Tired, war-torn men are strewn across the hangar waiting for the transport back to Coruscant. It is in this moment, the short break between battles, that we mourn the dead. Some men smoke cigarettes, some murmur amongst themselves, but most stare aimlessly at nothing, trying to make sense of why their brothers had died. I sit on a supply crate polishing my lightsabers, wiping off the blood and grime of the last battle to prepare for the next.
We had just wrapped up a mission on Christophsis, an effort led by both Secura's 327th Star Corps and Mundi's 21st Nova Corps. Even with both forces it had been a brutal fight and many clone lives had been lost. I see the commander of the 21st Nova Corps striding toward me and I stand to greet him. The commander, who went by the name Bacara, had been watching me carefully since the mission began. His cold and calculating eyes were always upon me, always studying me. He picked out my weaknesses and strengths, giving me advice and praise in a way the Jedi never had. There was something strange about the clone. His eyes shone with a zeal for murder and he was known for his ruthlessness that went far beyond what was deemed necessary on the battlefield. Still, the commander treated me with great respect, despite my status as a padawan. Bacara had commended my skills as a warrior and it felt good to finally have my skills recognized by someone. I knew the Jedi meant well and that they only criticized me so I could get better, but it was a pleasant change to hear that I was a worthy fighter from such an esteemed commander,
"Commander Searsha," Bacara says, standing before me. "Of all the Jedi I have worked with, you have shown the most tenacity and ruthlessness on the battlefield. The Order should be grateful to have a fighter such as yourself. That being said, there is still one last matter that must be attended to, and I believe you are the most fit to see it through." A faint grin appears on his lips but there is a hint of madness in his gaze that makes me uneasy.
"I am pleased to hear those words, Commander. I thank you." I pause momentarily and look over to Master Secura conversing quietly with Mundi across the hangar. It seemed strange that she hadn't briefed me on the last part of the mission that Bacara was talking about but I supposed she was just preoccupied. Bacara wouldn't have me do anything unless it was explicitly stated by one of the Jedi generals, no clone would. "I would be honored to assist you, Bacara. What is it you need me for?"
"Follow me," he says coldly. I hesitate momentarily, my muscles tensing. The Force felt strange, out of place-- almost alien. Trepidation told me to stop, but I trusted the commander. Ignoring a gut-wrenching instinct, I follow the clone without protest. We leave the hangar and the rest of the troops behind, walking down a corridor that led to nothing but supply closets and empty barracks. My heart races in nervous anticipation as I realize how odd it is that no other clone troopers are accompanying us. I look to Bacara and he walks forward with headstrong purpose, assuring me that our current objective was of great importance.
The clone commander stops at an unmarked door and unlocks it, revealing dimly lit living quarters. I step inside as the door clicks shut behind me, locking from the inside and out. When the lights flicker on, I see the man.
He couldn't have been much older than me but it was hard to tell since his face had been beaten into a bloody pulp. He is unarmed and restrained; his eyes are that of an animal's before slaughter. He looks up at me with an emotion I can not identify, and for a moment it is as if he thinks I am his savior...until Bacara enters the room behind me.
The clone commander strides towards the man with a murderous determination, stopping to stand behind the prisoner and look me in the eyes. "This man was a Republic soldier who volunteered to fight with my men. Was a Republic soldier, that is," Bacara sneers with venomous rage. Without warning, the clone kicks the prisoner hard in the back so that the man flies face-first into the durasteel floor. My stomach churns when I hear the sickening crack of the man's face breaking from the impact. The clone grasps the prisoner's hair in his fist and aggressively pulls him up so that he is forced to stand. "After my men and I cleared a city block of droids this scum was found pillaging buildings." Bacara drops the prisoner to the floor and spits on his limp body, The man groans in pain and looks up at me, begging me to do something. "When my squad and I found him he was in an apartment...and occupied home." The clone grimaces, as if the memory pains him. "There were bodies strewn everywhere; a father, a mother, and an infant son. The only living being left was a daughter...." The commander looks up towards me and I look away uneasily. "He was going to rape her! A child barely twelve! This sick excuse of a man would fall to such a low, a man under my command." He cleared his throat and pulled the prisoner back onto his knees. I see now that the man's kneecaps had been shot out and that he was now being forced to rest on the wounds. Bacara looks at me, his gaze unwavering. "He must pay; justice. I need you to show no mercy, prove to me that you will never show hesitation on the field. Kill this man, here and now. Otherwise I will not require your service here."
Bacara's eyes are grey and cold like the steel floor, and I meet his frigid gaze with one of burning anger. The prisoner is cowardly scum, a filthy animal! He was a criminal I could not tolerate and it my duty to keep the galaxy safe. I step forward, anger and hatred making my hands tremble. The man tries to say something but his words are garbled by the thick blood that fills his mouth. I wanted him to pay for his crimes, to feel the pain the victims of his evil deeds had felt. So many clones, my friends, had perished in the last battle. To think that the villainous scum in front of me had survived instead of them made me sick.
There is no thought of the Jedi Code in my mind when I ignite my blue lightsaber. In that moment, anything I had ever learned fades away and there is only my animalistic thirst for revenge. I raise my blade and bring it down in an arc, severing the man's head from his body in a brilliant cascade of crimson.
He was an unarmed prisoner and I had murdered him. The sound of Bacara's maniacal laughter bounces off the walls of the empty room and adrenaline surges through my body as I sheathe my saber. What I had just done violated the sacred rules of the Jedi Order, and yet I felt strangely euphoric. I feel no remorse, only pride. It is not words and strict rules that will bring justice to the galaxy, only action. Bacara looks at me with a soldier's admiration and I nod in acknowledgement, thanking him for all that he has taught me. I look down into the lifeless eyes of the man I had murdered and chills suddenly run down my spine.
The Force is crying in pain and there is no one to blame but myself.
