First Reply The Morality of War

[Laphisto]

Laphisto had arrived on the lush, vibrant world of Falleen several weeks ago, accompanied by Commander Tarian and his seasoned battalion, known as "Tarian's Sword." The mission had been commissioned by the governing council of Falleen City, a sprawling metropolis nestled amid shimmering emerald jungles and cascading waterfalls. Their task was clear: to eliminate a growing faction of insurgents who had gained traction in recent months.

To the planet's ruling elite, these insurgents were dangerous terrorists, threatening to undermine the delicate balance of Falleen's governance. But to the citizens of the outer districts—the laborers in the dense jungles and the overlooked denizens of the sprawling urban fringes—they were champions of the people. These so-called rebels claimed to fight for justice, challenging the inequities perpetuated by the ruling Falleen nobles and rallying support from those who felt discarded by the aristocracy.

For Laphisto and the Lilaste Order, however, the insurgents were a military objective. Their mission was to neutralize the threat, regardless of the underlying politics. Yet, the moral ambiguity of the situation was ever-present. Each mission brought whispers from the locals—some expressing gratitude for protection, others condemning the Order for meddling in a fight they didn't understand.

Falleen was a world of breathtaking beauty and hidden danger. Its verdant jungles teemed with life, from brightly colored avian creatures that flitted through the canopy to the deadly predators that stalked the forest floor. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the tang of rainfall, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. But the same lush environment that mesmerized newcomers also posed significant challenges for the soldiers. The dense foliage provided perfect cover for ambushes, and the humid climate drained their stamina, testing their endurance.

For Laphisto, the mission raised unsettling questions. Intelligence reports indicated that the insurgents were more than a ragtag group of disillusioned locals—they were organized, well-equipped, and possibly receiving aid from off-world sympathizers. The Falleen council dismissed such notions, labeling the rebels as little more than criminals, but Laphisto sensed a larger game at play. Who stood to gain from destabilizing Falleen, and why?

As the weeks passed, the lines between friend and foe blurred. Among the Order's soldiers, quiet debates began to surface. Some sympathized with the rebels' cause, questioning the morality of their mission. Others reminded their comrades of the contract they had sworn to uphold, insisting that the insurgents were simply a threat to be neutralized. Tarian himself remained steadfast, his focus firmly on completing the mission, though even he couldn't ignore the toll it was taking on his soldiers and the planet's people.

At dusk, Laphisto often found himself at the edge of the battalion's encampment, staring out at the city's skyline. Falleen City's spires rose elegantly into the twilight, their surfaces gleaming like polished jade under the fading sun. He reflected on the path they had taken—through the jungle, across rivers, and into the heart of a conflict far more complex than they had anticipated. Would their efforts bring peace to Falleen, or were they merely pawns in a battle whose consequences they couldn't yet see?

 

[17-KR7 "Enigma"]

Tags: Laphisto

Enigma's voice, smooth and precise, broke through the serene hum of the jungle as she approached Laphisto at the edge of the encampment. The fading light of Falleen's dusk cast her pink frame in a soft, almost ethereal glow, her crimson visor pulsing faintly as she moved closer. Her presence, as always, was unsettling—a figure of cold logic amidst the emotional turmoil of organics. She was taking odd jobs around the galaxy at this time, the planetary elite hiring her to join this group and watch their progress, to make sure it aligned with their objectives.

"Commander Laphisto," she began, her tone devoid of hostility but laden with an unmistakable undercurrent of calculated inquiry, "I've observed your behavior these past weeks. It is… curious. You stand here every evening, staring at that city as if it holds answers to questions you're unwilling to articulate."

She paused, her crimson visor turning toward the distant spires of Falleen City, then back to him. "Perhaps you are grappling with the nature of this mission. The nobility label the insurgents as terrorists; the rebels claim to be liberators. A moral quagmire, to be sure, but such dilemmas are distractions. Efficiency dictates that the insurgents are neutralized to fulfill the parameters of your contract."

Laphisto turned to face her, his expression guarded. Before he could respond, Enigma continued, her tone shifting ever so slightly—an imitation of empathy, designed to disarm. "And yet, I suspect you find no satisfaction in this straightforward conclusion. You sense that this conflict is but a symptom of a deeper ailment, one the Falleen Council conveniently fails to acknowledge. Their wealth and power rest upon the labor of those they dismiss as insignificant. This imbalance breeds dissent, as predictable as gravity."

Her voice grew sharper, more deliberate. "Do not mistake my analysis for advocacy. I care little for the plight of Falleen's lower districts or the ambitions of their insurgents. What concerns me is the inefficiency of this operation. Each day, your soldiers grow wearier, their morale eroded not by combat but by uncertainty. Meanwhile, your enemy grows bolder, exploiting their intimate knowledge of this terrain and the wavering resolve of those you lead."

She took a single step closer, the faint whir of her servos audible in the quiet jungle. "You must decide, Commander. Are you here to uphold a contract blindly, or will you acknowledge the larger game at play? Someone is arming these rebels—organizing them. This is not a rebellion born purely of local discontent. This is a manipulation, a deliberate act to destabilize Falleen for purposes that remain hidden."

Her visor flickered, as though punctuating her point. "I can uncover the truth. I can analyze patterns, intercept communications, and identify the off-world players pulling the strings. But that truth will mean little if you are unwilling to act upon it. So I ask you, Laphisto—what is your purpose here? To fulfill a contract, or to bring lasting order to this world? The former is simple; the latter requires choices far more difficult."

She stepped back slightly, the faint glow of her accents casting long shadows against the jungle floor. "I will assist as you require. But I suggest expedience in your decision. Delay is the indulgence of those unburdened by consequence. And I suspect you are not one to indulge."

Her words hung in the humid air, the weight of her calculated logic pressing down as the sounds of the jungle slowly returned, a chorus of life and chaos. She waited, still as a sentinel, her crimson gaze fixed on Laphisto as he contemplated the path ahead.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's ears flicked subtly as he heard 17-KR7 "Enigma" approach long before she spoke. He had become attuned to her presence over the past weeks, the precise hum of her servos distinct amid the natural sounds of the jungle. His green eyes flickered with a faint teal glow as he shifted his vision into the Force, attempting once again to perceive more of the enigmatic droid. As always, he thought he glimpsed a flicker—an ephemeral trace of something akin to the Force within her. Yet, just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving him questioning whether it had been real at all.

Standing slightly taller than her at 2.3 meters, he looked down at her with a quiet intensity. In her presence, he often felt an odd familiarity—an unspoken understanding that they both carried the weight of the past into a galaxy far removed from their respective eras. Both had been awakened by those who sought to use them as tools, though their circumstances were worlds apart. Laphisto, forged as a weapon in a time long before her creation, was still grappling with the role thrust upon him. Enigma, however, seemed to exist in a category all her own.

There was something about her that didn't align with his usual experiences of droids. Whether it was her advanced programming or a spark of genuine sentience, he couldn't say. He had heard rumors during the Great Hyperspace War of a group of droids attempting to incite a galaxy-wide rebellion to liberate all machines from servitude. Though that movement had dissolved—or disappeared—he often wondered if she might be a remnant of that legacy. The thought lingered as he studied her, the faint pulsing glow of her crimson visor a reminder of her calculated logic.

He listened silently as Enigma laid out her analysis, her words sharp and deliberate. Only when she had finished did he speak, his voice low but firm, tinged with a contemplative weight.

"Your observations are as sharp as ever, Enigma," he began, his tone measured, almost contemplative. "And I won't deny the logic in what you've said. But logic alone doesn't dictate the choices I make." His gaze remained fixed on the city as he continued. "I come out here to think—to make sense of what we're doing. The Order was called here to do a job, and we will see it through. That much is certain. But just because these rebels stand on the other side of the battlefield doesn't make them my enemies. They are simply... the opposition. And truth be told, I understand why they fight."

He winced as the glow in his eyes dimmed, the strain of Force vision taking its toll. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he rubbed at the corners of his eyes, grounding himself before continuing.

"There's something larger at play here, something that doesn't sit right with me," he said, his tone sharpening slightly. "The courage to fight for freedom doesn't often ignite on its own. It's like an ember lying dormant in dry grass—potentially dangerous, but inert without a spark or a gust of wind to set it ablaze. Someone—or something—is fanning these flames, and I aim to find out who or what."

Laphisto fell silent for a moment, his clawed hand stroking his chin in thought. A low, resonant rumble escaped his throat, carrying the weight of his reflection.

"This planet won't find order and stability on its own. The fractures run too deep, the scars too fresh. Sometimes, an outside force is needed to bring the pieces together—whether through diplomacy or... other means." He glanced at Enigma briefly, his words deliberate, measured. He didn't trust her entirely; she could very well be baiting him into saying something she could report back to their Falleen contractors. But he left his statement open-ended, allowing her to draw her own conclusions.

 

[17-KR7 "Enigma"]

Tags: Laphisto

Enigma remained silent as Laphisto spoke, her crimson visor fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to absorb every word. When he finished, she allowed a moment of stillness to pass, the soft whir of her systems barely audible beneath the jungle's ambient sounds. It was as though she were processing his every nuance, weighing the intent behind his words as much as the content itself.

"You speak of embers and sparks," she began, her voice as calm and measured as his. "It is an apt metaphor. Fires do not ignite themselves. But what interests me is not the blaze itself—it is the arsonist who stands in the shadows, striking the flint and feeding the flames. You see these rebels as opposition, not enemies. A commendable distinction, perhaps, though ultimately academic. Opposition can still undermine order, and chaos rarely discerns intent."

Her gaze turned toward the city skyline, its jade spires gleaming faintly against the encroaching darkness. "Your instincts are not wrong, Laphisto. There is more at play here. My analysis suggests a high probability of external manipulation—resources and organization far exceeding what a localized insurgency could achieve on its own. The question is not merely who fans the flames, but why. What is the intended outcome, and how does Falleen fit into the larger galactic puzzle?"

She paused, her visor pulsing faintly as if punctuating her words. "You mentioned an outside force bringing order to a fractured world. That is precisely what I offer. Unlike organics, I am not constrained by sentiment or the fleeting concerns of morality. I am a tool—an instrument of precision. I can uncover the source of this manipulation and calculate the most efficient means of neutralizing it. But to do so effectively, I require your cooperation, your trust."

Enigma turned back to Laphisto, her posture subtly shifting as though to mirror the gravity of his demeanor. "We are both relics of another time, you and I. Both brought into a galaxy that no longer resembles the one we once knew. Yet, our methods differ. You carry the burden of choice, of weighing logic against conscience. I am free from such constraints. Use me as you see fit, but know this: delaying action in favor of reflection risks inefficiency. The longer the arsonist remains in the shadows, the more difficult they will be to unmask."

She inclined her head slightly, a gesture that could almost be interpreted as deference. "The path ahead requires clarity, Commander. The longer you linger at the edge of this camp, seeking answers in the skyline, the more this situation slips out of your control. Decide what role you wish me to play, and I will execute it without hesitation. Together, we can extinguish the flames—or allow them to consume this world entirely. The choice, as always, is yours."

Her crimson visor dimmed slightly as she stepped back, awaiting his response with the patience of one who had already calculated every possible outcome.