Chapter 8: Ryloth, the Zillo Beast, and Blue Milk

Ponds stared across the heavy wooden table at Mace Windu, draining a large tankard of blue Bantha Milk into his throat. As the last drop passed his lips, he slammed the tankard onto the table with a loud thump, swallowed the last of the nourishing beverage, and let out a satisfied sigh. If ever a commercial advertisement were commissioned for the drink, this would've been a great start.

"That hit the spot," declared the Jedi Master. He looked at Ponds's tankard before him, untouched. "What's the matter? Don't you like it?"

"Not as much as you, it seems," replied the commander as he raised his tankard and took a small, sheepish sip. He winced a bit as the flavor spilled over his tongue. "It's bitter."

Windu laughed. "Of course it's bitter, soldier. That's the appeal!"

"I fail to see the connection."

"Our recent victories, though victories they were, have been costly, have they not?" Ponds lowered his head, his eyes settling somewhere beyond the surface of the tepid blue liquid before him.

"Indeed, they have."

"The liberation of Ryloth, though costly, was a huge step forward for the Galactic Republic. The capture of Emir Wat Tambor, even that nasty business with the Zillo Monster-"

"Beast. Sir."

"Beast. Correct. All of those endeavors have advanced the Galactic Republic's footing in this war with the Separatists, and have seen Chancellor Palpatine's agenda strengthened."

"Yes, but bitter victories. We've lost well over a hundred men in those two incidents, alone. Good men."

"Aye."

"But victories, nonetheless. We can't lose sight of that; our despair will surely overtake us."

Ponds looked hard into Windu's eyes, searching for a telltale assurance of the Jedi's wisdom. "And we do that by drinking bitter, blue milk?"

"It's an allegory, soldier. That in this bitterness there is nourishment. That we can raise a glass in celebration even if it doesn't go down smoothly, and that our bodies will be better for it."

Ponds looked again at the liquid, then at his commanding general. His friend.

"This is the great Jedi Wisdom you wish to impart?" Ponds asked, only slightly sarcastically. Windu again laughed, that hearty endearing laugh of his that infected all who heard it.

"Commander Ponds, your sure-headed practicality never ceases to impress me. You are an anomaly among your men. Hell, you're the blue milk of your squadron!" he quickly added, laughing more as he did so.

"I'm assuming I'm to take that as a compliment?" Ponds asked.

"Indeed, soldier. Indeed. In your pragmatism there is healthy, grounding truth. Keeps me humble."

"Happy to do so, sir."

"And humor. I love it! Never lose that, Ponds."

"I'll try." Ponds tried another sip of the milk, not quite enjoying it any more than he had, but pushing himself to consider its healthy contributions past the flavor. Pragmatic, to be sure, as the Jedi had purported. A silence settled between the two as Master Windu found himself riveted by stains of blood and mud on the commanding officer's once stark white armor.

"See, the crux of the matter is this, Commander: War is a messy business, ultimately unnecessary, and inevitably costly. It's easy to get discouraged by the incessant setbacks and endless conflict, but you must remember that peace is the default position of the galaxy."

"Is that so?"

"I know it's hard to look at it that way, now, with all that we've been tasked with. But the fighting will end. And peace will set in. As we push forth, through the bitterness, we will find health and peace at the end."

"I want to believe that."

Windu smiled, and looked at the surface of the milk filling the soldier's tankard before him, still visible even at his angle of sight, as the soldier refused to take more than a few small sips. Windu pounded the table with his fist, effectively startling Ponds out of his contemplation.

"What--"

"Look, Ponds. Look," Windu beckoned, pointing at the ripples cascading across the surface of the milk in his tankard. "Look at the unrest. See how quickly it fades, reverting back to its natural state."

Ponds looked at the milk and, sure enough, the ripples were fading, the surface returning to a serene, still reflective pool of blue iridescence. Ponds looked at Windu, who was beaming a wide, satisfied smile at the soldier.

"The default position of the galaxy is peace, my friend."

Ponds looked at his general, his friend, and smiled. With a quick motion, he mirrored the Jedi's earlier exuberance and drained the tankard of milk into his mouth, then slammed it down and sighed. Windu clapped his hands together in a happy gesture, but his smile faded as he noted the Commander's serene face.

"If what you say is true, and the fighting will end, and peace will return, then what of me, sir? I was made to fight; made for war. I am a reaction to the turbulence, an effect of the agitation we're in. If the galaxy does return to its default position, where does that leave me?"

The men stared at one another, and just as it looked as if Master Windu were to speak, chaos broke out elsewhere on The Endurance, spurring all aboard to action.

--

Ponds's question went down with that ship, never to be answered. As he languished in the galley of Slave I, he stared out of a porthole into the vastness of space. Ponds wondered what his friend could've said in that moment to quiet his soul, and he wished more than ever that he could talk with him again. Peace, he felt, would never be his. All that he had left was vengeance.