Space Marine in Star Wars

===Qui-Gon===

Standing over his apprentice in a balcony-like room, Qui-Gon Jinn watched as medical droids worked tirelessly on Obi-Wan's body. The young Jedi was barely recognizable, his form covered in burns and bruises, lightning marks still crackling faintly across his skin. The droids moved swiftly, their delicate hands carefully administering treatment, but there was no mistaking the severity of the damage.

The sterile hum of the machines filled the room, their mechanical precision doing what it could to heal the wounds of a man who had given everything for the Order. Qui-Gon stood motionless, his gaze never leaving Obi-Wan, a storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

His hand, once strong and certain, now clenched at his side, the weight of recent events pressing down on him. His apprentice—his closest companion—lay before him, broken and on the edge of death. He had witnessed so much in his time as a Jedi, but this… this was a pain unlike any other.

The Council's reluctance, the decisions that had led them to this point, all weighed on him. He felt helpless, but more than that—he felt an urgent need for change. This was no longer about strategy or diplomacy. This was about something far more personal—and perhaps, something far more dangerous.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, trying to focus, to regain some semblance of clarity. But the images of the past hours, the battle, Obi-Wan's near-fatal injuries, and the shadow that loomed over the Jedi Order consumed him.

A small creak at the door interrupted his thoughts. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The presence was unmistakable.

The door opened behind him, and Yoda entered the room, walking slowly until he came to stand beside Qui-Gon. Together, they watched in silence as the droids continued their task. After several moments, Qui-Gon finally spoke.

"Master, I... I don't know what's going on within the Council. But things cannot stay as they have been. Something must change." He glanced sideways at Yoda, his face etched with concern.

"Clouded, the future is," Yoda replied softly, his voice filled with quiet wisdom. "Many decisions, we must make regarding the future."

Qui-Gon shook his head, his gaze still fixed on Obi-Wan's prone form. He moved to a nearby chair, his posture tense. "You must understand. The boy is filled with so much hatred. He must be taught to control it, or I fear what will happen if he is left to his own devices. If the Council will not take this responsibility, then I will. And if that means leaving the Order... then I will do so." His voice was firm, though there was a deep sadness in his words.

Yoda's ears drooped slightly, but his expression was calm.

"You are wise, Master. You see what must be done, I know it."

Yoda knew that Qui-Gon spoke the truth. Yet, the Council's resistance to change, their adherence to tradition, was a difficult wall to overcome. Qui-Gon's dedication to the boy was undeniable, but so too was the fear of what Anakin might become.

The small Jedi Master glanced at the younger Jedi, noting the pain in his eyes. He then looked over to Obi-Wan, lying unconscious on the table.

"The girl?" Yoda asked gently, his voice laced with quiet concern.

Qui-Gon sighed deeply and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "She is... weak in the Force. But she's grown close to Anakin, like a little sister to him. I'm not sure where her future lies, but she has a connection to him—one that might be more important than any of us realize."

Yoda studied Qui-Gon for a moment before speaking again. "A delicate balance, this is. Strong the bond is between them, but unclear, their fates are."

Qui-Gon met Yoda's eyes, the weight of his decision settling deeper. "I've seen glimpses, Master. In the Force. Anakin is torn, confused. He's been hurt too many times, and I fear he will fall if we don't act soon."

Yoda remained silent for a long moment, his gaze drifting back to Obi-Wan. The young Jedi's condition was dire, and the strain of the recent battles had taken their toll on all of them. Yet, it was Anakin who weighed most heavily on his mind.

"You are not alone, Qui-Gon," Yoda finally said. "But a path is unclear, and dangerous it may be. The Council's decision... painful it is to make."

Qui-Gon nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. He didn't want to fight the Order, but he knew he couldn't ignore what was happening. The future depended on what they chose now.

"There is no easy way forward," Qui-Gon said, his voice quiet but resolute. "But if we don't act, I fear we may lose him... and much more."

Yoda's expression softened, a deep sadness in his ancient eyes. "Time, we do not have."

The silence between them hung heavy as they both considered the gravity of their choices. Whatever the future held, it would be shaped by the decisions they made.

Yoda closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. The weight of their conversation pressed heavily on him, but he knew what had to be done. Slowly, he turned his gaze to Qui-Gon, who was still watching him intently, waiting for the response that would shape the path ahead.

"Do what must be done, I will," Yoda said quietly, his voice carrying the gravity of his decision. He gave a small, respectful bow of his head, acknowledging Qui-Gon's resolve. "For your sake, and the Order's."

With those words, Yoda turned and made his way toward the door. His small form moved with the quiet grace of someone who had seen centuries come and go, burdened with the knowledge of the trials ahead. As the door slid open, he paused, casting one last glance at Qui-Gon.

"May the Force guide us, Master Jinn," Yoda added softly before disappearing through the doorway, leaving Qui-Gon to contemplate what would come next.

The room fell silent once more, the hum of the medical droids the only sound that filled the air. Qui-Gon remained seated, his mind swirling with the implications of Yoda's words. It was clear that the time for action had come. The Council's reluctance could no longer be tolerated. Whatever sacrifices lay ahead, they would be necessary to save the future.

He glanced at Obi-Wan, still unconscious on the table, and then turned his gaze back to the door Yoda had exited through. He could feel the weight of the decisions to come, but he knew he could not back down. Too much was at stake.

With a final, steadying breath, Qui-Gon stood, his resolve firm. The future awaited, and he would meet it head-on, no matter the cost.

===Yoda===

Yoda moved slowly through the grand halls of the Jedi Temple, his mind heavy with the decision he had just made. He walked with purpose, each step measured and deliberate. His thoughts were a storm, clouded with the weight of the future and the difficult path he was about to set in motion. The time for discussion was over—now, it was time for action.

The lift doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Yoda stepped into the Council chamber. The room, bathed in the soft light of Coruscant, was already filled with the other Masters, their forms seated in the elevated circles. As soon as Yoda entered, all eyes turned toward him, sensing the gravity in his presence.

Without hesitation, Yoda made his way to the center of the room, standing tall despite his small stature. The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, the Masters awaiting his words.

"With Obi-Wan, Master Qui-Gon is. Talk we have. Take upon us, the two children, we must," Yoda said firmly, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a decision that would have profound consequences.

Immediately, the room erupted in uproar. Masters began shouting, expressing their outrage, disbelief, and objections. Their voices grew louder and more frantic, as they struggled to grasp the implications of what Yoda was suggesting. There was talk of tradition, of discipline, and of the balance that had kept the Jedi Order strong for centuries. How could they risk such a thing now?

But one voice stood out from the rest—Mace Windu.

With a sharp, commanding presence, Mace slammed his fist down on the armrest of his chair, his new prosthetic arm clenching involuntarily. His gaze never left Yoda, eyes burning with a mix of anger and confusion.

"Silence!" Mace's voice rang out, cutting through the chaos in the room like a blade. The other Masters fell silent, caught off guard by the force of his command.

Mace stood, his tall form towering over the others, and slowly turned his attention back to Yoda. The anger in his eyes was palpable, but so was the uncertainty. He was no stranger to difficult decisions, but this one? It felt wrong. It felt like a step into the unknown.

"Master Yoda," Mace began, his voice cold and deliberate. "You ask us to take upon ourselves responsibility for two children—two children who are tied together. But the boy you speak of... Anakin... his emotions, his anger—what if this path leads us to disaster? What if we are playing with fire?"

Yoda's gaze softened slightly, but there was no hesitation in his response.

"The fire, already it burns, Master Windu. Anakin's future clouded it is. With the boy, too many decisions already made—by the Council, by others. Alone, he cannot stand. A choice, we must make. Too much at stake."

The tension in the room was palpable, the Masters' eyes flicking between each other, their thoughts racing as they processed Yoda's words. But Mace Windu was not so easily swayed. He stepped closer to Yoda, the anger still present in his eyes.

Yoda's gaze never wavered. His old, wise eyes met Mace's with a steady calmness that, for a moment, silenced the room.

"A Jedi's duty, not just to the Order it is. To the Force, and to those who need us. The balance, now disturbed it is with the return of the sith. Inaction, more dangerous it would be. The future... uncertain. But a change, inevitable it is. Adapt, we must."

The silence that followed was thick. Mace Windu stared at his Master, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He knew the gravity of what was being asked of him, but the fear of what might unfold was hard to shake.

Finally, it was Master Plo Koon who spoke, his voice gentle but thoughtful.

"We do not act without careful consideration. Yet... Master Yoda's words carry weight. If we are to guide them—Anakin and Nira—we must give them the training they need. We must take responsibility. The future depends on it."

One by one, the other Masters began to murmur in agreement, though reluctantly. They understood that the situation had reached a breaking point. Their voices joined in the slow consensus, though none of them could fully shake the uncertainty that lingered in the air.

Mace Windu stood still, a storm of emotions swirling inside him. His gaze shifted to Yoda one last time before he slowly nodded, acknowledging the inevitable truth of their situation.

"Very well," Mace said quietly, though his voice still carried a tone of resistance. "But we will move cautiously. Especially with these… Astartes." He spat.

Yoda nodded solemnly, the weight of their collective decision settling over them. The room fell silent once again, the responsibility of the moment sinking in.

"A new path, we walk now," Yoda said, his voice carrying the finality of the decision made. "But walk it, we must."

===Maximus===

Maximus took a few slow, deliberate steps, his body still adjusting to the effects of the Bacta tank as his muscles and skin began to recover. The cooling sensation from the tank was fading, and he could already feel the increased strength and vitality coursing through him.

Padmé stood in front of him, her expression a mix of awe and concern as she studied the data on a screen. "I knew the Astartes were altered beyond human limitations, but this... this is something else entirely," she murmured, her fingers brushing across the display as it flashed with details of Maximus's physiology.

"Two hearts, three lungs, enhanced bone structure, even modifications to the brain," She said.

"Is this..." Padmé hesitated, looking at him with a mix of wonder and unease. "Is this what the Astartes are made into?"

"Yes," Maximus replied, his gaze distant for a moment as though considering his own origins. "I was not always like this. The process... it changes everything about you—your body, your mind, your very essence." His fingers brushed his chest where the organs had been implanted, feeling the steady rhythm of his twin hearts beneath the skin. "But you are still human, in the end, even if what remains is a shadow of what you once were."

Padmé glanced back at the screen, still processing the scope of what she was seeing.

The silence between them stretched for a moment, as Padmé continued to study the screen, trying to understand the scale of what she was witnessing. Then, she turned her attention back to Maximus, her eyes softened with empathy.

"I don't know whether to be amazed or horrified," she said softly.

Maximus's expression remained stoic as he spoke, his voice unwavering.

"I am as the Emperor decreed," he said, before turning and walking toward his armor. The droids moved with precision, assisting him in donning his battle gear.

In about fifteen minutes, he stood fully armored, towering over everyone in the room. The ceramite plating gleamed with a dull, oppressive authority.

"Now, we must discuss what to do going forward," he stated, his voice calm but commanding. He turned and made his way out of the room.

Padmé followed closely behind him, her footsteps quiet against the weight of his stride. They entered a new room where Maximus's two Brothers stood over a holographic display projecting the planet of Mandalore. The planet's surface, scarred by war, appeared in stark detail before them.

"What have you learned, Brothers?" he asked, standing next to Raxor and Sebastian.

"The Mandalorians are a warrior people, Brother. Their entire culture revolves around combat, honor, and strength. They've always been divided, but for centuries, their clans have fought over control of their world. The planet itself is a wasteland, scarred by constant conflict. What remains of their once-great cities now lies in ruins, their people hardened by ceaseless war."

Raxor's robotic hand hovered over the holographic display, his finger tracing the jagged scars on Mandalore's surface. "There are two main factions vying for control now. The first is led by the current leader, Duchess Satine Kryze. She represents the pacifist faction, the New Mandalorians, who seek to end the violence and build a more peaceful Mandalore. She's focused on diplomacy, even in the face of constant threats. Her vision is one of peace, but it's a fragile one."

He paused, allowing the words to sink in, then pointed to one of the moons surrounding the planet. "The second faction is led by a warlord named Pre Vizsla. He's a member of the Death Watch, a militant group that believes Mandalore's true strength lies in its warrior traditions. They view Duchess Kryze's peaceful agenda as a betrayal to Mandalore's heritage. They want to return to the old ways—dominance through force and fear."

"These two factions just finished a civil war. Vizsla and his Death Watch want nothing less than to overthrow the Duchess and reclaim control through violence. If they succeed, it could plunge Mandalore into a new era of bloodshed, one that could spread beyond their planet."

Maximus nodded, his gaze lingering on the hologram of Mandalore before shifting to Padmé.

"I wish to speak to this Duchess," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "Is there any way you can send a message to her?"

Padmé met his gaze, her expression steady. "Yes, I can reach out to her," she replied, her tone measured but thoughtful.

Sebastian, who had been standing nearby, leaned forward, his half-ruined helmet resting on the table beside him. His voice was laced with skepticism. "And what if she refuses to meet with us?"

Maximus's posture remained unyielding, his arms folding across his chest as he looked down at the hologram, his focus never wavering. "Then we will contact the Death Watch," he said, his tone carrying the weight of finality.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "And if they refuse?"

Maximus's gaze remained fixed on the display as his next words came with the quiet, cold certainty of a seasoned warrior. "Then we will wipe them off the face of their moon."

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