safety on the shore sink

“You’ll be berthing in the Temple until we get the Umbara red tape all sorted out,” Gen. Windu told him. “Captain Rex said that the Admiral was filing for a court-martial and we agreed that would not be… equitable.”“I murdered a Jedi General, sir,” Dogma said through numb lips. None of this made sense. The galaxy had stopped making sense a long time ago—before he’d shot Krell, even. That had made sense, at least, if nothing else about the Umbara campaign had. “A court martial would be fitting disciplinary action.” If not execution. If not reconditioning. If not a decommission.