Chapter Text
“Satine, I need your help.”
Satine Kryze had something of her father in her, Jango mused. Her face was cold and gave nothing away. Her figure commanded attention.
In his youth, he would have ignored any feelings he might have of respect, but he had grown up behind Jaster’s code and his own violence.
He didn’t think he would ever follow her, but she had almost singlehandedly united Mandalore. A task that hadn’t been accomplished for hundreds of years.
And looking at her Jango thought that even if Galidraan hadn’t happened she would still be the one there at the front of their people.
“Am I speaking to Knight Kenobi in an official capacity, or am I speaking to Ben?”
Ben. A few pieces clicked in place and he wanted to pull the Jedi away from the holoprojector, but he held still.
“Duchess, you are speaking to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi on behalf of refugees seeking asylum to the Mandalore system.”
The briefest flash of disappointment before beskar took its place.
“Then you need to use the proper channels for their safety as well as–”
“It’s a bit more complicated a situation than you might think.”
The stern face broke fully and there was a raised eyebrow. A little sarcastic quirk of the lip that still managed to be warm.
“It always is with you.”
Ben coughed, straightening up. He pointedly avoided Anakin trying to catch his eye.
“Your Highness, the people I represent are extremely vulnerable and are in a dangerous situation. They’re children.”
“Children?”
Not that Jango thought she wasn’t taking the request seriously, but Jango could see her focus sharpen.
“Obi-Wan, what is going on? If there are children that need aid why are you going to me and not your Republic’s Senate? The Jedi Council? What aren’t you telling me, Ben?”
Obi-Wan took a breath. “There are things that I do not know fully, and as you are a leader of a system outside the Republic I don’t want to misinform you. With certainty, I can say that they will not be safe in the Republic, and may not even be counted among its citizens. They’re clones created outside of the Republic.”
“Clones? This is getting more and more bizarre… you can’t tell me everything. Tell me what I need to know then?”
“They have been trained to be soldiers. 2,000,000 of them.”
“That’s the population of a city. That’s an army!”
“Yes. You might guess what their purpose was.”
Kryze brought her hand over her mouth in contemplation of it. She was obviously disturbed.
The two of them had a rapport. A back and forth. And despite setting this up as a call between a Jedi and a government leader, they were slipping into something more intimate. They worked closely together at one time, but it felt like more.
She called him Ben.
Jango took off his glove and traced the symbol on his bracer. Whatever they had, it couldn’t affect him right now. He could be jealous later if he really wanted to be a stubborn bantha about it.
“How old is the oldest?” Kryze asked.
“They have had their genetics tampered with. Although the age of four at the oldest, they are physically and mentally twelve or thirteen.”
“That young?”
“Some are babies not even out of the tubes.”
“Obi-Wan. You are leaving things out. I know you have to be.”
Ben was very quiet. Perhaps contemplating a decision he had made far in advance of this moment.
“I need you to buy them from me.”
It looked like the projector had frozen Satine Kryze stood so still.
“You can’t have changed so much from the boy I knew. What gives you the authority to sell anyone?”
“This army was made at the behest of a member of the Jedi Council. Until Senate knows and would take custody of them.”
“The Jedi made slaves?”
“I don’t know, but right now the Jedi own them. Right now I am a sitting member on the Jedi Council, and I have legal authority over them. Until the Senate learns of them and makes a decision,” Ben repeated urgently.
“It’s illegal to sell slaves in the Republic,” Kryze said quickly.
“I’m not in the Republic right now, the sentience rights of clones could be argued in committee for years, and it is not illegal for the ruler of Mandalore to buy slave bonds with the intention of breaking them. Duchess… they are not safe here, they are not safe with the Jedi.”
“But then you–”
“I know the cost. That should tell you how dire this is,” Ben said.
“Who were they made to fight Obi-Wan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Excuse me,” a young voice interrupted.
Jango startled. He didn’t even notice as Cody approached Ben from the opposite side.
“Cody,” Ben said gently. He stepped aside to make room for him in front of the projector.
“Pardon my interruption, but I would like to speak for my brothers and myself as this concerns our lives.”
“Of course,” Ben complied.
“Go ahead,” Kryze nodded, her face now kind and approachable, her sternness that was aimed at the Jedi gone.
“My name is Cody. I have been promoted to General recently. I don’t have a clan, but my father is Mandalorian. He has accepted all of us into his clan if we choose to. I have not been inclined.”
Jango let the shame burn.
“I have been trained in the art of war by bounty hunters, many of which are also Mandalorian. Some of them were cruel. Some of them were kind. All we have learned and all we have been taught of is violence. We have been created for war. A war that doesn’t seem to exist, at least not yet. I don’t think the beings who taught us would approve of you by what Master Kenobi has told me.
The truth is, Duchess Kryze, we don’t know where to go from here. We have been formed by traditional Mandalorian ideals and yet we are not Mandalorian and were never offered that until now when a guilty man finally repented.
We didn’t know our treatment wasn’t right. Some of us still don’t understand, some are too young to understand. You have helped your people transition from warriors to pacifists. I don’t know if the life of a pacifist will suit me, but I know that the life of a slave will not. The Mandalore system is our safest path forward. There are too many of us, and too many enemies around us to find another place or make another plan. We beg you to take this into consideration.”
“I understand, Cody… General,” Kryze nodded. “Who was your father?”
“I am,” Jango didn’t want to, but he moved forward. Ben moved further out of the way for him. He brushed his hand over his gently knocking his hidden vambrance against Jango’s.
“Who are you?” Kryze demanded.
“Jango of Clan Fett, House Mereel,” Jango took off his helmet. “No one will be able to deny who their father is once they grow.”
“You’re a monster.” Kryze made her stance on him perfectly clear, and he couldn’t argue without bringing more shame to himself.
“I renounce all claim I have to any title in the Mandalore system, and acknowledge your position as Duchess of Mandalore.
“As if you still had a claim to any title!” Kryze snapped.
“Probably not, but my words will go a long way to people that still aren’t convinced of your legitimacy. My actions have only brought shame on anyone that would still follow me. Listen, I don’t deserve to be their father, but I owe them anything I can give. I want them to have a chance.”
“2,000,000 clones of Jaster Mereel’s heir owned by the Jedi Order raised as soldiers for a war that doesn’t exist yet. I don’t even know where to start with how politically complicated this is, Obi-Wan.”
“Oh trust me, I’m with you.”
“Were they meant to be used against us?”
“I don’t know, Satine, but I do know that they will never become soldiers against their will in your hands. As complicated as this all is… that’s where my heart is. I trust you to keep them safe.”
Kryze contemplated the request.
“What do you need of me?” She finally asked.
“You’ll help us?” Cody asked.
“I will do everything in my power to help you, General Cody,” Kryze said respectfully, “Your siblings will have to follow our rule of law, and as it stands Mandalore is a peaceful pacifist planet. You’ll have to renounce that new title. We don’t have a standing army on Mandalore.”
“Gladly, if it means shelter, Ma’am.”
“Good,” she nodded. “Then I will grant you the position of Speaker for your siblings, and any of them that you assign to help.”
Jango backed off again. He was the villain in this story. He had already made his peace with that.
“Right,” Obi-Wan said. “Then I’ll need 20,000 wupiupi for the transaction, and then they’ll be free for your people to pick up on Kamino. It’s a bit out of the way, but not far from you. I’d say you’d need about fifty-five AA-9s. Or a few trips.”
“Oh good, I have to set up for a city’s worth of underage refugees AND arrange for pick up? You’ve really thought of everything.”
“A dozen star cruisers might help if you can commandeer them?”
“Stop talking. Alright. Send me the code to transfer the money.
“Sent.”
“Received. Speaker Cody.”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“Welcome to House Kryze. I will be relying on you heavily in this endeavor as the communication between the government and your people. In twenty-four standard we will be coming to pick you all up, but as of the completion of the transaction with Jedi Council member Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are free and under my protection. I grant you and your siblings all amnesty in the Mandalore System under the traditions of the foundling which are codified in the New Mandalorian Charter of Rights and Freedoms Section 38, subsection 9.”
“U-understood,” Cody stuttered.
Jango didn’t know quite how to feel about Kryze snatching up one of his… but Cody had made it clear he had no interest in Jango.
“And Ben?”
“Duchess,” Ben said, putting official distance between them deliberately.
“Are you coming as well?”
Obi-Wan rubbed his chin wryly. “I think it would make your politics even more complex if I did.”
“Even so. You’re welcome. You could stay. I know what doing this will mean. They will repudiate you at best.”
Jango’s heart stopped for half a second.
He could not step foot on Mandalore again after his confession and could not surrender himself. Not while Boba was still so young.
But then casually the long sleeves of Ben’s cloak slipped down his arm, revealing his vambrance.
It was an offer that had come many years too late. Obi-Wan tucked his hands in his sleeves and felt the cool metal of the beskar vambrace under his fingertips.
He was thankful Satine hadn’t asked all those years ago.
He was a Jedi, even if he could no longer be a part of the Order. Even if he would be declared a criminal.
When he was seventeen, he wouldn’t have been able to see it that way. He wouldn’t have been able to separate his feelings. He didn’t have a deep understanding of himself and his wants.
Melida/Daan Obi-Wan had chosen duty through passion. Mandalore he came very close to choosing passion over duty.
And now here on Kamino he had chosen Jango. And maybe that was a bit of everything and maybe that was nothing like anything else.
He let his sleeve slip down.
Satine caught the detail as he knew she would. She ducked her head. Her smile wasn’t exactly sad, but there was some regret to it.
“Too late,” she whispered barely audible. “Your taste is horrible and I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said more clearly. She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Perhaps that was the end of their friendship, or perhaps that was her believing in his judgment. He would only know in time.
“Right then. I have a government body to wrangle as well as an evacuation to prepare. Transmit any other important information and a secure comm frequency for when we arrive.”
“There is one other thing. There were bounty hunters hired with the training of the children. Some of them helped with their liberation and wish to accompany them. Will they be allowed to?”
“If they follow our laws and there are no warrants.”
“Alright,” Obi-Wan said. “I will send any necessary updates.”
The holo flickered off. Obi-Wan sighed in relief.
He had been sure she would say yes. The undertaking would be huge. She would have a tangled web of political problems to deal with. On top of handling her own government, if the Republic fully learns of what happened here, which he was certain they would, they would put pressure on her as well. However, the girl Obi-Wan had known, the woman she had grown into during that year… Satine hated war above all else and they had both seen enough children with blasters in their hands.
He may have lost whatever they might have had left of a working relationship together after this, but it was worth everything.
He thought back to Qui-Gon all those years ago, putting his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and trying to take him as his Padawan despite the Council, and despite the code.
Qui-Gon would have seen Anakin trained, even if he had to leave the Jedi to do it he would. As a twenty-five-year-old, Obi-Wan would have been frustrated with Qui-Gon, but now he understood.
Some things are worth everything.
“Should we move immediately past that being your ex?” Jango joked.
Obi-Wan snorted. “We need to make sure all the paperwork with the Kaminoans is correct, go over any information of Tyranus we can before we need to bug out, organize the children, figure out the Bounty Hunters and see if any will be staying… or adopting if you think they would be suitable for it…”
“Most of them no… some of them yes. I think Kal already kidnapped his.”
“Right, should I be worried about that?”
“No.”
“Alright… so, if you wouldn’t mind, darling, we have so many better things to do than worry about who I used to have feelings for. Stay in the present moment.” Obi-Wan suggested. He reached over and bumped their vambraces together again.
“Sounds good to me, Ben.”
“How are you feeling, Cody?” Anakin asked following behind while the younger boy tried to quietly sneak away without anyone noticing. He kept pace with him.
“A lot is happening,” Cody said smoothly, looking straight ahead.
“It’s okay if you’re freaking out.”
“I don’t have time to freak out.”
“Well, yeah no you really don’t,” Anakin grinned to himself. “But you’re doing good, just in case you were wondering. Your speech was amazing.”
“I don’t remember half of what I said.”
“It was good, I promise.”
Cody finally stopped and turned to face Anakin.
Anakin stopped and watched as Cody processed what he was thinking.
“I want to ask you something… something personal.”
“Oh, uh, okay?” Anakin blinked.
“We make our own names. We choose them. For ourselves and for each other. What sticks or what we force through. Lots of different ways to do it. We usually only pick just one. We don’t have families outside of each other, but there is something to … anchors… starting points? Where we come from–this is stupid–” Cody tried walking off again.
Anakin caught him by the shoulder and stopped him. “No, finish what you’re saying.”
“Can Rex have your last name?”
“Wh–I mean I would–of course! I would be honoured. I–yeah of course he can if he wants it!”
“Thank you,” Cody ducked his head. “Rex Skywalker has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it does. It’ll suit him,” Anakin said, extremely touched, “But why?”
“You’re his starting point. For natborns I guess that’s their parents. Maybe for some of my brothers it will be Fett and he’ll be their start when he finally acknowledged them. That’s… something I’ve been thinking about. Our names were the only thing we could choose, but now … we can choose who we want to follow in the footsteps of. I think he would like to follow in yours.”
“That’s… I like that a lot,” Anakin said softly thinking of Mom. It wasn’t just that she was his mother. She had been his first teacher. His foundation. He was Skywalker because she was Skywalker.
And that was still with him, even if she was far away. He hadn’t lost her.
And yeah, Rex would be a Skywalker too. Anakin wished he could tell her. Her legacy had stretched so far out and away from Tatooine to a child she’d probably never meet but had experienced her kindness nonetheless.
Anakin floated on the bittersweet thought in silence until something occurred to him.
“Wait… a house isn’t a last name… your ‘start’ would have been…”
“Cody Kenobi of House Kryze is alliterative, but I like it,” Cody said casually.
“That’s ridiculous.” Anakin slung his arm around Cody’s shoulder in a half hug. “He’ll love that.”
Epilogue
“You’re falling behind Sticky!”
“Don’t call me that! Come back here Nik!” Boba Fett growled as his vod somersaulted ahead. You weren’t even supposed to do maneuvers like that with a jetpack. Buir had gone through all the steps with him. You were supposed to maintain control so that you could compensate with thrust if–
“You were the one that wanted to play tag,” Anakin said lazily doing a slow sort of twirl. He was in his twenties but acted like a kid! And he was still winning!
“Anakin! You’re supposed to be teaching, not messing around!” Ben called from the ground.
“Don’t teach my son bad jetpack etiquette,” Buir ordered gruffly.
“I’m teaching him style!” Anakin called back. He grinned back at Boba.
Boba rolled his eyes and brought himself down for a landing.
Ben casually squeezed his shoulder in greeting while his attention was still on the map he and Buir had been pouring over the last two cycles. It was so boring.
“Dad, he’s not doing it right,” Boba complained, tugging on Jango’s sleeve. “I want you to teach me!”
His buir gave him his Strict Dad Look that Boba was sure he had learned from studying Ben.
“Learning from many people means you have more tools in your belt, Boba,” Buir said wisely. “And if that doesn’t work for you, think of Anakin’s flying as what NOT to do with a jetpack. Study the vulnerabilities he puts himself in.”
“Hey!” Anakin said, still zooming above them.
Ben was making the face he makes when he’s trying not to show that he found Anakin’s misbehavior amusing.
Boba crossed his arms and pouted.
“That’s only going to work for a few more years you know,” Buir said. “You’re getting too tall for tooka eyes.”
He felt Ben touch his hand to the top of his head and then move it to his own chest.
“Hm quite. Well, you need to work hard to avenge me against Anakin considering the odds you’re up against.” Ben grinned at Buir who had taken Anakin’s growth spurt with much more grace than Ben had in Boba’s opinion.
“I didn’t grow this tall on purpose you know,” Anakin preened landing elegantly in front of them.
“Aha!” Boba yelled, springing onto Anakin in a surprise attack.
“Wha- wait!”
Anakin caught him so he wouldn’t get hurt. Boba, knowing his vod’s weakness (him), exerted more force and Anakin had to fall backward onto his ass. Boba sat triumphantly on top of him.
“TAG,” Boba panted.
“Well done,” Buir laughed. Ben was covering his mouth now.
“That’s cheating!” Anakin complained, although his good humour hadn’t left him. He caught Boba by the shoulders and flipped them, pinning Boba in a loose headlock.
“Tag.” Anakin smirked.
“Beating a ten-year-old at tag isn’t as impressive as you think,” Ben crossed his arms looking down at the two of them, but his amusement shone brightly in his eyes.
Boba felt Anakin tense above him.
“But despite what Boba thinks, you’re doing a good job,” Ben continued offering a hand up to his apprentice.
Anakin brightened and let himself be pulled up off Boba.
“Is not,” Boba grumbled letting Ben help him up too.
Ben took on his teacherly posture.
“Knowing the proper way of doing things is important, but being able to improvise is useful. That said you are NOT allowed to try any of Anakin’s tricks until you’re as tall as him.”
“Ugh, I know that I won’t though!”
“Exactly my point.”
Boba glared at Ben and then Buir.
“Not my fault,” Buir said airly. “You can be just as dangerous compact as you can when you’re a freakish giant.”
“Freakish? Wait–do you think Padme thinks I’m freakish?” Anakin turned to Ben.
Ben rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she doesn’t. Alright, enough goofing around boys. Take off your kit. I think all of us could use a break.”
Boba wanted to whine, but his stomach grumbled before he could argue.
He moved towards the safe house. It was nice. Buir and Ben had made it years ago and they used it as a hideout every few years. It was as close to a family home Boba had ever known. Boba smiled seeing the little red flowers that covered most of the ground in front of the house. The original plant had been his apparently. Buir liked to tell the story of Ben explaining the water cycle to a toddler as if Boba would retain any of it.
Boba did sort of remember, but mostly it was just good smells and the colour red and being so happy. He was going to put some red on his armour once he had gained all the pieces. His verd’goten was still a few years off, but he had plans.
“Did Cody get back to you?” Buir asked quietly as he and Ben slowly walked behind him.
“The neutralization seems to be working. No surgery or head trauma required.”
“Good,” Buir breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad Dooku didn’t make use of them.”
“Yes, I have been wondering about that myself,” Ben replied ponderously. “He could have commanded Rex to kill me back on Nal Hutta if the chip does what we think it does. Why didn’t he?”
“He still wants you to join him.”
“He extends the offer on occasion, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to remove my head, no… perhaps it has something to do with the background player. Sidious.”
“The one that Maul said has ‘plans’ for me?” Anakin rolled his eyes and placed his jetpack back in the equipment storage.
“Over my dead body,” Buir vowed seriously. “I won’t let any Sith touch one of mine.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Anakin muttered in embarrassment. “I’m not worried.”
“I thought we were taking a break,” Boba said crossly. If he had to take a break they had to take a break too.
“You’re right, apologies, dear,” Ben moved toward the kitchen. The warm smell of cookies hit as he opened the door.
Boba perked up. “Ben baked?”
“A surprise for your hard day’s work,” Ben called.
“Yes!” Boba pumped his fist in the air. He ran to the kitchen table Anakin had put together.
Boba sat at the table and fell into the family’s banter. It was warm and safe, a feeling that wasn’t always the case. They were in danger a lot, but not here. There were bad guys out there. Buir, Ben, and even Nik were working on it, but they also had to avoid Jedi, other bounty hunters, and now apparently ‘Separatists.’
Boba glanced over at Anakin’s braid. He had grown his hair long to hide it better, but he refused to get rid of it and every so often Ben would find some wood or shell or glass and later there would be a bead that would get added.
Boba noticed Ben was staring at it too. He had been doing that a lot lately.
Boba had been jealous of it when he was smaller. He even did his own braid, but Buir explained it was a thing between Ben and Anakin, just like proper beskar armor was only between Buir and Boba (except for Ben’s vambrace of course but that was different).
He was still jealous of the lightsaber. He didn’t see why he couldn’t have one too. Buir promised a cool kad when he was old enough, but what was cooler than a blade of pure energy?
“You can’t get height on me through cookies alone, Sticky.”
Boba scowled at his vod, but was quickly distracted as a plate of muja cookies and glasses of blue milk were doled out.
It was a familiar flavour. Home, even on a spaceship, or in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes stale, sometimes broken and crumbly, and sometimes like now, fresh and sweet. He always felt like nothing bad could ever happen when he was eating Ben’s muja cookies. He could help with making them properly now. He measured the ingredients, stirred the batter and spooned it all out on a sheet pan. He knew the recipe by heart.
He had been told how his parents met. Even remembered some of it, although it always felt like Ben and Anakin were with them. He knew Ben had never been a real baker, but if Boba wasn’t a bounty hunter when he grew up, that might be what he’d like to do. Maybe if the Galaxy got quieter and more peaceful.
But he’d still want to use a jetpack… and a cool sword.
The End