressed. Our logisticians overworked. Relieving stress on that part of the system with additional hands and help… well… it would help other parts of the system as a whole.”

“We want to cycle out our backline workers as much as our frontline troops. They can get overworked and burnt out too. Stress is stress.” Dallon added, nodding emphatically, as though speaking from something a bit more personal. 

“The system,” she snorted. “So very clean and clinical. No need to face what you’re actually doing, what you’re actually talking about. I assume the worlds you’re fighting against are just ‘The Separatists’, hmm? Maybe ‘The Rebels’, or have we reduced them already to ‘The enemy’? Can’t see them as people with a potential point and legitimate grievances, can we?”

“That isn’t fair, Lady Duchess,” Dallon answered back, frowning deeply.

Satine scoffed. “And why not?”

“They’re fighting droids, mostly. Seems unfair to hold them to a ‘dehumanizing’ standard when they’re fighting literal assembly line products.” A voice that had thus far stayed quiet answered, joining the conversation.

The Duchess of Mandalore felt her headache begin to throb, turning a nasty glare onto the senator of her homeworld, her vizier and local pain in the absolute ass.

“That is not what I meant.”

“And it's not what they meant, either.” The invulnerable woman shrugged. “We can argue pedantic hair splitting, or we can get down to actual business, My lady. I know you hate to waste time.”

Satine resisted the urge to rub at the bridge of her nose. These were long-standing arguments she’d had with Obi-Wan, and as necessary as she felt making the point that the Separatists were not rebelling out of pure random happenstance - that there was a point, a reason that they were choosing to remove themselves from the Republic - that conversation would go nowhere, even if she could convince Anakin and Victoria. They still had their war to fight.

“I understand how this benefits your Order and your soldiers…” she said after a moment, “but I fail to see how this benefits Mandalore.” 

“It does benefit us more than you, it is true,” Skywalker acknowledged. “But in truth, Mandalore is only the first world we’d ask for direct cooperation from in this way. You saying yes… well, that might open doors for you along with the other planets that agree.”

She had a sneaking suspicion. “And who might those other worlds be?”

“The ones that are still part of your anti-slavery coalition,” Dallon answered. “Alderaan, Naboo, Kuat, Bothawui, Ryloth and so forth”

“We already have ties with them,” she rebutted with a raised eyebrow.

“True, but they could always be strengthened.” Oh no, she knew that look. She hated that look. Alexandria had an idea.

Alexandria’s hand rose, cupping her chin. “The alliance has been slowly eroding. The war is making it lose its focus and original purpose. Dennis is running more supply runs and blockade circumventions these days than slave rescues,” she thought aloud. “If the Jedi Order succeeds in negotiations to have Alderaanians and others join in the war effort, then deploying our servicemen with their forces can only strengthen diplomatic ties.”

“Not to mention, it opens up clones for citizenship on all those worlds,” Victoria added, an eager light to her eye. “Potentially, at least. It would be rather shameless for any world that served alongside clones to say they can’t be civilians or citizens, especially when they’ve been running an anti-slave party line for years.”

Satine closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, fighting for calm before she turned towards Alexandria. 

“You do not act out of altruism,” she pointed out… rather bluntly. “What exactly is this about?”

Alexandria, to her credit, answered her just as bluntly. “The anti-slavery coalition represented a formidable power block, not just in the galaxy but in the Senate itself.” The woman shrugged. “Strengthening these ties, pushing this, it consolidates a sizable chunk of power that’s free from the Chancellor.”

“So this is about Palpatine again,” she sighed. 

“Of course.” Again, to her credit, the woman did not lie. “He’s already used the Separatist Crisis as an excuse to postpone the elections. He’s consolidated considerable power in the Judiciary, as well, to prosecute those Separatists. The Senate is nominally independent, but he has his claws in enough Senators and lobbyists to swing nearly any vote in his favor. This represents one of the only power bases big enough to stop him… politically.”

She did not miss the specificity in that last statement. 

Alexandria’s look told her the rest of it. 

This power block was still the only thing keeping him from leaving Mandalore exposed to Hutt retaliation and political isolation. 

Satine sighed, rubbing at her forehead. 

She hated this.

The compromises. The constant… erosion of what she knew was right, all done in the name of safety. Security. 

Some days, she regretted ever letting Alexandria set foot on her world.

Other days, she recognized that she might have drowned long, long ago in these turbulent waters without her. 

—

The sun was beginning to set, its orange glow casting a red light, and even longer shadows, across her office. 

She stared out of the window, grappling with her thoughts. They did not make for pleasant company.

“Duchess.”

The call made her look up from her maudlin thoughts, smiling softly.

“Miss Saxon,” she greeted.

The other - decidedly far less irritating and far more helpful - offworld arrival, Hannah Saxon, held up a datapad. “The reports. The last of the Death Watch cells and holdouts.”

“That’s it, then?” she asked, feeling her breath expel out of her lungs. “They’re finally done?”

“As far as we can tell,” Hannah affirmed. “The last of the Death Watch have surrendered. The only holdouts ars Pre Vizsla himself, and his most devoted handful.” 

Death Watch.

It had been a presence in her life for so long, had done so much damage, caused so many sleepless nights and self doubts.

And now… it was gone.

Defeat after defeat, loss after loss. She hated thinking the war caused something ‘good’, but that above everything had been what had broken the back of the Death Watch. One could only profess to be a warrior people of old traditions and bringing Mandalore back to glory for so long before it rang hollow as you lost every engagement. 

Perhaps that’s why she’d been so willing to listen to Dallon earlier.

“How is your family?” she asked. Aras had also been instrumental in Death Watch’s decline over this last year. His duel against Pre Vizsla on Geonosis was famous, as was its outcome.

She hadn’t seen that member of her royal guard - or many of his fellows for many months now - since their most recent deployment and assignment as officers across the Grand Army.

Hannah smiled. 

“Everyone’s doing well,” she said. “I heard from Aras just two days ago; he’s on Coruscant for the next week, training new clones and integrating them into the 707th.” She chuckled somewhere low in her throat. “Jen is determined to be the one to rediscover Basilisk droids. She’s gotten me to buy all the history documentaries. And Daryan wants to be like Armsmaster, and invent things.”

She remembered Armsmaster, at least from anecdotal stories. An old friend from her and Alexandria’s world… Some form of engineer who was also a police enforcer of sorts. 

This time Hannah chortled. “He tried to improve the toaster last week.”

“Dare I ask if the toaster was improved?”

“By a certain measure. My toast was certainly blacker than normal.” Her smile was delighted. “Shmi warned him quite sternly to do his inventing outside the kitchen. Somehow, Aras and I have lost total control of that area in the house. It belongs to her.” 

Satine smiled, if for no other reason than to be polite. Aras was a member of her Royal Guard, Hannah the lead investigator into Death Watch activity, but she did not know Shmi beyond distant acquaintances. 

But still, despite the distraction, her thoughts returned inexorably towards the recent events. And so, she found herself asking.

“Did the moment ever come?” she asked, and Hannah’s confusion was evident on her face. “Did the moment ever come, where you realized that all of the choices in front of you made you a person you didn’t want to be?”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline, but then her expression softened. And she seemed to understand.

She let the silence linger, and when she answered, she took a seat across Satine’s desk. 

“Yes,” she answered simply. “Sometimes… the only choices are bad choices. And the only option is to take one.” She paused. “Sometimes… it’s necessary to accept a lesser evil. But we must never accept a necessary evil as good.” 

“Is that from your world?” Satine asked. She liked the quote. 

Hannah nodded. “It’s that last part people forget about. I forgot about it. Alexandria did too. You still haven’t, though, and that counts for something.”

“I’m not so sure,” sShe answered, then sighed, taking hold of the datapad. “Thank you, Miss Saxon. I don’t think I make for good company right now.”

Hannah acquiesced. “If you need anything, Duchess, my door’s open.”

“...Thank you.”