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The railspeeder problem (old Mandalorian tactician’s dilemma)
There is a runaway railspeeder barreling down magnetic tracks. Ahead, on the tracks, there are five people tied up and unable to move. The railspeeder is headed straight for them. You are standing some distance off, next to a lever. If you pull this lever, the railspeeder will switch to a different set of tracks. However, you notice that there is one person on the side track. You have two (and only two) options:
- Do nothing, in which case the railspeeder will kill the five people on the main track.
- Pull the lever, diverting the railspeeder onto the side track where it will kill one person.
Which do you choose?
~~~
The two of them were unstoppable, for a moment there. It was almost enough to make Erik believe that this time, the good in his life would last.
War broke out across the galaxy, tension finally coming to a head as the Separatist forces grew centralized and multiplied like flies. But war was nothing new to a Mandalorian. War had been baked into his very being, and now coursed through his veins alongside his lifeblood.
What he wasn’t ready for, however, was being in love in time of war.
~~~
Charles looked gutted. They both sat on his bed in the Jedi quarters, Erik having handily mastered the tricks required to sneak through the hallways undetected after nearly a year of practice.
“They’re making me give up the younglings, Erik. And my research, all of it… it’s…”
“It’s war, ner Jetii. ” Erik supplied gently. He’d suspected it would get to this point, though he’d hoped his Jedi would be spared the horrors of the front lines. He’d been wrong.
“I know , Erik. It’s just… Force, those poor children. I know the elders in the Temple will care for them, I just-”
“You’re needed in the field, my love. You have skills too useful to overlook.” Erik moved closer and clasped both of Charles’ hands in his own. “You’re a warrior, cyar’ika. You’ll fight for your children, to keep them safe.”
Erik understood Charles’ commitment to the Jedi code. Unlike his own convictions, violence wasn’t something to be idealized, but rather a necessary burden.
“Fight to make sure they don’t have to do what you’re doing now.”
Charles took a shaky breath. Gripped Erik’s hands like he was drowning.
“Alright.”
~~~~
Every mission with the ‘golden duo,’ as they’d begun to be known on the holonets, was always a rousing success. Levelheaded General Xavier and his faithful clone battalion, tempered by the wild, fiery Mandalorian Commander by his side.
They fought together like water. Back to back, but flowing effortlessly, with a sort of grace only seen in the most powerful of natural forces. Erik thought back to the way the sea waves had crashed and fought on Lew’el when he was a boy, the way the currents would spiral and eddy in a beautiful, dangerous dance. That was Charles and him: one element when together, moving and swirling in a dance of synchronized blades.
~~~
The conflict with the separatist forces was initially, foolishly, thought to be short-lived. But once the droid armies came into the conflict in full force, and the extent of Sith involvement was revealed, the Jedi began to prepare for the long haul.
Erik was constantly at Charles’ side, so much so that the clones started to nickname Erik Charles’ ‘big metal shadow.’ Chales was amused, of course, and Erik was characteristically grumpy. Strategy meetings usually consisted of Erik’s steady presence in the background, glare tempered through his helmet as Charles conversed tensely with the other Jedi generals through holo-call, clone commanders by their sides.
“The mobile droid manufacturing plants are popping up everywhere in the outer rim. It seems like Geonosis is the hub, but we’ve been asked to target some of the smaller supply lines coming through the Arkanis sector. If we can stunt the supply of materials, we should be able to cut off the manufacturing,” Jedi Master Moira McTaggart, now General McTaggart, explained authoritatively to the assembled parties.
The Lasat who’d helped save his and Erik’s hides on the Illarreen mision, General McCoy, looked pensieve. Calling from a separate location was General Kwannon, who’d achieved knighthood about a year after the war began. Charles had confided in Erik that much of each padawan’s training had been accelerated or cut off entirely due to the conflict, but Kwannon’s was, mercifully, completed fully. The young woman’s serious demeanor locked her Mirialan face tattoos in place, betraying nothing.
“Master McTaggart, I agree that cutting the supply lines will be beneficial in shutting down the droid manufacturers, but will it not also cut off supplies to the civilian outposts in that sector?” Charles interjected. His poor, sweet Charles, who was still trying to find room for compassion in the midst of wartime.
“We have no other choice,” Erik said, the gentle edge to his tone only clear to Charles, who knew his every shift even through the vocal processor in his helmet. “These major trade routes are what’s keeping the factories in business. Civilians are sure to have other sources of essentials, like food, in their established communities, but the Separatists are relying mainly on import.”
Recognizing Erik’s tempered tone didn’t mean Charles was ready to acquiesce. “They’re ‘ sure to have other sources’? My friend, that’s no guarantee. Cutting off these supply lines could potentially spell disaster for thousands of innocents.”
“It’s the railspeeder dilemma,” Erik countered.
The Jedi and clone troopers fixed him with perplexed looks.
“An old Mandalorian tactician’s problem. There’s a runaway railspeeder barreling down magnetic tracks. You’re standing next to a lever that can switch the tracks. On one path, there are five people trapped on the tracks. On the other, there’s only one. The choice to be made is to pull the lever so only one man has to die, in service of the greater good.”
“That makes no sense,” Kwannon mumbled, “Why not just free the prisoners and save them all?”
“That’s not really an option here, I guess. The point is, a good leader has to make hard decisions to prevent the most suffering they can.”
“Like killing one man on a railspeeder track to save five,” McCoy murmured, nodding in understanding.
“Or risking supply cutoffs to civilians to stop the creation of more battle droids,” Charles said softly. Erik stole a glance at his Jedi. He looked nearly-ill, but resigned.
“There’s no other way, Charles,” General McTaggart intoned sharply over the holo. “Your Commander is right. I’d like for us to get our troops in position within the next cycle.”
“Understood, General. We’ll start plotting the course to the Arkanis sector immediately,” Charles nodded, voice carefully even.
~~~
It was took about a year and a half of wartime, but it seemed his cyar’ika was adjustingto their new, shared reality. Yes, he still flinched every time one of his men died in battle. Yes, he still tried to minimize damage on enemy forces, doing just as much as needed and no more to put them out of commission, but he was growing more accustomed to making the hard calls. Erik could tell, though, that it was tearing him up inside. Not because he was showing anything outwardly, but rather by the lack of emotion – his Jedi’s face, usually open and mischievously expressive, was instead constantly closed off. It was as if Charles had donned an emotional helmet, shutting himself off from the rest of the world.
Violence to a Jedi was a tool, to be used sparingly and always with restraint. Violence to a Mandalorian was as ever-present as air in the lungs. Erik didn’t feel any certain way about their missions – wasn’t so physically ill at death, as Charles was, but didn’t revel in it either. He was good at his job, and he did it, nothing more. He made his ancestors proud by carrying on their fierce tenacity, their prowess in battle. He brought honor to Mandalore. Fighting droids didn’t even seem real to him – hunks of metal, cheap and programmed with only the most basic of skills. It was child’s play for a fully-fledged Mandalorian warrior.
He and Charles were growing further apart, though, not through any fault of Erik’s as far as he could tell. Just the pressure vacuum of war and the inescapable stress of being called upon every few standard hours to fix some diplomatic concern, or to negotiate a treaty, or to blow up a cell of Separatist agents. The rising tide of their battles together, which were usually so fluid and smooth, now more closely resembled choppy, dangerous waters. Erik was afraid what that might mean, but couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.
~~~
“What the hell was that?”
“That was me rescuing your ass, General!” Erik retorted shortly, matching Charles’ snippy tone with his own.
“I had the situation under control-”
“You call that under control?”
“Just- Force, Erik!” Charles snapped. “I need you to stop treating me like I’m some sort of fragile, little, breakable thing - like I’m a child! I can handle myself, as you well know!”
“Of course you can, but when you’re surrounded on all sides-”
“I had a plan, Erik! I might not be a warrior by birth, sworn to fealty and whatever other things you’re sworn to, but I’ve been training with a lightsaber since I was a youngling! I have the force on my side as well, which if you would have let me finish out the plan-”
“They were acting unpredictably! The plan may not have ended up working, and you would have died!”
“If you hadn’t come in and destroyed everything, we could have gotten information from the sentients and off the droid’s hardware? Did you think of that?”
“Charles, he had a blaster to your head!”
“Yes, and I’ve negotiated my way out of worse! Just-” Charles growled in frustration. “Please, Erik, as your General I’d like it if you could trust me once in a while. Please.”
Erik was still fuming, but reluctantly saw his Jedi’s point. He stepped back and crossed his arms.
“Okay, okay! Shabi , Charles.”
Charles just sighed. “I forgive you. I love you, okay? It just… it feels like you don’t think I’m capable.” And with that he turned and began walking back to their ship, leaving a steaming hole of guilt in Erik’s chest.
~~~
Erik still loved him, too. He loved Charles so ardently, loved him with the sort of force that exploded when the cores of stars collapsed. They hardly could spend nights in each other’s quarters, what with sleeping in shifts and the constant need for at least one of them to be in command. But Erik loved him still, loved the way he found little ways to crack the endless days with humor, loved his ferocity in protecting his squadron, loved the way that his hair, now grown down to his shoulders, curled gently at his nape.
So of course it hurt him to see Charles like this. Dark smudges under his eyes, he was barely sleeping. He also grew more uncharacteristically snippy and detached by the day.
Erik knocked on Charles’ door, helmet under his arm. Charles was sleeping fitfully, but didn’t even deign to argue with Erik in one of their affectionate little squabbles when he was so rudely awoken. It hurt, but Erik tried not to care. He offered Charles the small, cloth wrapped bundle, and Charles took it with confusion.
“It’s- er, our anniversary. Of sorts. We met today. Two years ago,” Erik explained awkwardly, trying to ignore the sting he still felt. Was it foolish to have done this? Perhaps Charles didn’t feel the same way anymore, didn’t feel that same consuming burn in his chest that ate Erik alive anytime his Jedi was near.
“Oh, love. It’s wonderful,” Charles murmured, unwrapping the package to reveal the gift. A small, easily-concealed knife, handle wrapped in leather. Made of fine Mandalorian beskar . Charles rose and planted a small kiss on the corner of Erik’s mouth and, just like that, Erik’s fears dissipated. Charles tucked his head into the crook of Erik’s neck and sighed with exhaustion.
“Darling, I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you,” he mumbled, nuzzling Erik’s shoulder. “I should have been better about talking to you. I’m just-” he broke away, leaving Erik’s neck colder. “It’s difficult for me. All of this. And I think I may need space. Thank you for granting that to me.”
“Of course,” Erik whispered, drowning in Charles’ gentle gaze. “Whatever you need, cyar’ika. ”
It hurt him, yes, but if what Charles needed was space, he could give him an entire galaxy. Anything at all.
~~~
Their squabbles grew more frequent. Instead of the fun, tension-building debates they were so fond of, they became heavier, looming with implication and meaning that Erik wished he was able to parse.
“You don’t have to be so rude to the clones, you know.” Charles said evenly, tone cold. After a disastrous tactical call on the bridge where Erik had stormed out, Charles had caught up to him in one of the transport’s many, winding hallways.
“I’m not being rude to them!” Erik blustered angrily.
“You are!” Charles insisted, ratcheting up his voice to match his tone to Erik’s “You hardly ever even speak to my men, the least you could do is try and be friendly! They’re people Erik, not just some-”
“That’s the issue, Charles! They’re people, yet they’re literally created to be droid fodder! Each one is a sentient life created with the express purpose of dying for a cause they have no choice but to be a part of-” Erik’s patience with the Republic and their backwards command styles were wearing him thin, and the way the clones were treated was just one last straw in his mounting frustration with the supposedly ‘righteous’ fight he and Charles had been so unwittingly dragged into.
“I thought dying for a cause was all part of The Way. Don’t come to me complaining of the indignities of war when you and your people so revere them,” Charles bit back, striking low blows where he knew they would sting.
Still. His people. As if the Republic weren’t the ones dragging this war on and on with their refusal to implement tactics befitting such an all-out conflict. Yet they seemed more than happy to farm out sacrificial Kaminoan lambs.
“ My people and I see glory in the struggle for righteous victory. We choose to fight for what we believe in. To honor our ancestors. These men don’t even get the luxury of having those, do they? Just one original man, endlessly and endlessly copied-”
“They’re individuals, Erik! You were just saying so yourself, you dense-”
“They’re robbed of dignity. And you, all the Jedi, you’re all complicit! Don’t you see, Charles? Can you honestly tell me you’re on board with all this?” Erik spread his arms wide as he sputtered his conclusion, appealing to some larger, nebulous thing.
Charles takes a shaky breath and blinks back the angry wetness in his eyes. His face is red. Erik normally loves the way a blush looks on Charles, the way redness rises to his cheekbones. But this blush isn’t lovely. It’s just blood.
“No, I cannot say I’m happy. I cannot even say I fully approve of all my Council is doing. But you’ve said it yourself, Erik. This is war. I have to learn to manage my discomfort, and maintain my allegiance to the Republic, to democracy! Surely you of all people understand the sanctity of loyalty.” They were both yelling, now. Surely they must have been overheard, then. Probably intentionally avoided, as well.
“It’s even worse, then. You’re playing dead, just passively watching it all unfold from your little post, mindlessly following orders-”
“And what would you suggest I do instead? Betray my people? I may not fully approve of each and every minute action the council takes, but I do believe we’re on the right side of this war,” Charles was in Erik’s space now, face inches away, and an accusatory finger poked at Erik’s chestplate. Erik dimly realized he had his helmet on. Pity. He wished he could feel the heat of Charles so close to him, to be touched even in anger was enough. He needed anything.
Charles took a breath, allowed his shoulders to fall from their tensed readiness. He spoke his next words to Erik very calmly. The fire behind his eyes had been expertly glossed over. “Where would you suggest we get the manpower to fight the unlimited supplies of separatist droids, hm?”
Erik had no response.
“You said it to me yourself, Erik. This is war. It just upsets you that I’ve started acting like it.”
~~~
You have two (and only two) options:
- Do nothing, in which case the railspeeder will kill the five people on the main track.
- Pull the lever, diverting the railspeeder onto the side track where it will kill one person.
Which do you choose?
Save the many, a sacrifice for the greater good.
~~~
“We’ve received word that Separatist forces have hijacked a sizable merchant vessel and are diverting it to send supplies to their forces stationed in the nearby quadrants tonight. It’s supposed to take off from the docking bay on Phindar tonight. General Xavier, Commander Lehsnerr, you two are closest to Phindar at the moment. Land there, and do not let that ship get off the ground.”
“Yes, general,” Charles nodded. To anyone else, he would look the perfect picture of the wily, cool-headed general. Erik saw plain as day the bags under his eyes, the lines of tension that permeated his lithe mouth and fixed it into a permanent half-frown. The furrow between his brows that had become a permanent fixture. His voice was weary, battle-hardened. Tired.
His Jedi needed help. Erik wished he could offer anything that would come close to fixing this. He wracked his brains, but came up empty.
The only thing would be for the war to end. Erik needed the war to end.
~~~
There is a runaway railspeeder barreling down magnetic tracks.
~~~
The missiles were at the ready, waiting on Erik’s initialization to fire. Destroy the cargo ship, blow it to hell. Those inside will die, but the Separatist forces will be majorly set back in supplies. It could turn the tide of the war.
Erik needed the war to end. For him. For Charles’ sake.
“I won’t stand down, Charles! We have to do this. Even out the tides! Bring some relief-”
“There are innocents aboard that ship, Erik! It’s been hijacked, most of the crew are working under threat! Not to mention, there’s valuable information aboard. We can’t risk losing it!” Charles shouted over the rollicking waves that crashed on the beach where they both stood. The cargo ship, a great gray block off in the distance, hummed faintly as it initialized its engines for takeoff.
Charles shouted again, to be heard as he ran at full tilt towards Erik’s position on the beach. He’d ordered some of the clones to help him set up the launch mechanisms. These were heavy duty rockets, with locked targeting systems and enough firepower to decimate a Spearatist fleet. The cargo ship would be reduced to ashes.
“They’re people, Erik. I don’t want any more innocent blood on my hands. I won’t- I can’t deal with that much death. I thought I could. Force, I- I tried, Erik. But it’s not who I am!”
Charles seemed desperate. His darling, his cyar’ika. Not built for war, for mindless bloody violence and the loss of one’s humanity that came alongside it.
He could hurt his lover, or he could save the galaxy. In the end, his choice had to be simple.
You have two (and only two) options:
- Do nothing, in which case the railspeeder will kill the five people on the main track.
- Pull the lever, diverting the railspeeder onto the side track where it will kill one person.
Which do you choose?
The lone person on the tracks is the only man you’ve ever loved.
Which do you choose?
Erik closed his eyes. Exhaled. He let the missiles fly and waited in darkness for the ensuing shockwave.
“ No !”
Erik’s eyes snapped open. Charles’ hands were skyward, shaking, and his face had screwed up in effort. He had frozen the missiles in midair, and he turned to Erik in desperation, feet rooted in the sand.
“Erik, you’ve said yourself we’re the better men. This is the time to prove it. There are thousands of sentients on those ships, innocent people!” His voice was strained through his teeth,
“Charles, please. We want the same thing.”
Tears began to stream down Charles’ face.
“My friend,” he choked out, “I’m sorry, but we do not.”
Erik winced, pained, as he stalked over to his lover on the sand. “I don't want to hurt you, Charles. Don't make me!”
Charles stares back at him stubbornly. “There has to be another way.”
Erik continues his advance.
“We’ll- we can chase it-”
Which do you choose?
“Board the ship once it’s taken off-”
Which do you choose?
Erik sprang.
Charles hit the sand like a dead weight. Erik pinned him until the missiles found their target .
The second track only has one person.
Erik diverted the railspeeder. He couldn’t bear to let the Separatists win this battle.
He couldn’t face his lover after betraying his trust, either. So he ran.
~~~
It didn’t end up turning the tide of the war at all, it turned out, when there were many, many other ways for the Separatists to get supplies. It didn’t end up turning the tide of the war at all, it turned out, when the Separatists began to sic Dark Side users on platoons of Jedi. It didn’t end up turning the tide of the war at all, it turned out, when Erik packed a spare rucksack full of supplies and fled in an escape pod in the dead of night.
He had chosen wrong.
And it had cost him everything.
~~~
Erik hopped around the galaxy, settling for anywhere the seemingly endless war hadn’t left too permanent a mark yet. Drank. Slept around. Did anything and everything he could to forget what he’d done as he nursed his wounded heart.
Which was incredibly, incredibly selfish of him. Cowardly.
What had he said to Charles? “ Your skills are needed in the field. You’re a fighter, cyar’ika.” He could almost laugh, now. Hypocrite.
Even thinking Charles’ name sent a stab of guilt to Erik’d gut. How broken he’d looked, on the beach, how betrayed.
After a haze of feeling sorry for himself, Erik couldn’t take it anymore. He resolved to go back, to offer his services again, to prostrate himself at Charles’ feet and beg to be taken back, beg for an apology, or even a fight, anything as long as he could see him again. He made it about halfway to Coruscant.
But he couldn’t. He was too proud. So he sent an anonymous comm with some coordinates, then fucked off to some backwater farming planet in the outer rim and tried to convince himself of why he still deserved to live.