The mission had been precarious from the start.
We were sent to destroy a Separatist weapons depot on the outskirts of a barren, rocky planet—a fortress carved into jagged cliffs, shielded by layers of droid defenses. Intelligence suggested a small garrison, nothing the 501st couldn't handle. It was supposed to be a textbook infiltration and demolition, over before the sun dipped below the sharp horizon.
But intelligence had been wrong.
We hadn't even reached the depot when the first shots rang out.
"Ambush!" one of the clones shouted, his voice sharp and urgent through the comms.
Droids poured from the ridges above, their blaster fire cutting through the canyon like jagged shards of light. The narrow pass we had relied on for cover turned into a deathtrap. Waves of droids pressed in, boxing us in with mechanical precision.
Anakin's voice broke through the chaos. "Everyone, fall back to rally point three! Regroup!"
I deflected a bolt aimed too close for comfort and began to move with the others, retreating under the relentless barrage. Around me, the clones moved in practiced sync, covering each other as they withdrew. I followed their rhythm, letting the Force guide my movements, though the storm within me grew heavier with each step.
Then I saw them.
Five clones, cut off from the main group, huddled behind a crumbling outcropping. One was injured, barely moving, while the others fired in desperate bursts to hold back the droids. They wouldn't make it.
"No," I muttered under my breath, my steps faltering.
The Force pulsed, heavy with their fear and pain. Leaving them behind wasn't an option—not for me.
"Stella, fall back!" Anakin's voice came sharp and commanding through the comm. "That's an order!"
I hesitated, caught between the weight of his command and the sight before me. The injured trooper glanced in my direction, struggling to lift his blaster.
They weren't just soldiers. They were people. Brothers.
My grip on my lightsaber tightened, and I turned back, sprinting toward them.
The world blurred into a haze of frantic movement. I deflected bolts with one hand while dragging the injured trooper onto my shoulder with the other. The rest of his squad fought valiantly, covering me as we moved back toward the rally point.
Relief hit me like a wave when we finally crossed into relative safety. The clones I'd saved joined the others, helping their wounded brother onto a stretcher. Their quiet words of gratitude echoed distantly in my ears as I leaned against a boulder, trying to catch my breath.
The relief was short-lived.
"Stella!"
I turned, my stomach sinking at the sight of Anakin approaching. His expression was a storm cloud, fury and concern battling for dominance. The set of his jaw made it clear I wasn't escaping this unscathed.
"What were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice low and sharp.
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.
"You disobeyed a direct order." His tone was like a blade. "I told you to fall back, and you ignored me. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
"They would've died," I said quickly, the words spilling out. "I couldn't just leave them—"
"And what if you had died?" His frustration boiled over, but there was something deeper in his eyes. "Do you think sacrificing yourself would've helped them? Or us?"
"They're not just soldiers, Anakin," I shot back, my voice rising. "They're our men. Our responsibility."
"You think I don't know that?" His tone cracked under the weight of emotion. "You think I don't feel it every time we lose one of them? Every time I have to make a call that puts their lives at risk?"
He paused, dragging a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of his own words had become too much to bear.
"You don't get to ignore orders because it feels right in the moment," he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. "This isn't just about you, Stella. It's about all of us. Trust the chain of command. Trust me."
I stared at him, my chest hollowing under the weight of his words. He was right, but the conviction that I'd done the right thing still burned inside me.
"Just... think next time," he said, softer now. "Please."
He turned and walked away, leaving me with my heart pounding and my thoughts tangled in turmoil.
I didn't notice Rex until he spoke.
"He means well."
I glanced up to see him standing a few feet away, his helmet tucked under one arm. His expression was calm, but the quiet weight in his tone made me pause.
"I was just trying to help," I said, my voice shaky. "They would've died if I hadn't gone back."
Rex nodded slowly. "I get it. And I respect that." He paused, his gaze steady. "But you have to understand something. My brothers and I... we understand the risks. We're ready to lay down our lives if it means completing the mission."
His words struck like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.
"That doesn't mean we want to die," he continued. "But it's part of the job. And you... you've got to trust the chain of command, even when it doesn't make sense. Especially then."
I looked away, my throat tight. "I don't know if I can do that," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rex stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. "You've got a good heart. Don't lose that. But out here... sometimes a good heart isn't enough."
That night, I sat alone by the campfire, staring at the stars. The galaxy stretched endlessly above, vast and unforgiving. The weight of the day pressed down on me, heavier than the cool night air. This war was far bigger, far heavier, than I had ever imagined.
And I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.
The crunch of boots on dirt pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Jesse, Fives, and Kix approaching, their silhouettes outlined by the flickering flames. Jesse carried a tin of something steaming, and Fives had his helmet tucked under his arm, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.
"Well, would you look at that," Fives drawled, plopping down onto a log beside me. "The hero of the day, sitting all alone like she's got something to brood about."
Jesse dropped down on my other side, offering me the tin. "You saved our brothers back there," he said, his tone gentler. "Figured that earned you some hot caf. Don't let Kix tell you he brewed it, though. It's terrible."
"Hey!" Kix protested as he sat across from us. "I'll have you know my caf is medicinal."
"Yeah, tastes like medicine too," Fives quipped, earning a snort from Jesse.
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I accepted the tin. The warmth seeped into my hands, grounding me. "Thanks," I said softly, the lump in my throat easing just a little.
Fives leaned back, stretching his legs toward the fire. "You know, not many Jedi would pull a stunt like that. Running into a hail of blaster fire just to drag a bunch of scruffy clones out of trouble."
Jesse grinned, elbowing me lightly. "Guess you're not just any Jedi."
"She's one of us," Kix said simply, his tone carrying an honesty that hit harder than he probably intended.
I looked between them, their familiar faces lit by the glow of the fire. Despite the weight of the day, their presence was a balm. I wasn't alone. Not really.
"Don't let Anakin hear you say that," I joked, my voice finally steady. "I don't think I'm his favorite person right now."
Jesse let out a low whistle. "Yeah, you've got guts, I'll give you that. Nobody ignores General Skywalker's orders and lives to tell the tale."
"Except for Rex, maybe," Kix added with a smirk. "But that's only because he's as stubborn as Skywalker is."
"And because Rex has a knack for saving Skywalker's hide," Fives chimed in. "Bet he's got a whole running tally."
I laughed despite myself, the sound surprising even me. The weight in my chest loosened, if only a little, and the tension I hadn't realized I'd been carrying started to ease.
"Thanks, guys," I said, looking around at them. "I mean it."
"That's what we're here for," Jesse said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You've got our backs, and we've got yours."
"Even if your caf tastes like sludge," Fives added, dodging a half-hearted swipe from Kix.
For the first time that day, the stars didn't feel quite so cold, and the weight of the war seemed a little less suffocating. I didn't have all the answers—not yet—but I had them. And for now, that was enough.
The next morning, I found Anakin waiting for me near the edge of camp, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The rising sun cast sharp shadows across his face, but there was no mistaking the stern resolve in his voice when he spoke.
"You're benched."
I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. "Excuse me?"
"You're off active combat duty for the foreseeable future," he said, his tone as even as it was uncompromising. "You'll observe the next missions from the sidelines."
My chest tightened, disbelief bubbling into frustration. "But I can help—"
"And you'll help by watching," he interrupted, his eyes locking onto mine with the same intensity he carried into battle. "You don't get to make the same mistake twice, Stella. Not under my command."
I bit back the urge to argue, the memory of his words from the night before still fresh in my mind. Trust the chain of command. Trust me. It felt like a slap, but I knew better than to push him when he was like this.
"Yes, Master," I muttered, the words bitter on my tongue.
The next mission came quickly—a supply raid on another Separatist outpost. This time, I stood on the ridge above the battlefield, watching as the clones moved with precision under Anakin's command. Every blaster shot, every strategic maneuver was calculated, executed flawlessly.
And then I saw it—the moment where the line between following orders and thinking on your feet blurred. Jesse's squad found themselves pinned under heavy fire, their escape route cut off by incoming droids. My hands instinctively moved toward my lightsaber, but I stopped short, remembering Anakin's words. Trust me.
Before I could do anything, Rex's voice cut through the comms, directing nearby troopers to create a distraction. The clones coordinated seamlessly, falling into place with practiced efficiency. Within moments, Jesse's squad was free, retreating with minimal injuries.
I exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in my shoulders easing. They didn't need me to save them. They never did.
When Anakin joined me after the mission, his expression was softer than I expected, though still firm.
"See what happens when you trust the chain of command?" he asked, leaning casually against a nearby rock.
I nodded slowly, the truth settling over me like a weight I didn't know I was carrying. "I see it now."
Anakin's gaze lingered on me for a moment before he straightened. "Good. Because trust works both ways. I need to know I can count on you, Stella. Not just in battle, but in everything. That's what it means to be part of a team."
"I understand," I said quietly, meeting his eyes.
His lips curved into a faint smile. "You're getting there."
Over the following days, the pattern repeated. I stayed back, watching and learning, the frustration of inaction gradually giving way to clarity. I began to notice the subtle ways the clones worked together, their unspoken trust, the way they covered for each other without hesitation.
It was Kix who broke the tension one evening as we sat around the fire. "So, what's it like being a spectator, Commander?"
Jesse smirked. "Bet she's itching to jump in and save the day."
Fives leaned back, his helmet balanced on his knee. "Nah, she's probably just enjoying the view. You've got a front-row seat to the best squad in the galaxy."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. "You mean the loudest squad."
"Hey, we're efficient," Fives shot back, feigning offense. "And charming."
"Debatable," I said, earning a laugh from Jesse.
That day, the sting of being sidelined didn't feel so sharp. Watching them, learning from them—it wasn't just about trust. It was about understanding.
Two weeks passed.
Two long, grueling weeks of standing on the sidelines, observing, analyzing, and swallowing my pride every time Anakin's orders echoed in my ears, reminding me I wasn't allowed to intervene.
At first, I tried to make the best of it. I watched the clones move like a well-oiled machine, took mental notes on their tactics, and spent hours in meditation to try and find some peace with my role. But as time dragged on, the weight of inaction gnawed at me. I was a Jedi—meant to protect, to serve. Yet here I was, stuck in this limbo, useless while others fought and bled.
By the end of the second week, the frustration was bubbling over.
It must've shown on my face because Rex caught me staring out at the camp perimeter during our nightly downtime. The others were gathered around the fire, joking and laughing as they always did, but I couldn't bring myself to join them tonight.
Rex approached quietly, his helmet tucked under his arm. "Something on your mind, Commander?"
I crossed my arms, not turning to face him. "Nothing I haven't already thought a hundred times."
He didn't push, standing beside me in companionable silence for a moment before he spoke again. "You've been tense lately."
I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. "It's been two weeks, Rex. Two weeks of just standing by, watching everyone else do what I should be doing. I get it. I made a mistake. I've learned my lesson. But this..." I gestured out toward the horizon. "This isn't helping anyone."
Rex tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Anakin doesn't do things without a reason."
I scoffed. "No, he just does them without explaining."
Rex chuckled softly, though his tone remained serious. "He's testing you, Stella. Not just to see if you've learned your lesson, but to see if you can hold back when it matters."
"I have held back," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I've done everything he's asked. What more does he want?"
"Maybe he's waiting for you to stop proving yourself to him," Rex said simply. "And start proving you trust yourself."
That stopped me in my tracks. I blinked, turning to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're good at rushing in to save others, Commander. But part of being a leader is knowing when to step back and let others do the saving. You've got to trust that your team can handle it—even when it's hard."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. Deep down, I knew he was right. But that didn't make it any easier.
"I'm trying," I admitted quietly, looking away. "But it feels like I'm stuck in a cage."
Rex's voice softened. "You're not stuck. You're just learning what it means to be part of a team. It's not easy. For any of us."
We stood there in silence for a while, the distant sounds of the campfire filling the space between us. For all his tough love, Rex had a way of cutting through my frustration and grounding me. I hated that he was right.
Finally, he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Hang in there, Commander. Trust the process. It'll make sense when it needs to."
As he walked back toward the fire, I stayed where I was, staring out at the horizon. The frustration still simmered in my chest, but Rex's words lingered. Maybe there was more to this lesson than I wanted to admit.
A few days later, Anakin called for me to join him in meditation. We sat cross-legged under the open sky, the soft hum of the Force weaving between us. The camp was quiet save for the distant murmur of clones going about their tasks. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, to find the calm that had eluded me for days.
But it was no use. The frustration that had been building inside me for weeks simmered just beneath the surface, impossible to ignore. I forced my breathing to slow, trying to bury it, but I should have known better. Anakin's voice broke the silence.
"Alright," he said, his tone light but pointed. "Tell me what's going on."
My eyes snapped open. "Nothing's going on," I said quickly, though the words rang hollow even to my ears.
Anakin cracked one eye open, giving me a look. "Stella."
I sighed, letting my shoulders slump. "I'm frustrated," I admitted. "This... benching, or whatever you want to call it, it's not working for me. I get what you're trying to teach me. I get it. But how am I supposed to learn anything if I'm not even allowed to do my job?"
Anakin leaned back slightly, closing his eyes again as if processing my words. "You think I'm just punishing you," he said after a moment, his voice calm but serious.
"Isn't that what this is?" I asked, the edge in my voice sharper than I intended. "I made a mistake, and now you're making me sit out like a child in time-out."
His lips twitched, though I couldn't tell if it was amusement or annoyance. "It's not punishment, Stella. It's perspective. You've got talent, and a good heart—two things that are invaluable in war. But raw instinct without discipline? That's dangerous. To you and to everyone around you."
I looked down, his words striking a chord I wasn't ready to acknowledge. "I've been trying," I said quietly. "I've done everything you asked. I've watched, I've learned. But I feel... useless."
"You're not useless," he said, his tone softening. "You're learning. And sometimes, learning means stepping back and seeing the bigger picture."
I bit my lip, glancing at him. "I trust the team. I trust you. But I don't think you trust me."
Anakin's eyes opened, and for a moment, his expression softened in a way I didn't expect. "You're wrong about that," he said firmly. "I do trust you. I wouldn't have taken you as my Padawan if I didn't. But trust goes both ways, Stella. If you trust me, then you have to trust that when I ask you to fall back, it's not because I doubt you. It's because I need you alive."
The words hit me harder than I expected. My chest tightened as I nodded slowly, the truth sinking in.
Anakin leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Do you want to know why I let you stay back these past few weeks?" he asked, his tone lighter now.
I raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. "Why?"
"Because I needed to see if you'd stop trying to prove something to me and start trusting yourself. That's what this is about, Stella. Not whether you can fight, or save lives, or make the right call. It's about whether you can trust yourself to know when to act—and when not to."
I blinked, the weight of his words settling over me. For all my frustration, all my second-guessing, I realized he was right. I'd been so focused on proving I could do it all that I hadn't stopped to think about the why behind my actions.
Anakin must have sensed the shift in me because he smiled faintly. "I think you're ready to be back on the field," he said, rising to his feet. "But don't make me regret it."
I stood, my heart pounding. "I won't."
He gave me a pointed look. "And next time I give an order, you'll follow it?"
I hesitated, then grinned. "Unless you're wrong."
He groaned, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice as he turned to walk away. "Stubborn Padawan."
As I watched him go, I felt a spark of confidence reignite within me. The frustration was gone, replaced by a steady resolve. I didn't have all the answers yet, but I was ready to face whatever came next.
This time, with the trust Anakin had been trying to show me all along.