Carnage Across the Galaxy

Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh as he surveyed the last flickers of resistance on the dark, fog-shrouded surface of Umbara. His troops were sweeping the dense, twisting terrain, signaling in code that every remaining pocket had been contained, neutralized. He'd finally completed the task—yet the completion brought no sense of relief. A headache, sharp and insistent, pulsed at his temples, the latest in a series that had plagued him throughout the campaign. He massaged his forehead, willing it to subside, and sought a quiet spot near the edge of the encampment, hoping that meditation might bring some respite. 

But as he sat and centered himself, letting his mind ease into the flowing current of the Force, an unease began to coil within him. There was something deeply unsettling, a sense of imbalance lurking just beneath his awareness. He tried to focus, his breathing steady, calling to the Force for clarity, yet it eluded him like a half-remembered dream. He couldn't recall any specific event, any decision that might have caused this… but it lingered, filling him with an inexplicable dread. 

Still, Obi-Wan was a master of discipline; he set aside his concerns, allowing the Force to guide him. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, sinking deeper, searching for insight or, at the very least, a quieting of his anxieties. But instead, the silence only seemed to amplify his questions.

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Far from the murky depths of Umbara, aboard the Sovereign, Lelouch reclined in his command chair, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting thoughtfully on his knuckles. His sharp gaze flicked between screens and readouts, yet his expression betrayed a trace of boredom. At his side, Thorn stood as a silent guardian, a sturdy pillar of vigilance with his rotary blaster strapped to his back. 

Lelouch tapped a holopad, which projected a live news segment mid-broadcast. The anchor, a polished Rodian with an articulate manner, reported on the horrors of a recent chemical attack orchestrated by the Confederacy. 

"...and in the latest blow against planetary autonomy, the Confederacy's recent chemical attacks on the Skustell system have left the Ongree nearly extinct. Reports indicate that the CIS deployed the lethal Blue Shadow Virus, wiping out entire populations. This tragedy follows the devastation on Mon Cala, where both Mon Calamari and Quarren species now face similarly grim futures. Many planets are left asking: should this warrant intervention? And if so, at what scale?" 

The view cut to a panel of four figures, each framed by their own holographic screens, who were clearly poised for debate. The first was a human senator from Chandrila, her features stern but compassionate, her tone controlled as she leaned forward. 

"This atrocity committed by the CIS cannot go unanswered," she began firmly. "The Ongree, the Mon Calamari, the Quarren—these are not just casualties of war. These are civilizations, cultures, innocent lives completely wiped out by a weapon of mass destruction. If we stand by, we not only turn a blind eye to these heinous actions but encourage the Confederacy to repeat them." 

Next to her, a grizzled, aging general from Coruscant with a hardened gaze leaned into the discussion. His Republic insignia gleamed as he spoke, his voice gravelly with years of experience. 

"I understand the urge for retaliation," he replied, arms crossed, his tone sharp. "But consider the resources already spread thin. Opening another front, just for the sake of vengeance? That's a dangerous game. We're fighting a war, not looking to start another one within this one. Focus on what we can win, or we risk more than we can afford." 

The debate was far from over. Across from them, a respected scientist from Alderaan joined the discussion, his voice softer but no less pointed. 

"But retaliation isn't simply about vengeance," he argued. "It's about stopping a lethal precedent. Today it's the Ongree. Tomorrow? It could be any of us. The CIS clearly has no scruples about employing bioweapons to decimate entire populations. If we don't act, we leave the door open for more of these atrocities, and we fail our duty to protect those who look to us for help." 

Finally, an admiral from Kuat, known for her no-nonsense attitude and unwavering pragmatism, weighed in. She tapped her finger on her holopad as she spoke. 

"And we're supposed to throw resources into this without an ounce of strategy? Emotions are high—I get that. But our forces aren't limitless, and our supply lines are already strained. We need a calculated response, not a knee-jerk reaction that leaves us weakened in more critical fronts. If anything, we need to assess the tactical importance of these systems before committing." 

Lelouch watched with thinly veiled interest as the debate swirled. His eyes narrowed as the Chandrilan senator leaned forward, her passion almost igniting the screen. 

"This isn't merely about strategy or resources," she declared. "It's about justice. If we, as the Republic, claim to be a beacon of hope and protection, we can't ignore entire species being wiped from existence. We need to show the galaxy that we stand against these horrors—publicly, forcefully." 

The admiral scoffed, shaking her head. "The Republic's hope doesn't rest in being a savior for every single tragedy. Hope, senator, comes from calculated victories, from winning this war. We have a duty to the planets that rely on us for survival. If we keep extending ourselves, we may find ourselves broken in the process." 

The scientist chimed in once more, clearly unsettled by the admiral's stance. "And what good is survival if we lose the very principles that make the Republic worth protecting?" 

The passionate, almost desperate need for decisive action played directly into his hands. Public outrage, righteous fury—all the tools he needed. The debating voices played on, each one more eager to speak than the last. Lelouch's mouth twisted with a half-smile as he watched, understanding how events like these could become the seeds of grander machinations. 

Fordo entered the bridge, breaking the silence, his posture crisp as ever, holding a holopad. With a respectful nod, he held it out for Lelouch to inspect. "General," he began, "we've just received an update from the 501st. According to reports, Commander Krell assumed command in General Skywalker's absence and... betrayed our forces. Led to excessive losses." 

Lelouch's gaze shifted to the screen, his curiosity piqued. "And?" he prompted, not looking away from the broadcast but indicating Fordo should continue. 

Fordo's eyes gleamed as he tapped a few specific sections of the report, highlighting certain lines for Lelouch. "The troopers eventually detained him for his actions… and executed him." 

At this, Lelouch's head turned fully toward Fordo, an eyebrow raised. A satisfied smile crossed his lips, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Well," he murmured, leaning back, his fingers moving through the report, "it would seem there's more to this than meets the eye. Open and shut on the surface, but beneath… oh, this has potential." 

Fordo's mouth twitched, almost forming a smile, though he kept his expression neutral. Lelouch watched his reaction, a glimmer of approval in his gaze. "You know, Fordo," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of praise and irony, "if you ever tire of military life, you might have a promising future in politics." 

Thorn snorted from the side, a low sound of amusement escaping as he glanced at Fordo. "Yeah, picture that. Senator Fordo." The two exchanged a knowing look, and Thorn's grin faded as he returned to his usual impassive stance. 

Fordo gave Thorn a side-eye, clearly unamused but willing to ignore the jab. He merely nodded and kept his focus, remaining professional as always, though his posture relaxed a touch, almost as though he welcomed the levity. 

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Meanwhile, aboard a Republic Venator, Rex sat alone, expression as unreadable as stone. The silence filled the cabin, punctuated by the occasional comm buzz from the bridge. Rex's mind was distant, still processing everything that had transpired on Umbara. His fellow soldier, his comrade, had taken the ultimate measure against Pong Krell—a Jedi, but one who had betrayed them all. Krell's betrayal lingered in his mind, but with it came an eerie silence, one that seemed to press against Rex as he pondered what lay ahead for ... the likes of him. 

A crackle over the comm broke his reverie. "Captain Rex," the helmsman called back, his tone tinged with urgency. "We've just received an order for diversion." 

In a matter of minutes, Rex had already arrived on the bridge. 

Taken aback, Rex looked at the helmsman. "Diversion? From whom?" 

"Orders straight from High Command, sir," he answered, glancing over his shoulder. "We're to report directly to the Sovereign's main hangar with the prisoner." 

Rex frowned, his mind racing as he considered the implications. "We have orders from the Jedi Council. We're meant to escort our prisoner directly to the Republic base." 

"Priority orders, sir," the pilot replied. His tone was final, a subtle weight behind his words. "They override." 

Rex's gaze hardened, but he knew better than to argue. Priority orders were ironclad—often issued by high-ranking officials, sometimes directly from the Supreme Chancellor's office. And in this case, if they were being directed to the Sovereign... that could only mean the high-general. The implications of that were enough to send a quiet ripple through the cabin, as the clones exchanged brief, tense glances. Rex's expression remained stoic, though his mind was far from at ease. 

After a pause, he nodded to the helmsman, speaking with measured calm. "Understood. Proceed to the Sovereign's coordinates." 

The ship banked, changing course, and the rumble of the engines shifted. In the silence that followed, Rex watched Dogma. The young soldier's face was still impassive, yet there was a faint strain, a tightness to his expression that Rex couldn't quite ignore. 

"We're going to meet Lelouch," Rex said at last, his voice low and deliberate. "You understand what that means?" 

Dogma's gaze flicked up, barely acknowledging him. "I did what was necessary, sir. Krell's betrayal was…" He trailed off, his voice hardening as he fell into silence again. 

Rex regarded him, a sense of grim understanding in his eyes. In Dogma's face, he saw reflections of his own struggle, his own battles with duty and doubt. 

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The Sovereign's main hangar bay stretched wide, filled with the imposing hum of machinery and soldiers on the move. As Rex stepped down from the LAAT/i, his boots echoed against the deck, and he felt the steady presence of Dogma behind him, wrists shackled, face blank with the resignation of someone whose loyalty had been shattered. Beside them lay a covered body—the final remains of General Pong Krell. 

Standing at the edge of the hangar, Lelouch waited, his polished uniform pristine as his eyes rested calmly on the pair. At his side, General Skywalker stood in silence, his stance rigid, a brooding intensity radiating from him. As Rex approached and snapped into a crisp salute, he caught the subtle shift in Anakin's eyes—their usual blue hue replaced by an eerie, golden glow. 

Both generals returned the salute, their gazes sharp. Anakin's, however, settled immediately on the covered figure of Krell. With a slow, almost imperceptible motion, he lifted his hand, palm upturned toward the body. The air grew still as he summoned the Force, his fingers curling as though gathering invisible strands of power. 

In an instant, the Force surged through the hangar, Krell's body lifting violently from the floor. With a single, dismissive wave, Anakin flung the corpse, shrouded in its cloth, across the hangar and out into the void of space. 

Anakin's yellow eyes flickered back to blue, though his expression remained fierce as he looked at Rex. "Krell was a stain on the honor of the 501st and of the Jedi Order," he said, voice resonating with conviction. "He's where he belongs now, Captain." 

Rex nodded, the professional in him rising to the surface even as the satisfaction lingered. "Agreed, General. Krell's actions cost the lives of many good troopers. He betrayed everything we're fighting for." 

"Then let's make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain," Lelouch interjected, his tone gentle yet purposeful. He regarded Rex thoughtfully, an air of gratitude mingling with his calm authority. "Captain, you and your troopers upheld the ideals of the Republic with your courage and sense of justice. The choices you made—difficult as they were—speak volumes of the values we must protect." 

A slight nod from Anakin affirmed Lelouch's words, though his gaze remained steely. "Captain, you have done well by the Republic and the Order. Krell's treachery doesn't reflect on you or your men." 

Rex's chest swelled with pride at their acknowledgment, but a moment later, he remembered Dogma standing silently beside him, hands bound, his gaze fixed on the floor. Lelouch's expression softened as he turned to the young trooper. 

"Dogma," Lelouch said, his voice kind but firm, "I understand that Krell's manipulations ran deep. Your loyalty, though misdirected, is beyond commendable. However, your actions had consequences." 

Dogma raised his head, eyes dark with regret, but he met Lelouch's gaze. "Yes, sir. I understand." 

The shackles fell into the ground as Dogma eyed them warily, before looking at Lelouch. 

"Walk with me." 

As Lelouch turned around adn started to walk, Dogma took a moment to wake from his stupor before falling in line. It took a few steps before Lelouch spoke again. 

"It might have seemed like empty words, but it was not. Your unwavering loyalty is invaluable. I can only lament that it fell into the hands of someone like Krell..." 

"I shouldn't have followed those orders blindly." 

"Oh... why not?" 

"Sir...?" 

"It is the duty of a soldier to execute orders. You have done nothing wrong... but with the culprit dead, there are those who will not be satisfied with kicking a dead body." 

"..." 

"I'm transferring you to the Zero Legion. Your orders will come directly from me, and No One Else. You'll crawl, struggle and maybe even die, ensuring a future for your fellow brothers... and in the end, not even your name will be remembered." Lelouch said as he stopped, turning to face Dogma as he looked him dead in the eyes. 

Dogma had a baffled look on his face, though it only lasted for a moment as he stood at attention. 

"Understood, sir." 

A.N: War is escalating, some events have shifted from their course, and some have straight out dissapeared. Fordo presents Lelouch an opportunity to further drive the wedge between the clones and the Jedi.

F.Y.I: Well... i was having thoughts of having a (partial)chapter to see whats going on on Warhammer 40K. How much time has passed? What is the current situation between humanity and chaos? I will think about it but I'd also like your input and ideas. I won't tell you the plan but ideas are always welcomed and might even help me develop more.... interesting... situations.