General, My General

She would always be his General, no matter what anyone else ever said.  Of course, she had been the general of thousands, but she was his General, and his alone.

The general was an extraordinary woman.  Her compassion, the way she genuinely cared for every single soldier's concerns, and her relaxed attitude toward all the crew members were legendary.  It was no surprise that every soldier went willingly wherever she asked them, few or no questions asked.  She always seemed to have a sense of what a person was feeling, wanting, and needing.

Revan was the general's younger sister, and was lucky to have her.  Revan herself being only sixteen years old (she had tried desperately to keep it a secret, but it had been leaked), the general took the often naive orders and strategies from Revan, revised them wherever she saw fit, and carried them out.  Troops trusted the general, not only because she was five years older than her sister, but something about her calmed them, reassured them.  It was like she could hear their anxieties and knew exactly what to say to calm them.  She truly felt their joy, their pain, their fears, and their anger.

Battles, however, were always a horrifying time for her.  She began the war fighting alongside her troops, but now stayed in her own quarters.  It was not because of fear, because she didn't care, or lack of strength—quite the opposite.  With each shot, each strike from a blade that one of her men felt, she felt it, too.  It frightened her and them.  They didn't want to lose the general.  During a battle, she remained locked in a room, meditating, usually alone.  At times she would call a different crew member in with her to borrow feelings of strength, but she was always careful not to ask a person to stay with her more than once, and for that they were grateful.  Whenever a soldier left the room at the end of a battle, they always left pale and drawn, shaking their heads, refusing to answer any questions about what went on.  Despite the horrors, they were always glad to find some way to be of assistance to the general, so appreciative were they of how she could relate to them and calm their fears.

No one was more appreciative of her than Bao-Dur.  It was a hard thing, being a young Iridonian tech.  Though he was four years older than General Aladima, he lacked the respect and race she had.  He came into the war in the midst of alien backlash.  These were days of glory–and the only people getting any were human soldiers of impressive rank.  From day one, without having said anything to anybody, he had been fiercely attacked about his race and his rank.  He contemplated leaving to search for anywhere else he could help the war effort.  She must have heard him, because the next day, she threatened dishonorable discharge of any man who discriminated on any basis.  From then on, he was left alone with his Remote–exactly how it had been for the last nineteen years.

He had not expected her to take notice of the annoyances of a tech, much less act on them.  He was even more shocked when she came up to him and started a conversation a week later.

"Hello, Bao-Dur."  He had never heard her speak before.  Her voice was low and soothing, dripping with honey.  He had initially been suspicious of her tone; he knew of the Sith mind tricks that made you drop your guard and do whatever they wanted you to.  She sounded different, though.  More pure.  She was beautiful, and contrasted sharply with her sister, Revan.  Where Revan had golden blonde hair, her sister the general bore glossy raven hair that swung loose that day–he had noticed that she often kept it tied away from her face in a loose bun.  Revan was tall and willowy with a slender figure; the general was comically short, but muscular and curvaceous.  The two of them could be identified as sisters by the same pale green eyes that were always glittering with ambition.  Bao-Dur swallowed and inclined his head.

"General."  She smiled at him and noticed the Remote tooling around beside him.

"You're a perceptive little thing, aren't you?" she asked it.  "How old is this unit?  I've never seen anything like it."

"Nearly twenty years, General.  I built him–well, it, I guess, when I was five."  She gazed at him with wide eyes.  She looked for a long while.  He tried desperately not to squirm under her stare and forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Hm," she said after a time.  "I'll have to keep an eye on you, Bao-Dur.  You may be more than you realize."  She smiled and walked away, shaking her head and softly muttering "incredible!  Twenty years!" leaving him staring after her.

They didn't speak again for almost three weeks after their inital encounter, but he knew she hadn't forgotten him.  She never failed to smile whenever she saw him and he rose in rank.  Not far, but he had awkward stewardship over a few men now.  When they did speak again, she shocked him.

"Bao-Dur, why did you build your Remote so young?"  He swallowed, and mild panic rushed like ice water through his gut.  No sooner had he registered it than he was washed over by a warm feeling of serenity.  He looked at her in shock, but she remained as before, calmly smiling, patiently waiting for the response she must have known might not come.

"I had no one else.  My parents were killed when I was very small by Mandalorians.  I had nowhere to go, nothing to do but build things."  She nodded solemnly.

"You must have been very brave," she said.

"I had to be," he said, then blinked, surprised at his own words.  She nodded again, clasping his hand.

"Bao-Dur, I grow tired of being called 'General' all the time.  I would appreciate it if you would call me by my name."  He gazed at her in shock, not blinking.  She smiled.  "Rasha," she said with a soft laugh, answering his unasked question.

"Of course, General," he said.  She scowled good-naturedly.

They spoke often after that, always about him, his life, and his thoughts–never of her.  He tried.  He once asked about her childhood, but she waved it away quickly, saying it was "neither here nor there."  She usually asked after his work, but should he ever ask about how the war was going, her face would tighten, and she would reply, "Its fine.  Just fine."

One morning he would never forget.  He was bent over his repair work when he heard her familiar footsteps stop behind him.  He was meticulously checking every system to be sure it was functional.  They expected a battle that day.

"Good morning, General," he said with a smile.  His face fell at her expression.  Her face was drawn and gray, lips taut with worry.  Her normally sparking eyes were dull and listless.  "General, are you ill?" he asked.

"No," she said in a clipped tone.  "Would you please join me in my quarters at 1300 hours?"

"Of course, General."  She gave him a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.

He trudged to her rooms with a sense of dread and worry.  He worried about his General and what could be afflicting her.  He knocked on the doors and they immediately slid open.  He saw the General seated on a platform, meditating.  He didn't speak, but watched her.  Her expression was blank and unreadable except for the few times when her eyebrows would twitch, betraying her turmoil.  After a time, she relaxed and opened her eyes. 

"Bao-Dur," she said with a smile.  He was immediately grateful for meditation, as he could see it had brought her some measure of peace from when he had seen her that morning.  "I am very glad to see you.  Tell me," she continued," are you well?  Don't try to be modest, brave, or unassuming.  I need you to be completely honest for you to be helpful."  He nodded.

"I am fine, but I am worried about you,"  She frowned, and ignored his comment.

"Bao-Dur, you know there is a battle approaching.  And I am sure you have heard the stories of what happens to me in a fight.  I've called you here to help me.  You know that I feel what the people around me are feeling.  What I ask you to do is to take all feelings of fear, fatigue, or worry you may have and put them from your mind.  Think, instead, of a time when you were brave, or confident, or joyful.  Keep those feelings in your mind.  I ask to borrow them from you.  Don't think about anything else.  I warn you.  I often scream or cry out for reasons you cannot know.  Don't worry about me, or anything I may be doing or saying, or anything going on around us.  I would never let anything happen to you.  All I ask is for you not to lose control.  Bao-Dur, can you do this?"

"I can."  She bowed her head slightly.

"Thank you."  She sat and resumed her meditation.

He paced the room, racking his brain for any memory or feeling of bravery.  Worry crept into his head.  He was going to fail his General and would doom her.  He heard a soft laugh from her.

"Bao-Dur, you're not helping."  He sighed and shook his head.  "If you need to invent a heroic deed, then by all means, do so.  I'm not particular.  And I swear, I'll never tell anyone that you lied to the General."  He nodded and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.  If he couldn't think of anything brave, then he would have to think of something happy or peaceful.  She smiled with her closed eyes.  He concentrated on feeling blank.  Suddenly, he heard the General say,

"There is no emotion, there is peace."  His eyes shot open.  It was strange the way she had said it.  It was hollow and echoing, and seemed to come from one of his own thoughts in her voice.  But he had never heard her say that to him before that he could recall.  He closed his eyes, concentrating very hard on driving the confusion from his mind.  He thought very hard and very long when he heard her voice again.

"Poor Bao-Dur.  He has no idea what he's getting himself into...."

"General, I'm sorry, but did you say something?"  She opened her eyes slowly and frowned.

"No, Bao-Dur.  I've been meditating this whole time."  He nodded curtly and went back to having a blank mind.  He was interrupted by the sirens and screaming systems of a battle.  He had been through them before, and knew what to expect.  It was always relatively quiet before going insanely loud and disorienting.  He knew what all the crew members were doing in frantic preparation, he had just been part of them this morning and had been a part of them in previous battles.  He recited in his brain the procedures he would have been doing had he not been where he was now.  He risked a glance at the General who sat silent and unmoving.  The ship was suddenly rocked by an explosion.  He looked at the General, who had gasped.  He concentrated furiously on being peaceful and confident.  The ship was thrown again.  The General gave a barely audible groan.

Bao-Dur could tell the signs of a battle that was not in their favor, and this was one of those times.  The explosions were becoming more frequent and sounded like the were causing more damage.  Many of them were dangerously close to the rooms where he was with the General.  He wasn't worried about himself, though.  He was becoming more and more worried about the General.  She had told him to expect her to cry out, but he hadn't counted on such insane displays of emotion that she was doing.  Her cries steadily grew from small whimpers, to moans of pain, to full-blown screams.  It was unnerving.  He fought desperately to be calm and peaceful and joyful, for her sake.  But it was becoming harder and harder with each scream.

The battle was waning, but her cries were not.  If anything, they were worsening.  She began to cry out names, some of them he recognized.  He didn't want to know what that meant.  About an hour after the last explosion, she was silent.  He remained fixed on a calm disposition.  She collapsed onto the ground and he rushed to her side.  He thought to call for a medic, but was stopped by a shaking hand.

"No," her hoarse voice said.  "Just stay with me for a small while."  He nodded, unable to speak.  She breathed in and out, slowly and seemed to come to herself.  She pulled her hair back and rubbed her face with her hands.  "Thank you, Bao-Dur.  You were amazing.  You helped me more than I can possibly say.  You may leave."  He nodded hesitantly, not wanting to leave her the way she was.  "I'll be fine, Bao-Dur.  I'm sure I'll speak with you tomorrow."  He rose and walked out the door.

He could now see why she never asked for the same man twice.  It was one thing seeing friends of yours suffer from burns, or even dying.  It was quite another to see a woman that was your leader and your strength succumb so completely to an unseen foe.  He had wished that he could fight back against that which was afflicting her so keenly, but he knew he could not.  This was a battle between his General... and herself.

True to her word, the two spoke the next day.  She allowed him to ask any questions he had, and was surprised to see that he had very few.  The names she had cried out turned out to be dead men.  He asked her what it felt like to die, and she shook her head with a shudder.

"I don't plan on doing so any time soon," she said with a mirthless bark of laughter.

The weeks slowly returned to how they had been.  The battle had not changed their relationship, though she once confessed to him that she had worried that it would have.  What he couldn't say to her was that it would have killed him.

Months later, she returned to him with the same stressed expression on her face.

"I wondered if you would be willing to join me in my quarters once more," she said, looking like she was regretting every word she spoke.

"Of course."  She sighed in relief.

"Thank you, my friend."

He was now prepared for what would come, and knew what he had to do.  This battle was less intense, and her screams less frequent.  No names were called.  Nothing about the situation surprised him.  When the battle was over and she had rested, he tentatively spoke.

"General, why did you call me again?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" she asked with a concerned look on her face.

"Of course not.  I am glad to help in any way that I can.  I just wondered why you asked me."  She looked at the floor, contemplating.

"Something about you helps me more than any one else does.  I don't know what it is.  I am very glad to have you," she said.  He looked at her in amazement.  She returned his gaze with a trembling smile.

"Why do you stay in this war when you can feel such pain?"

"Because I feel the pain."

 He came to her, not long after, and told her of a machine he had made that he thought could help the war end, or at least speed up the process.  He called it the Mass Shadow Generator and it did exactly what its name said it did.  She expressed amazement at his skill, but doubt.  She wanted to avoid such action at all costs, being aware of its consequences.  He told her that it was always available for her should she ever want it.  She said she hoped she never did.

But still the war dragged.  It seemed that the Republic was getting nowhere.  All that happened was mindless bloodshed.  He could see the General hated it.  It was wearing on her.  He was her constant companion during battles.  It was a routine they had developed.  She felt guilty for putting him through it, but he told her he wanted nothing more than to help her.  What he didn't tell her was that he did it because he had fallen in love with her.  He didn't do it for the Republic.  He would lose the war a thousand times if it meant keeping her from feeling these things so potently every time.  He pressed the Mass Shadow Generator further.  The sooner the war ended, the fewer battles she would suffer from.  She finally decided that it was the only course of action after pressing from Revan, who had become hard and bloodthirsty.  Revan ordered it to take place on Malachor V—she knew it was a forbidden world to the Mandalorians, and selected it for her own twisted purposes.  She knew they wouldn't be able to resist the idea of destroying it.

The day that would be known as The Battle of Malachor V dawned bleak and tense.

"We will not be meeting in my rooms.  I will be on the bridge, with you at my side, Bao-Dur."  He nodded, not questioning her.  They walked onto the bridge, and she stood at the foremost end of the ship, looking on Malachor with a mournful look.  She gave the signal to begin fire.  He knew that her sister was making her way to Manalore the Ultimate's flagship, intent on destroying him, and wondered if she was thinking of her.  Remembering his duties, he thought of peace, joy, and, for the first time, love.  They both knew this would be the end of something, and so he had nothing holding him back.  He wanted her to know.

The battle was frustrating and intense.  Nobody seemed to be winning.  His General held amazingly strong, not crying out once.  She flinched and winced, but concentrated fiercely on Bao-Dur's thoughts.  Still it went on.  They slowly began to push the Mandalorian forces toward Malachor.  The General seemed to be delaying, holding off as long as possible.  They received a transmission from Revan.  She had been changed.  She was gray and twisted.  His General's eyes widened.

"Rasha, what are you waiting for?  Activate the weapon."

"I thought I would wait, Revan, until the opportune moment."

"Do you question me?  Activate it now!"  The message was cut.  Bao-Dur looked to his General for direction.  She solemnly nodded.  He activated it.

With a low rumbling and a flash of green, the entire planet shook with its force.  It split into fragments of the planet, causing a massive gravitational pull, dragging thousands of ships toward its core.  Without warning, his General collapsed to the console, screaming in horror.  She screamed names he had never heard before, words in Basic and Mando'a.  Her screams seemed unending.  Their pain and anguish cut to his core.

"General!"  He called.  "General!"  Nothing was helping her.  She kept screaming her horrible screams.

"Oh, gods, it hurts!  Help!  Someone help me!"  She shrieked and whimpered in terror and pain.

"General!  Rasha!" he screamed in desperation.  He fell to the ground and cradled her twitching body to him.  Still she screamed and thrashed against his hold.  "Rasha, let it go!  Let the Force go!  For the love of the gods, let go!  Its the only way to stop this!  Let go!"  Something in his words penetrated and she met his eyes, body still shaking.  She nodded and closed her eyes.  Something seemed to leave her and she collapsed as though dead.  Nothing revived her.  The battle was coming to a close.  The ship started being pulled to the terrible pull that his monstrous creation had made from Malachor's core.  The men frantically asked what to do.  "Get us the hell out of here!"  He screamed.  Bao-Dur took hold of her shoulders and shook her limp form.  "Rasha.  Rasha.  Rasha!"  She remained motionless.  He picked her up and sprinted across the ship, weaving between the dead, the wounded, and the broken.  He was focused on getting her to the medbay, on helping her.  He could feel the engines roar against the pull of the Mass Shadow Generator.  All he could think was how he could not not let her die.

---

Weeks later, she woke.  He never left her side.  He sat beside her, whispering things to her, telling stories they had shared, stories he vaguely remembered from his childhood, whispers of how he loved her.  Mostly, he told her not to die.  She woke, and it took everything inside him to keep from dragging her to him and never letting go.  He remained in his seat.

"How are you, General?"

"I've been better," she said weakly with a hoarse laugh.  She shook her head.  "Oh, Bao-Dur.  What have I done?"

"No.  It was mine.  My fault."  He willed feelings of peace.  It must have been evident on his face.

"It’s no use, Bao-Dur.  I can't feel your feelings anymore.  I–I lost the Force."  For the first time, he saw his General cry.

---

As soon as she was well, she left him without a trace.  He learned later that she went to the Jedi Council and was Exiled for her actions in the war.  He lost all track of her after that.  He vowed to find a way to make up for what he did.  He came to Telos, looking for some way to heal. 

All that he did was for her.  His General.  He built things, helped grow plants and introduce animal-life in her name.  He never forgot her.  She drove all his actions.  She was the meaning in his life.  He prayed that he could find her again.  His friend, his love, his General.