**Chapter 430**
**Dagon POV**
**Gray Wolf – Briefing Room**
The orbital battle was over, but the tension still crackled in the air like residual static. Before committing to the ground operation on Ryloth, I needed to address the elephant in the room. Or rather, the reckless Jedi in the room.
"Skywalker!" I yelled, my voice carrying across the hangar bay where the Jedi contingent had gathered for debriefing.
Anakin turned, brows furrowed, still riding the high of the *Starhawk's* destruction. "Yes? What is it?"
I stepped closer, removing my helmet so he could see my face clearly. The red-and-black markings in my eyes caught the overhead lighting.
"Tell me," I said, voice low and controlled, "how often have you led clones or other non-Force-sensitive pilots in battle?"
Skywalker frowned at the question. He crossed his arms, thinking for a moment. "I've been a General for less than a year. I was only assigned a fleet to command three months ago. So… a few times." He shrugged. "We didn't get any new training."
"That figures," I replied dryly. "Did you have *any* military training before being handed command? Has anyone tried to hammer into your head that most people cannot perform at the same level as Force Adepts in combat?"
Anakin's expression darkened. I continued before he could interrupt.
"We were fortunate today. My fleet was stronger. But your early jump risked the lives of thousands of troops and fellow Jedi. That *behemoth* — the Starhawk — nearly shredded us because you forced us into a messy close-range fight. It's true I can use battle melds to coordinate my forces effectively, but that only works with troops I've trained and bonded with. Not to mention the excellent odds of us all being shot to pieces on the way out."
The Jedi Knight looked positively mutinous. It was clear no one had taken him to task like this in a long time. At least he was thinking. That was progress.
"Skywalker, you need to understand something important," I said, stepping closer. "Expecting normal people to keep up with you will only get them killed. There are few aces who can pull off the stunts you do in a starfighter cockpit — and that's *before* factoring in the Force. In the future, plan accordingly. Or you'll get a lot of good men killed."
I shook my head, exhaling. "I'll never understand whose bright idea it was to make Jedi Generals without giving you at least basic military training first!"
"That's not fair!" Etain interjected, stepping forward. "We do good work out here!"
I turned my gaze to her, removing the last of my helmet and looking her directly in the eyes. "Look, kid. I'm not disputing that you're doing your best — often better than could reasonably be expected. But the way this war is being run is insane. How many people will die because you have to learn the craft of war on the battlefield? Every mistake is paid for in blood and lives."
Etain opened her mouth, then closed it. "I… but…"
"Arghhh!" A frustrated growl came from nearby. Ahsoka wasn't present, but the sentiment was clear in Etain's clenched fists.
"Too damn many…" Anakin whispered.
The smirk he'd been wearing since the *Starhawk* exploded had vanished. I suspected he was recounting every battle since the war began — every lost cruiser, every fallen clone, every Jedi who died because newly-minted commanders had no idea what they were doing. It explained Admiral Yularen's cold attitude toward the Jedi. He followed orders, but he held no respect for the Order. He'd probably witnessed too many avoidable disasters caused by inexperience and arrogance.
"Then see to it that you don't make the same mistake twice," I continued. "And listen to the military commanders you have access to. It's very unlikely that Admiral Yularen reached his rank without knowing exactly what he's doing."
Anakin gave me a sharp, thoughtful nod. Without another word, he turned and left the briefing room, R2-D2 rolling after him with a series of concerned beeps.
I found myself alone with Etain.
**Scene 2**
R2-D2 lingered for a moment, photoreceptor swiveling between me and the departing Anakin. I grinned faintly at the little astromech.
"So, you have your manipulators full with him, haven't you?"
"Bee-boo-br-bep!" R2 replied, sounding distinctly exasperated as he pointed his dome at me.
"I see. My condolences. It's hard keeping hard-headed Jedi in one piece."
"Boop! Wheep! Breep! Boop!"
I chuckled. "So your mistress wants him intact? Well, good luck with that."
Etain smiled sadly as R2-D2 rolled away after his master. "That's Master Skywalker. He *is* one of a kind." She paused, then looked at me more seriously. "Was it different in your battles? How did you use battle meld so much and so effectively?"
I leaned against the briefing table, rubbing the scar on my face absentmindedly.
"Before the war, I was in the Balance Corps. I spent most of my time learning the higher mysteries of the Force. Mostly alone. Hours upon hours of meditation."
Etain's eyes widened. "What? How did you even handle that? It must have sounded…"
"Boring?" I finished for her, gesturing to the large scar across my face, the lightning-vein marks running down my arm, and my robotic limb. "Probably. But it was still better than now."
"Oh… sorry."
"It's fine," I said quietly. "We all carry our scars. Some are just more visible than others."
**Scene 3**
Later, as I prepared for the ground assault briefing, I couldn't shake the conversation. Skywalker wasn't a bad person. He was brave, talented, and genuinely wanted to do good. But good intentions without discipline got people killed. The Republic was paying for it in blood.
I thought back to my own path. If I had arrived even a few years before the war, maybe I could have found better options than picking a side or hiding while Palpatine built his Empire. But this conflict offered too many opportunities — and too many threats — to ignore.
No point grumbling about what might have been.
I activated my comm. "All ground commanders, prepare for drop. We liberate Ryloth today."
As the *Gray Wolf* moved into assault position above the planet, I allowed myself one last glance toward the Jedi quarters. New bonds. New complications.
The war never stopped moving.