Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stepping into the hangar deck, CT-5633 realized immediately he stood out like a sore thumb. 

Straightening his back and taking a deep breath, he marched down the long hall, ignoring the looks from the older, hardened troopers. His armor was a clean, pristine white in a sea of greens and dirt. Though Shinies being added into veteran units was far from a rare thing - troopers died all the time and needed to be replaced - he still disliked the looks of his older brothers as he walked past. They were all sitting close to each other as they prepped their gear for the next outing. He nodded politely to the mechanics who were idly working on their dropships and shuttles. The hangar smelled of oil and caf.

His young face certainly didn’t help. 

His features were softer, rounder - certainly not scarred and creased like the veterans he briskly paced by. He heard someone in the sea of troopers yell something about not allowing cadets in the hangar area. He flushed, but kept his head high and pushed through the crowded hangar. The Kaminoans warned him of ‘acclimatization issues’ with the older batchers, but he never thought it was going to be like this.

He put his helmet back on. 

The rule books didn’t prepare him for this. 

‘33 found his captain easily enough. The telltale red markings on his armor made him stand out in the myriad of white and greens that surrounded them. He was leaned against a stack of crates under a beat-up drop ship, barking orders while nursing a canned drink ‘33 had never seen before. His relaxed demeanor would have made him look unassuming if it wasn’t for an impressive display of scars across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. Most notably, he saw a pair of symmetrical scars that ran from his brow, across his forehead, and landing on the side of his head, like the ears of a Vulptex. 

It didn’t take long before the captain’s eyes locked on him, and he called out loudly: “CT-5633, I’ve been waiting for you! Come here, kid,” he beckoned. 

‘33 cringed inwardly but marched forward with his shoulders squared. Just follow protocol. Don’t mess this up.

“CT-5633 reporting for duty, sir!” He saluted, probably a little louder than he needed to. He ignored the snickers and odd looks around him. 

“Relax, kid. This isn’t an inspection,” the captain grinned. “I just wanted to have a look at you.”

Both of them were silent for a moment. The captain raised his eyebrows in expectation before ‘33 realized he wanted to see his face. He apprehensively removed his helmet and watched as the Captain’s face broke into an enormous smile. 

“By Fett's blessed breeches, they weren’t kidding when they said we’d get a young one. You’re hardly older than your eighth term.”

“‘Ninth,” ‘33 corrected.

“Are they sending cadets to do a soldier’s work, now?” A dry voice came from his left and ‘33 nearly jumped. It was a scruffy clone who whizzed past him with the largest rifle he had ever seen. The clone’s hair was slightly longer than regulation, and his left eye was an impressive green, most likely a cybernetic implant. The newcomer patted the captain on the shoulder and stole his can, which the captain didn’t seem to mind. With one raised eyebrow, he didn’t break eye contact as he chugged the rest of the drink and crushed it in a single fist. “You got the chops for adult life, kid?”

“Sir, yes sir,” ‘33 saluted.

“What did I say about this not being an inspection, private? Relax, I’m getting a nervous breakdown just looking at you,” the captain chuckled and stepped forward. “I’m Kitfox, this one’s Pluto. When I heard they’re sending kids from Kamino with your special new training I had to see one for myself. We could use someone who’s up to date with all the latest training and strategies in our ranks here. I’m told you’re top of your class.”

“I'm honored, sir. It's true, sir.”

“What kind of training?” Pluto asked, only looking half as intrigued as the Kitfox, who seemed absolutely taken with him. He summoned two more cans from a crate behind him and tossed the other to Kitfox, who grabbed it out of the air without looking. He offered it to ‘33, who shook his head. Kitfox shrugged and cracked it open with a practiced motion and took a long sip. 

“Simulations, mostly. Virtual battles based on true encounters in the war so far, plus a larger focus on the philosophy and theory of warfare, sir,” ‘33 asserted.

“Simulations and theory? Philosophy ? ‘They trying to replace actual, real experience? Sounds like a lot of bantha shit to me,” Pluto snorted, clearly unimpressed. “What's wrong with the real battle exercises?”

“Simulations are cheaper,” ‘33 said.

“Who says what about bantha shit?” Another voice came from behind. ‘33 turned and was met with the jovial face of a bald, smiling clone. His forehead was tattooed with six narrow marks, giving him an unnerving arachnid-like appearance. He carried a large satchel full of various mechanical parts that were nearly tumbling out of the opening. 

“The kid here thinks he’s got shit. Thinks books and holovids are gonna replace real experience,” Pluto said with a dismissive wave.

“That's not true,” Kitfox said, bumping the other clone in the shoulder with a friendly, but warning look. Pluto shut up, but he didn’t seem too bothered about the silent reprimand his superior just gave him. Disregarding the previous statement, Kitfox smiled again and pointed at the newcomer. “That’s Brash, the local heavyweight. He’s got a good brain for all things tech. If your gear ever flunks out, seek him out before you file any reports. We’ve got a clean equipment record thanks to him.”

He watched the new clone dump the heavy satchel on the crate with a loud thump. The crates creaked under the weight. 

“One day they’ll actually transfer me to R&D,” Brash wishfully mused, and accepted the canned drink that Pluto had fetched while ‘33 looked away. 

“Not while you’re carrying those guns, you’re not,” Pluto chuckled, lightly punching Brash’s very impressively toned arm muscles. “Your brawn is wasted on those tech twerps anyway.”

“Cursed with the strength of the gods,” Brash sighed dramatically, and chugged the drink, and flexed a bicep while doing so. “Don’t worry kid. We’ll show you what a soldier’s life really is like. Not whatever the fancy Kaminoans in their pretty lab coats think it is.”

“What we’re trying to say...” Kitfox said, stressing each word giving ugly looks to his compatriots. “Is welcome to the squad.” 

He received two welcome’s with varying degrees of enthusiasm from the others. Introductions over, Brash then climbed up to work on the dropship that hung suspended above them, while Pluto retreated to a workbench in the corner and carefully placed his rifle onto a clean piece of fabric. 

“And you’ve come at the perfect time. Come with me, I wanna show you something.”

Grinning, Kitfox beckoned ‘33 to follow him and lead him around the tall crates, and a little further into the hangar. 

“Look there,” he nudged ‘33’s shoulders and pointed to the other end of the hangar. 

‘33 raised his head and dutifully followed the captain’s finger. Near the landing strip, slightly concealed behind crates and wandering troops, he saw what the captain had pointed to. A small passenger sized ship, painted red, stood out quite conspicuously from the army standard gear that filled the hangar. Though this is the first time he had seen one up close, there was no doubt what that was.

“A Jedi,” he said quietly. The captain nodded, a wide grin spreading on his scarred face.

“Not just anyone. You’re in luck, Shiny. Your first mission will be commanded by none other than General Obi-Wan Kenobi himself!” Kitfox proudly exclaimed.

“What,” ‘33 gasped, trying his best to contain the shock of nerves that struck through him at the mention of the legendary name. “You’re pulling my leg, Captain.”

“Oh, I would never do such a thing,” Kitfox mirthfully lied. “No, the order came in this morning. We’re moving from the Outer Rim come next cycle. Kenobi will be gathering his forces on the Vindication in the meantime to prepare for the next operation. Word has it, we will be working with the 212th.”

“I heard the 501st will be on it as well. A huge hit on some Sep planet,” Pluto piped in from his workbench. He dutifully inspected the disassembled barrel of his blaster for dirt, even though it was squeaky clean already. 

“Seriously?” Brash injected from above, disbelief in his voice. He lowered himself from the dropship and didn’t bother cleaning up the oil and grime on his face. “Two and a half years in this war and I haven’t seen a sliver of neither Jedi nor central planets, and a Shiny joins us for three days and you get it all.”

“Lucky you,” Kitfox grinned with a light punch to ‘33’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” ‘33 smiled nervously.  

If a Jedi General was joining forces with them, it meant something seriously huge was going to go down. The other clones’ excitement over this development was palpable across the room. Their voices were more hushed, carefully listening for the next orders, the loudest sounds being audible clicks and cracks of weapons getting cleaned and inspected. The mechanics were all getting the starships ready for deployment, the pilots hardly paying attention to their card games as they eagerly awaited their next operation. 

The soldier's blood in him sang. This is what he was born and bred for. But his mind was not so moved. 

His apprehension wasn’t lost on the others. 

‘’What’s that somber look on your face for, huh? You afraid of some action?’’

‘’You’re not?’’ ‘33 asked. 

His honesty seemed to catch them off guard for a sec before they all laughed. Kitfox folded his arms with a playful grin. 

“Oh come on, Sunshine. It will be fine!”, he reassured him. 

“I’ll make sure that when you soil your breeches, the General won’t be there to see it,” Pluto quipped and nodded to the bright red starship in the back of the hangar. He was rewarded with a burst of hearty laughter from the others. ‘33 felt himself flush.

“Very funny,” ‘33 deadpanned. “And my name is not Sunshine. Call me CT-5633.”

The other clone troopers immediately stopped laughing. They all shared a look before their eyes lit up with playful mirth. It filled him with a deep sense of dread. They obviously knew something he didn’t. 

“Oh, but you’re a Shiny. And you’re about as sunny as a Corellian headlight. That makes you Sunshine to me,” Pluto said, arms crossed. 

‘33 looked over at Kitfox in mild horror, to which the captain only shrugged. He at least had the heart to look a little apologetic, but the sly grin on his face destroyed any hopes of getting the captain’s sympathy. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Not sure what they told you in your special extra-fancy Kamino class, but any unnamed troopers going into the GAR are fair game. Aaand… it seems the damage is already done.”

‘33 sputtered in protest, but it seemed his clone brethren had already made up their minds. Brash chuckled and patted his shoulder with his enormous mitten-like hands. Had he not worn armor, he would have had the breath knocked out of him. “You should be happy it was us, or else someone would’ve called you something stupid like Snail, or Grass, or Kitty, or…”

“Brash,” Pluto finished. Brash sent him a red hot stare, which was met with the smaller man’s feigned ignorance. 

‘’Come on, admit it. It's a good name. You’ll come around to it,’’ Kitfox said. 

“I like Sunshine. I also like oxymorons,” Pluto stated plainly. 

“What the fuck is an oxymoron?” Brash said. 

“I’m looking at one right now,” Pluto replied with a pointed glance at Brash, with a small glint of humor on the corner of his lips. 

“Are you asking for the wrench? Because it seems to me you’re asking for the wrench.”

“Can the hijinx, both of you. The Jedi is coming our way,” Kitfox suddenly commanded, professional coolness entering his voice. 

The chatter ceased immediately. The four troopers stood on parade as General Kenobi passed them by. The Jedi was in deep conversation with the Admiral, a plump, older man by the name of Yeltsin. Neither of the CO’s gave them much notice, but Kenobi sent them a polite nod as he passed by. The unexpected eye contact surprised him, and he stiffened before averting his eyes with a clumsy salute. Kenobi simply grinned and kept talking with the Admiral like he was on a daily stroll. 

Neither of the clones relaxed before the Jedi and Admiral were both well out of view. 

“Oh, you got special treatment, rookie,” Pluto whistled and cocked his reassembled blaster with a resounding clack. 

“I think he likes you,” Kitfox smiled and leaned back on his crate with a lazy stretch.

“See, even the legendary General can’t help but gaze at the Sunshine,” Brash joked in a singsong voice. 

“Oh, shut the hell up, all of you,” ‘33 groaned, and followed the captain back to their little corner in the hangar. Cussing at higher-ranked soldiers would have landed him on latrine duty on Kamino, but to his surprise, they just laughed as they continued with their work. He reluctantly accepted one of the canned drinks, something he was told was called beer. It tasted like dirt. 

The rule books didn’t prepare him for any of this.

Chapter Text

CT-5633 was just another face in a sea of identical soldiers as they stood on parade in the main hangar. Just a few hours after Kenobi’s arrival, he had returned to inspect the men. Captain Kitfox had somehow learned of this inspection ahead of time and purposefully placed him on the front row, likely just to tease him. If it wasn’t considered insubordination, ‘33 would’ve smacked him for it. 

He tried to pretend it was just another drill as he stood as straight and firm as he could, vaguely focusing on a very fascinating spot on the upper wall of the hangar as the Jedi casually sauntered past with a detached look on his face. If the General was judging his performance, he couldn’t tell.

“As you can see, they’ve been trained well. We’re strong in numbers, and we’ve supplied emergency troops to battlefields all over the Outer Rim. In addition to this, the 307th has the most reconnaissance experience in the entire GAR. You’ll find few just like it.” It was Yeltsin speaking. At his side stood a small number of bridge officers, who seemed avidly dedicated to writing down everything that was said. Behind them, stood captain Kitfox, accompanied by a severe-looking clone with the colors of the 212th. He had a clean mohawk and dark painted eyes and patiently watched the whole ordeal from the sidelines. The clone’s gaze fell on ‘33, and he quickly averted his eyes. 

“Yes, I’ve read the reports. You were providing assisting troops in the liberation of Bothawui, correct? That expertise will certainly come in handy,” Kenobi said. 

“You are correct, General Kenobi. Most of our men survived the siege, which has been a valuable experience in the following campaigns. We have one of the lowest casualty rates in the entire fleet.”

“Hmm.” Kenobi chimed, not seeming either impressed or critical of the statement, seemed to detach from the conversation, and started patrolling the row of troopers. He stopped at a few soldiers, looking them up and down with very little comment. 

The man presented an impeccable appearance, clad in brown robes and specially commissioned armor, sandy brown beard, and intelligent eyes hiding years and years of combat experience. ‘33 had seen the holovids. He had once studied the Jedi Order’s history, and General Kenobi’s feats had come up multiple times in his curriculum. He used to watch the tapes of the battle of Christophsis on repeat in his bunk as a young cadet. It was surprising to see him so tranquil, quietly surveying the line of troopers that stood beside him, not as the capable and ferocious warrior that he was on the battlefield. 

‘33 realized he was ogling again, and snapped back to watch that one very interesting spot in the hangar ceiling when the Jedi sauntered his direction. The Jedi seemed to be more preoccupied with discussing details with the Admiral than to pay any attention his way, which he silently welcomed. '33 wanted to let out a breath of relief when, to his surprise, he noticed the Jedi had suddenly turned back around and wandered his way. The Jedi stopped right before him and observed him carefully up and down with a mild look of intrigue. ‘33 felt a cold sweat down his back.

“You’re younger than the others,” the Jedi remarked with a practiced, casual aloofness. He grinned amicably, though his eyes remained focused, calculating. Then, he realized Kenobi’s hand was on his shoulder, with a friendly pat. “Try to stay alive out there,” he smirked.

“Sir, yes sir,” ‘33 saluted and tried not to collapse from pure adrenaline as the General left the hangar with the Admiral in tow. 

A few agonizing minutes passed before the General and the Admiral had left the hangar, and they were all dismissed. ‘33 looked back at the Captain, who had gleefully watched him flounder from the sidelines.

He scowled at him.

The captain simply grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

---

“We’ll be exiting hyperspace in three… two… one…”

The bridge officer spoke calmly as the crew anticipated their arrival at the coordinate. They expectantly watched the viewport as the streaks of light shortened and suddenly stopped when the destroyer entered the new space. 

“We are now in orbit of planet 67-DCH99,” another officer said. 

It was, by all means, a dead planet, and so insignificant it could not even warrant a proper name. The beige surface reflected a sandy, dusty soil that was smolderingly hot on the sun side, and frigid in the dark. It could not sustain sentient life, nor could it hold any structures without them sinking into the soft soil, so it had been conveniently ignored on the backwater side of the Outer Rim for the last millennia or so. Perfect for a secret meetup with reinforcements. 

Their planned rendezvous had been coordinated months ago. A secret research team had created a large scale electromagnetic bomb that had the portability of a small tank, which could destroy Separatist machinery by emitting a planet-sized pulse of energy. They were scheduled to pick it up alongside its escort crew for their next large scale objective. Obi-Wan didn’t like the wait, but there wasn’t much he could do until there was some kind of confirmation of their location. 

Within minutes, they entered the sandy planet’s orbit. Obi-Wan watched the bridge officers chatter and send reports and orders to each other in trained synchronicity. He closely observed the viewport for their planned meetup location. The star system they had entered was mostly a wide-open space, occupied by one dying sun and some smaller uninhabited planets. 

The bridge began to grow quiet. An uncomfortable inkling began to grow in the back of his mind. Yeltsin seemed to sense the same thing, as he stood beside him with his hands behind his back. They shared a bewildered look. 

There was no escort to be seen. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Obi-Wan, perplexed. The pit in his stomach grew. “This was the location we agreed upon.”

“Could there have been a miscommunication?” Yeltsin asked though they both knew the answer to that. This had been months in the planning. They didn’t miscommunicate. 

“That is impossible, sir,” Patch confirmed. He was a skinny clone with a neatly trimmed beard, dutifully keeping track of a datapad that flashed numbers and information at a near-impossible speed. “We’re at the exact coordinate. We’re not picking up any signs of reinforcements, yet. Running a scan of the area now, sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded. This was very peculiar. There had been no indication that their planned meeting was at risk; if their rendezvous had been at danger of being intercepted by the Separatists, then there would have been a warning ahead of time. 

‘’Are they delayed?’’ Yeltsin asked. The middle-aged man tapped his chest anxiously. 

‘’They left for hyperspace shortly before us. If they’ve arrived as planned, they would have been waiting for us for 4 and a half standard hours already. Should I send a signal in case they’re nearby?” Patch queried. The clone was coolly professional and waited for the Admiral that began to look more and more agitated by the second. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward before he had a chance to reply. 

“Better not. If there are Separatists in the area, I don’t want to alert them. Stay in orbit for at least half an hour before we try. I want them to reach out to us first. We’ve only just arrived, after all,” he said. “Do send an encoded message to Skywalker that there will be a small delay. I don’t want to leave this place before we locate our men.”

“Of course, sir,” Patch nodded and typed in the commands, and then he paused. “Hold on. I’m picking up movements behind the moon.”

“That better be my shipment,” Yeltsin grumbled. “This operation has been delayed long enough. I wanted my bomb yesterday.”

“You’ll get your bomb. I’d advise patience, Admiral Yeltsin,” Obi-Wan insisted, allowing some ice into his tone. The admiral gave him a sour look back but didn’t comment. 

Something was wrong, that much was clear. The question was what? Obi-Wan fell deep in thought for an inkling of the answer but came up blank. 

The ship sailed towards the moon naturally through orbit. Silently, the bridge crew watched as the pale moon came into view. It was one of the smaller moons as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, and could hardly be classified as such. The icy surface was still, partially illuminated by the surrounding stars. Its thin atmosphere gave it a hazy, smoky look that glowed white in the dim starlight.

“We have been delayed enough as it is,” Yeltsin grumbled. “What are they thinking - ...” 

“Wait…” Obi-Wan interrupted. Something felt very off about this. 

They rounded the moon’s surface, and that’s where they saw it. Two dozen transport ships and escort fighters - floating aimlessly, splintered and charred. Some had entered the moon’s thin atmosphere and crashed, leaving a smoky trail of dust and broken parts. A score of bloated, frozen clone bodies drifted in space, contorted in painful, broken postures as the Vindication floated by. 

There were no survivors. 

“What… happened here?” Yeltsin murmured. 

“I could say the same,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Patch, are there any signals coming from the wreckage? Life signs, comms, anything?” 

“Checking now, sir,” the officer replied calmly, but not without a subtle tone of urgency. “Life signs are negative. Comms, negative. No electric signals either. The escort is dead, sir.”

“No electricity? Did they somehow launch the bomb by accident?” Obi-Wan remarked.

“That’s impossible. It can only be used by typing in the launch code. They’re highly confidential, General,” Yeltsin said. “Only I have the code.”

“Alright, that strikes off an accidental launch. Which brings me to the question, who or what did this?”

“There are no signs of Sep activity in the area, sir,” Patch reported.

“That we know of,” the Admiral retorted sourly. 

“We’re working on that one, sir,” the clone patiently replied. 

Obi-Wan nodded. 

“Good. Keep going. In the meantime, I’d like us to recover what we can. Round up who we can of the bodies for funeral rites. See if we can locate the bomb in the wreckage. I also want the ships stripped of weaponry and anything of value to discourage plundering. After that, we move.”

He heard a string of “yes, sir’s” around the bridge, and went into deep thought while he watched them work. His bad feeling had been right, but there was still something off about all of this. If anything, there were more questions than he could possibly begin to address on the bridge. 

He would simply have to wait and see that the men would find. 

---

Word from the bridge had arrived that they would investigate the wreckage of their planned rendezvous. The details had been scant, but apparently there was something extremely valuable on one of the ships, and the Admiral had been very insistent that they needed to find it. There had been zero electrical signs which indicated there were no clankers on board, but the clones were still on high alert while they inspected the wreckage. 

It took about an hour of scanning before they located an ancient-looking transport ship. It stood out from the military escort by just how old and dirty it looked. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that the escort was protecting this dingy transporter before everything went tits up. Whatever had been on board must have been of extremely high value to warrant military protection of this degree. 

Thanks to some engineering tricks and brute force, the derelict transport ship was docked on the hangar floor. ‘33 helped as the crane slowly lowered the rusty machine down. Brash stood ready with a blowtorch to open the doors. Pluto was off further into the hangar and helped unload provisions and weaponry from the damaged escort ships. 

Kitfox stood back by the munitions crates with a tough-looking trooper in the back. He recognized the other one to be the morose-looking trooper from the inspection earlier that day. Judging by the red mark on his shoulders and his backpack, he looked to be a field medic. 

“Put this back with the other gear, would you,” Brash asked and didn’t wait for an answer as he dumped his toolbox in ‘33’s arms. ‘33 didn’t have a chance to say anything before the large man put his helmet back on and went back to work on the jammed door. The smell of fuel and molten metal filled the hangar as he left him to his work, and made his way over to the captain, toolbox in hand.

“I see you’re finding yourself useful right away, Sunshine,” Kitfox smiled.

“And I told you I’m not Sunshine, Captain,” he responded flatly, but there was no bite in it. Kitfox pretended he didn’t hear him and motioned to the older clone next to him. 

“Sunshine, meet Frostbite. We served together on Christophsis, and the lucky sonofabitch got assigned to the 212th shortly after. He’s probably one of the oldest clones you’ll ever meet, so be respectful.”

“I’d advise you to watch your mouth, Kit,” Frostbite grumbled back to the captain. “Don’t let the Captain mislead you. He and I are batchmates. He’s hardly a minute older than me.” 

“It just means he hasn’t found a way to kill me yet,” Kitfox pointed out. Frostbite shrugged as if the captain had made a fair point. 

The man in question was a little shorter than the captain, armor painted distinctly yellow in a jagged pattern and carrying a very respectable amount of wear and tear.  He brandished a short mohawk, something he noticed was painted in a similar pattern on his helmet as well. He was unnervingly calm and unsmiling, which was further accented by his eyes that were lined with dark paint like the hollows of a skull. 

The two soldiers standing together couldn’t look any more like night and day; the captain lazily sipping from his beer and the other studying him with a dark, weary look that only the old batchers had. 

“Nice to meet you, sir. How come you’re back with the 307th?” ‘33 asked.

“General Kenobi is looking for replacements in the 212th. He took some serious losses on Umbara, so he was recommended here. I joined in because I asked if I could. Besides, Cody couldn’t make it,” Frostbite said, matter-of-factly, as if any clone had the clout to simply ask where to go. 

“You can do that?” ‘33 asked. 

“Officially, I’m here to consult on recruitment matters. In practice, I’m on leave to visit some annoying little brothers,” Frostbite shrugged. The medic fetched a bag of jerky from his large medical satchel and took a large bite. He offered him one. ‘33 shook his head. 

“Don't tell the Jedi he said that. He’ll send him back to the front before I can bother him to my heart's content,” Kitfox half-whispered. Frostbite nodded in agreement.

“So… Is it true we’re going to the Core worlds after this?” ‘33 asked.

“It’s possible. The General has not been keeping me up with the details, but word is we’ve got a big surprise for Dooku. A big hit,” Frostbite said and took a bite of his jerky.

“Kaboom,” Kitfox grinned widely. 

‘33 had no idea what that was supposed to insinuate, but he could sense something important was going to happen. The captain’s eyes were shining with the idea of whatever ‘Kaboom’ was going to be, and it was hard not to be infected by his cadet-like enthusiasm. 

He was given another can of beer from the captain’s secret stash, and they watched the troopers work on the derelict transport ship. Pluto joined Brash and gave him a bottle that he must’ve pilfered from one of the escort ships. The other clone gratefully accepted it, took a large swig, and got back to work. He was about halfway through the cutting process. Just a few more minutes and the door would be open. 

Regardless of the relaxed atmosphere around him, ‘33 couldn’t help but feel like something was… off. He took a large swig of his beer. 

—-

Obi-Wan couldn’t shake his bad feeling. 

His personal quarters smelled like trapped indoor air when he entered it. The small cabin was somewhat dusty from disuse. He was apparently one of the first Jedi to visit the Vindication since Bothawui. It felt like years ago. Maybe it was.

He grabbed a datapad and slumped into the couch. Most of his reports had been filled on the way here, and the reception was too poor to receive any new ones. Realizing the futility of opening the messages on the flimsy connection, he tossed the pad aside and leaned back. 

Deep breaths. The cold lump in his stomach would not budge. 

His losses on Umbara cut deep. Returning to his battalion to see massive holes in the ranks hurt his feelings as much as their absences did in the Force. It was always hard to re-center himself after a big knock like that. Watching the rows and rows of clone troopers of the 307th only highlighted how massive his loss had been. He had no choice but to acknowledge the grief and move on. 

Still, sleep came harder to him these days.

He allowed himself to sigh in frustration. The Force was trying to tell him something. He just didn’t know what. He walked to the center of the room and sat down on the cold steel floor. Eyes closed, breaths regular. Not minding the dust that tickled his nose. Taking in the hundreds - nearly a thousand - life signatures on the enormous ship. The intermingling of little flares of life, going about their days around him. 

He sensed the day-to-day movements of troopers rotating their shifts, eating lunch, cleaning their quarters, taking stock of the ship's inventory. His consciousness drifted from soul to soul, acknowledging their feelings and moving on. He sensed the productive and restless spirits, eagerly anticipating their next mission. Ones that focused deeply on a difficult task. Those that would rather not do anything at all. The gentle chatter of brother to brother. 

He searched deeper, probed a small sliver of something that caught his attention. He examined it closer, turning it in his mind. 

A deep and overwhelming loneliness. Confusion and anger. Awoken. Too loud. Voices, too loud. Cold, dark malice. Rust and blood. Brothers. 

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open in a cold sweat. 

“The freighter,” he gasped and bolted for the door. 

---

Frostbite excused himself and left for the medical deck shortly after their introduction, murmuring something about an appointment on the other side of the ship. That left ‘33 and Kitfox alone in their corner of the hangar. Kitfox munched on the rest of the jerky from the medic’s stash. 

“Ship’s open,” someone called from the other side of the hangar. Looking over, ‘33 saw the smoldering remains of the broken door clang to the floor. Brash, pleased with his handiwork, dropped his blowtorch with a whoop and took a large swig of his bottle. Kitfox whooped back and saluted with his beer.

A couple of troopers immediately headed inside to retrieve the contents. Brash got to work removing the door from the floor, and easily lifted the piece of scrap metal and pinned it against the wall of the freighter. He took another swig of his bottle. Pluto joined the captain and ‘33 with some crates of salvage from the other ships. He placed them on a trolley for transport to the warehouse for registration. 

Brash knocked on the wall of the freighter.

“Hey, Lex, Grin, what’s taking you so long? You get lost in there?” Brash called into the doorway. “You’re missing out on this wine, guys. If you don’t hurry up it’s all gonna be gone.”

A moment passed, and the troopers didn’t emerge from the ship. That was strange. It wasn’t a very large freighter.

It took ‘33 a second to register what was wrong. 

An enormous drone of steam and whirring machinery rung through the hangar. The freighter shook as something inside stirred and moved through it. In the dark entrance, ‘33 glimpsed a long, thin hand wrap around the still-glowing edge of the freighter door. Wrapped in shadow, only barely illuminated by the hangar lights, a hulking figure emerged from the hull of the ship. It towered above Brash, who stood just before it. 

“What… is that?” Pluto said, stunned. 

Whirling into action, Brash was about to grab his blaster, but it was too late. With enormous fists, the beast wrapped a metallic hand around Brash’s neck. He protested and squirmed as he was lifted several feet off the ground. ‘33 yelled something and began to run towards him when a strong hand held him back. It was Kitfox. He looked mortified. 

Brash didn’t make a sound as his neck snapped. The bottle crashed to the floor and broke into a thousand pieces. He was dropped to the floor, motionless.

Before he knew it, the entire hangar exploded into activity. 

Kitfox sprang to action and began barking orders. Clones around him bellowed and screamed.  ‘33 grabbed his rifle and jumped behind a crate and started firing. The creature towered above them, unnervingly still. It was still partially wrapped in shadow, but flashes of its hulking frame were revealed with each bolt that hit its body. Brash’s body laid unmoving on the floor. His eyes were wide open in fear. 

With a hiss of machinery, the creature creaked into a sprint, headed straight toward the captain and him. With its enormous size, it looked like a dropship barreling towards him. Its icy blue eyes glared down at him. At that moment, he heard the elevator door open behind him and someone ran impossibly fast by him. 

“Get away from there! Run!”

It was the Jedi. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he had run from all the way across the ship. Lightsaber drawn, the pale blue light lit up the hangar. With a swipe of the sword, the creature veered to the side and skidded to a halt. 

Blaster bolts pelted off its armor, like glass marbles on durasteel. Each heavy, robotic movement, resounded through the metal floor. ‘33 could feel the vibrations of each step through his boots. From under its ratty cloth wrap, it brandished an enormous weapon and aimed it his way. With a hiss of smoke, a small flashing projectile flew towards him, faster than he could react.

With the swift move of his fist and without even touching it, Kenobi pushed the projectile away from them. The flashing object landed on a pillar where it got stuck. As soon as it touched the metal, a loud beeping timed with the flashing cut through the noise. 

“It’s a bomb!” Kitfox roared and tackled ‘33 to the ground. Vaguely he could sense other clones doing the same. 

The blast rocked the whole ship. Searing white flashed through his every sense. Every sound became muffled. ‘33 gasped as the shockwave passed over him. His and the captain’s bodies were surrounded with soot. 

Before he could wonder how he could be alive, he looked back and saw General Kenobi, arms outstretched. 

Before him, floated a smoldering, mangled drop ship, suspended in the air. He realized the ship had protected them from the main blast. General Kenobi motioned with his hands and the ship crashed immediately.  The Jedi shambled for a second, catching his breath. As he dropped his stance, the smoke flowed into the little pocket that he had created to protect them from the explosion, and the smell of blood and dust invaded his lungs. 

Hull breach detected.

The Vindication groaned around them. The ground shook. The air around him roared and swirled as the enormous tear in the hull widened. 

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Kenobi said breathlessly. 

‘33 located his helmet on the floor, hastily put it on and broke for the edge of the hangar. 

His feet would not meet the ground, and he realized with a cold panic that he was fast going to get dragged into space. He couldn’t help but yell as he grabbed wildly at crates that were creaking against their tethers to the floor. Against the current of air that was fast ejecting from the chamber, he grabbed hold of a loose wire and watched with horror as the blast door not twenty feet from him began to close.  

Somehow, the Jedi was already behind the blast door with Kitfox, Pluto, and a dozen troopers. As he held onto the rocking crate, he could hear the creaking and groans of metal crumbling under the vacuum. He was sure he wouldn’t make it to the blast chamber in time before he would be launched into space, when Kenobi stepped forward, arms outstretched. Something large and invisible enveloped him, and suddenly he was thrown towards the others. 

Tumbling to the ground with a dry cough, he recovered in time to see the entire hangar of the Vindication get sucked into space. The rift that was made in the blast unraveled the ship like a runaway thread on frayed fabric. The unsecured ships began flying around and crashing into each other, causing a chain reaction of explosions and flying debris. He watched as hundreds of his brothers flew into the nothingness of space. He hardly knew any of them. 

“This is what I was afraid of,” Kenobi muttered under his breath. 

“What do you mean the vacuum shields don’t work,” Kitfox barked at a trooper in the back. 

“I… I don’t know. We’ve tried to activate them, but they simply don’t work,” the trooper explained. 

“Get it fixed. Now !” he commanded, and the trooper ran down the corridor. 

“General, look over there!” A clone exclaimed and pointed at the viewport next to the blast door. Their attention was directed at where the freighter had been.

Wrapped in a dusty cloak that whipped and billowed in the rapid air stream, the creature remained. The cold blue stare fixed at them. It seemed hardly bothered by the loss of gravity. It had tethered itself to the floor, long limbs harpooned through the thick metal surface. 

Like hacking icepicks into a mountain wall, the creature took off into the nearest hangar door on the starboard side. With hulking strength, it punched the door several times, creating a gaping hole that sucked a pair of surprised troopers into the vacuum. It vaulted into the corridor, and the sounds of its footsteps resounded through the Vindication . 

The small group of survivors stood for a second, taking in the new threat in stunned silence. Kenobi lifted his comm to his mouth.

“Admiral Yeltsin,” he said. “We have an intruder.” 

Chapter Text

There was no response over the radio. The other troopers tried to use their comms as well, but there was nothing to be heard back from the bridge. They anxiously shuffled around the small space, waiting for Obi-Wan to give them their next order.

“Looks like we have gone dark,” Captain Kitfox reported, confirming what they all thought. “That means that most of the ship likely doesn’t know about our new guest.” 

Obi-Wan scratched his beard, deep in thought. How strange. A hull breach shouldn’t warrant a ship-wide communications blackout. Neither did the lack of vacuum shields. Something else was going on. 

“I hate to say it, but we need to split up,” he said. “I want you to spread the word about the invasion and tell the men to be on guard. I don’t want this creature to get any further into the ship.”

“Sir.” Kitfox acknowledged. 

“Captain, take as many men as you can and inform Admiral Yeltsin. Get a repair crew on the comms and shields as soon as possible. I will pursue the creature and try to stop it.”

“I’ll see to it,” the captain said, then he frowned. “But you shouldn’t go alone, General. You’ll need the extra firepower.”

“I can take care of myself, captain,” Obi-Wan retorted coolly. 

“Humor me. Just so that the Admiral doesn’t court-martial me for getting a Jedi killed,” he said with a wink. He framed it jokingly, but not without a hint of don’t argue with me . 

Obi-Wan considered it a moment before the ship shook from another shockwave coming from somewhere on the starboard side. The lights blinked above them.

“We’re wasting time. Alright, captain, I’ll take four men. Make it quick,” he concluded and waited as the captain barked orders to his men. 

“Slack, Imp, you go with him,” Kitfox said and nodded to two of the men next to him, who joined his side without hesitation. He then pointed to a slender trooper with an enormous sniper rifle. “Pluto. You go as well.” The sniper nodded. The captain scanned the rest of the group until he landed on a trooper in the back. “You too, Sunshine. That Jedi is too reckless for his own good. He could use your good sense.”

“I can hear you, Kitfox,” Obi-Wan deadpanned, trying not to let his impatience leak into his tone and failing. His emotions were all over the place. 

Deep breaths. Center yourself.

“Ri-right!” Sunshine sputtered, surprised at having been chosen. He recognized the clone as the one he had rescued from the depressurized hangar not two minutes earlier. His armor was completely pristine compared to the others. 

“Make the 307th proud, brother,” Kitfox said to the shiny, who nodded in a quick salute and fell into place with the squad. 

“Right then. Try to keep up,” Obi-Wan nodded and sprang down the corridor. 

—-

Running down the endless corridors to locate the intruder took longer than he’d like. The hull breach had activated many of the automatic blast doors in the hallways, turning the place into a labyrinth, winding and backtracking with no way to tell which hallway was clear and which was blocked. With the vacuum shields down, opening any of the blast doors was too risky, in case the hull was compromised on the other side. There were no diagnostics officers over the radio telling them which corridors were safe and which ones weren’t. He simply had to follow the sounds of destruction up ahead and the guidance of the Force. 

“Admiral Yeltsin, come in. Do you read me?” He spoke into his comm, knowing full well what to expect. When the tiny speaker answered with static, he sighed and kept running. The only reasonable course of action was to take out the problem here and now. They could fix the comms later, as soon as that thing was out of the picture. 

Alarms blared around them. The corridors flickered into darkness as the ship rocked and groaned from the hull being torn apart. They passed several troopers who were running around in confusion, trying to find out what’s going on. He heard Imp and Slack give brief orders to them as they ran past. Spreading information through word of mouth alone was an uphill battle, but for now, it was their only option. 

Obi-Wan suddenly stopped. The trooper right behind him skidded to a halt with a grunt of surprise. He looked down on the floor before him. 

“This is… this is going to be a problem,” he murmured, staring wide-eyed at the scene before him. The clones behind him looked confused at his statement before they finally entered the room. They all recoiled in disgust.

Enormous dents marked the wall where something large and heavy had collided with it. Scorch marks from blasters littered the metallic surfaces everywhere. Sparks flew from the panels around and pipes were exposed leaking condensation. Oil and lubricants leaked from the ceiling and dribbled down onto the floor in half-congealed chunks, covering the walls and floor in a slick sheen. 

Just by his feet, he had almost stumbled into a clone - or, half of one. Bathed in his own blood and entrails, the trooper had died reaching for the door they had just entered. His legs were somewhere further down the hall. Another clone was smashed into the wall with the force of a runaway speeder, half embedded in the steel panel, and bleeding a pool of red onto the floor below, blending into the oil and grime in a smear of red and black. A third body laid spread-eagle across the floor. His head was nowhere to be seen. 

“What… happened here?” Slack murmured in disgust, echoed by the three others.

“That clanker happened,” Pluto replied grimly and carefully inspected the corridors for any anomalies with Imp covering his back. Their boots were blackened by the time they reached the end of the corridor. The others followed, slowly, carefully not to slip on the oil. 

The blast door ahead was shut. Instead, there was a large gash in the wall where the culprit had somehow carved a path through. Its footsteps were enormous and heavy, prints clearly visible against the pristine deck of the Vindication . 

“It’s not trying to conceal itself,” Sunshine observed quietly. 

“Looks like it doesn’t need to,” Slack replied grimly. 

“Like crumbs on a trail…” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. 

It was close. 

He took off running, following the prints. He could sense it ahead. The malicious, cold, aching source of something just a few corridors down. The pit in his stomach grew heavier as the destruction and death were slowly revealed before him. The closer he ran, the larger the trail of blood became. The stench was unbearable. He passed another crushed half of a trooper by, passing by his other half at the other end of the hallway. 

Obi-Wan sensed it before he saw it. 

He dodged out of the trajectory of a long, rusty metal arm that shot forward and crashed into the wall next to him. A clone hung from his neck in its grasp, scrabbling for air before falling limp. 

Clad in the ratty brown cloth, the creature almost completely filled the corridor with its massive size. Two thin, crane-like arms held a wailing clone between their grasp, threatening to pull him apart. Another pair of arms were striking a reinforced door with incredible strength, each strike shaking the corridor around them. It seemed to want to carve a path deeper into the ship. With each strike, steam poured from its form, enveloping it in a strange, hot mist and obscuring its form from view. 

It was clear the creature was entirely robotic. Then, why did he sense such a strange aura about it?

Slack and Pluto, who had been following just behind, burst into action and began firing at the creature. Imp and Sunshine came just after and kneeled by the door and provided assisting firepower. As the blaster bolts hit its frame, the creature paused mid-strike. With a groan of hydraulics and rusted metal, it slowly turned toward them. The icy blue lights were trained directly at him. A cold chill ran down Obi-Wan’s back. 

Obi-Wan went into a defensive position, ready for anything. He eyed the sobbing trooper in its grasp and considered his options. Rockets or bombs were too risky - the extent of the damages to the hull is not yet known and he didn’t want to risk ejecting any more souls out to space. If blasters were useless and explosives were out of the question, then defeating it was going to be up to him. He lit his lightsaber.

“Be careful. We don’t know what it's capable of yet,” he warned his troops, getting acknowledging grunts in return.

He lunged at it. With a running start, he sprang up towards its head and attempted to strike one of the arms that held the clone. His trajectory was thrown off course by a third set of arms hidden under the cloak shot forward, and he deftly sprang out of their way. For a gargantuan droid, it was surprisingly past. And there was something about it… an inkling in the back of his mind that told him something was very, very wrong. 

Obi-Wan dodged another strike and pushed it back with the Force, hoping to topple it. It responded by digging one of its arms into the wall, sparks flying as it skidded backward, but didn’t fall. Momentum recovered, the droid ripped its arms out of the wall with a loud creak of bending steel. The droid marched forwards towards him and attempted to grapple him again, but this time he saw it coming. He bounced out of the way and vaulted over its head, landed on the other side of the creature and attempted to swipe its legs. The metal sparked against the pulsing plasma 

The leg was smoking, and there was a singed spot where his saber hit. 

He frowned. 

It was still fully intact. 

The creature rotated around to face him. Blaster bolts flew off its metallic carapace, completely unbothered. The clone in its arms screamed incoherently, drowned out by the sounds of blasters and alarm sirens and pistons hissing and pumping inside of the creature. The trooper was suddenly tossed aside, and he crashed against the wall with a wet crack.

Obi-Wan surged into action. He ran at the creature and bounced away from the metallic, grasping hands that flew toward him. Dodging the incoming barrelling fists, he caught a glimpse of something… peculiar. 

Just underneath the cloth, there was a strange triangular shape, pulsing faintly red, embedded in its torso. It was too small to see from the distance and it emitted a strange, uncanny aura that he couldn’t put his finger on. The strange object seemed to respond to his presence, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. 

Could it be its power source?

“I think I found a weak spot,” he yelled to his men. “Hit its chest!”

The men acknowledged his command and redirected their fire. Obi-Wan changed to an attacking stance and began swiftly dodging around it, swiping where he could and be gone before it could counter-attack. Compared to other droids in the Separatist army, he had faced worse. He weaved and swiped at its armor, to no effect. Until… 

“There,” he said, eyeing the triangular glow in its armored chest. 

He plunged his saber towards it. It made contact and -

A deep and overwhelming loneliness. 

Confusion and anger. Awoken. Too loud. Voices, too loud. 

Cold, dark malice. Rust and blood. 

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Stars filled his vision. He recoiled and staggered backward in surprise. His head pounded, pulsing with something that had just crawled into his brain. That cold, heavy feeling that had nagged in the back of his mind for hours resurfaced, stronger than ever, and pierced his soul like a rusted needle. 

Darkness enveloped him, and for a moment he was floating in nothingness. 

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Empty, frigid, lo - ...

Obi-Wan didn’t sense himself flying and colliding with the wall. He came to, vision swimming and mouth dry, gasping unevenly for air as the wind got knocked out of him. He vaguely sensed a trooper grabbing his arms and dragging him away. 

“Fuck! We need reinforcements!”

“Nobody knows we’re here, Slack!” Imp yelled back. “Get the General to safety!” 

Obi-Wan blinked. What just happened?

He was pulled back just in time to see Imp get trampled by the enormous droid. He was dead instantly. 

“I can… I can fight it,” Obi-Wan slurred and reached for his lightsaber. He winced. His shoulder protested firmly against the movement. His head pounded ceaselessly, so much he could hardly see. He braved a glance down his chest to locate his saber. It was nowhere to be found. “Where…?”

“Get him away from that thing,” Pluto barked at Slack and the other clone nodded. “Sunshine, hold your ground. I will distract it.”

Obi-Wan staggered to his feet and realized he was suddenly leaning against Slack’s shoulder. They were moving away from the monster. He vaguely registered Sunshine and Pluto covering their backs just up ahead. 

He felt rather than saw the dark shadow that passed overhead. A metallic hand with long, menacing fingers wrapped around Slack’s head and dragged him back, yanking them both to the floor. Obi-Wan watched with blurry vision as the trooper was dragged back from his head and into the looming shadow of the robot’s form.

Pluto fired bolt after bolt, to no avail. He vaguely noticed Sunshine running over to Obi-Wan. He was dragged up and they began the slow march down the corridor. 

“Close the door behind us,” Obi-Wan said. Mouth dry. Stilted. He felt oddly distant, as if the legs he was walking on weren’t his. “Delay it.”

Sunshine nodded and didn’t waste any time getting to work. The door was a few feet behind them, so the rookie placed him next to a trolley carrying equipment and gear and ran over to the controls. The rookie shouted for Pluto to follow. 

The older clone was holding his ground against the creature. Unlike the standard-issue rifle, Pluto’s sniper was equipped with heavy enough rounds that staggered it. He carefully timed each blast, hitting the droid mid-stride to throw it off rhythm. It didn’t stop it, but it slowed it down. The clones barked orders to each other, as Pluto carefully stepped backward, firing bolt after bolt at the droid’s armor to keep it at bay.

Sunshine paused and looked over to the drums again. “Wait, I have an idea.”

He grabbed two canisters and ran back towards Pluto.

“What the hell are you doing? Get away from here!” the sniper shouted. 

“Trust me!” Sunshine yelled back and heaved one canister above his head. “When I say shoot…”

Pluto regarded him for a moment.  

“Don’t mess up,” he said. 

Sunshine carefully measured the weight and distance of the monster that was slowly lumbering toward them. Then, he leaned back, did one last measurement - and tossed. It flew in a clean arc above its head, just barely hitting the corridor ceiling and toward the droid’s head.

“Shoot!”

The sniper replied with a single round of heavy blaster fire, hitting the canister perfectly. It exploded with a burst of white foamy liquid and mist. It hit the robot across the torso and liquid leaked into its exposed machinery, emitting steam as the material touched the hot surface. 

The droid floundered against the foreign substance, before it gradually became slower and more stilted, and then stopped moving. It stood there in the middle of the corridor, still whirring and glowing. The empty blue eyes staring holes at him.

But it was completely still.

Pluto let his rifle down for a second and watched it for a few moments. They all panted heavily. Obi-Wan was caught by surprise how quiet the corridor suddenly became.

“Did it… did it work?” Sunshine stuttered. He held the second canister protectively against his chest and stared at the unmoving monster.

“What the hell was that?” Pluto exclaimed and pointed back at the steaming robot down the corridor.

“Liquid nitrogen, sir,” Sunshine replied. “It’s nitrogen in a liquid state at low temp…”

“You don’t have to explain it, kid. Hurry up and get the General to the medbay. I’ll close the blast door.”

“Right!”

Sunshine ran over to Obi-Wan, who had watched the whole thing. He helped him back to a stand, much to the protest of his shoulder and head and ribs...  his everything. Everything hurt. Still, he didn’t take his eyes off the droid for one moment. As welcome as the rookie’s ingenious idea was, it was short lived. 

“It’s waking up,” Obi-Wan slurred. His vision swam and flashed white with stars for each passing heartbeat. 

They heard a grinding noise of metal against metal. The droid slowly began moving, with stilted repetitive movements before, with a hiss, it heated up the entire room with steam. From beneath its cloak, it brandished a weapon. They saw a large projectile that flashed red. It was the same type of sticky bomb that had just unraveled the whole hangar. However, unlike the enormous hangar space, this was an enclosed area.

In a panic, Sunshine tossed the other canister of liquid nitrogen with his off-hand. Pluto followed the trajectory of the canister through the scope of his rifle and fired again. With a splash, the canister exploded in a white, snowy cloud that seeped into the cracks and crevices of the droid. Just like last time, the droid fell silent and didn’t move. 

However, they now had a different problem; from its frozen arms, the bomb clinked to the floor and rolled in their direction. It was still flashing. 

All three of them shared a nervous glance. 

“Run!” Pluto bellowed. He closed the blast door, and grabbed Obi-Wan’s other arm, and carried him away. They bolted through the corridor and urged other troopers to follow suit as they passed them by. The doors closed behind them one after one, but they all knew it wouldn’t be enough. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if he could hear the beeping of the impending blast, no matter how far they ran.

He made up his mind. He wrestled free of Sunshine and Pluto’s grasp and positioned himself in the middle of the passage, arm forward and eyes closed. He hardly noticed the chaos around him as he tapped into the Force, absorbing it in like he would take a big gulp of air before a deep dive.

“What the hell are you doing?” Pluto yelled. 

“What I can,” Obi-Wan said, feeling the Force swirl around him. It was going to be risky, but he had to try. There was nothing else he could do. “Stand by me.” 

He tapped as deep into his reserves as he could, pushing beyond his boundaries and then some. He sensed the walls around, the souls running and yelling in confusion, the vibrations ringing through the durasteel plated floors. It was more energy he was used to dealing with at once, far too much at once and far too fast. His body was trembling with the pain and effort, but still, he doubled down. 

There was a sudden silence, then a resounding boom.

Obi-Wan could sense the shockwave that was coming before it arrived. He reached into the Force and gathered all of the energy he could muster. The floor shook, the explosive force rolled toward them. He wrapped them with a protective force field, a cocoon, centered just in his immediate area. It's all he could do. 

Deep breaths. Center yourself.

The blast door blew open, his vision filled with white and -

Chapter Text

‘33 awoke.

His bearings arrived along with the weight of something heavy crushing his body. It was slow at first, like dragging his consciousness through knee-deep dirt and grime. Darkness, low drones of distant machinery, a strange feeling of the ground beneath him not feeling entirely steady. His mind wandered to standing on a boat in Kamino, feeling drenched and heavy and hungry and tired and -

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, and then cringed at how loud it sounded. 

The stench of oil, humidity, and blood entered his helmet, intruding into his consciousness like a needle in the brain. Where the hell was he? It didn’t feel like any of the drills on Kamino. 

No... The Vindication . The empty freighter. The explosion in the hangar. A droid... A large one. 

The Jedi.

‘33 woke with a start, which he regretted immediately when his helmet knocked with a loud clang against a big piece of something just above him. A moment of additional investigation told him that he was lying face down underneath a piece of rather large metal… a piece of the wall, it would seem. Or maybe ceiling? 

Luck was on his side. The slab of debris pinned over him was resting on top of loosened pipes that stuck out from the wall, creating a small tent-like space. It gave him just enough wiggle room to free himself without causing too much injury. In fact, it seemed the plating above him had protected him from a rather large explosion. There were scorch marks everywhere but under the little nook he found himself in. 

Aside from a pounding headache - and what would be some eventual heavy bruising down his back - he was fine. 

The General, however, was not doing so well. He was unconscious, lying pressed just underneath him. His usually immaculately groomed appearance was nowhere to be seen; his sandy hair flopping into his face and beard sticky with blood and sick. The bleeding had stopped some time ago, as it had darkened quite a bit. 

How long have I been out?

Not wanting to contemplate it further, ‘33 moved. Slowly, carefully, he began to lift the piece of plating above him. It creaked and groaned from the pressure, but it didn’t seem to loosen anything else above him. Causing a chain reaction of falling debris is the last thing he wanted to happen. 

With the wreckage out of the way, he saw how lucky he had been. The room was utterly unrecognizable, charred, and half-melted from where the explosion had hit. Had they been closer to the hull, they would have certainly been ejected. In fact, it seemed that the two diameter area just around them was strangely unharmed. 

Not bothering to ponder it any longer, he brought his comm to his mouth. “Calling all channels, this is CT-5633. General Kenobi is badly hurt. I need assistance.”

The speaker was unnervingly still in return. Did it break in the blast? 

No, the comms had been down since the hull breach. 

A cursory check on his helmet’s HUD showed that he had been unconscious for nearly half a day. He felt his stomach plummet. Kenobi might not have much time. 

Clearing the debris from the Jedi’s body revealed something far more pressing - a long, thin iron rod that protruded from his side. There was a large bloom of red around the wound, but ironically, the piece of metal likely kept him from bleeding out the several hours they had been out. 

“That… complicates things,” ‘33 breathed. His mind raced with all of the drills and training in his simulations. He had a few standard-issue bacta patches in his belt pouch. He grabbed a part of the Jedi’s tabard and tore it into strips. The material was tougher than he expected, which was a blessing in disguise. The thick material would take longer to bleed through. It would do.

He gingerly and carefully freed him of the iron rod. The man moaned but didn’t wake. Quickly, he wrapped the wound with the bacta patches and tied them as best he could with the cloth strips. Somewhat pleased with his handiwork, he hauled him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. A visit to the medbay would do more good than waiting around for help. 

Before he began the trek back, he did a cursory look around the area. He dug around the rubble, for any clues, anything.

“Pluto?”

There was no answer. Lips thin, he hesitantly looked back and then began the long trek toward the medbay.

---

A chill ran down his spine as he slowly made his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the Vindication . Everywhere he went, there were bodies, smashed and broken. Trails of blood and sinew decked the floor and made every step feel sticky. The path was completely dark save for the deep red emergency lights above and the flimsy headlight from his helmet. 

Each of his footsteps resonated loudly down the empty corridors. Some blast doors were shut, and he was forced to turn around. In other places, the floor had collapsed into levels below, exposing beams and tubes that leaked water, sewage, and oil. Some rooms were on fire, spewing smoke and dangerous chemicals he did not want the General to come near.

He entered a hallway where the fluorescent lights flickered arhythmically. There were traces of blood along the wall, but he couldn’t see any bodies. Between the blinks of the lamps, he spotted an open door near the end of the corridor. There was a medical cross painted on the wall next to it.

“Perfect,” he smiled to himself. Small victories. 

Quietly, he entered, careful not to knock the General’s head on the door frame. The room was completely dark, and to his displeasure, the light switch did not work. He activated the little headlight attached to his helmet. 

“Alright, so there’s no power,” ‘33 muttered to himself. “Great.”

It was almost impossible to see anything in the cramped room. He carefully deposited Kenobi’s body onto one of the exam tables attached to the domed medical scanner. Searching around he knocked into tables and almost tripped on a loose cable. 

The flimsy flashlight glanced over a skull shape in the back, and he almost fired his blaster at it from sheer instinct, before he realized it was a plastic model of a human skeleton. He sighed in frustration at his own skittishness and shoved the skeleton aside. 

He finally found the medical droid in the corner. It was crumpled, crushed against a medical cabinet, leaking oil. 

“Just my luck,” he groaned.

With the med-droid out of the question, he began scanning the desks and cabinets for anything useful. He tore open all the drawers he could find and allowed himself a little whoop in celebration when he found a flashlight, one stronger than the one his helmet was equipped with. Armed with better visibility, he located some basic gear; bacta patches, medical staples, bandages, painkillers. A lot of it had been raided already, but he was lucky to find an entire cabinet that was untouched, likely overlooked in the darkness.

With renewed motivation, he returned to the General’s side. The provisional first-aid work and the extended fireman’s carry had not done any favors for the puncture wound in his midsection. The cloth strips had been shifted to the side and the bacta patch had loosened slightly, allowing a sluggish stream of red to seep through. 

A quick glance in a nearby mirror revealed how much blood the Jedi had lost; from ‘33’s shoulder and down to his thighs, he saw a glistening red stripe against his white, unmarked armor. 

Now, armed with some actual equipment, he got to work. With no power and a dubious light source, ‘33 was unsure how much better he would do than his previous attempt playing the role of a medic, but at least this time the equipment was sanitized. 

“Why didn’t I take those extra first aid classes,” he lamented under his breath, trying his best to disinfect, close and stick the gauze to the General’s wound. The bandage stuck, but another round of fireman’s carry might undo all of his work. He would have to wait for the bacta to do its work. 

A crash sounded behind him and he froze. He turned to the corridor behind him, searching for the source.

The lights flashed ceaselessly on the other side of the door, at a disorienting, dizzying speed. 

He heard another clang, this time closer. It came from the hallway he had just arrived from. 

And another. 

And another. 

And another.

A scraping sound of metal screeching against metal grated against his eardrums. Are those… footsteps?

He hesitantly sneaked to the entrance of the medbay and grabbed his rifle. Inching closer to the door, he risked a peek. The lights blinked, endlessly. 

Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.

Several feet down the empty corridor, he could hear the noises approaching.  The floor began to vibrate with each step. A metallic fist wrapped around the corner of the corridor up ahead. It was followed by the head, and two round, unblinking eyes, obscured in the darkness of the ratty hood.

‘33 staggered backward in shock. He tripped and knocked into a counter. Lots of pieces of equipment and data pads clattered to the floor. He flinched from the racket. 

“Shit! ” he hissed quietly to himself. “That thing is still alive?!”

In a cold panic, he scanned the room. There was no way he could run away with the General unconscious. His blaster was useless. His mind spun with plan after plan after plan while the heavy, metallic footsteps loomed closer and closer. 

‘33 whirled into action. With no other options, he grabbed the bottom of Kenobi’s gurney and forced it into the diagnostic scanner. There was no power to run it, causing a loud screeching noise from the machinery protesting against it. He successfully pushed it in, and tossed a pile of shock blankets over his legs, stuffing the entrance. In the darkness, it would be impossible to see that there was a person in there. He just hoped it’d be enough. 

‘33 could see the enormous machine’s shadow grow larger for each blink in the hallway. Without thinking, he ran to the corner of the room, where the medical droid laid crushed. He lifted it with some effort and sat down where it had been. He dragged the robot over his body, hopefully disguising him well enough. Its weight smothered him, and the lolling, metallic head scratched against his helmet. He switched off his flashlights. Oil leaked from the droid’s dented shell and spilled onto his armor. 

The footsteps roamed closer and closer, and for a second, he was hoping that the creature would pass the med-bay by altogether. Then, it stopped, right in front of the entrance. The whirring of machinery and pistons whined and crooned as it turned with stilted robotic movements to face the door. 

In the darkness and the endless flashing, all he could see was the imposing silhouette of the creature as it stood in the doorway. Two, icy blue eyes were visible under its hood. One of its many arms slowly slinked into the medbay, followed by another and then another, as a spider would crawl out of a hole. The creature fit itself through the narrow door and began scanning the room. 

‘33 held his breath. 

Metal and steam groaned and creaked as it slowly started to wander the small space. The thin, skeletal arms orbited around it and brushed against each surface of the room as if they could see or sense things. It picked up cups and pens and tossed them aside as it deemed them uninteresting. 

One of the rusted hands touched the model skeleton in the corner. As if recognizing the shape of a human skull, its head whipped around, inspected it - and squeezed. The model skeleton crumpled under its grasp like stepping on a seashell. The skeleton was dropped, and the droid observed with interest as it crashed to the floor. The fragments of the skull rolled over to the corner ‘33 hid. 

His pulse was louder than the clangs of the robot’s enormous feet crushing glass and plastic under its weight. 

The arms resumed scanning the room, like little feelers of an insect. ‘33’s eyes widened as one hand whipped just past his face and landed on the droid on top of him. The head whipped around, and it closed in on the head in its grasp. The enormous silhouette filled his entire vision. All he could see were the unblinking, lifeless blue eyes inspecting the medical droid’s head, turning it, twisting it. Then squeezed. The medical droid’s head crumpled easily and leaked oil and wires onto his helmet. It covered his visor, clouding his vision with grey and black.

‘33 felt himself turn blue from lack of breath. His heart pulsed so loudly he thought it was going to burst from his chest. 

Then, the droid halted. With a puff of steam and hydraulics, it straightened its back and turned. It dropped the droid’s head onto him and he had to stop himself from grunting in surprise. Seemingly satisfied with its search, the arms retreated back under its cloak and started marching out of the corridors. 

Stilted, repetitive clangs rang through the ship as it walked further and further away. And then it was too far away to be heard at all.

‘33 didn’t move from his spot for several minutes. 

He wasn't sure if he could.

Chapter Text

‘33 didn’t waste any time getting out of the medbay and far, far away from the creature. 

He found a medic’s backpack in one of the cabinets and stuffed it full of equipment that hadn’t been crushed or broken by the droid’s footsteps. Geared up with as much as he could carry, he returned General Kenobi to the fireman’s carry and resumed his exploration of the ship. 

He had only been stationed on the Vindication for three days before the attack. It didn’t give him enough time to memorize the structure of the ship, and he had to follow the directional signs as much as possible so as not to get lost. He did have preliminary map training on Kamino - and even visited one of these ships as a young cadet - but each star destroyer had slightly different purposes and was constructed for different needs. 

The Vindication was no exception; with the heavier focus on recon and support troops, the ship was filled with endless corridors leading to bunks and warehouses. It made every hallway nearly identical. In a way, the scorch marks and trails of blood helped him navigate it better. 

Small blessings, I suppose, he thought wryly to himself.

He explored the ship for nearly an hour. The destruction had been way more comprehensive than he first thought. He had followed a path to the nearest escape pods for the better part of that hour before the smoke and fire in that section forced him to turn around. 

There was no choice but to aimlessly wander the place, hoping that he wouldn’t make too much noise. Endurance training had been one of his strengths, but by the forty-minute mark, the weight of the Jedi on his shoulders began to ache.

A sound in his helmet suddenly sparked to life and he yelped in surprise. 

“... message to all living personnel to respond. This is a ship-wide message to… ”

'33 gasped and fumbled to switch on the comm mic in his helmet. 

“CT-5633 speaking,” ‘33 said hurriedly as if the voice would disappear if he didn’t speak up fast enough. “I am reading your message.”

“Patch here. Good to finally hear a friendly voice. ” The man on the other end responded. '33 immediately recognized his voice and accent to be a clone.

“Likewise, sir,” he smiled briefly before he remembered the weight on his back. “I- I have the General. He’s in a bad way.”

“The General? ” Patch blurted. The line was quiet for a second before the voice crackled through the small speaker again. “We salvaged some medical equipment before the station blew. Come to the Officer’s Deck, undetected. It doesn’t know we’re here yet.”

“Copy that. I’m at the Engineering deck now, headed your way. Bogey was last spotted in the medbay by Requisitions 5D an hour ago.”

“Right. Is the General responsive? ”

‘33 glanced at Kenobi’s unconscious form hanging across his shoulders. Aside from pulling out the metal rod of his side, he had been unnervingly silent. He could feel the man’s pulse in his grasp, but who knew how long it would last. “Negative. I did what I could, but he needs emergency care ASAP.”

Another bout of silence ensued before the clone spoke again. “I’ll send Frostbite and Carcass your way. Rendezvous at Mess Hall B and they’ll help you out .”

‘33 perked up. Frostbite? A surge of relief filled him, hearing the familiar name, even though he didn’t know the guy very well. 

Mess Hall B was just around the corner. The counters and tables would make it more defensible than the narrow pathways. He could pick up provisions and get some water. It would do. 

“Appreciated,” ‘33 said. “But… how am I speaking to you at the moment? I thought the comms were down.”

“I set up something using spare parts around the ship. At the moment it only works with the trooper helmet wavelength ,” Patch explained. “The ship-wide intranet is completely busted. No signals will go in or out of the ship. I’m... working on a solution. ”

‘33 nodded. That’s good news. Maybe getting out of here wasn’t a pipe-dream after all. “Good to know,” he replied. “By the way, the creature doesn’t like the cold. It was hit with a canister of liquid nitrogen. It seemed to stun it,” ‘33 reported. 

“Noted. Don’t die out there, ” Patch said. 

“Not before the General is safe,” ‘33 replied wryly. His arms were tired from carrying the Jedi and his armor was stained black from oil, soot, blood, and sweat. At least he had some brothers out there. 

“Then you better get here soon. Patch out .”

---

It was a slow going getting to the mess hall. His head was pounding, his body hurt from the blast, and he was hungry and parched. Carrying the dead weight that was General Kenobi certainly didn’t help his aching shoulders. He carefully made his way through, his senses overly aware of any sound and drip of condensation that fell from the roof. Occasionally he would find a body, a sign that the creature had passed through this place at some point. Sometimes he would stop just to listen, to hear if the tell-tale clangs of footsteps were approaching.

Kenobi began to rouse shortly before he found the doors to the mess hall. A strained sound came deep from his throat, his voice hoarse and squinting eyes, which ‘33 could only assume was born from a killer headache.

Maneuvering them both into the hall and quietly entering the kitchen, he gently put him down on the floor where he could see all of the exits. Thankfully, there was power in this section, and the fluorescent light of the kitchen lamps cast few shadows. 

“I’ve secured a spot in the mess hall kitchen. Waiting for pickup,” ‘33 reported. 

“Good. I’ll let Frostbite know. He got close to the clanker, so he had to reroute. He’ll be there soon. ”

He didn’t like the sound of that, but he nodded all the same. “Right.”  

He sat on a kitchen counter and nibbled absentmindedly on a carrot he found on the abandoned surface. It probably wasn’t very sanitary, but with nothing else to occupy his mind, he didn’t think too hard about it. 

He looked down on Kenobi’s sprawled body. He had no idea what had happened just before that explosion before he passed out. The Jedi had wrestled free of his grip, and somehow… protected them both from the shockwave that had completely demolished their surroundings. He knew the Jedi Generals were powerful, Kenobi in particular, but the stunt seemed to defy all laws of the universe. Did Jedi really have the power to stop a bomb? Regardless, he was grateful to be alive. 

A few minutes into anxiously nibbling on the leftover ingredients, he noticed Kenobi finally begin to stir. He seemed sluggish and disoriented, but to his relief - not on death’s door. 

“Where... are we?” Kenobi groaned. 

“General! You’re awake! We are in Mess Hall B awaiting reinforcements, sir. We’re going to patch you up and locate the nearest escape pod, sir.”

He opened his eyes and looked surprised at his enthusiastic voice. He glanced around the room warily before turning back to him. “Then there are…”

“Survivors, yes... Though I don’t know how many. Clone troopers Patch, Frostbite, and Carcass, sir. The latter two are on their way to help us out, sir,” Sunshine dutifully reported. 

Kenobi frowned in response. Hearing that only three aside from themselves were alive was perhaps not the news he had hoped to hear. The Jedi made an attempt to move, but he stopped with a pained wince. 

“I… don’t think you should do that, sir. You were skewered by a metal rod, which will need stitches… or better ones than I could give, at least. And I think you may have some cracked ribs too. You should not move until the others arrive, General.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Kenobi wheezed with his eyes squeezed shut with an arm across his face. He breathed as deeply as he could and rode out the pain. 

“I need to know if there’s internal damage, sir. Do you feel any unusual pain in your abdomen?”

“Oh, as opposed to regular pain?” the General retorted breathlessly with no real bite in the remark. ‘33 simply stared as the Jedi breathed slowly and measuredly through his nose with a hard bite to his bloodied lip. “It’s hard to tell. I’m kind of preoccupied with having recently been impaled.”

‘33 didn’t press any further, as Kenobi seemed to be as well behaved as a patient as he could expect, judging by the circumstances. He simply sat back on a counter and dragged his fingers through his short hair, awkwardly looking back at the doors. He hardly had any idea how to hold a conversation with a regular trooper, much less one of the highest ranked officers in the GAR. 

“Frostbite, you said?” Kenobi asked, after a moment of silence.  

“Yeah. He left the hangar shortly before it blew up,” ‘33 said. 

“Good. That’s good,” Kenobi grinned weakly. “That man has a way of surviving even the unlikeliest of scenarios. We’ll be in good hands.”

That… did make ‘33 feel a little more at ease. While most of the crew had been utterly decimated in this strange attack, the ones who did survive seemed to be experienced. Capable.

He watched as the General closed his eyes with calmly drawn breaths and dropped the grimace of pain as the Jedi entered some sort of trance. It looked like he was sleeping, but he could tell that the man was still awake. He was curious, but kept his mouth shut.

An uneasy quiet befell both of them. ‘33 paced the small kitchen space and watched each door with suspicion and anticipation. He rooted through the cupboards and fridges to find anything they could use, but aside from the usual slop of rations and frozen provisions, there was little other to do but sit on a counter with his rifle primed and ready for anything.

Whatever the Jedi was doing, it seemed to ease his condition somewhat. ‘33 stopped himself from nervously shaking his leg, but he couldn’t help his gaze flicking towards the doors. 

“Still your thoughts, trooper. I need you focused right now,” the General said, eyes still shut. 

‘33 cringed. Was he being that obvious?

“Right.”

Kenobi sighed, having seemingly given up on meditation for now. “Sunshine, was it?”

“Huh?”

“Your name. I recall Captain Kitfox saying your name back there.”

“That’s not… that’s not my name. I’m CT-5633.”

The Jedi raised an eyebrow. “Frostbite’s number is CT-2140. Captain Kitfox is CT-2143. I don’t recall hearing you call them that.”

“That’s not… that’s not the same.”

“Alright,” he nodded and rose carefully to sit against the wall. Color had somewhat returned to his cheeks. Maybe that short, strange moment of rest had healed him somewhat? “Then what would you prefer I call you?” 

‘33 bit his lip, perplexed. 

No one had ever bothered to ask him what he preferred before.

His thoughts went to captain Kitfox. To Brash. To Pluto. They had all been teasing him, messing about, but they had taken care of him, welcomed him. Despite his awkward protests against the nickname, it was something personal, unique. A present from his comrades to him.  

“Sunshine is… Sunshine is fine, I guess,” he admitted.

Kenobi smiled. It was warm. Sincere. 

“It suits you,” he said and placed his hand on his shoulder with a friendly, gentle shake. “You’ve done well, Sunshine. Thank you.”

His ears reddened and he grinned faintly, not knowing quite how to respond. He had never received that kind of praise before. It was new and strange and different, not at all like the approval from drill sergeants back on Kamino, or the cheers of support from his brothers. The words were so earnest, so intimate, he squirmed a little at the uncomfortable feeling that the Jedi somehow seemed to peer inside of him.

But still... It was nice. 

Kenobi’s face suddenly fell. Then, there was a loud bang coming from somewhere outside the kitchen. They were quiet for a moment, shared a quick glance, frowning.

Sunshine hesitantly lifted his comm to his mouth. “Frostbite, Carcass. Now is the time you turn up, right? We got movements from the starboard hallway.”

“No, that’s not… ” Patch was quiet for a few minutes. “ They’re passing through the brig. It's far below where you are right now. ”

He shared a concerned look with the General. The Jedi couldn’t hear Patch’s message, but he understood it all the same. 

“We can’t stay here,” Kenobi said, rising from the floor with some struggle. “I will try to distract it while you secure us a path to the officer’s quarters.”

Sunshine blinked. What did the Jedi think he was made of? Beskar?

“You’re gonna distract it? Can you even stand, sir?” He asked incredulously. 

The General chuckled and then winced. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He quipped through clenched teeth. 

The result was far from desirable. The blood loss seemed to take him by surprise and it looked like he was going to be sick at any moment. He swayed slightly and leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. 

“Not good,” Kenobi admitted. He bit his lip, considering his options. Then he faced him. “I’m afraid you’re right. But the short healing trance has taken the edge off. I will be slow, but I can walk.’’

“Good, sir. If I remember correctly, the Officer’s Deck is a few levels from here. I’ll try to inform Patch of our new location and meet the others there.” 

—-

Navigating the dark corridors was slow going. The General, who had insisted be referred to as just Obi-Wan, had also just as adamantly refused to be carried or to lean on Sunshine’s shoulder. He claimed they were far better equipped to deal with unforeseen dangers if both of Sunshine’s hands were free to fire his blaster rifle and not have him weighing him down. He had reluctantly agreed, knowing there was sense to play the role of bodyguard for now. 

However, Obi-Wan’s injuries were far rougher than the rudimentary examination of the Jedi’s body had let on. They had to stop multiple times so he could catch his breath. It seemed that despite his vast intelligence, he still refused help even when he very clearly needed it. It's not like Sunshine had the rank or position to tell a superior officer off, even though he really, really wanted to. 

The path from the mess hall eventually led to the barracks. The simple quarters consisted of rows and rows and rows of bunk beds in various states of disarray. It seemed that when the hangar blew up, the troopers who had been resting here rolled out of their beds and ran into the action. 

It was eerily still now. 

The emergency lights had been knocked out deeper into the hall, enveloping the hall into absolute darkness. He had to resort to lighting the tiny flashlight on his helmet again. He handed the other light to Obi-Wan, who accepted it with no comment. The thin beams illuminated the beds in a ghastly glow. With his own flimsy light, he couldn’t see the General that limped by his side, but he could hear his light footsteps. The barracks packed any sounds tightly, making every movement feel loud and too sharp.

“Stay close to me, General. I don’t want to lose you now,” Sunshine stated, carefully scanning the room. 

“My, how dramatic,” Obi-Wan quipped sardonically. 

“I meant in the darkness, sir. The sleeping quarters are like a labyrinth and these flashlights only go so far.” 

“Of course,” he replied dryly. 

Sunshine rolled his eyes. He fought the urge to be rude. This may be an extraordinary situation, but there’s no reason to break ordinary rank. Even though his superior was being… difficult. He didn’t know Obi-Wan very well, but it seemed like sarcasm and dry wit seemed to be the Jedi’s default state. 

He sighed. Three days into his real deployment in the GAR and he was playing bodyguard to a comedian. 

Obi-Wan suddenly stopped.

“Everything alright, sir?” Sunshine asked. 

“Sithspit. My lightsaber,” Obi-Wan dragged his hand over his face. He sounded tired. “I can’t believe I lost it. It’s priceless.”

“I think I know where it is, sir. But, we’re heading in the opposite direction. Once we rendezvous with Frostbite, I’ll head out to find it.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, not happy, but seemed pleased with the response for now. 

“If blasters don’t work on this thing, then your lightsaber might,” Sunshine pondered while scanning the beds around them. 

“I… wouldn’t be so sure,” Obi-Wan said softly. 

He raised an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? 

He decided not to question him further, instead choosing to focus on the path ahead. They still had some way to go. The troopers had left their beds suddenly and quickly, as evidenced by bedsheets and pillows strewn all over the floor. He could hear the sounds coming from the mess hall far behind them. He picked up the pace, just a little. 

“Patch, we spotted movement near the mess hall and we’ve moved away from the agreed rendezvous point. We’re taking a slight detour past Engines and then will head up to you from there.”

“Got it. How’s the General?”

“He’s awake and doing well enough to joke about, sir.”

He heard Obi-Wan scoff from behind. 

“That does sound like him, ” Patch agreed. “There is a route just past climate control and up the elevators. It will lead you directly to us, however, there is no power running the elevators right now. We can supply ropes to get you both up the shaft. I’ll reroute Frostbite and Carcass to help you up. ” 

“Alright. Thanks. Sorry to have you running around on our behalf,” Sunshine apologized. 

“ Just happy there are more brothers out there. Stay safe. ”

“Stay safe.”

He switched off the mic and kept walking. It seemed the closer they went to Engines, the less damage he could see. The shockwaves from the multiple blows the hull had taken had loosened pipes and cut off the power, but it looked like a lot of troopers had not been in this area when the monster boarded the ship. The droid may have not gone through this part yet.

“I do not joke about, trooper,” Obi-Wan complained, but he didn’t sound too torn up about it. 

“As you say, sir,” Sunshine replied. 

They kept walking in silence for the next several minutes, keeping an ear out for any sounds that were out of place. 

After what felt like years in the endless corridors of the Vindication, it was refreshing to see a new landscape with more open spaces and machinery, even though it was all colored ominously red from the emergency lights. They found Climate Control - a smaller section in the grand scheme of the star destroyer’s inner workings. Still, it was enormous compared to their small human frames, with thousands of air vent openings leading to it like veins to a heart. 

They stepped across a catwalk that led through the machine room and to the elevators up ahead. Sunshine dared a peek at the chasm below and regretted it immediately. He blinked the vertigo away and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his empty stomach. 

“Don’t look down,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Thanks for the warning, sir,” Sunshine shuddered. 

The passages split off to the various section of the engines, and a cursory glance to the signposting seemed to indicate the elevators were not too far away. Obi-Wan seemed to know his way around and walked with determination towards one of the many identical doors in the enormous complex. 

There were footsteps on the catwalk from behind. Sunshine stiffened and instinctively reached for his rifle. 

“Huh, now that is a surprise.”

Sunshine and Obi-Wan turned around to see a clone trooper. It looked like he had been through hell. Half of his face had been bandaged and he noticed a splint on his left hand. He carried his sniper rifle on his back and a homemade cloak, stained black with soot and oil. Underneath, Sunshine could see his armor, stained and bloody, just like his own, but far more cracked and broken in multiple places. His bright green eye gleamed in the darkness, giving him a ghostly appearance.

“General Kenobi, Sunshine,” Pluto drawled. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you both, but I hoped you’d be far away from here by now.”

Chapter Text

Sunshine couldn’t help his mouth falling agape seeing the familiar face in the enormous engine complex. “How did you - … the explosion. What happened?” he sputtered. “I thought you were dead.”

Pluto grinned and leaned casually against the rail of the catwalk, uncaring of the massive drop just beneath them. “Got a taste of the same luck as you two did, it seems. When the bomb went off I recall something wrapping around me and protecting me from the worst of the blast. Something tells me you had something to do with it, Kenobi.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I tried my best,” he answered earnestly. 

“Still, burned the skin off my face and burst an eardrum, but I can’t complain,” Pluto deadpanned and lifted the bandage slightly to show the red, angry, melted skin underneath. 

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, but gave him a meaningful, apologetic look. He really did try to protect them both. 

Pluto simply shrugged and put the bandage back. He walked across the catwalk and patted Sunshine’s shoulder. “I'm glad you made it, Sunny. I couldn’t find you among the rubble and assumed the worst. I’m sorry, kid.”

“Same to you, sir,” Sunshine murmured.

Pluto chuckled. “Then I guess we're even.” 

He adjusted the grip on his rifle and turned back to Obi-Wan. His nonchalant attitude was suddenly gone, replaced with cool-headed professionalism. “I’ve been following the creature, trying to get a read on its patterns, habits, see if I could learn anything.”

“And?” Obi-Wan said, lifting a curious brow.

“It’s indestructible,” he shrugged matter-of-factly. “Your laser sword didn’t work, for one. It was at ground zero of the explosion that almost killed all of us, and it just got a little sooty. It doesn’t sleep, eat, take a shit, or even bat an eye if someone fires a rocket its way. It does nothing but walk through each corridor and room, searching them for survivors, killing them, and then moving on to the next.”

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan sighed and leaned back against the fence. He didn’t seem exasperated, just tired. He scratched his chin in thought. “I get the sense that the stone in its chest is what protects it from damage. A forcefield of some kind.”

“Like the shields of a destroyer droid?” Sunshine piped up.

“Not quite, but I think it's the same principle: we cut the shields, we cut the clanker,” the sniper nodded. “But striking it is dangerous. I’m not sure if you saw the number it did on the General.”

“I recall,” Obi-Wan dryly remarked. “I didn’t get a close look before it… lashed out. Something about it crept into my mind and threw me off balance. We won’t be able to defeat it without taking the stone out of the equation.”

“How would we do that?” Sunshine pondered. “If the stone makes it bulletproof and wards off close combat, then how do we kill it?”

“We don’t,” Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly. “Our best course of action is to reconvene with Patch and the others to work on a plan to repair the communication servers. If Skywalker’s battalion is still nearby and we can get the word out, we’ll be able to deal with our visitor then.” 

The sniper’s face darkened.

“That is a lost cause.” He crossed his arms. “You’ll all be tracked down and killed before you can get anything sent out. With all due respect, General, neither of you look like you’re in the condition to do much of anything right now. Don’t underestimate this thing. Trust me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Obi-Wan lightly retorted, but not without an undercurrent of seriousness. “It’s clear that we are not equipped to deal with this as we are now. Gathering reinforcements is the wisest course of action from here.”

“I have seen what this thing does, General. Trust me when I say that the longer you stay on this ship, the sooner it will find you and destroy you.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course I trust you, but…”

“If you really do, then you’d best get out of here while you still can,” Pluto argued. 

Sunshine stared disbelievingly at the other clone. Was he… directly disobeying an order? 

“There are two escape pods that still work in the starboard gunner station near the hyperdrive engines. They’re the only functioning ones that I’ve found so far in the entire ship. I recommend you use them,” the clone said and started heading down the catwalk and deeper into the complex. 

Before he could make it to the door, Sunshine blocked his path. The older clone narrowed his eyes at him. He bristled in return, but didn’t say anything, though he really wanted to.

“We can’t just abandon ship like this,” Obi-Wan patiently explained. “There are still survivors out there. Our odds of being found by rescue teams, even with a pod’s inbuilt emergency beacon, are incredibly low on this side of the Outer Rim. We will do better if we all band together.”

Pluto scoffed. “I’m not sure where you’ve been the last cycle, but we’ve tried that. Nothing we’ve thrown at that bastard works,” he said. He turned to the Jedi and looked him up and down with a cynical grin. “And it did a real number on you General. No offense, sir, but you’re better off out in a pod than in here.”

“It is true that we’ve had our fair share of damage from this droid,” Obi-Wan slowly admitted. “But, running away from this problem will not solve it. I suggest that you join us. Please.”

Pluto seemed to consider it. He regarded them both with a critical gaze, mouth pursed and arms crossed. 

“No.”

“No?” Sunshine exclaimed. “The General gave you a direct order.”

“I have ears,” Pluto flatly retorted, eyes hard. 

Sunshine balked at the sniper's defiant display. He had never experienced this kind of insubordination before. “But… Are you just going to leave? Where would you even go? You’re an amazing marksman. There are still men out there who need your help.” 

The sniper rolled his eyes. 

“Men, men, men. Yes, there are always men. They produce thousands of us every single day. ” Pluto dismissed. ‘’No one’s gonna miss us.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” Sunshine sputtered. 

Pluto laughed. It was harsh and sad. “Oh, I remember I was naive like you once. You honestly believe those lies the Kaminoans fed us?”

“They wouldn’t lie,” Sunshine insisted, shaking his head. “We’re a great service to the Republic. We’re protecting our democracy and the rights of-…”

“Whose rights? Whose democracy Sunny?”

Sunshine faltered. “I…Well...”

“Have you actually seen the Republic outside of briefings and pictures on the holonet?” Pluto challenged, walking closer and closer to his face. His eyes were cold. The green of his cybernetic iris glowed slightly in the dim light. “Did you ever consider that we’re all given CT numbers so that no one will remember us when we die? That we’re just a statistic in some dusty archive?”

Sunshine bit his lip and looked to the floor. 

“No. No, I haven’t.”

The clone nodded. A sardonic grin spread on his face. “That’s because we were never meant to be a part of the society we protect. That’s not what we were made for. We were made to be disposed of.”

“That’s not true! We’re valued subjects of the Republic,” Sunshine insisted, but his voice wavered. 

With a chill down his back, he realized he just repeated something he was told in class. 

He had never wanted to entertain the thought, the idea of what his place in the world truly was. About what would happen if the war ever ended. It had always been there, in the back of his mind. Ignored. Pluto was dragging it all up to the surface and he enjoyed every second of it.

“We’re property, Sunny. That’s all we are. Owned by people like him,” he growled, looking directly at Obi-Wan. He squared his shoulders and stared him down. “He could tell us to fuck off and die right now, and we’d do it. Isn’t that right, Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s expression was still. Unreadable. He returned Pluto’s challenging gaze, stoic and silent. A few very quiet, very uncomfortable seconds passed. The machinery hissed and rumbled around them, drips of condensation counting each second along with his heartbeat. 

Then, something in Obi-Wan’s carefully constructed impassivity failed. He broke his gaze and looked in Sunshine’s direction. His face fell. 

Did he look… ashamed?

“Well, there’s your answer.” Pluto spat and patted Sunshine’s shoulder in mock praise. “Have fun serving your Jedi master, Sunny.”

He picked up his sniper rifle again and began sauntering down the hall. Sunshine was about to run after him when Obi-Wan’s hand touched his shoulder. 

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan said. He looked withdrawn, subdued. “He has made up his mind.”

“He’s disobeying a direct order! If he leaves, he’ll be a deserter, he’ll...”

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened. “It’s okay, Sunshine.”

Sunshine bit the inside of his cheek and watched as the clone sauntered down the corridor. He clenched his fist. 

Anger blossomed in his chest.  

“No. That’s not good enough. There’s no way that is good enough,” Sunshine fumed. 

Before he knew it, without thinking, he ran down after him. He heard Obi-Wan’s protests from behind, but he didn’t care. 

He grabbed Pluto’s shoulder to turn him around. Instead, he saw the swift flurry of arms grabbing him, a boot behind his knee, the world tumbled, and suddenly he was on the floor. When he blinked, he looked up to see the business end of the sniper rifle, trained right on the tip of his nose. 

“Oh, did you have a change of heart, private?” Pluto sneered. “Or did you not hear me right the first time?”

“I'm not going to let you abandon our brothers just because you’re disappointed with your existence,” Sunshine argued, ignoring the blaster trained on his face. 

“Abandon?” Pluto laughed. “Look around you, kid. The entire battalion is gone. There is no more 307th. Look, I’m giving you one last chance. Go back to General Kenobi and get out of here. This place is about to get real frosty, real fast, once I’m done.”

Sunshine paused. He frowned. “What… what do you mean?”

Pluto closed his mouth and glared at him. The sniper had said too much. His eyes flickered from Sunshine on the floor to Obi-Wan. The rifle pulled back from Sunshine’s face, but only slightly.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to be all dead anyway.”

“It matters to me. What are you going to do?” Sunshine asked, softer this time. 

Pluto regarded them both, calculating their moves like a hunter sizes up their prey. A long, silent moment passed. With a loud click, he deactivated his rifle. The sound echoed throughout the enormous hall. He took a step back and allowed Sunshine to get back up. 

“Remember the stunt you pulled back there, Sunny? Did you see how that clanker locked up and shut down? The liquid nitrogen was the clue I needed to solve this riddle. That sentient rust bucket is vulnerable against the cold. I reckon it activated in the first place because it was exposed to heat.”

Sunshine nodded tentatively and watched the sniper explain. 

“As I snuck around the ship, I hunted down any canisters of liquid nitrogen that I could find. But there’s not enough to completely freeze a clanker of that size, not for long anyway - as soon as it wears off, it will start moving again. So that means I will have to resort to more… extreme measures.”

Sunshine risked a glance back at Kenobi, who glared at the rogue trooper with a look of recognition. He had a bad feeling about this.

“You’re… you’re going to destroy the ship’s heating reactor,” Obi-Wan said. 

“You’re a lot sharper than the Admiral, I’ll give you that, Kenobi.” Pluto complimented, which didn’t sound at all like a compliment. He then gestured to the machinery around them. “This place is the heart of the Vindication’s entire climate system. All heating, cooling, water, and ventilation passes through this place. However, it’s not a perfect design. If the system is disrupted in a certain way, it will siphon all the heat out to space and unbalance the reactor, cooling this entire place down to a neat little iceberg. I reckon a single blaster bolt in the controlling unit will do the trick.”

“If you let the entire ship freeze, then you’ll die,” Sunshine argued. His hand hovered over the rifle strapped to his back. “We’ll all freeze to death.”

“All the more reason for you and the General to get out of here,” he shrugged and switched the scope on. “But it looks like you’re both being stubborn. If you want to stay, then be my guest.”

“Pluto, please reconsider. There will be a chance to defeat this enemy, but that is not right now, and not in this way. Please, just be patient…” Obi-Wan negotiated, but the clone simply scoffed and turned away. 

He marched to the end of the walkway, almost to where the catwalk had collapsed, and trained his rifle at the panel. It was several feet down, and impossibly small, but they all knew he wouldn’t miss. 

“Patience has never been my thing, General,” he murmured as he looked down the sight. 

Sunshine saw red. He ran at him and attempted to tackle him. Pluto saw it coming and easily sidestepped him. With the safety rails broken off, he nearly tumbled into the chasm below, but the older clone grabbed his collar and threw him backward with ease. Sunshine crashed into the wall behind him. 

Recovering quickly, he grabbed his blaster rifle and aimed. Before he could fire, Pluto was suddenly upon him and grabbed his weapon, and with deft and trained movements, it was disassembled in his hands. Before Sunshine could recover, Pluto jabbed him in the throat. Sunshine collapsed in shock and pain, hacking and coughing from the sudden blow to his windpipe. 

“I told you your extra fancy Kamino classes have nothing on real experience, kid,” Pluto scowled. “I don’t want you to die. Just get the fuck out of my way.”

He went back to the edge of the catwalk. He grabbed the sniper rifle he had placed against the rail and took aim again. He was about to fire when he suddenly yelled in surprise. The barrel of his sniper rifle involuntarily shot upwards, and the bright red bolt hit the ceiling with a resonating clang. Sparks danced downwards and disappeared in a plume of smoke. 

Obi-Wan stumbled forward, arm outstretched. Leaning against the wall in exhaustion and blood loss, he lifted the rifle from Pluto’s grasp with the simple motion of his hand. The blaster hovered in the air for a few seconds until, from the flick of his wrist, it was tossed to the side and clattered loudly at the edge of the catwalk. It teetered on the edge, but didn’t fall down.

Pluto growled in fury. He dashed forward and aimed a fist right at the Jedi’s face. Obi-Wan dodged his blows with practiced ease, but he was not able to evade the knee that cracked into his wounded side. He doubled over with a gasp and fell to his knees. 

Pleased with his handiwork, the sniper briefly watched the two of them writhing on the floor before he turned back to pick up his rifle. 

He didn’t waste any time; he reloaded the blaster and aimed at the enormous machine below them. Then, he fired - the bolt flew across the engine room and hit the panel square in the middle. It sputtered and sparked. The lights above flickered intensely as the enormous machinery groaned and faltered. 

“No,” Sunshine wheezed hoarsely. He staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the rail. He stared at the panel in horror. It was a perfect hit. The machinery sparked and smoked, and he watched as the dials and meters spun and shook from building pressure inside of the reactor. Mist began pouring out of the ventilation shafts around them. Immediately, his breath was visible in front of him. 

“It will probably take a few minutes before this whole sector freezes over. Maybe a couple of hours till the rest of the ship follows suit. There’s a cache of arctic armor and gear a few levels from here. If you insist on staying, then I’d be quick about finding it,” Pluto said and patted Sunshine on the back. He was still recovering from the blow to his throat and could only watch as the sniper strapped his rifle back to his back and sauntered out of the room. 

Pluto paused just by the door and turned around briefly. His expression softened somewhat. 

“Oh and… good luck, kid.”

The door shut, and the sniper was gone.

Chapter Text

The engines sputtered and died, cold air seeping through the hundreds of vents around them, filling the room with an ethereal mist. Sunshine stumbled over to Obi-Wan and helped him up from the floor. The Jedi accepted the help, albeit reluctantly at first. 

“That went well,” Obi-Wan stated flatly.

“Oh, shut up,” Sunshine groaned. “... sir.”

Obi-Wan raised a slightly amused eyebrow but said nothing. The machine groaned and the temperature in the room plummeted even further. They both shivered. Sunshine blew warm air into his cupped hands and rubbed them together. His climatized armor took the edge off the cold, but he could tell that staying any longer was going to freeze him to an icicle. 

“How are you holding up, General?”

“Nothing wounded here but my pride, Sunshine,” Obi-Wan grinned while clutching his bloodied midsection. He shook his head in annoyance. “How embarrassing. I’m better than this.” 

“I’m sure you are, General,” Sunshine said and typed in the door code, leaving the frozen chamber behind. The temperature was better in the corridor, but only by a little. 

Only a few seconds later, Sunshine’s comm crackled to life. 

“I just picked up a lot of activity right where you are. What’s going on? ” Patch asked. 

“It’s a… long story. But we are both okay,” Sunshine hoarsely replied. “One of our brothers has…The heating system is broken. The climate regulator has been damaged, so the ship will begin to lose warmth very soon. We’ll pick up some winter gear on the way to you.”

“What? Broken? ” Patch was quiet for a few seconds. “I... I’m not sure I want to ask what you’ve been up to. But as long as you’re both safe, we can discuss details once you’ve arrived here. Don’t worry about the winter gear. I’ll have some of the men search for it. Just focus on getting the General to safety. Carcass is waiting for you at the elevator shaft right now. ”

“Got it. What about Frostbite?”

“We got a new arrival that needed medical attention. As long as General Kenobi is still walking and talking, we deemed the other trooper to be more pressing .”

“Yeah,” Sunshine nodded. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Patch said.

He mentally went through his meager knowledge of the ship. The passage split off in two directions, and he could still make out Pluto’s shadow down one of them. There was nothing he wanted more than to run down that corridor and beat some sense into him, but he had priorities. 

He stifled another shiver and walked down the other corridor, footsteps echoing in the cold metal around them. The elevators would be at the end of the passage, and the officer’s deck wasn’t too far away. They’d make it within the hour, probably even less. 

Obi-Wan was quiet. No doubt because of that conversation. 

Sunshine cringed inwardly. He wasn’t sure how he had allowed himself to be dragged into an argument so laced with thoughts of insurrection. He felt dirty just entertaining the idea of insubordination. 

How had Pluto become a deserter… a traitor? Did he harbor such thoughts this whole time, or did the invasion do this to him? Did the hours on his own drive him to madness? 

No. His arguments were fully formed. Rehearsed. The clone had been waiting for a chance to run away, but for just how long was impossible to say.

His thoughts drifted to his CT number. 

‘33.

It had been drilled into him from birth not to consider - not to even think what that number truly meant. Of course, he never asked... There had been no reason to. He used to find comfort in conformity, enjoying the safety of being one of many, unnoticed and part of a larger machine, working for the betterment of the Republic. Being one number of thousands was only natural.

Still, Pluto’s words shook him. He just didn’t know why, and it concerned him.

Don’t listen to traitors. They’re meant to disorient you. 

He shook his head and kept walking. Focus on the mission. Focus. 

—-

As relieved as they both were seeing the elevators come into view, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but groan when he realized they would have to climb the blasted things. With his aching side, shoulder, and constantly throbbing head, the idea of dragging his body up that shaft for several levels didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

Just ahead of him, Sunshine chatted softly over the comm. He seemed to have formed a friendly accord with Patch, the Admiral’s adjutant. It surprised Obi-Wan to see a rookie infantry trooper to get along so well with one of the highest-ranked clone officers on the ship, but this entire disaster was nothing if not a series of unpleasant surprises. Making friends across rank and station was a nice change of pace, he supposed. 

Sunshine checked out of his briefing and turned to him. “Patch said that Carcass is just above us. He’s lowering a rope for us as we speak.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded, voice slightly hoarse from exhaustion. 

Sunshine must’ve noticed his displeasure and quickly reassured him. “He’s attached climbing harnesses to them, so you won’t actually have to climb. I’ll go first and the two of us will drag you up, sir.”

“Well, how considerate of you,” he dryly chuckled and slumped down against the wall with a tired grunt while the trooper began manipulating the door controls. 

The mechanics operating the door seemed to have taken a knock and creaked in protest at the clone’s attempts to override them. The trooper let out a huff of frustration as the panel sparked in his face. 

“Are you okay over there?”

“With the door? It's tricky without an astromech, but I’m managing, sir,” Sunshine reassured him and attacked the locking mechanism with a deeply focused fervor. 

Obi-Wan didn’t ask about the door. He could sense that there was more on the trooper’s mind, but he decided he let it be for now. There would be time to speak with him later. 

Truthfully, Pluto’s insurrection didn’t surprise him. It was just a question of time before clones began truly questioning why they did what they did and served who they served. It was more surprising that not more of them had begun resisting their servitude to the Republic. It was treason and desertion, yes. But still, he could not bring himself to pass judgment. It was not his place. 

He blew warm air into his hands. 

Still, what Pluto did was wrong, regardless of how much he believed it wasn’t. He would face his punishment, but that was not now. Not while they had more pressing issues to deal with.

“Aha,” Sunshine beamed as the doors slid open with a protesting whine. 

They were already in the lower levels of the ship, but there were several floors to go, and in the darkness, the bottom was nowhere to be seen. Sunshine peeked inside and blinked his flashlight up the shaft. They waited for a beat, and then a short series of flashes was given in return. Another moment passed, and a long coil of reinforced rope appeared in the dark shaft, with two climbing harnesses tied to it. 

Sunshine attached it to himself and handed Obi-Wan the other. He stepped to the edge of the shaft, ready to jump in. “Will you be alright, sir?” 

“Don’t wait for me,” he grinned, tying the harness around his legs and waist. It wrapped uncomfortably around the injury, but he ignored it. “Let’s not keep our friend waiting.”

Sunshine looked like he wanted to say more, but then he nodded and stepped into the shaft. With practiced ease, the clone disappeared upwards into the darkness, quickly and quietly. 

Finally alone, Obi-Wan allowed himself to fall against the wall and let out a shuddering breath. The exhaustion and pain were dulling his senses, his judgment, making him lightheaded. Unbalanced.

Pluto’s kick had opened the hole in his side. His hand came away red when he pressed against it. It needed to be closed soon, or else he’d have more problems than the impending sub zero temperatures and a rampaging murder droid. 

How inconvenient. 

He heard the sounds of climbing and saw flashes of the lights from the shaft above. Aside from the sounds of exertion, Sunshine didn’t seem to be having any trouble, in fact, climbing seemed to be a skill that came to the clone naturally. His flashlight was disappearing higher and higher into the utter darkness above. He had been aware the officer’s deck was rather high in the ship’s levels, but climbing as opposed to taking the usual elevators made him realize just how large that distance was. 

Soon, Sunshine’s form disappeared completely, only revealed by a small twinkle of his light and the echoing sounds of his boots stepping against the dirty metal walls.

Empty, frigid, lonely.

He winced when the low constant headache suddenly spiked. The Force was telling him something… Something was wrong. 

Empty, frigid, lonely. 

Empty, frigid, lonely. 

Rust and blood. 

His head whipped around when he heard a groan of metal against metal in the distance. Footsteps echoing in a wide space, the rattle of the catwalk. Looming closer. Instinctively he reached for the saber that wasn’t there. He missed its weight. 

The droid was here. 

“Why, just my luck,” he breathed and squinted against the migraine that was aggressively forcing itself back in his consciousness. It was a rusted nail, hammering inch by inch with each rumbling footstep of the enormous form. The Force seemed to recoil as if it had touched a white-hot surface. 

He stumbled over to the elevator shaft and looked up. There was no way he could climb it like he was now. He looked back, into the darkness. He could sense the evil, cold presence moving around. It was investigating the space. Searching. 

Obi-Wan stumbled backward, debating if it was worth the risk calling for the troopers to hurry up. He had no idea if the droid had hearing keen enough to tell where he was, or if it had any hearing at all. 

He decided to stay quiet and trust that the clones would finish up soon. He hoped. 

The pathway before him was enveloped in complete darkness, but he could sense it, clear as day. It was just a few corridors from him, marching slowly and with conviction. 

Thoughts and speculations swirled in his mind when the clanging grew closer. Could it sense him just as he did it? Or was it drawn here because of Pluto’s gunshot? 

He gingerly craned himself to peer up the shaft, and there was still no activity to be seen. He took a deep breath, centered himself. He trusted his men. The rope would come back down.

“Though some expediency wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured under his breath.

His calming breathing exercise was interrupted by a crunch of a door being broken just nearby. It seemed much closer than the last sound had been. 

Blast.

The migraine pulsed stronger and stronger, seemingly empowered by the creature's looming proximity. Black spots began to fill his vision as the dark presence in the Force brushed against his. Like the feelers of a blind creature, prodding at his Force signature as if it was trying to find an entrance to slink inside of. It was cloying, cold. Oppressive. He swore he could see the flash of red at the end of the passageway. 

Obi-Wan hardly noticed the rope suddenly whip down behind him at first. In a pained, disoriented haze, he fumbled after it and tied it to his harness as securely he could manage. His fingers hardly followed his brain’s commands. They were slick with blood. It made managing the rope all the more difficult. 

He heard the crash of the door behind him just as he tugged on the rope twice, and he felt himself being lifted off his feet. Slowly, too slowly, he was carried upwards and into complete darkness. He heard the faint grunts of the clones up above, dragging him with all their strength. He wanted to boost himself up using the Force, but the dark presence seemed to be drawn to it, and he withdrew before it could take notice. 

Before he knew it, he was several levels high. Peering down, he noticed the long, jagged metal arms peer into the shaft and search the dark space. 

Rust and blood. 

Rust and blood. 

Rust and blood. 

Below him, icy blue eyes flashed in the darkness, peering into the shaft, crane-like arms searching the walls for life signs. The red gem in its chest lit the immediate vicinity, and his head pounded in time with the bright flashes. The scratches of the metallic hands filled the narrow passageway, like the sound of rats scrabbling inside the walls around him. It probed the area around it with a strange kind of interest. It seemed inquisitive, curious. 

By the time its eyes peered upwards, he was dragged out of the shaft and into the corridor above. He let out a breath he didn’t know he held. The sensation of feeling firm ground beneath him again was a blissful experience. 

“Hey, you still with us, sir?” It was Sunshine’s voice. 

He saw another clone. A little older, clean-shaven head with a thick layer of stubble on his chin. Half his face was covered in an intricate tattoo of circuitry. That must be Carcass.

He squinted against the flashlights in his eyes, and they averted them. “Be quiet. The droid is right below us,” he hoarsely reported, and the two immediately straightened. They listened for the heavy footsteps down the elevator shaft in silent anticipation. It scratched the walls and crept around. Then, it disappeared, heading somewhere away from the shaft. 

All three of them let out a collective breath of relief. 

“The quarters are right over here,” Sunshine whispered. “Let’s go.”

Carcass ran ahead with his blaster primed, while Sunshine supported the Jedi as they marched toward the officer’s deck. 

Chapter Text

Unbridled relief filled the room with Sunshine and Obi-Wan’s arrival. 

The Officer’s Deck was way smaller than he expected. In regular circumstances, the room would be decorated a little more generously with some nicer lamps and cushions, but any regard for upper-class decency had since been thrown out of the window. 

Patch was surrounded by piecemeal scrap that had likely belonged to electrical panels and equipment from around the ship, fervently in the process of soldering wires to a strange machine cobbled together from a gutted astromech. Frostbite was cleaning his hands with a wet rag that dripped of pink. Carcass rounded up the rope they had used for the elevator shafts and deposited it in a nearby crate, and then returned to the door to stand guard. A number of bodies laid near the entrance of the room with blankets respectfully draped over their heads. Some of the other injured men were resting on the couch on the far back of the room while the healthy clones distributed warm coats that had been salvaged from around the ship. 

The atmosphere was subdued, but not defeated, and the arrival of the Jedi brightened their spirits.

“Bring him over,” Frostbite said gruffly. He had already repurposed a dining table as a makeshift operating bed, with some basic tools at the ready. Much to Sunshine’s relief, the man had carried a sizable medical kit and a combat med-droid with him.

He observed as the General eased his grip on his shoulder to give the medic a polite, but tired greeting. “For me? You’re too kind. Had I known you’d prepared it so nicely, I would have worn my evening clothes,” Obi-Wan remarked sardonically.

Frostbite squared his broad shoulders and crossed his arms. “With all due respect, sir, you need to sit the fuck down.”

“Alright, alright,” he waved his hand dismissively, and slowly made his way to the table. “I know the drill.”

“It’s never a drill with you, sir.”

Frostbite motioned for Sunshine to leave, even though there weren’t many places to go in the small dining area. There were more tables set up around like the one that had been prepared for Obi-Wan, some with unconscious troopers on them and others empty, bloodied, and covered with grime. 

It didn’t look like any other medics had survived. That left just Frostbite, who seemed to handle it well, but Sunshine wondered if the dark facepaint covered the actual dark circles under his eyes that likely had formed. 

“Sunshine? You’re alive?”

He whipped around to the sound of the voice. It was Kitfox. Much like the other clones in the room, he was looking worse for wear. He was sitting down, hunched in pain. Half his armor had been stripped off, leaving him in his blacks from the waist up. A parka had been draped over his shoulders to protect him from the cold. His eyes were dark and glassy, which stood out from his bloodied face. A large gash had been hastily sewn shut on the top of his forehead. The stitches were puffy and red, likely sewn recently. 

“I did as you asked, sir,” Sunshine reported, only barely letting a hint of relief leak into his professional voice. 

Kitfox peeked behind him where he could see Obi-Wan’s protests of being fussed over and nodded in approval. “You got the General back to us. Good. I knew you weren’t just some shiny, kid…” his sentence got cut short by a wave of pain that washed over him. He bent over, clutching his right arm. 

It was gone from just below the shoulder.

Sunshine’s eyes widened. “Captain…”

“Don’t. Don’t say a word, rookie.” Kitfox hissed. 

“But…“

“ I said. Don’t. Say. A word.” He snarled. Sunshine had to resist the urge to shrink. 

A pregnant pause lingered between them. His eyes met Sunshine’s, and his face softened slightly like he had caught himself doing something shameful. And then he spoke, in nearly a whisper: “We can’t afford concern right now. I need you to be focused.”

Sunshine hesitated for a second and then nodded. 

The captain smiled. He seemed tired and weary. He leaned back in his chair while clutching the remnants of his destroyed arm. “We were certain both you and the General had both been vaporized by that second blast. Imagine our surprise when some trooper suddenly reports over half a cycle later that he was carrying the General to safety. I had no idea it was you. I’m happy to see you both alive.”

“Likewise, sir,” Sunshine grinned faintly, and then he felt himself falter, glancing around the room. “But… Is this… Is this all that’s left?”

Kitfox grimaced and sighed. “Yeah. This is it. Unless there are any other miracle cases like you and mister Jedi over there, then this is us.”

Sunshine felt himself grow cold. From nearly a thousand brothers, they had been reduced to less than a dozen, most of them dying, injured, or exhausted. 

How did it come to this?

Kitfox simply shrugged, not seemingly wanting to elaborate. “You just get some rest right now. We have a mission for you, so make sure you get all your things in order before you ship out again.”

“Got it,” Sunshine saluted. 

---

Sunshine was given some provisions, refilled his canteen, and got some basic painkillers for the bruising down his back that had been gradually growing more annoying for each passing hour. The other soldiers were surprised to see him emptying his backpack, revealing the stuff he had gathered from the medbay and the mess hall on the way there. He had never seen anyone be as excited for a bunch of carrots before, but there was a first for everything, he supposed. 

The smell of caf had never been as wonderful as the cup that was thrust upon him by a grateful trooper. It didn’t pass his notice that they all were old batchers, likely troopers and lower-ranking officers who were seasoned and experienced enough to escape the droid’s clutches. He was the youngest one there. 

A few minutes later, Kitfox called the others around him for a briefing. Frostbite was arguing with Obi-Wan in the other end of the room, but the rest had their attention directed at the captain. He was situated near a holoprojector that had been rigged on top of a dining table. Weapons and various medical equipment were scattered around it. 

“We are dead meat for as long as the comms are down. Patch is working on a fix, but nothing is going to reach General Skywalker or the Core Systems until we set up an emergency comms relay. To top it all off, the gods of fate deemed our situation not to be shitty enough, so it turns out the whole ship is rapidly cooling down. That means we have a time limit.”

He booted up a holo-display showing a 3D projection of the Vindication. 

Finally seeing a map of the star destroyer’s status was grim. A pathway of red streaked its way around the internals of the ship, a trail of destruction left behind by the creature. Even if they somehow dragged the ship to dock, there was no way that it would recover from that kind of damage. 

Where there once had been sleek blue lines, they were marred by blotches and lines of red. Whole chunks were chewed out of the ship where the ship’s structure had collapsed. The hangar area was nothing but blaring red as if a giant had bitten a chunk out of it. There was a second void just a little starboard of the hangar where Sunshine recalled the second bomb going off. Strangely, he noted, the entire bridge was gone. When did that happen? 

“If it wasn’t so… feral… It almost feels as if it is actively going after our most vital systems. It’s like it knows the ship’s layout,” Patch pondered. 

He was right. A cursory glance would make it seem like the robot was set on a path to savagely destroy the ship from the inside out, but the patterns showed a sense of… system. Like it had been programmed to hit all of the most vulnerable spots and cut off all possible exits. That fact unnerved Sunshine more than anything else. The Vindication had a unique layout compared to other Venator class units; navigating it without a map was incredibly difficult, as proven by his hours of wandering her halls just prior to this meeting. Did the robot somehow have access to the map feed of the ship?

Sunshine recalled the past events as well as he could, though things got fuzzy after the hangar. “It was armed with two bombs, right? First, it took the hangar to cut off escape routes, then it blew up the R&D sector to take out the General. Then what happened to the bridge?"

The other troopers shuffled uncomfortably. The captain chuckled. “Ah. The bridge.”

“Huh?”

“While you and General Kenobi were gone, we attempted to subdue the clanker and chase it away from the bridge sector. At that point, we knew there were still officers trapped there, so we tried to draw it away from them. We... didn’t know that bastard clanker had one bomb remaining,” he chuckled, shaking his head in shame. “We underestimated it, and it retaliated… hard.” 

He gestured to his arm. There was a beat of silence that was a little too long. Kitfox slapped his thigh with a sigh and leaned back, a lazy grin back on his face. “And if what Patch told me is true, you’re damn lucky you weren’t just a few hallways further up, or you’d both be space debris by now. And now, because of that whole disaster, the bridge is currently floating in space.”

Patch nodded, not looking all too happy. “We didn’t anticipate the structural integrity of the Vindication had been as damaged as it was. Load-bearing pillars had been severed from the first and second explosion, so the third was enough to cut off the ship at the neck, so to speak. We made a… mistake.” He looked quite ashamed, but the captain waved him off.

“A mistake, true, but we did get that bastard off our tails for enough hours to gather more of our forces and regroup. I’d say it was worth the effort,” Kitfox concluded. Not letting the group linger any more on the clearly sore subject, the captain moved on. “It is clear we have been sabotaged. We don’t know by who or how, but this entails zero vacuum shields and a total blackout of signals going in and out of the ship. We believe that someone may have placed a series of charges in the various comm nodes placed around the ship and systematically destroyed them.” He pointed to a series of red spots that ran across the projection. There was very obviously a pattern to it, too regular to be the haphazard destruction of the droid.

“It means that getting any signals out will not work through regular means.” Patch said. But then he grinned with barely contained cadet-like glee. “We are extremely fortunate that I happen to have training in tech dating back to the Old Republic. The Admiral is an expert on the subject and he taught me everything he knows. He told me they used different signals and wavelengths from today’s standards. It's by far more basic, but with my access codes and familiarity with the Venator class software, I am certain we can get the word out to General Skywalker and the rest of the 212th. However, it does leave one issue,” the bridge officer added and crossed his arms. “There is a vital part of my provisional broadcasting relay that is located there. Specifically, at my station on the bridge. Without it, the relay won’t get the correct signals out. I’ve tried to build a new one, but the circuitry is too small and too advanced to build with the available tools before the ship freezes over.”

“That’s where you come in, kid,” the captain said and looked Sunshine directly in the eyes. “You have to climb into the remains of the bridge, locate the part, and bring it back to us. Our lives are counting on it.”

Sunshine nodded. His stomach clenched with nerves. He had a feeling it would come to this. 

“He should not go alone,” Obi-Wan interjected. Everyone turned around to see the Jedi standing just behind them. Somehow the man had abandoned the field medic and snuck up from behind. 

“That was quick,” Patch commented.

“Who said you could be upright?’’ Kitfox snidely remarked. If he could cross his arms in disapproval, he would. Sunshine gawked in horror at the disrespectful way he addressed the General. Frostbite showed up shortly after, looking as sullen as ever, if a little annoyed.

‘’Good to see you too, Kitfox,’’ Obi-Wan retorted with a dry grin, not minding the captain’s mutinous tone. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fighting fit within minutes.”

“Fresh stitches, bandages, and a stim shot,” Frostbite reported, short and simple. 

“Really, Frost? That’s all? Give him baby food while you’re at it,” Kitfox complained. 

Frostbite simply shrugged. “The stim shot I gave is heavy-duty. Meant for soldiers running way past their limits. It will keep him running for a while before he eventually crashes... hard. I’d like to tank him, but judging by our situation, we could use a Jedi out in the field right now.”

No one thought to protest on that point, which Obi-Wan seemed pleased with. He clapped his hands together once and stepped forward. “Now that we are all happy, I want to go over everything we know about our unbidden guest. The more we learn about this creature, the better equipped we are to stop it.”

The rest of the briefing had the troopers share everything they knew about the creature and its habits, weaponry, and last known position. Sunshine told the crew about his experience with it in the medbay. The others looked interested in the anecdote about the medical droid and the model skeleton, how the droid seemed to zero in on anything human-shaped, Obi-Wan in particular. It didn’t really give any of them a better idea of what this monster truly intended to do, but it was a more detailed description than many of the others were able to provide. 

It didn’t pass Sunshine’s notice that the Jedi didn’t mention anything about Pluto and his mission to single-handedly destroy the invader. He simply shared what the sniper had told them, without revealing anything about his existence. He couldn’t tell if it was the General’s way of disowning the trooper or protecting him. 

In the end, there wasn’t all that much the others could share that Sunshine didn’t know already; it was invulnerable, unstoppable, uncaring. 

It certainly didn’t inspire any confidence. 

“If we stay here much longer, chances are the clanker will find us and wipe us out. Sending that emergency signal is our only hope,” Patch concluded. 

Kitfox nodded. “General Kenobi will take Sunshine and spacewalk to the bridge to locate the missing piece of the relay. Another team will have to draw out the bogey and distract it in case it gets too close. Either task will be highly risky.”

“I’ll lead the distraction team,” said Frostbite. 

“Alright. Any orders from Frost are orders from me,” Kitfox declared. “Carcass will scout the ship for a safe airlock for the spacewalk. Patch will stay with the injured.”

“The relay will be ready by the time the missing component arrives,” Patch confidently grinned. 

Obi-Wan nodded, arms crossed. “Good. However, I believe my lightsaber will be vital for completing our mission. It's somewhere in the R&D sector. I want to attempt to locate it before we enter the bridge.”

“Very well, General,” Kitfox nodded. “Just remember, the longer we wait, the colder this place will get. You don’t want to return to a bunch of icicles.”

“It won’t come to that,” Kenobi retorted confidently. It left no room for argument.

“Right,” Patch said before a look of concern crossed his face. “That reminds me, I haven’t seen the Admiral at all since this all went down. The earlier we can determine his status, the better.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “You were both on the bridge when the droid attacked, right?” he asked.

Patch shifted uncomfortably. “Correct, sir. However, as soon as I realized the comms were down I just… had to fix it. So I... disobeyed his order to stay. I ran down here and got trapped after the second explosion. I imagine he’s still up there.”

“I’m glad you did. If not you’d be floating out there with the others,” Kitfox said and Patch gave him a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Obi-Wan seemed pleased with the reply and directed his attention back to the group. 

“One last detail, I don’t believe the General can do the spacewalk dressed as he is now. Unless his magical powers allow him to breathe in space,” Kitfox grinned.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Captain, we’ve been over this before. It’s not magic.”

“The requisitions warehouse is not far from here. I’ll get your zero grav armor for you while you retrieve your laser sword, sir,” said Carcass, speaking for the first time. His voice was rough, like someone who had smoked a lifetime’s worth of death sticks. “We can meet at the exit point here,” he added, pointing to a sealed corridor leading to the break where the ship had split off from the bridge.

“Appreciate it, Carcass,” Kenobi grinned. “Alright, if there’s anything else, speak up now. If not, we move.” 

There were no voices of objection. Just like that, the room exploded with activity. Frostbite gave orders to his medical droid and grabbed a rifle from one of the tables - likely left behind from one of the dead or injured. Carcass disappeared without a trace and Patch was back at his workstation, completely absorbed with the unfinished relay. Kitfox remained by the map, giving orders to the remaining troopers. 

Sunshine picked up some bolt magazines and provisions for the new excursion. He realized he still hadn’t repaired his rifle after Pluto had dismantled it, and located an identical one near one of the bodies rather than spending precious time reassembling it. He whispered a silent prayer of respect to the clone he took it from. 

There was a light tap on his shoulder and he jumped. 

“Whoa there, loth-cat. It's just me,” Kitfox grinned disarmingly. 

“Are all officers supposed to be terrible patients or is it just you and General Kenobi?” Sunshine complained. “Please sit back down, sir.”

“Alright, alright, kid,” Kitfox yielded with a dramatic one-handed shrug. He only half-complied, opting to lean against one of the messy tables that had been converted to an operating surface. It seemed any sanitation concerns had been blasted out the airlock along with the rest of the hangar. “I just wanted to speak with you for a moment.”

“Right,” Sunshine responded. 

Kitfox suddenly dropped his easygoing facade. His head drooped a little lower and he spoke softly, just so that the two of them could hear. “I know we’ve put a big responsibility on you, kid. I… I wish it could’ve been me, heading out, fighting that thing. Well. I’ve already had a go, and that was it for me,” he laughed dismally. 

His jaw tensed and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, clearly wanting to say something, but stopping himself short. “Just… take care of yourself, okay? You’re a rookie and a shiny, yes -  but you’ve already proven yourself to be an even stronger 307th-er than the best of us. Remember that when the General gives you trouble, okay?”

Sunshine stood still, shoulders tense. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He nodded once, lips thin. 

The captain was quiet for a moment. It looked like there was much more he wanted to say. Instead, he straightened with a cocksure grin. “Whatever happens, I got your back.” Kitfox grinned, giving him a light slap on the cheek. “See you on the other side.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Sunshine exclaimed and saluted. Just like that, Kitfox’s easygoing air returned. He sent him an informal finger salute, smiled widely, and sauntered away. 

Sunshine squared his shoulders in determination. He knew that he just saw a side of the captain that very few ever have seen. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he took the words to heart. He silently swore to honor his wishes, no matter what it would take.

Obi-Wan was patiently waiting for him at the door as he finished the last preparations before heading out. Sunshine was perceptive enough to tell that the Jedi had seen his little exchange with the captain, but he said nothing of it. 

He had a small blaster on his hip, which was a strange sight, and he didn’t seem too happy to be equipped with it. 

“You ready?” He asked, limbering up and stretching his shoulder muscles. There was no trace of the constant exhaustion that Sunshine had seen him earlier. That stim shot really worked its magic. 

Sunshine stole one last glance behind. 

Kitfox was protesting and being fussy as he was administered meds from Frostbite’s medical droid. Meanwhile, the medic delivered orders to his small distraction team, a crew of clones about three men strong. Patch was already deep into his work on the relay. 

The atmosphere was strange, filled with anticipation. He swallowed a dry gulp. His nerves were on edge, but he felt strangely at peace. 

This is what he was born for. 

“Ready, sir,” he replied. 

They both ran out of the officer’s mess hall, and into the darkness. 

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long before they were inching closer to the place they had fought the droid all those hours ago. With Obi-Wan conscious to lead the way, as well as Kitfox and Patch on the comms, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the Vindication was a far easier affair. The trek had been uneventful and Sunshine felt somewhat at ease. 

“So uhh… With your magic, can you sense the clanker? Like, can you sense it now?” Sunshine asked. 

Obi-Wan chuckled. “In a way, yes, I can read the magic of living beings. It exists all around us, and of all things.” He then spoke quietly, partially deep in his own thoughts. “As for our guest… there is something strange about it.” 

“Huh.”

Kenobi didn’t elaborate. The two kept walking in silence for a little longer. 

“What does that mean?” Sunshine tentatively asked. 

“I don’t know, friend. I don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I’m used to being the test dummy for Separatist tech on the regular. This time, I’m not sure what they have done or what they aim to achieve from this. If it even is a Separatist plan, that is.”

Sunshine cocked an eyebrow. “You think it’s someone else?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time other factions have had a little slice of the war. In fact, there are more players in this game than you might think. However, as it currently stands, no one has claimed credit or boarded the ship. No demands, no requests for surrender, no identifying marks, nothing. I’m not even sure if whoever unleashed this thing planned for this to happen.”

That didn’t reassure Sunshine one bit. 

“What worries me is…” Obi-Wan started, but cut himself short. 

“What is it?” Sunshine asked, apprehensively. 

“Nothing,” the General retorted, a little too quickly. “It’s too early to say anything. I’ll tell you when I know for sure.”

Sunshine didn’t know what he had just insinuated, but he knew better than to push the man for answers. He would tell him when he was ready. Or not at all. 

Obi-Wan typed in the clearance code of a locked briefing auditorium and let Sunshine walk into the room ahead of him. It was dark, partially lit by the viewport on the other side of the room. Obi-Wan strode past the auditorium chairs and opened a door just by the podium, which lead to another hallway, identical to all the others. The coast was clear, and local generators seemed to keep the light on in the area. The destruction became more and more apparent the closer they got. 

“It’s called the Force,” Obi-Wan pointedly said. 

“Huh?”

“I know you are just repeating what the captain said earlier, so I’m clarifying it now before you make a fool of yourself to other Jedi you should meet.”

“Oh, you mean your magic?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes. The magic. It’s through the Force that I can harness the powers of the world and universe around us.”

Sunshine nodded. He had seen the Jedi use his powers in the clips on the holonet, but they had usually been distorted and unclear. Getting a first-hand explanation of the mystical power was just… amazing. Sunshine's smile widened in wonder. Obi-Wan couldn’t see him through his helmet, which he appreciated. He didn’t want to come off as unprofessional. 

He cleared his throat, feigning disinterest. “So… that’s how you got me out of that hangar? You know, when it…”

“Exploded, yes I recall,” Obi-Wan dryly retorted. 

“How does that work?”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “Sunshine, your curiosity is endearing, but I think we should focus on the mission for now.” 

“Oh. Uh. Sorry, sir,” he said sheepishly and straightened, scanning the hallways around them. 

Obi-Wan simply chuckled. “Once we’re out of this mess I can tell you as much as you’d like.”

“Yeah. I’ll hold you to that, sir,” Sunshine grinned. 

They walked in silence. Sunshine had of course been aware of the Force through his training on Kamino. Serving under Jedi command meant that they needed to understand their allies better, how their powers worked and how to best form battle strategies with a Jedi ace up their sleeve. Occasionally General Ti held lectures to cadets about the history of the Order and how it functions. Sunshine had always taken front seats to those lectures.

“We are coming up at the corridor your lightsaber was last seen, sir,” Sunshine said. He couldn’t help some enthusiasm bleeding into his otherwise professional candor. Despite the world falling apart around him, he was comforted by the simplicity of the mission. It was something he was good at. 

“Good,” Kenobi grinned, seemingly sharing the same thoughts as him. 

“Be careful around this corridor, Sunny. The hull is compromised from the explosion, but it still has retained pressure. Anything too strong hitting against the walls could launch you both into space,” Kitfox’s voice chimed on the radio and Sunshine relayed it to the Jedi. 

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Obi-Wan quipped, and typed the code to open the blast door, and they barely had time to brace themselves for the gust of cold air that blew past them. 

Compromised was an understatement. The whole room was covered in a thin sheet of ice crystals, and their breaths made small crackling sounds as the humidity in their exhales froze upon leaving their mouths. The scene that opened before them was a warped, twisted carcass of the ship’s passageways. The pipes had curled up and contorted out of position, circuitry exposed and frozen over. Metals and plastics had heated up and cooled back down in seconds, presenting them both with an undulating, sparkling landscape, frozen in the pulse from the blast that hit it. 

The bombs had done a number on this ship. 

“I hope your sword doesn’t look as messed up as this place,” Sunshine laughed nervously. 

“It would not be ideal,” he answered, lips thin and looking uncomfortable with the sudden cold. “Let’s make this quick. I didn’t opt for your climatized armor as part of my training, so I’d like to get back to the warmth before I freeze in place here.”

“Right.”

They carefully navigated the narrow corridor. The relatively short walk was treacherous - the durasteel floor made for a slippery path once frozen over and he had to catch himself more than once from sliding into partially melted portions of the floor. It reminded him of walking on the wet plating on the suspended platforms of Kamino, only there was no comforting sound of the ocean breeze nor the smell of the salt in the air. 

“It’s close, I can feel it.”

“Is that what you call a hunch, or can you like… actually feel it? Like in the Force?”

Kenobi ignored him and briefly closed his eyes, though he kept walking at an ordinary pace. Sunshine was tempted to stop him before he would slip and fall on a piece of shrapnel, but he watched as the General navigated the space with apparent ease. Despite the stiffness in his gait, he found all the correct spots to step and ducked his head before a particularly low iron beam that protruded from the wall, and carefully sidestepped an exposed panel, eyes still closed. He walked with purpose and soon stopped by a particularly warped beam that displayed an impressive crown of ice that had frozen horizontally in place.

“Here,” he said, and pinpointed a spot near a pile of debris under the beam and broke some icicles off to reach it easier. “Help me dig.”

Sunshine nodded with an affirming grunt, and carefully made his way through the same path with the grace of a three-legged walker tank. He insisted on lifting the heavier pieces of the collapsed wall and tried not to look too hard at the obvious frozen, half-melted remains of a trooper armor that had been trapped underneath it. 

It didn’t take long before they found the telltale glint of brass and steel under the scorch-marked debris. He debated whether he should grab it or move aside for the Jedi to pick it up when suddenly the weapon lifted from the dust by itself and flew past his head. Surprised, he whipped around to see the lightsaber firmly in Obi-Wan’s hand. 

“Excellent find. Thank you, Sunshine,” Kenobi grinned earnestly. He carefully inspected the hilt, checking for any damage, and then ignited it. 

It was a glorious piece of artistry. Brilliantly blue, it shone brighter than any sun he had seen, and filled the room with a haunting cerulean tone. The heat of the blade reacted to the cold air with a smoky trail of steam as the snow crystals melted upon contact with it. The sight of it filled him with awe. And as soon as it was summoned, it was switched off, plunging the room back into the foreboding, red hue of the emergency lights above.

“Now let’s go, while I can still feel my fingers.”

Sunshine nodded. 

“Package retrieved, we’re on our way to the exit point,” he reported into his comm.

“Affirmative. Be careful, kid." Kitfox was audibly relieved on the other end. 

Obi-Wan helped him climb a particularly warped piece of floor and they both exited the frigid corridor. He typed in the code to close the blast door and suddenly the freezing gust stopped dead. They began their quiet march back towards the officer’s deck.

“It was a hunch.”

“What?” Sunshine had been so focused on the exits he didn’t register that the Jedi had spoken at first. 

“You asked earlier. I didn’t sense it, but I just had a feeling it was there.”

“Is that a Force thing?”

Obi-Wan considered it for a moment, scratching his chin. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Haven’t you had moments where you just sensed something was going to happen? Or making a correct assumption even when there was no tangible proof?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” His face fell. “I… I felt something was wrong just before Brash died. I just... didn’t have time to do anything about it. ” 

He mulled it over for a moment, quietly reliving the moment in his mind’s eye. Obi-Wan said nothing, just shot a sympathetic look his way. He shook it from his mind, redirecting his thoughts to less grim memories. 

“Once I made the correct call of a multiple-choice test that I was clueless about,” he added, with some forced cheer. “It was the one time I hadn’t practiced for a test. When I had the options in front of me, I just closed my eyes and let chance guide my hand… Though I never thought of it as a higher power being a part of it, I just assumed it as my brain telling me the answer without showing the work.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I suppose that’s a good analogy for how the Force often works. It guides your intuition - if you choose to listen to it.”

“Are you telling me the Force helped me ace my test? That’s cheating,” he joked. 

The General laughed. “It’s not cheating if it is part of the rules to begin with. I just happen to be born with the ability to harness it, and I’ve trained a lifetime to hone my intuition and listen to what the Force has to tell me. And sometimes, it will guide you too."

“I suppose I’ll thank the Force when I finally win the lottery.”

“Hold on. Something’s wrong,” Kitfox cut in. His tone was uncharacteristically hurried. The chatter in the background stilled and he could hear Patch getting closer to the microphone on the other end.

“What?” Sunshine asked, voice low. Obi-Wan, who had walked a little ahead, was unaware of the interruption. Sunshine tapped his shoulder lightly to alert him. 

“I can’t… I can’t quite tell, ” Patch said. “ The sonar is going off but I can’t determine its origin. This is… this isn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be further away…“

A gust of cold wind flew past them, followed by a mighty crunch as the blast doors exploded from behind. Sunshine whipped around to be faced with the hollow thumps of enormous footsteps that bounded towards them. He realized in horror that the cloaked figure was almost upon him. Several metallic hands shot towards him, and he found himself panicking, firing several rounds of blasts uselessly into its barreling figure.

A fist larger than his torso surrounded his entire field of vision. As soon as it arrived, the brilliant blues of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber swept the arm aside, sending the fist crashing into the wall next to him. The creature staggered slightly, before righting itself with stilted motions, and attempted to grab at Obi-Wan’s legs. The arm looked singed from contact, and the dirty, ratty cloak was smoking. Despite being hit by a lightsaber, it looked otherwise undamaged. 

“Still yourself!” Obi-Wan reprimanded, dodging its grabs and attacks with apparent ease. “Any of your missed shots could’ve hit the wall!” He pointed towards the frozen chamber they had just arrived from. With the blast door destroyed, Sunshine realized that one of his errant shots could’ve easily punctured the corridor like a balloon. The frosty mist rolled out from the corridor, enveloping the creature in a haunting fog and blocking his line of sight. The blaster was useless here. 

“The bogey is on us! We’re getting out of here,” Sunshine barked into his comm and didn’t register what Kitfox or Patch said on the other side as he began to bolt towards the next blast door. He rounded the corner and typed the code with trembling fingers. He attempted to wipe the sweat beading down his forehead despite wearing a helmet. He looked up and saw Obi-Wan deflecting heavy blows from the Intruder’s fists. 

“What are you doing?!” he screamed. 

“Covering for you!” Kenobi yelled back.

“Well, I’m covered! Get away from it!”

He held his hand over the door controls, shuddering to think what would happen if he touched it prematurely. His heartbeat grew so loud he could hear nothing else. He watched the enormous figure struggle to keep up with the Jedi’s twists and weaves, answering quick swipes with devastating blows to the floor and walls, leaving dents the size of a munitions crate. It was slower than the human it towered above, but unlike him, it didn’t grow tired. Obi-Wan’s movements began to grow stiff and heavy, and Sunshine bit the inside of his cheek. 

“The idiot,” he muttered under his breath. Then, a stupid idea was born in his head, and he left the blast door controls, running towards the hulking figure.

He skidded just before the robot’s legs, and fired a short spray into its cloak, not minding the futility of it. The creature was still distracted by Kenobi’s swordplay, and he used the opening to grab its signed and ratty cloak and threw it over its head. A brief moment of eye contact with Obi-Wan and the Jedi waved his fist, using the Force to grab onto the fabric and pulling down. It seemed surprised by the sudden tug from behind and it toppled slightly off-balance, the rag forcing the creature down to its knees. 

“Blast door. Now!” Sunshine barked urgently, and the Jedi finally had the sense to agree. 

They both ran.

Sunshine felt like he could cry. Even after going through all this trouble finding the lightsaber, it still wasn’t enough to pierce its armor. He racked his brain for possibilities, anything, anything at all that could give them a fighting chance. He watched the door grow closer and closer, and he could sense the beast stirring behind him. A split second later, he heard the rapid footsteps growing louder and louder right behind him. 

“On my mark, you fire,” Obi-Wan yelled, and Sunshine nodded. He knew exactly what the Jedi wanted him to do. 

They rounded the pillar of the blast door yet again, and Sunshine stood at ready with his rifle. He stared into the black hollow of the droid’s hood down the barrel. It was coming at them fast. 

“This is going to get rough. Hold on to something,” Obi-Wan warned. 

Obi-Wan yelled the command, and he fired. Instead of hitting the creature, he aimed at the flimsy wall structure just behind it, and he watched as it immediately crumpled outwards and the entire piece of steel was torn off its bolts and rivets. The entire chamber now depressurized, the debris began flying and Sunshine had to grab onto the pillar so he wouldn’t get sucked into space. 

Overwhelmed by the enormous pressure, the droid began sliding backward. Sparks flew from the metal feet scraped against it. It spread its long arms and hacked holes into the floor, anchoring itself in place. Like a spider, it clambered slowly towards them, seemingly not minding the rush of escaping oxygen any more than a strong wind. 

Sunshine held onto the pillar for his dear life. He freed one hand to keep firing at the bastard, trying to hit its hands, but the vortex of air ejecting into space rocked him hard, and he watched as each bolt flew wildly off the mark. 

“It’s not letting go,” he yelled.

They were running out of time. Sunshine’s sealed armor would protect him from the vacuum, but Obi-Wan’s didn’t. Either way, with no oxygen supply they’d both be dead in seconds.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan sprang from the pillar, launching himself at the droid. With the jet stream of air that was quickly flowing through the corridor, he practically stood sideways on top of the robot’s chest. With all of its arms occupied in the floorboards, he could enter its close proximity without risking a hit. The red gem in its chest flared, and Obi-Wan winced upon contact with it, but he bit his lip and ignored it. 

“What are you doing?!” Sunshine roared, only barely audible through the torrent of wind that swirled around him. Obi-Wan didn’t respond. He lifted his lightsaber high, and plunged it into the floor, carving a jagged molten line just above the droid’s fists. The floor began to loosen with a shrill creaking noise, and the hulking robed body began sliding backward as the metal began to give way under its weight. It floundered at the sudden loss of firm ground, and Obi-Wan bounced away before he could be grabbed by one of the enormous fists. 

The Jedi began the arduous climb back to the safety of the blast door, the wind against him and oxygen quickly draining from the hole in the back of the corridor. He leaped from support beam to support beam, impossibly defying the current that had begun to slow down - they were going to run out of oxygen. 

Behind him, the loosened floor finally gave way, and the creature plummeted backward and out to the darkness outside. Sunshine grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm as he finally bounded towards the door, visibly exhausted and his lips had started to turn blue. 

The door slid shut with a resounding clang and the endless noise stopped dead. Unbalanced from the change of pressure, Sunshine fell on his ass. He laid on his back for a second, just catching his breath. He watched the ceiling lights swirl in circles around him. 

On wobbly legs, he rose to a standing position. He swayed slightly from dizziness. He hadn’t felt this queasy since the one time he raided an instructor’s spice stash in his cadet days. 

He’d happily kiss Count Dooku’s boots if he never had to do that again. 

Next to him, Obi-Wan crumpled to his arms and knees. He gasped and heaved, and Sunshine sheepishly looked away as he emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor. One could only imagine what the Jedi felt. 

Sunshine slowly stumbled towards his hunched form and reached out an arm. Thankfully, the Jedi didn’t object and he dragged him clumsily to a stand. Obi-Wan’s nose was bleeding slightly, but he wiped it without comment. 

“That, sir... Was stupid.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan swallowed another gulp of air. His eyes were bloodshot. “I’m not going to disagree with you.”

“Are all Jedi as reckless as this?”

“No, you just got stuck with me,” Obi-Wan dismissed and made his way down the corridor and slapped the console of the next blast door. “We need to keep moving, this corridor might be compromised as well.”

But Sunshine couldn’t let go of the issue that easily. A sudden surge of anger flared inside of him and it took a lifetime’s worth of self-control not to slap him right then and there. 

“What were you thinking? You would’ve been dragged into space if I didn’t catch you!” He admonished.

“The creature would’ve followed us. It was the logical thing to do.” The General was calm, despite his very obvious discomfort. He patted his robes, brushing dust off his shoulders and regaining his regal composure, as if the vacuum sickness was forgotten. 

Obi-Wan’s dismissive response did nothing to quell Sunshine’s frustration. 

“The logical thing to do was retreat! What made you think that grandstanding like that was going to solve anything? Who are you trying to impress?”

“It did solve it. The droid is now in space. It will buy us some time. Had I done nothing, it would’ve kept busting down the doors until there would be no doors left to breach.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was clearly annoyed, but his voice was level. “I understand you’re trying to protect me, but I’m very capable of looking after myself. I’m trained to make decisions like this, even though you may not like them.”

“But unlike you, I am not the one who is invaluable to the war effort’s success,” Sunshine argued. “You can’t just go and risk your life on every occasion for every rank and file in the GAR.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples in irritation. “Sunshine…” he warned, but the clone was too wrapped up in his emotions to notice.

“What if you had failed? What if I couldn’t catch you? What if I missed…”

“Know your place, CT-5633," Obi-Wan snapped. 

Sunshine immediately snapped his mouth shut. He straightened, almost standing on attention from pure instinct at the sound of his CT number. The airlock was utterly silent. Just as suddenly as the anger flared in the Jedi’s eyes, it was gone. Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. A strange expression flashed in his eyes, before it was replaced with his usual dispassionate neutrality and he quickly turned to walk away. 

Sunshine watched the General walk to the next blast door in stunned silence. And then he realized with horror that he had been arguing with one of the highest-ranked officers in the army. His stomach plummeted, awash in shame. 

He got too comfortable and he got burned. The General’s shadow grew larger and larger with each step. 

Know your place, CT-5633. Good soldiers follow orders. 

“Are you coming?” Kenobi’s voice was distant, muffled. 

‘33 dutifully nodded and marched after him, weapon at the ready. Each step was stilted, too loud. He inspected each room with automatic precision. Reloaded his weapon with hands that didn’t feel like his. 

None of them spoke. Kitfox was somewhere in the back of his consciousness, yelling for him to respond. He didn’t register a word that was said. With a click of a button, he was quiet too.

‘33 stared holes into the Jedi’s back. Though they were both human, the chasm between them was larger than the Kaminoan ocean. 

As they descended deeper and deeper into the heart of the ship, he felt like a spectator of himself. Reflections of himself only showed a dirty white helmet. Faceless. Identical. Hundreds of them floating in space, scattered across the floor. Cracked and broken under collapsed debris. 

And by the day’s passing, about a thousand more troops would replace them all. 

How different was he from a droid?

Chapter Text

They marched on in silence. Navigating the endless corridors and abandoned rooms took the better part of an hour, quietly moving about the space and listening out for any changes, anything out of the ordinary. For any indication of the droid coming back. 

The ship’s temperature had dropped even further. Swirls of frost bloomed on every surface. A thin mist began to roll in from the numerous vents around them. Ice had begun to gather inside the workings of the ship, creaking and groaning as liquids began to freeze inside of the drums and pipes around them. It sounded like the ship was moaning, begging for last breaths before she eventually would give in to the cold clutches of death.

His breath fogged his visor, and he vaguely registered Obi-Wan’s plumes of breath just before him. They were both injured, exhausted, starving, and cold. Still, they pressed on.

“-shine. Sunshine, do you hear me? Hey, listen to me,”

‘33 blinked. Had he been out of it? He looked around and didn’t recognize his surroundings. He shook his head.

“Hey, are you back with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m here. Sorry, sir.”

Obi-Wan frowned. He folded his arms, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing look. “You’re exhausted. We’ll camp here.”

‘33 blinked. “No need to stop on my accord, sir. We need to complete our mission, sir.”

“Stop sir’ing me, Sunshine. I can’t see your face through that helmet of yours, but I can tell you’re practically a dead clone walking. We rest here.”

“But, the objective…”

“The objective is what I say it is, Sunshine,” Obi-Wan retorted warmly, and as if by demonstration, broke some errant crates open and began rooting through them. He didn’t search for long before he made a triumphant noise. The next moment, he was assaulted by something dark and soft, and it took a quick moment of floundering before he realized it was a blanket. 

Looking around, it seemed the place he found himself in had been a break room of some kind, so finding some provisions and water was a welcome surprise. They found a comfortable spot in the back of the room that had a clear view of the exits. Obi-Wan settled down on the floor, sitting on his knees and closing his eyes. ‘33 opted to sit in one of the recliners, hand never fully moving from his rifle.

He realized with a start that in his daze, he had neglected his comm. At some point after their encounter with the droid, he had switched it off. He didn’t remember when. With a tentative hand, he clicked it back on and was assaulted by an onslaught of indistinct yells from the other side. 

“We’re alive, cap. You can quiet down now, sir,” ‘33 murmured into his comm. 

“What the fuck happened?” The voice was Kitfox, who was absolutely livid. “You were gone for ages! ”

“Just… Just a little brush with the vacuum of space. We’re good now.” Well, as good as one could be after being nearly depressurized, but the captain didn’t need the details. Obi-Wan gave him a tired thumbs-up. “The General is okay. We got the lightsaber and managed to eject the bogey from the ship. We just got to a… safe location and are taking a quick breather.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know how safe this room was. He had gotten completely lost and didn’t know where it was, but he trusted in Obi-Wan’s guidance that they were on the right track. Kitfox seemed to accept the explanation, though he could feel his frustration radiating from the other side. 

“Carcass reported he’s approaching the rendezvous point and estimates arrival in about 20 minutes. I will let him know you’re delayed. ”

“Affirmative. And… sorry.”

“For what?” Kitfox was quieter now. 

“Speak with you later, captain. Signing off,” he said and clicked the button before he had a chance to change his mind. 

“What did he say?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes still closed. He looked strangely serene, despite the blood and dirt that covered his tunics. 

“Carcass is making good time and will arrive at the point soon. He didn’t say if he got your armor or not, but we should probably meet with him as soon as we can.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, expression calm. “I agree. However, we rest first.”

“Yeah.”

The General then fell into complete silence, seemingly ignoring his presence and everything around him. It puzzled ‘33. He could vaguely remember General Ti do something similar when he walked past her office back home. He could only assume that it is what Jedi meant by rest, though he hardly believed sitting on his knees for hours on end would be relaxing, much less restful. He was tempted to try it himself, but his armor was hardly designed for it, so he decided against it. Besides, he would save himself the embarrassment of his legs falling asleep. 

Instead, he opted to simply lean back against a crate and listen to the ship creak and groan around them. He quietly observed as a trickle of condensation above the door slowly began to freeze into a small icicle, still dripping occasionally and growing a little longer for each drop that froze. 

Then, Kenobi opened his eyes, relaxed his stance. He sat cross-legged ahead of him and looked at him seriously. He seemed deep in thought. He was used to the Jedi acting strange, but the prolonged eye contact began to unnerve him. 

“Sunshine. I… I owe you an apology. I spoke out of turn back there. My... emotions got the better of me and I said things I didn't truly mean. I upset you.”

‘33 blinked. What?

“I… was reckless and risked both our lives pulling that stunt. I didn’t think of the consequences, and lashed out when you called me out on it. I was reductive and minimized your worth. For that, you have my deepest apologies.”

'33 stared dumbfounded at Kenobi's earnest face.

Since when did Generals apologize? How was he supposed to respond? There was nothing in the rulebook for this interaction, no training that prepared him for this. He’s not supposed to be put above a non-clone officer, much less a Jedi. But the context stated that he needed to respond. General Kenobi was expecting it. 

Think of something. Think of anything. 

Think.

Think .

“You’re… welcome?”

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose in earnest surprise. The chamber was utterly silent. Nothing filled the air but light puffs of mist from their breath. 

'33 cringed inwardly. Did he say the wrong thing?

Then Obi-Wan laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the room. Their stealthy position was forgotten, he just kept laughing until Sunshine began to sense a giggle coming from himself. A short spurt of laughter escaped him, and then another, until he found himself in a full-blown fit of unbridled hilarity. The hilarity of his faux pas, the hilarity of him sitting in the same room as the highest decorated member of the Jedi Order, the hilarity of their absolute fucked up situation being trapped in dead space with the constant threat of a murder robot looming over them. Tears streaming from his eyes, he had to stop himself from falling over from giggling. 

They both quieted down and wiped their tears. Then they looked at each other and their ridiculous red faces, and began laughing over again. He hardly felt lucid - just the attempt of processing the amount of stress and grief and pain he had experienced in the span of less than a day, all accumulated to a half-delirious fit of comedy born from his own social cluelessness. Sunshine was sure that they could be heard all over the Vindication, but he didn’t care. 

When the laughing fit ended, he was lying on his back, staring at the dark, drab ceiling. The torrent of emotion that had overcome them exhausted them both, and he felt strangely light when it was over. 

“Seriously though, please stop running headfirst into death traps like that again.”

“No promises,” Obi-Wan quipped. He sounded exhausted too. Then a beat of silence. “But I will try.”

Sunshine knew that was the best he could get out of the stubborn General for now, and accepted the compromise. Obi-Wan rose to his knees again, expression soft. “You have never been to the Republic, right?”

Sunshine grimaced thinking back on Pluto and his crass reminder that he had hardly seen any of the galaxy in his short life. He leaned back on his elbows and shook his head. “I just got here from Kamino. I had once visited a nearby moon for training, but that’s about it.”

Obi-Wan hummed in response. He couldn’t tell what the Jedi thought about his severe lack of familiarity with the Republic he was engineered to serve, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Compared to him, Obi-Wan seemed impossibly old and wise, though visually they didn’t look too far apart in age. 

Sunshine began to wonder what his life would be like if he truly was as old as he looked. Or, if he truly did look his age.

How strange, to be a cadet… a child, for a quarter of his lifespan. Spending so many years trapped in a body too small and unfinished sounded unbearable to him. He could hardly imagine how annoying it would be to be too short for machinery and equipment for so long. To be so small and vulnerable, and too weak to hold a gun. He shuddered to imagine suffering the awkward adolescent period for nearly a decade, as opposed to his short few years being gangly and miserable. 

He decided a regular human cadethood would be a hassle. 

Still, he had seen holovids of families across the galaxy, living their strange, happy lives in an unstructured, unregulated, but peaceful bliss. The way the birth-givers raised their young and took them to schools where they held pencils and toys and had friends that didn’t look just like them. 

It looked… quaint. 

He stared at the ceiling, picturing the scenes in his mind - one of the holovid scenes he would replay over and over, of a public park in central Coruscant. He wondered how it would look at the sunset, what the grass would sound like, what the smells would be like, visiting a street vendor and browsing their selection of foods from all over the galaxy -

“I want to try ice cream,” he blurted out.

“Huh?” Obi-Wan piped up, clearly lost in his own thoughts as well.

He felt embarrassed for letting his thoughts slip through like that. Such trivial ideas, irrelevant for his lifestyle. Still, he allowed himself to indulge in the idea, if just for a second. “I’ve never tasted it. I’ve seen it on holonet ads. When I’m on shore leave, I want to try it.”

Obi-Wan regarded him earnestly, almost softly. He had never seen a Jedi look that way before. Then again, he had never seen a Jedi fully succumb to a laughing fit, or apologizing to a meaningless grunt. The man was nothing if not full of surprises.

“When we both make it out of here, I’ll treat you. I know just the place. Jedi Council’s treat,” he winked.

They both grinned. When, not if. 

Sunshine reached out a closed fist and not missing a beat, the Jedi bumped it. 

It's a promise. 

Chapter Text

Their break got extended by another few minutes. It wasn’t entirely on purpose, but Sunshine fell asleep about ten minutes into his watch and Obi-Wan had decided not to wake him right away. He instead opted to go through their provisions and plan their next steps.

Sunshine eventually woke, and took a bite of his protein bar, staring into space, not really thinking about anything. Carcass messaged them, informing him that their originally planned exit was a bust, and he’d try to find somewhere else to begin their spacewalk. He didn’t give the details, but he mentioned something about the airlock being jammed shut. That gave Obi-Wan and Sunshine some extra time to relax while they waited for the new rendezvous point. 

Obi-Wan found a holoprojector with the Vindication's map schematics and spent the following quiet minutes planning their new route. 

“Can I look at it?”

“Look at what?” Obi-Wan asked, not taking his eyes off the holomap.

“Your sword. Can I?”

He lifted an eyebrow. He let out a sardonic chuckle and wrapped himself in tighter. “Maybe once we're out of this mess, huh?”

He framed the rejection politely, but Sunshine could tell he had just trodden on forbidden ground, and he felt himself flush slightly. But it wasn't a no. 

They both sat in silence. Sunshine felt no particular hunger but snacked on a ration bar anyway. The ship creaked and groaned around them. Distant crashes and hisses as debris collided against the fragile surface of the hull. Sunshine had dozed one or two times resting against the durasteel wall, but every time he opened his eyes, the General was on high alert. Did he ever sleep?

The temperature had not improved after the climate control had been damaged, and he could tell Kenobi started to be worn down from trying to keep the heat. The blankets would do for now, but they would have to find a set of armor for him so he wouldn’t turn into an icicle any time soon. 

Suddenly, Sunshine stood and started unbuckling his chest plate. A rush of cold air hit his lungs, but he ignored it. 

Kenobi lifted an eyebrow. “What… are you doing?”

“You’re shivering. We humans need to protect our vitals. Here,” he handed him his chest plate. It was bloody, grimy, and sweaty from the day’s strife, but it would do. To think it had been pristine just a little less than a cycle ago. “The thermo-regulation will not be as efficient unless you have the full armor set, but it will at least protect your chest from the worst.”

The General held it in his hands for a few seconds. He regarded it with a perplexed expression, as if he had never seen a breastplate before. 

“I can’t accept this. You’ll be defenseless and freeze in no time.” He motioned to hand it back. “Don’t worry about me. I can regulate my temperature using the Force.”

It was Sunshine’s turn to cock an eyebrow. The General did seem to earnestly believe that, but the shaking under his blanket, the redness to his cheeks, and flushed features told him otherwise. Maybe the Jedi did have the ability to endure extreme conditions, but he had been running on fumes long before this point and looked effectively exhausted. He hadn’t forgotten that just a few hours ago, he had nearly been dying and bleeding out on the floor. There was no way any mystical Force-magic or stim injections were going to keep him warm at this point. 

“I’m sorry General. It's an order,” he challenged, though the challenge came out toothless. The O-word felt alien on his tongue. He regretted it as soon as it was said, but there was no way to take it back. 

He expected anger and reprimand, but instead Kenobi grinned, amused. “An order you say? On whose authority, if I may ask?”

Sunshine thought about it for a second. He didn’t think this far. “Frostbite’s. As the medic, his command overrules even your own in these circumstances. And he would advise you to take this breastplate to protect yourself from the cold temperatures.”

“Oh, really.”

“I can contact him right now and find out,” he retorted, arms crossed. “Judging by the captain’s last report, he should be close by.”

Is this what mutiny felt like?

“Are you threatening to... tattle on me?”

“I’ve been known to rat people out. And I will do it again.” He held up his finger to the comms button on his helmet. Kenobi’s eyes widened as he inched closer to the button. And that was enough to prove that he had leverage, and they both knew it. 

The Jedi opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. He rolled his eyes and began strapping on the breastplate with a pointed lack of enthusiasm. “Alright, you win. Just to let you know, you’re really testing me, trooper.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise, sir.”

“Using my trusted medical officer against me. Is this what the Kaminoans have been teaching you?”

“Let’s just say the 307th has been rubbing off on me.”

—

Obi-Wan hadn’t known Sunshine for long, but he could tell for certain that the last hours had been harrowing for the shiny. Their quick breather had given the trooper some color back in his cheeks, though the fast chilling star destroyer would soon make icicles of them both if they didn’t start moving. 

Obi-Wan prayed the bridge would have a more comfortable temperature, though he didn’t keep his hopes up. Praying wasn’t really his thing anyway. 

“Carcass has confirmed the new location,” Sunshine finally reported. He had made a quaint, but ingenious solution to his lack of chest armor by wrapping some of the excess blankets around him into a lumpy, but warm-looking poncho. It would do little for protection, but at the moment, the cold was deemed a bigger problem than projectiles and blunt force trauma. “There is a passageway near the Rec room in section A6. There’s a vent that passes over it and will lead to the airlock nearest the bridge’s closest location.”

“Good. I believe A6 is a 20-minute walk. If we’re being quiet, that is,” Obi-Wan said. “However, we need to turn back a few passageways and then circle around the locker rooms by section A4. If the Force is with us, Carcass will have found that space suit for me, so I can give you your breastplate back.”

Sunshine didn’t seem to recognize the locations he listed, but he nodded along with him all the same. Sometimes Obi-Wan forgot that the shiny trooper had hardly spent a week on the ship before everything fell apart. 

“Sounds good to me. You good to go?” The clone asked. 

“As good as I’ll ever be,” Obi-Wan replied in earnest. He’s had much worse. His stitches burned, his bruised ribs protested loudly and his sword arm made his vision go white every time he moved it too fast. 

In other words, just another day in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

But, Sunshine had been right to worry about the cold. The break had done little to energize him - it did rather the opposite. Even with the borrowed breastplate, it only protected a small area from the cold. He reached out to the Force, to lend some energy, just for a little while. He would have to push through the weariness and end this disaster once and for all. 

Sunshine handed him a blanket. He reluctantly took it. 

While Obi-Wan always appreciated the value of a good sense of style, he never had much of a talent in the tailoring department. He cut a hole in the middle and made a similarly dumpy-looking poncho to match with the shiny’s. He caught his reflection in a dark viewport and saw how pathetically unimpressive his job had been. The drab, gray garment was heavy and covered nearly his whole body, making him look short, sad, and miserable like a wet loth-cat.

“That’s… a good look on you, sir,” Sunshine lied. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. At least the clone had the decency to turn around to stifle a giggle. 

“First you attempt mutiny and now you’re lying to your superior officer,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I'm going to have a frank conversation with your captain when this is over. He’s clearly been a poor influence.”

Sunshine simply grinned and walked out of the room, rifle primed and seamlessly shifted back into guard mode. Stomachs sated and somewhat rested, they began the next leg of their mission. 

TheVindication was nothing if not a series of surprises one after another. The multiple explosions had created collapses in major areas of the internal structure, but other hallways were completely untouched, even fully lit, and with running power. Other areas were constantly on fire from dangerous chemicals and other chunks were completely frozen solid. The irregularities made it difficult to predict what was going to happen when they opened each blast door, but thankfully Patch and Kitfox’s constant feed in his comm helped navigation somewhat. 

Passing by the locker rooms, they were surprised by a torrent of knee-high water that washed past them as soon as the doors opened. Inside, they saw a dark series of halls connected to the second largest barracks on the ship. 

“Damn. The pipes have burst. The shower hall is just past here,” Sunshine said. “My bunk is just a few minutes around the corner.”

Opening the doors had flushed most of the errant greywater out and lowered the overall water level, but the constant roar from the shower room implied that the place was going to fill up again if the water didn’t fully freeze before then. They walked deeper into the hall, the frigid water reaching up to their ankles. It smelled awful. 

“Do you think… do you think that thing will come back?” Sunshine’s voice came from behind. The corridors, partially filled with water, carried his quiet voice far and he felt the low vibrations resonate in the grey path they walked. It felt like they were walking in a sewer tunnel and not in the walkway of a Republic starship. 

“I don’t know. Proceed with care. The droid is hardly our biggest concern right now.”

“Right,” Sunshine nodded. 

Obi-Wan recognized the path ahead. 

“Up there,” he pointed. “Those vents will go above the showers and rec room. It should head straight to Carcass’s position.”

“Anything to not trudge through this sewage is fine by me,” Sunshine said, inspecting the small shaft.

It was a small hatch just above head level, and he pulled the grates off with ease with a gentle nudge of the Force. He set them quietly down on the floor and beckoned Sunshine closer. 

He was used to non-Force users to gawk whenever he used his powers, and the rookie was no exception. The young clone stared wide-eyed at the deposited grate as if it was going to run off at any moment. At least had the restraint to stay quiet despite clearly having a thousand questions. 

Obi-Wan stepped up to the vent. 

“You first,” he said, and bent down with his hands folded, ready to boost him. 

Sunshine nodded and climbed up with some difficulty. He had to toss his rifle into the passageway and then carefully heaved himself up, his armor making things a little more clumsy. The entrance was icy and he nearly slipped as soon as his knee made contact, but Obi-Wan nudged him gently with the Force before he could fall. 

Obi-Wan simply opted to use the Force to jump up after him and arrived with ease. 

“Now that’s just cheating,” Sunshine murmured into the vents ahead. Obi-Wan shrugged. 

Compared to the vents, the corridors had been a pleasant walk at the beach. The frosty air pumped from the climate center passed through these passageways, and they had quickly accumulated a thin layer of ice as condensation passed through and got stuck against the walls. The endless pathways were frigid, uncomfortably narrow, and chilled him to the bone. 

“A-aren’t you g-glad you got a proper breastplate now, General?” Sunshine shivered ahead of him, somewhat muffled from the distance and his body blocking most of his view ahead. 

“Sure,” Obi-Wan agreed and rolled his eyes. “Sound carries through vents, so let’s try not to be too chatty, alright?”

Sunshine made a sound of agreement and kept crawling. 

Obi-Wan had memorized the map of the vents and gave the trooper directions every few minutes. It was too dark to see anything. It was challenging to get through the endless looping passages, one frostier than the next. 

About through the halfway mark, the initial high of the stim shot started to wane, and Obi-Wan could no longer ignore the pain in his… everything. There was a subtle wheeze to his every breath. His shoulder shot a line of pins and needles down to his hand every time he put his weight on it. He had not dared look at his stitches yet. Maybe moving through an enclosed space like this wasn’t such a good idea.

He was drawn from his inner thoughts when he almost bumped his head into the trooper’s hindquarters.

“Listen,” Sunshine whispered. He turned awkwardly to face Obi-Wan. “Can you hear that?”

Obi-Wan frowned and closed his eyes. He sent out a tentative tendril of the Force, heightening his senses. If his memory served, they were likely just above the shower rooms by now. There were no life signatures around. “I don’t sense anything suspicious,” he murmured. While the Force didn’t ping him on anything serious, he knew better than to disregard the trooper's instincts. “Keep an ear out. I’ll carve an exit if it comes to it.”

Sunshine hummed in agreement and kept crawling, though a little slower this time, carefully listening for the strange sound he’d heard. Peering into the grated shafts below them, they could both see the series of pillars making up the shower room. There was an endless roar of rushing liquid as the pipes had completely burst within the pillars, shooting beams of high-pressure water from the cracks. There was more water than the drains could handle, and the room was filled up to nearly knee height. 

Sunshine suddenly paused. There was a wall of ice that blocked the path ahead of him. The cold air was turning all of the steaming condensation around them into a barrier faster than Obi-Wan had expected. Sunshine was about to hit the block with the stock of his rifle but Obi-Wan stopped him.

“Hold on, let me,” he said and reached out his hand, closing his eyes. With a simple motion of the Force, he grasped the buildup of ice and crushed it. It burst into thousands of ice pebbles that scattered across the vent floor. 

“That’s handy,” Sunshine quipped, impressed, and began the slow crawl again.

They stopped when they heard a loud groan around them. It sounded like the stuttering creaks of metal against metal. 

“There it is again,” Sunshine murmured and frantically looked around the small space for the source. “It’s not the droid… is it?”

“No, it’s not here,” Obi-Wan quickly reassured him. If the droid was here, he would’ve felt it. There’s no way it would find them again this quickly, especially not after being shot into space.

The groan grew louder, accompanied by the sound of something snapping far ahead of them. The passage fell quiet. 

Then, far away, in the dark vents ahead, a sluggish stream of water began trickling toward them. As they crawled, the stream grew stronger, faster. Alarm bells began ringing in Obi-Wan’s head. 

“I think another pipe just burst,” he said. 

Sunshine turned to him, worry spilling into the Force. “Where do you think that pipe was,” he asked, apprehensively. 

As if on cue, the rush of liquid suddenly grew stronger. A wave of frigid water completely filled the vent up ahead. And it was rushing directly toward them. 

Instinctually, Obi-Wan let his Force presence flare and punched a hole into the vent just below Sunshine. 

“Watch out,” he yelled, as he pushed the surprised trooper into the shower room below. He didn’t have time to see Sunshine land before he was struck by the wall of frigid jetstream that dragged him back into the vent. His world was nothing but cold and darkness as he felt himself being pushed further and further away from his objective. 

He braced himself just in time to feel his back knock hard into the vent wall. The current tried to drag him to the right following the vent deeper into the ship's systems, but he blindly gripped the corner, anchoring himself in place. With one hand holding on for his dear life and with the other pressed against the vent in front of him, he released another pulse of the Force. The shockwave of energy from his hand struck a hole in the vent and he felt himself flying out, carried by the waterfall he just created. 

His fall was cushioned by more water, but only slightly, and he was silently grateful for the armor that padded his impromptu greeting with the tiled floor. The water rushed in from all sides, from the walls, the vent he had just fallen from, and from the drains in the floor. He was completely drenched. 

“Sunshine?” he called, before hacking disgusting greywater from his throat. So much for staying clean on this Force-forsaken ship. 

“General? General!” Sunshine’s muffled voice came from close by, though Obi-Wan’s estimation was likely a few rooms over. 

Obi-Wan staggered to his feet, still dazed by the enormous force that had ragdolled him several feet through the narrow passage. 

“Well, vents are a no-go,” he concluded, grumbling to himself. Of course, a bath complex designed for over a thousand men would have the water supply of an entire town. It just never occurred to him the domino effect that the sudden temperature shift would have on the ship’s overall structural integrity. The water system was supposed to withstand damage from bombs and collapse, but it was fair to assume extreme cold wasn't part of the equation. He moved past the spouting pipes and touched the wall on the other side of the room. Not bothering with the doors, he brandished his lightsaber; a shortcut was in order.

“Step away from the wall,” he yelled and stabbed the sword into the wet steel. It was probably faster to walk around, but he was tired and cold and fed up, and carving holes into the ship that was making his bad day feel a little better. 

Water splashed as the person-sized chunk of steel fell away and crashed to the tiled floor. Sunshine stood shivering just on the other side, worry written plainly across his face. 

“You good, sir?” he asked tentatively, arms wrapped around his chest. Small droplets had already frozen on the tips of his hair. He had discarded his poncho. Obi-Wan realized that his own clothing was sopping wet and weighed him down, and he tore his poncho off as well. The cloth was no use to him wet. There was not much he could do about his Jedi robes, but the blacks were insulating enough for now. The borrowed breastplate improved things by a lot, but that was not something he planned to admit to the rookie anytime soon. 

“Yes, I just felt like taking a little swim. Let’s go.”

The shortcut was a bust, but Obi-Wan didn't dwell on it for any longer than he needed to. He rarely walked into a new plan without contingencies, and he had studied the map outside of the vents as well. The path around the barracks and rec room was a big detour, but it was preferable over a repeat of the vent disaster. 

Leaving the shower area, they found the barracks, flooded to ankle level. Clothes, armor plates, and debris were scattered, floating across the floor. 

“Shit, it’s getting into my boots. Do you know how you get trench foot? Because this is how you get trench foot,” Sunshine grumbled just ahead, shaking water uselessly from his armor. 

“That leak would be troublesome in space,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “There should be spare boots around. Get yourself a replacement breastplate while you’re at it.”

Sunshine nodded, and found the armor parts without difficulty. Possibly one of the biggest perks with a clone army - one size fits all. Obi-Wan patiently waited as Sunshine got a change of dry clothes, looking quite pleased once he was done. Despite the inconvenience of all the water around them, at least they discovered a vacuum leak in the relative safety inside the ship instead of out in space. 

Silver linings, and all that.

Their walk was mostly uneventful for the next half hour or so. The water began to filter away the further from the barracks they moved, much to their relief. Still, Obi-Wan could hear the creaking of pipes struggling under the pressure around them. It was just a question of time before the rest of the ship followed suit. An excess of water in the bath section of the ship was difficult, but a manageable hurdle - but a burst pipe in a section full of exposed electricity… he released his apprehension into the Force and pushed himself to think of the here and now. Worrying would do nothing in this situation. 

“We’re at the rendezvous point,” Sunshine reported into his comm, concluding their arduous journey. Both of them moved quietly into an abandoned security area. Unlike the rest of the ship, this section seemed to run off a local power source. It was lit normally and had a somewhat bearable temperature, though only by a little. The apparent normalcy and the eerie quiet of their surroundings only made their situation feel more unnerving. 

And Carcass was nowhere to be seen.

“The captain has informed Carcass of our arrival. He’ll uh… find us.”

“Find us?” Obi-Wan asked. “We agreed to meet here. We can’t afford to delay any…”

“Found you,” Carcass’s gravelly voice appeared from behind, and Obi-Wan had to stop himself from jumping. The clone was covered in soot and snow. His face tattoo was nearly completely covered with oil and grime. When he noticed their puzzled looks, he shrugged. “The walls are good hiding places,” he said, as if that explained anything.

He beckoned the two to follow him, and they passed through a security office before they found the airlock. With the fresh power running, they all felt a little more at ease. There was a large viewport behind the security desk. Looking through, he could see the enormous part of the Vindication that floated in space. It was framed by the halo of the moon below, where the sun began to rise on the crest of its surface. Debris and oil that had been shot into the atmosphere of the icy rock rained like hundreds of mini-meteors. 

The clone unceremoniously tossed Obi-Wan his spacesuit. He silently dreaded it to be as dirty and covered in oil as the trooper was, but he was surprised to see it was completely clean. Besides, he assumed that he probably looked like he’d slept in a trash compactor, so he was not one to judge.

Obi-Wan didn’t waste any time being perplexed over how the strange clone, and quickly put the suit on. His side burned and his shoulder stung, but he would deal with it later. Sunshine gave him a scrutinizing look. He ignored it. 

“These air canisters will last you a whole cycle, but there’s only a few in this sector. Don’t lose them,” Carcass said and handed them their air supply. He helped attach it to Sunshine’s and Obi-Wan’s armor and stepped up to the airlock. In his arms, he carried a large spool of metal wire. It was so large and heavy, he was surprised he could carry it at all.

“I’ll go first. This winch is attached to this support pillar and will not budge. Wait till I fire the signal and then you climb after,” Carcass declared. 

“Wait… what signal?” Sunshine asked. 

Carcass had already entered the airlock. It closed shut behind him before any of them could get a word in edgewise. Obi-Wan and Sunshine shared a puzzled look.

“Then I suppose we’ll wait for that signal,” Obi-Wan shrugged. 

The two of them watched out of the viewport as the clone effortlessly bounced from the airlock and flew towards the unmoored bridge. The winch floated after him, sparkling in the slowly emerging sunlight. He connected with the airlock and shortly disappeared behind the steel doors. The cable was stuck between the two airlocks. It floated in the vacuum, swaying calmly and glistening of copper and steel. 

A minute passed. Then another. And another.

Sunshine fidgeted anxiously with his oxygen tube. Obi-Wan lightly slapped his hand away. 

“Stop playing with that,” he chastised, and Sunshine nodded sheepishly. The young clone instead reverted to pacing the room, which wasn’t much better, but at least then he wouldn’t accidentally damage his life support. He watched the clone march back and forth in the small space. 

He sat down on his knees. Closed his eyes. Deep breaths.

Truthfully, he didn’t like the wait either. He could hardly focus on his exercises with Sunshine’s distracting pacing, or the aches and pains in his body, and just the pure anticipation of this next step. His emotions had been unbalanced ever since that derelict transporter carrying the droid was dragged on board. But he followed his teachings and focused on each breath, as much as he could muster. 

Sunshine stopped. He paused just in front of the window and peered out. 

“Is that…?” he said and trailed off. He stared out of the viewport with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

“Carcass?” Obi-Wan finished and rose from his meditative stance. 

They both watched the strange scene unfold. 

A large jet of water flew near the entrance Carcass had landed at. The droplets spurted from a cut-off pipe and sparkled in the dim sunlight before they froze into pebble-sized ice balls that cracked against the viewport like a light, local hailstorm. Against the darkness of space, illuminated blue and gold from the surrounding light, it was a strangely beautiful sight. Like little spirits dancing in the night sky. 

“Do you... think that’s the signal?” Sunshine asked looking at the sparkling pebbles in wide-eyed wonder.

“He could’ve just had Patch or the captain relay his message,” Obi-Wan remarked, amused. “But that’s undoubtedly him. Let’s go.”

Sunshine nodded, determined and ready. The clone steeled himself and put his helmet back on. He opened the airlock and they both stepped inside. 

Chapter Text

What Sunshine noticed when he stepped out of the airlock, was not the eerie absence of sound, the loss of weight or the loss of control. It wasn’t the ever-reaching expanse of utter darkness before him, or the impressive view of the frozen moon below, nor the ever-present knowledge that the smallest nick to his armor would have him freeze and choke on his own insides within seconds. 

It was his heartbeat. 

With nothing making a sound outside the thin protection of his armor, all he could hear was the rush of blood, pulsing through his system and pumping vitality to his brain. The steady beat, a simple rhythm against his breastplate, strangely calm. Despite all of the harrowing things that had happened that day, the near-death experiences, his bruised ribs, the frozen fingers, the brothers lost. He felt calm. Still. Floating. Not existing - yet very, very, very much alive. 

His body existed and it breathed life, no matter how fleeting it was. 

He knew that if he let go of the tether, he would disappear into space and die of exposure - but at that moment, he just closed his eyes and listened. 

Obi-Wan waited for him for a short while before he nudged him back to the present. He motioned for him to follow. Without a proper way to communicate, he nodded a little more obviously he needed to, and carefully dragged himself along with the cord Carcass had prepared for them. 

It was hard not to look anywhere but the objective. He directed his attention at Kenobi’s back, looking very intensely at one particular bolt on his air canister. He made a point of not having either hand off the rope, simply loosening his grip for each take. The Jedi seemed to use a similar gripping method but looked far more at ease in the space. He had likely done this many times before. His lightsaber glinted in the starlight from its clip on his belt. 

Even with the multiple reassurances that Obi-Wan could catch him if he lost his grip, that brief moment of bliss enjoying the weightlessness slowly begin to drift away. The disembodied head of the Vindication grew closer and closer, and with it, the low and constant feedback of dread in the back of his head began to resurface. 

The bridge was completely lightless, mangled, and burnt from the countless explosions that ravaged the hull. Pieces of metal and plastics drifted around it. Droplets of oil and gasoline sparkled in the pale starlight. Somehow, despite the total destruction that had torn it from the main body, it still held its structural composure. It wouldn’t hold for long. But it would keep for the few hours they needed. 

Several heartbeats later and the airlock of the bridge finally came within reach. Obi-Wan typed in the door code and pushed Sunshine into the chamber before him. As the door slammed behind him, sound returned with the hiss of oxygen and decontamination fluid. 

“We’re in,” Sunshine hoarsely reported into his comm. His mouth was dry. “Carcass led us near the entrance of the Admiral’s suite.”

“Glad to hear, kid. Remember the coordinates. The faster you get outta there, the better,” Kitfox said. He sounded tired. Relieved, but tired. 

“Of course, sir,” Sunshine said and switched off the comm with a sigh. 

He shared a brief look with Obi-Wan. He looked at him earnestly. 

“There’s a minor medical repository near here. We’ll pick up some meds on the way,” he said quietly. “And we’ll get this relay constructed. We’re nearly there, friend.”

They exited the airlock and moved into the darkness beyond. Sunshine lit the torch on his helmet and filed in, scoping the room, rifle first. 

The Admiral's suite was one of a small number of private areas where clone presence was strictly forbidden. Even with the extraordinary circumstances, it felt like he was treading on forbidden ground. In the flickering lamplight, he half expected a drill sergeant to pop out from a dark corner and reprimand him for severe disobedience. Still, his curiosity and determination won out and he took in his surroundings with renewed motivation. 

The quarters were a sizable office space that had one door that lead to a rather spacious bedroom and an en-suite fresher - a luxury that even the highest-ranking clones could only dream of. The broad desk had an inbuilt computer, which illuminated the room in a bright yellow glow. The screen was reflected in the enormous viewport that was placed directly behind the large, leather chair. The long reinforced copper cable that Carcass carried cut a line through the quarters and into the next series of passages, likely in the hunt for a safe docking point. 

Obi-Wan did a quick pass over the office area, opening the desk drawers for potential equipment they could use. Sunshine scanned the area for potential threats while the Jedi did his work, but the place was entirely quiet aside from the gentle hum of the computer. Sunshine brushed a hand against the leather upholstery of the office chair, looking rather perplexed at the quality of it. 

Obi-Wan moved to the computer and typed some commands into it, and sighed when the machine whined about lack of connection to the central servers. He searched the folders and directories for a few more minutes, before leaning against the desk with a deep sigh.

"What's wrong, sir?" Sunshine asked. The clone had taken the liberty to sit in the chair, enjoying the brief moment of indulgent luxury. 

"The computer is wiped," Obi-Wan replied and clicked the various folders and nodes in the machine's directory. 

Sunshine straightened and frowned. He rolled closer to inspect the screen. "Have you checked the compactor folder?" 

"Yes, and there's nothing," Obi-Wan lamented. "Whoever our saboteur is, they were thorough. The Admiral's computer has total jurisdiction over the entire ship's data system. If this one is wiped, that means the rest are likely to have followed suit."

"They got rid of the paper trail."

"If there even was any, yes." Obi-Wan leaned back against the viewport, deep in thought. "This is troubling."

Sunshine regarded the blank, yellow screen for a moment, and then he frowned. "Do you think...?" He trailed off, uncertainty evident in his voice. 

Obi-Wan's lips thinned and he scratched his beard in thought. "I don't want to jump to any conclusions. We're wasting time. Let's move."

Sunshine grunted in agreement and reluctantly left the comfortable-looking leather chair. Determination filled his features as he lead the way out of the Admiral's quarters and into the narrow passageways toward the elevators. The power had been cut just outside of the office, and there was nothing but the red emergency lights glaring from above and Obi-Wan's azure lightsaber just behind him. 

“Where’s Carcass anyway? He said he’d meet us he-...”

Sunshine tripped on something heavy and wet. 

He nearly fell over but braced against the wall with a hand outstretched. The surface was slick. His hand was red. 

“No,” Obi-Wan exhaled. 

Sunshine couldn’t stifle his gasp. He looked up to see he was inches from Carcass’s face. He was ghastly white. Jaw displaced and contorted into a permanent scream. His one whole eye socket bleeding the contents of his head. The iris stared ahead, bulging and unseeing. The other eye crushed beyond recognition. His neck was flattened. The armor cracked and bleeding through the gaps. In his clenched hand, he held the spool of wire that was still attached to the other half of the ship. 

Obi-Wan helped him up and they both stared at the body in stunned disbelief. 

“He was alive not twenty minutes ago,” Sunshine whispered. 

“It’s hunting us,” Obi-Wan said. His face was grim. “It’s here, and it's hunting us.”

---

There was not much they could do about Carcass’s body but to leave him behind and pray they could give him his funeral rites once all of this was over. Obi-Wan watched as Sunshine spoke a quiet word of respect to his fallen brother. 

As much as he wanted to share in the moment, he could only think of what had happened to him while they were separated. The droid had moved between the two floating bridge parts while they were navigating the vents. It had somehow predicted their movements and caught the trooper by surprise. 

A chill settled deep in his stomach. It was close, he could tell. And it could tell he was here as well. 

Empty, frigid, lonely.

It was a constant pulse of malice and sadness, incoherently whispered in the Force, like droplets of ink in clear water. The weight of it was unbearable. 

Sunshine tore a strip off the cloth he had carried with him and covered the clone’s face. When he rose to face him, determination filled his eyes, and they nodded in unison. Obi-Wan took point, lightsaber ignited, while the trooper covered his back. There was no need to stay hidden. They both knew they were watched. 

Much like in the main body of the ship, the elevator was a no-go. There was a set of stairs leading up to the bridge, thankfully. It was as narrow as it was tall, and their footsteps echoed loudly in the passage. Obi-Wan peered upward into the darkness above and shielded his face from errant drops of condensation and dust that fell from above. There were no movements or sounds aside from their own boots touching the steel steps, but he could feel the dark presence looming around him. 

Empty, frigid, lonely.

Rust and blood.

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan called out. His voice rang in the steel walls and was met with silence. “I know there is someone inside of that shell. I want to know why you are doing this. If you let us know what you want, we can arrange something. Just please, let there be no more deaths.”

The passage was silent. Sunshine gave him a perplexed look and Obi-Wan shrugged in return. He debated whether he should share his suspicions with the clone just yet, about the strange presence, about the whispers in the Force, the utterly frigid lump in his chest that only seemed to bloom when it was near. However, this invasion has done nothing but confuse and disorient them from the very beginning. 

He decided against it. No need to cause any more confusion. 

He grinned tightly. “It was worth a try. ”

Sunshine shrugged and returned to watching their six. He could feel the clone’s skepticism flow through him in droves, but he ignored it. In time, they’d know everything. First things first; retrieve that relay part and get out of here.

Throughout the entire war, he had never considered how tall the Venator class bridge towers truly were. The high-speed elevators usually covered the distance in seconds, a distance that on foot, took the better part of twenty minutes. It wasn't too time-consuming, but both of their thighs were burning with the constant steps leading up to the ship’s peak. 

He heard the huffs of engines before he saw it. Stepping onto the landing of the bridge, he was faced with the ratty coat and blue eyes of the droid. Instinctively, he gasped and went into a defensive stance, and within a beat, the trooper had placed himself in front with his rifle aimed and ready. The red heart of the creature pulsed, slowly and pumped malicious energy into the Force. 

However, the droid did not move. It watched them both with a dispassionate, eerie quiet. Its six pairs of arms were hanging limply at its side, but he could tell that it was just on stand-by. The head turned, peering at them both with scrutinizing blue lights under its dark hood, following their movements as he carefully circled past it. The rusted vents and pipes enveloping its form puffed and groaned with each breath-like wheeze. He felt a cold shiver down his back as the boiling hot steam increased the temperature in the room, condensation dripping in its vicinity. 

“Why isn’t it moving, General?” Sunshine called, refusing to take his eyes off the creature.

The droid hardly noticed the clone's presence, staring firmly at Obi-Wan. The red gem flashed again, sending a spike of painful energy behind his eyes, but it didn't dig as deep as before. It was prodding at him, testing his shields. Obi-Wan steeled himself, sending a tendril of his own Force energy in return. Without the threat of immediate danger, he allowed himself to take in the energy in an attempt to understand it better. 

His eyes widened in recognition. How did he not realize this before? 

“The dark side,” he breathed. “The gem pulses of it. I haven’t sensed anything like this since…”

“Ah, Kenobi. So you lived after all.”

He had been so preoccupied with the droid he didn't notice the movement from the bridge. Obi-Wan and Sunshine's attention turned to the voice.

Just beyond the threshold of the bridge stood the Admiral. He stood at the center of the walkway, just a little ahead in the room. Framed by the viewport and the moon in the distance, his visage was slightly obscured. His usually immaculately presented appearance was nowhere to be seen. His uniform was torn and sooty, his greying hair flopping over his forehead, and he stood on alert as if he was going to run at any moment. 

In his hand, he held a blaster. He was surrounded by the scattered bodies of clones. 

Chapter Text

“Why, Admiral Yeltsin, what a surprise,” Obi-Wan smiled. “It seems despite our robotic friend’s best efforts, we still breathe. And it appears you do as well.”

“Indeed,” Yeltsin nodded, flicking his gaze between Sunshine and him. 

Obi-Wan slowly walked forward, sidestepping a clone’s body, and he watched the piles of bodies surrounding the lone Admiral. Some of them were riddled with blaster holes, others crushed, just like the hundreds of others on the ship. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and the officer narrowed his in return.  It didn’t look like Sunshine had noticed them just yet, being far more preoccupied with the silent droid. 

Best keep it that way, for now, he thought.

“I have to say, it’s impressive the droid hasn't killed you yet. You simply have to tell me your secret,” Obi-Wan quipped lightly, and the Admiral’s eyes narrowed slightly in return. 

“Why, it’s quite simple, my good friend,” he replied with a charming smile that did not reach his eyes. “But I’m not sure if you’d be able to learn the trick. It’s quite involved, you see.”

Obi-Wan nodded, glancing toward the droid to his side and the Admiral ahead of him. “Why don’t we step inside and have a chat. It’s a bit drafty out here.”

“Of course,” the Admiral grinned, smile thin and fists clenched. “Come on in. Make yourself at home.” 

Obi-Wan nodded briefly to Sunshine, who carefully backed away from the droid. They slowly moved across the threshold, and once past it, the clone ran to the door panel and closed the heavy blast doors. The droid stood uncaring and stared blankly as the heavy steel shut between it and them. Even with several layers of durasteel cutting it off from view, the droid’s presence was still heavy, looming, just obscured from view. 

“It appears you have had quite an adventure. I wonder if you would divulge the details. I can only imagine it would be just thrilling,” Yeltsin said.

“That is true, though protocol dictates that the host would offer some tea before we begin chatting, wouldn’t you say? We’ve come a long way, after all.” He smiled amicably, but he didn’t switch off his lightsaber, simply holding it carefully at his side. The Admiral stole glances at it and Sunshine’s rifle. 

He smiled. “Of course. Though I would ask you both to leave your coats at the door,” he pointedly gestured at their weapons.

“Only if the host would shed himself of his,” Obi-Wan asserted. 

“You first,” Yeltsin said, eyes narrowed. 

“Can you two get this stupid dance over with? We’re in a bit of a rush,” Sunshine complained. 

“Quiet, trooper,” Yeltsin snapped, louder than any of them expected, completely breaking from his thinly veiled politeness before he reined it back in. The Force swelled with fear and anger that radiated from the officer... And something else. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the sudden blip of strange energy coming from the man. 

Sunshine’s eyes darkened and he quickly glanced in Obi-Wan’s direction but said nothing. 

“My friend has a point,” Obi-Wan said slowly, measuring. “We came here for a reason, and I’d hate to drag this out longer than we need to.”

Yeltsin looked furious for a moment, and then he grinned. Nodded. “Of course. But,” He glanced in Sunshine’s direction. “Leave the clone by the door. The droid won’t hurt it.”

“It?” Sunshine said, but Obi-Wan interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“I’d rather keep Sunshine with me, if you don’t mind, Admiral. He has proven to be quite capable,” he insisted. He allowed some coldness to lace his voice in a subtle warning. Not too much, just enough for the Admiral to understand he meant business.

Yeltsin took a slow step back, carefully watching the two of them. The three were uncomfortably silent for what felt like hours, measuring each other up, watching their every move.

Then, Sunshine noticed the blaster wounds of his fallen brothers. His eyes widened, anger surging in the Force. 

“You- !” He snarled. “You killed them!”

The Admiral laughed. “Why, how perceptive, clone.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened and it didn’t escape Yeltsin's notice. “They were defective and had to be dealt with accordingly,” he explained slowly, not breaking Obi-Wan’s gaze. “An unfortunate, but given right to superior officers in the correct circumstances.”

“I assume this is the correct circumstance for you, my good Admiral?”

“Very much so.”

Sunshine was seething at his side. His breaths were measured, anger flowing from him in an overwhelming torrent. He kept his rifle trained at the officer, his finger shaking just over the trigger. 

Obi-Wan inched slowly closer to the man, lightsaber at his side. 

“May I ask what this circumstance may have been?”

Another beat of quiet. 

“Attempted mutiny,” Yeltsin said. The officer’s grip on his blaster tightened. He didn’t elaborate. 

Sunshine grew only more and more agitated at his side. Obi-Wan wished he could reach out with the Force to tell him to stay calm. That had at least been one of the perks working with Anakin’s anger - that he could reach out an invisible tendril of his consciousness - and tell him to wait, to be patient. There was no such connection with the young clone. 

He hoped that if he could make the Admiral stay calm, the trooper wouldn’t do anything reckless. There were too many questions for anything rash. And there was this strange presence around the officer’s demeanor that told him something else was afoot.

Obi-Wan eyed a pile of scrap work on the walkway behind Yeltsin. It looked strangely similar to Patch’s construction, and Obi-Wan realized with a start that he was building the same kind of communications relay as they were. However, unlike Patch’s relay, it was nearly complete. 

He nodded towards the half-finished project. “Patch mentioned making one of those too,” he grinned. Carefully choosing his words so he would only share as much information as necessary. The Admiral did not need to know the relay was likely finished by now. Yeltsin’s eyes seemed to widen slightly at the clone’s name, but he hid it quickly from view.

“Of course. I’ve always been a bit of a historian,” he answered. “It… he learned it from me. I’m… surprised to hear that my adjutant still lives. ”

Sunshine’s eyes twitched at the mention of ‘it’ again. 

“Yes. Patch has always been very fond of old tech. I’m happy you were willing to share your vast knowledge with him. It has proven to be very helpful to our chances of survival,” Obi-Wan said. “Now, if you are willing to instruct a clone in the art of Old Republic radio wave technology, would you perhaps indulge me in the construct just outside this door?”

The Admiral’s mouth was taut. “Flattery gets you nowhere, Kenobi.” 

Obi-Wan smiled politely, though he felt little enthusiasm behind it. The exhaustion and blood loss made him feel unbalanced. Still, he wrapped himself in the comfortable coat of cordiality and took another step closer. 

Still yourself. Deep breaths. 

“I’m deathly serious, my dear friend. The droid’s machinery is positively ancient. It looks like it could fall apart at any moment. And yet it stays completely invulnerable, which makes it quite an enigma to me. I can only imagine a history enthusiast such as yourself would delight in understanding its workings? The design predates the Old Republic, does it not?” Obi-Wan was presenting a calm dialogue, but he was slowly inching closer to the man as he spoke. 

Yeltsin’s eyes darted from Obi-Wan’s disarming appearance and Sunshine’s absolutely livid expression. He seemed to consider his options carefully. “Switch off your lightsaber and muzzle that clone, and we’ll talk.”

Obi-Wan didn’t stop, not at first. Then, the Admiral sent a pointed look to the blast door, where the droid was just standing and waiting for orders. Obi-Wan sighed. He switched off his saber and waved for Sunshine to back down. The clone hesitated, but he lowered his rifle. 

“Over there. Throw your weapons over there,” he said, nodding to the side where the body of two armored clones laid unmoving. Obi-Wan quietly rolled the saber as instructed. Sunshine bristled, but did as he was told. 

“Happy?” Obi-Wan chided, raising both his arms disarmingly and sauntered back to face the Admiral, who now had his blaster trained directly at him. 

He nodded and smiled an unnerving, toothy grin. “Yes, I’m happy now. Sit.”

Obi-Wan did as told and nodded to Sunshine behind him to sit as well. The fury radiated off the clone, like heat from a reactor. Yeltsin seemed to relax slightly but silently paced the passage, regarding them both with a calculating gaze. 

Obi-Wan, even on the floor, held his head high. “I assume we’re not going to sit here until the flowers bloom, are we? If you wanted us dead then your friend outside would’ve already done it. You need something.”

“You’re a Sep, aren’t you?” Sunshine interrupted. His voice was steeped with absolute contempt. If his burning gaze could ignite the man, he’d be ashes by now.

Yeltsin didn’t hesitate and fired his blaster right next to Sunshine’s foot. A warning shot. “Didn’t I tell you to muzzle it, Kenobi?” He sneered. “Or is this sub-human just as defective as the others?”

Obi-Wan ignored the obvious taunt, and shot Sunshine a stern gaze. The rogue officer wanted them to make a mistake. The clone was too emotionally unbalanced to see that. 

“No actually, I’m curious. Who do you serve?” Obi-Wan insisted.

“Maybe once I’m off this wreck I’ll introduce you.”

“I’m afraid my schedule is packed.”

“He’s a Sep. He has been a Sep this entire fucking ti-…” Sunshine cried out when a blaster bolt hit his thigh. He doubled over in pain. Obi-Wan scowled at Yeltsin who regarded the clone with a detached sort of amusement. Sunshine pressed his hand against the wound and panted unevenly through grit teeth. The officer directed his attention to the smoking end of the blaster for a moment.

Obi-Wan had to sit and watch as Yeltsin walked up to Sunshine’s hunched form, ripped his helmet off, and aimed the blaster right at his temple. The hot end of the barrel hissed as it touched his bare skin. Sunshine froze at the contact, eyes wide in fury and fear.

“No more warnings, Kenobi. You came here for the relay circuit. It is the only thing that will free us from this shipwreck and bring us back to civilization. Where is it .” He didn’t frame it as a question. He pressed the hot barrel further into Sunshine’s temple. The clone winced in pain and bit his lip, but his eyes remained furious. 

Obi-Wan could play dumb. He could pretend he didn’t know what part he was talking about. He could play the rescue card, pretending he was looking for survivors - and in a way, it was true. However, the Admiral was callous, but he wasn’t stupid. The man was extremely suspicious of him, possibly long before he boarded the Vindication. He’d see through his bluff right away. 

He could attempt to use the Force to suggest the man stand down, but his mental defenses were too high. If only he could strip off a few more layers in his armor...

“We don’t know where it is yet. We were only told it was here somewhere. Judging by the state of the room, you’ve already had a thorough look around the place,” he confessed. Sunshine glowered in his direction, and Obi-Wan sent an apologetic look in return.

The Admiral swore. “Why Patch, that arrogant affront to nature knew I wanted that circuit, and it hid it from me. Me! I should’ve decommissioned it long ago.”

“Perhaps, but now he is the key for all of us to get out of here, and he will only speak to us,” Obi-Wan insisted. “Work with us. We may not be playing on the same side, but we’re all trapped on the same ship. Take your blaster off him and I will find the circuit for you.”

The Admiral seemed to consider it.

Sunshine was trying his best to contain his anger and pain and sorrow, all with the barrel trained at his head. His jaw was tense, breathing through his nose and clutched the hole in his thigh. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel that he looked so young. The blaster wound bled sluggishly down his armor.

Then, the barrel was gone from his temple. 

“Don't mistake this for an opportunity to try anything funny. The smallest command from me and the droid will come through that door and destroy you,” Yeltsin warned and trained the blaster directly on Obi-Wan’s neck. 

The Jedi rose carefully and slowly with his hands behind his head. He nodded to Sunshine. “Report to Patch that we are here.” 

The clone did as asked. He limped over to his helmet and put it back on. His voice was robotic and flat with barely contained fury, but he didn’t say anything he wasn’t asked to. They were all deathly silent while they waited for Patch to give him their next instructions.

“There’s a box hidden under the grate of his nav station,” he eventually muttered, eyes dark.

The Admiral prodded the gun in his back. “Go on.”

Obi-Wan obeyed. Slowly and with measured movements, he located Patch's old desk on the level below the catwalk. It was in absolute disarray, obviously having been searched by the man who currently kept his blaster pressed between his shoulder blades. He peered underneath the desk and found what he was looking for; a thin grate with slightly loosened screws. It was partially hidden by the desk itself covering it. He pushed the desk aside and removed it easily with a nudge of the Force. 

Underneath, he found the clone’s little secret treasure trove. Things he likely wasn’t allowed to own, but carried with him anyways. Little mementos from planets he had visited; a small flask of high-end alcohol, rationed chocolate, a notebook with pressed flowers, and a small plastic cartridge the size of his palm. Obi-Wan secretly pocketed the notebook. He opened the cartridge and found what he was looking for; a tiny circuit board of ancient design. 

To think their fates hinged on such a little thing. 

As soon as he held it in his hand, it was snapped up by Yeltsin who eyed it with rabid hunger. “Good. Good. Thank you, Kenobi. I will take it from here.”

There was nothing Obi-Wan could do while the officer examined the invaluable chip. Whoever Yeltsin’s benefactor was, that’s the one who would come running at his signal. 

He sauntered over to the relay and was about to insert it into the relay when suddenly a blaster bolt hit it and it burst into flames. The Admiral jumped back, clutching the circuit close to his chest. “What the-!”

Obi-Wan whirled around, where he saw Sunshine, wielding a smoking rifle he had stolen from one of the bodies on the floor. “I won’t have your dirty Sep friends step foot on our ship,” he snarled and snapped the sight up to aim directly at the Admiral’s head. “Drop the circuit.”

The Admiral eyed the trooper, drifting slowly to his ruined relay, and then to Obi-Wan. The half-finished relay sparked and sputtered before it collapsed in on itself, completely unusable. Yeltsin sweated profusely, clutching the grip of his blaster with white knuckles. He scowled at Sunshine who still trained his rifle at him.

“You seem to have forgotten I can call on the droid that is just behind that door.”

“You seem to have forgotten we have the only functioning relay left,” Sunshine said. 

“‘I’ll hunt it down.”

“You’ll freeze before you find it.”

Yeltsin’s mouth was a thin line, scowling at the two. His arms were raised, but he didn’t drop his blaster. Obi-Wan levitated his lightsaber without moving from his spot near Patch’s desk and ignited it. He aimed the blade right at the Admiral’s throat, not so close to burn him, but near enough for him to feel the heat. 

“I suggest we play by our rules from here, my friend,” he offered politely. 

Yeltsin eyed the saber and Sunshine's rifle, seriously considering his options. His shoulders slumped, and with them, he let go of the circuit. Obi-Wan levitated the little piece of circuitry before it could hit the ground and drew it to his hand.

“When I die, there will be no one left to control it, you know,” the Admiral growled. 

“I assumed. That’s why we are taking you into custody.” Obi-Wan said the last sentence a little slower and more clearly than he needed to, just so that Sunshine wouldn’t do anything rash. 

“What’s to say I won’t instruct it to destroy you both right now?” Yeltsin challenged. 

“You already would’ve done it if you could,” Sunshine said. “I’m willing to bet there is a requirement for you to control it on your person, and you don’t have access to it right now. So I think you should keep your hands where they are."

Yeltsin’s eyes narrowed for a split second, and Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow. The clone must’ve seen something he hadn’t. He nodded for the Sunshine to bodysearch him. He limped forward, still keeping his rifle trained on the officer. He ripped the man’s uniform tunic, revealing a small device implanted in the man’s chest. Tubes and wires were fused into his flesh and the skin was red and raised around it. There was a small red triangular shape on it that oozed malicious energy into the Force; it was just a small trickle, but Obi-Wan could sense it. 

“You’ve tampered with the dark side,” he grimaced. The stench of the red gem stained the Force around him. 

“I don’t know a thing about a 'dark side'. It was given to me with instructions and that’s it.” Then, the Admiral’s eyes widened. He had just said something he wasn’t supposed to. 

Sunshine picked up on his slip right away and pounced on it. “But you helped develop that monster."

Yeltsin bit the inside of his cheek. “I did.” 

With the confession, the remaining mental barriers disappeared. 

“I suggest you come clean right now,” Obi-Wan said, lacing his voice thickly with the Force. The Admiral blinked several times and stumbled backward at the powerful influence taking root in his brain. Obi-Wan realized that he may have overdone it, but he held the suggestion firm and watched the man’s remaining mental defenses break down. 

The color seemed to leak out of him. He leaned back against the console, looking frazzled. The man’s resolve seemed to leak out of him and he dropped the blaster. It rolled with a clatter to the polished floor. Sweat beaded down his nose. His uniform was stained. He fell to his knees and realization seemed to dawn on his face.

“I have made a massive mistake,” Yeltsin breathed, eyes distant. 

“Oh, we’re way past that,” Sunshine snapped and moved toward him, but Obi-Wan stopped him from stepping closer to the man. The clone let out a frustrated huff but remained quiet. 

“Tell us more about the droid. We may yet have a chance to turn this around. I want to help you end this.”

“I don’t… I don’t fully understand it either,” Yeltsin said. “It wasn’t built by me. I don’t think it was fully constructed by them either.”

“Them who?” Sunshine pressed.

“Count Dooku,” Yeltsin said, lips thin. He eyed the corners of the room while he talked as if the Separatist leader was about to appear in the room at any second. “They told me… he told me that it was uncovered on a planet in Wild Space. Zigoola, I think.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “That’s a sith planet. Or it was, long ago.”

Yeltsin didn’t seem to know it. He simply sighed and kept talking.

“Listen. I… I don’t know much. I only know what I was directly involved in. I took part in the experiments leading up to its release. Improved some of the blueprints to accommodate for the host. It was simple. All I was required to do was to deliver a…” he paused, and risked a glance back at Sunshine before he shut his mouth. “I was given a code for the bomb. And I was instructed to shut down the comms and was given a specially made vacuum shield jammer for when the time was right, for the rendezvous on Coruscant. But it all happened too early... This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“The bomb you say? So there was a bomb after all.”

“Yes. I was truthful about that. I didn’t lie about anything. With planning between several battalions at this level, it's simply impossible to lie! The bomb, the escort, the rendezvous with the 212th and the 501st... it was all truthful. I rather… omitted the droid’s inclusion in the plans.” Yeltsin said, eyes staring blankly at the floor. “The electro bomb itself doubles as a fail-safe against the droid. It contains the corresponding artifact that will deactivate the Conduit. If not, it will keep running… maybe forever.”

“And only you have that code,” Obi-Wan said, arms crossed.

Yeltsin nodded.

“And what, pray tell, is the code?” 

Yeltsin didn’t face him. He swallowed, lips thin. He flashed a quick look to Sunshine, and then he swallowed again. “CT-6678. It's CT-6678,” he murmured. 

CT-6678. Obi-Wan committed it to memory, visualizing the numbers in his mind. A short, simple code. Easy to remember. This is good. This is very good. This is a tool they could work with. This will fix…

He looked over to his companion. Sunshine looked completely ashen, eyes wide, mouth agape. His rifle hung limp in his grasp. 

“That’s not… you’re wrong,” the clone whispered, shaking his head. Anger flashed in his eyes, and he ran up to the defeated man in front of them. He grabbed the collar of his uniform in pure fury. “You’re wrong! Tell me you’re wrong!”

“Sunshine! Stop!” Obi-Wan yelled and grabbed the furious trooper. “What has gotten into you? He just confessed. He has nothing to hide.”

“Yeah? Then can he tell us why he would use my brother like that?”

His brother? 

He looked to Yeltsin, who averted his gaze. Then, realization crashed into him like a slap on his face. 

“The droid… is a cyborg,” Obi-Wan said, breathless. He turned around to Yeltsin, who hung from his collar in Sunshine’s grasp. His face was grim. He nodded, once. 

“The Conduit - the sith artifact - it’s a clever design, but it can only function with a host to contain it. It’s a symbiotic balance where the host serves as the brain while the Conduit feeds it with energy and protects it. But using a regular sentient was too risky. I simply had to deliver a clone from my own battalion. Nobody would miss it.”

Sunshine’s eyes went wide. He lifted the Admiral to his feet. His incredible strength added to his anger had nearly the man flying in his grip like a ragdoll. He slammed him against the console and punched, and punched, and punched, and punched. Blood spattered across the polished floor. The officer in his grasp was powerless against it.

“This is all your fault! You pit him against us! He killed…’’ his voice cracked. ‘’You killed everyone! Brash! Imp! Slack! Carcass! Everyone!” 

Obi-Wan dragged him away before the powerful punches broke more than just the man’s nose. “Stop it! We need him alive,’’ he insisted. “He will answer for his crimes. He will!”

“He can’t,” Sunshine yelled. He was shaking in fury, his whole body trembled in a hardly controlled fit of pure emotion. “A thousand brothers. He can’t possibly pay for -... they’re people, Kenobi! A thousand people are dead. And this coward made my brother do it!”

“It’s not… it's not your brother anymore,” Yeltsin wheezed. His face had already begun to swell. Blood spurted from his misaligned nose. “It’s not alive. It... doesn’t… feel. It doesn’t think.”

“Neither will you when I’m done with you,” he growled and wound back for another strike, but Obi-Wan grasped his wrist and stopped another fist from flying. Sunshine’s gaze turned to him. It was dark. He hardly recognized the young clone in his rage. 

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He will be punished.” His grip was firm around the clone’s wrist, even as he fought against it.

“Let me go.”

“Stand down, Sunshine.”

“I said… Let. Me. Go, ” Sunshine growled. He struggled against Obi-Wan’s vice grip around his arm, but he refused to let it go.  

Frustrated and fuming, the clone tossed the disgraced officer aside and used his free hand to strike Obi-Wan. The Jedi easily dodged each fist, each clumsy, predictable blow. 

Seeing no other way to calm him, he grabbed the back of his armor and pulled him close. The clone shook and fought. 

“Let me go, I’m not finished with him. Let me go!” He beat his bruised back over and over, but Obi-Wan held still. The Admiral’s eyes were wide, watching their conflict unfold.

“Sunshine. Please. He confessed. He’s not fighting back. Stop. It's over. It's over,” he said softly. 

The trooper was utterly rigid in his embrace. His heartbeat raced, muscles completely tense. His breaths were ragged, uneven. 

Obi-Wan scowled at Yeltsin as the trooper trembled in his arms. The Admiral sat on the floor, slumped and utterly defeated. The blaster on the floor near his hand was forgotten. As a precaution, he levitated the weapon and threw it across the floor. Yeltsin didn’t care, cupping his hand around his bleeding nose. 

Sunshine stood frozen in Obi-Wan’s embrace, fists clenched at his sides. Obi-Wan held him until his blind rage passed and then held him some more. 

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan found handcuffs on the bridge easily enough. He allowed Sunshine the pleasure of putting them on the Admiral and holding him in custody. Meanwhile, he searched the area for first aid equipment. 

“It’s useless,” Yeltsin grinned an empty grin. “Band-aids and stim shots won’t change the fact we’ll all be dead soon.”

Obi-Wan ignored him and kept investigating the bridge. He made a small hum of delight when he found what he was looking for. Bacta and gauze. Perfect . 

“Where is that fighting spirit from earlier, Admiral? It was your only likable feature.”

Yeltsin scoffed and sat miserably on the floor while Sunshine watched his every move. The clone had somewhat recovered from his rage. Now there was nothing but pure, distilled contempt left in him. 

Obi-Wan packed his bag with as much equipment and gear he could find and closed it was a decisive click of the buckles. “We should head back,” he concluded. 

“We should. However, what should we do with... him?” Sunshine asked and nodded towards the door, where the droid waited silently. They couldn’t see it, but they could hear the wheeze of steam and engines through the wall. The constant puffs of machinery resonated across the walls and vibrated through the floor. It was unnerving. 

“It will not attack you while you’re near me. As long as I am alive, it will stay imprinted to me,” Yeltsin explained through his congested, bloody nose, and nodded to the strange electronic device embedded in his chest. Obi-Wan grimaced in disgust at the dark energy that pulsed from it. 

“That’s your insurance out of here, huh? Maybe you just want to lure us out and have him kill us on your command?” Sunshine growled. 

“Why would I? Count Dooku will behead me for spilling the beans to you.”

“That’s true,” Obi-Wan agreed. “So let's not waste any more time. The men are slowly turning into icicles as we chat.”

The door opened with a hiss. It was hard not to flinch when they were immediately faced with the towering figure of the droid. Even on standby, it was terribly unnerving to see the hulking beast stand completely still. The puffs of steam exhaled from the gaps of its armor periodically, like short puffs of breath. 

Maybe it was breaths.

True to his word, the Admiral passed it by and the robot didn’t show aggression against either of them. Despite the Admiral’s apparent control over the creature, he looked about as unnerved in its presence as they felt. The three gave it a wide berth as they stepped around it. 

With the droid standing still and not showing any aggression, Obi-Wan could briefly stop and observe that strange triangular object - the Conduit - in its chest. Obi-Wan felt the dark, malicious energy pulse from the relic. Compared to the Admiral’s implant, the Conduit felt like standing next to a nuclear reactor and absorbing the radiation through his every pore. He could tell it wasn’t targeting him while it was resting, but the residual energy swirling around it… It pained him, both literally and through the Force to stand near it. 

He walked faster. 

Obi-Wan took point, while Sunshine guarded the Admiral from the back. The clone watched the droid closely. As they moved down the stairs, they could see it at the top - following them with its gaze - but doing nothing. 

They made it back down to the airlock with no issue. Sunshine’s leg threatened to buckle a few times heading down the stairs, but a combination of painkillers and righteous fury kept him going. They passed by Carcass’s body once more, and the Admiral seemed to flinch at the sight, though he didn’t say anything. Was it guilt? Disgust? It was hard to tell. 

Sunshine went to his body as if to move it, but Obi-Wan put his hand on his shoulder. 

“We have to leave him,” Obi-Wan told Sunshine softly. “Focus on the mission.”

Sunshine nodded and got to work reattaching their air canisters. They worked in silence. With the blaster wound in his thigh, he had to strip the thigh plate off Carcass’s body and attach it to himself, sealing his armor from the vacuum. 

Obi-Wan located a space suit for Yeltsin to wear. With the Admiral’s suite close by, it was readily available in one of his personal lockers. There were no other canisters for the Admiral, and despite Sunshine’s initial protests, they removed Carcass’s and attached it to his suit. Since he was still handcuffed, they tied a rope around his waist. Sunshine tied the other end to himself and to Obi-Wan, trapping the man between them.

With a hiss, the airlock was emptied of air and they began to float. The doors opened, and they all saw the smoldering corpse of the Vindication float before them. Smoke and oil drifted from sooty holes in her hull, and small gas explosions burst from exposed pipes and circuitry. The cable was still firmly attached to both airlocks. Obi-Wan looked back once at Sunshine, who nodded once that he was ready, and they began the rappelling process over again. 

There was absolute silence but the sound of his own breath; a tranquil sensation, if not oddly strange to feel so weightless after all those hours of exhausted, heavy limbs and pain. 

As he rappelled himself downward, Obi-Wan’s thoughts wandered to the implications of everything the Admiral had confessed to them. It unnerved him that relics of Zigoola were still in circulation. Judging by the assumed timeline, the sith artifact had to have been removed before his fateful visit to the temple all those months ago. What if the corruption ran deeper than just Yeltsin’s betrayal?

The knowledge of what the droid hid inside of its metallic carapace disturbed him deeply. How could he not sense that the robot hid the body of a clone trooper, being used as a vessel to contain the Conduit? Was he still alive? Could he be rescued from the metal prison that contained him? Was there even anything left to be rescued? The Conduit was so powerful, it drowned out any and all signatures around it... It’s not impossible that the dark force had corrupted whatever semblance of humanity that was left of the trooper. 

He shook his thoughts from spiraling further into speculation. The Admiral had told them as much as he could give for the time being. He would have to be questioned and court-martialed once they’ve safely returned to Coruscant. Still...

The fact that Dooku had given a priceless sith heirloom to an ordinary man - a pawn - who was bound to lose control of the droid's immense power. Was this just part of one massive experiment? Had it all been part of the design? How did the kidnapped clone fit into the droid’s machinery? Could they even save him? Could they...

Halfway down the tether, Obi-Wan noticed a tug from behind. 

He looked behind to see Sunshine wrestling with the Admiral. With no gravity to center him, the clone struggled with Yeltsin’s flailing. Blind panic welled from the man as he struggled against his bonds. Yeltsin struggled free of his grasp and kicked himself away from the two of them. His heel hit Sunshine’s injured leg and the trooper tumbled backward in pain. The rope attached to Sunshine was severed, a sooty blaster mark on its frayed ends, the offending rifle floating from the clone’s shoulder strap. 

Yeltsin gazed at them both with wild eyes. Obi-Wan reached his hand out, sending a small tendril of the Force to plant a calming suggestion in his brain. The man stared at him, nose bloody and eyes dark with fear and fury. 

Then, with his bound hands, the Admiral clutched his own air supply cable - and ripped it out. 

Obi-Wan sensed Sunshine’s scream reverberate through the Force. The clone lunged forward to save the man, but Yeltsin kicked back and flew even further away from the safety of the cable. Obi-Wan reached his hand out to pull him back with the Force, but it was too late. The Admiral flailed and shuddered, and suddenly he was still. His face was purple. Droplets of blood leaked from his nose and hovered on the inside of the helmet. 

Sunshine looked back at him in distress, but Obi-Wan could do nothing but shake his head. Lighting his lightsaber, he cut the rope behind him, unmooring the Admiral and watched him begin to drift away. He resumed climbing the rope, and after a few moments, he felt Sunshine doing the same. 

The trek back felt somehow longer than the first. Inching closer and closer to the airlock with a recently deceased man floating behind them was impossibly grim.

The airlock hissed with oxygen and decontamination spray. Mist crackled as the little water particles turned to ice in contact with the cold air. Obi-Wan removed his helmet and shivered immediately when the frozen air touched his skin. 

Ah . He had forgotten the cold. Maybe he’d stick with the space armor for the time being. 

“ Fuck ,” Sunshine bellowed and punched the wall. “ Fuck it all. ”

“Stay focused, friend,” Obi-Wan said. “We have what we need. Let’s reconvene with the others.”

“Why did he do that? Why would he…”

“It was faster than whatever Dooku would do to him,” Obi-Wan grimly retorted.

Sunshine nodded, eyes dark with simmering fury just underneath the surface. 

“Or what my brothers would do with him,” he murmured under his breath. He took another moment to center himself, pacing the small room for a moment, before he put his helmet back on and activated the comm. “We got the chip. The Admiral is dead.” 

Obi-Wan waited patiently as he listened to the trooper on the other end. He nodded once more and turned to him. “Patch says the Officer’s Deck got too cold. They’ve moved to the hyperspace engines for the time being. If I remember correctly, that's close to where the escape pods Pluto mentioned are.”

“Good. Then we can get out of here sooner rather than later,” Obi-Wan smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I think it's time we finished this ordeal once and for all.”

“I couldn’t agree more, sir,” Sunshine said. His eyes were hard, staring out of the airlock. The Admiral’s body floated there, unmoored, bloated, and frozen in dead space. A fitting grave for a cold man.

—

Thankfully, the path to the engines was more straightforward than finding the airlock had been. Most of the hallways were not nearly as ruined from the blasts and damage, and there were fewer blast doors to circumvent. Still, the cold had reached a point where the doors had frozen shut, and Obi-Wan was forced to carve his way through using his sword on multiple occasions. 

They were hungry and thirsty, but a lot of their provisions had frozen into inedible, icy blocks. Lighting a fire would take too long, and it was unsafe with all of the exposed pipes leaking gases, and there were no natural exits for the smoke. Sunshine had the bright idea of using his lightsaber to heat up the provisions, which amused him. 

“Please don’t tell Anakin we used my sacred weapon to prepare our food. I don’t want to give him ideas,” Obi-Wan chuckled and Sunshine laughed. 

They kept walking in silence as they moved through a corridor that led to a frigid briefing office. Sunshine’s limp had improved slightly as the bacta had worked it’s magic, but he was looking increasingly tired as they walked on. The sooner they located the pods, the sooner they all could rest. Force knows he’s well overdue a long night’s sleep. 

Sunshine took a long sip of his reheated water. He sidestepped some rubble and helped Obi-Wan over a pile of broken steel beams that blocked the path to a briefing room that had seen little damage at all. The desks were still supplied with glowing datapads and with half-finished cups of caf. 

“I’ve never heard you address him by his first name before,” he said. 

“Who?”

“General Skywalker.”

“Oh. Huh,” Obi-Wan mused. “Well, he is my student... Or was my student, I should say. I forget we are equals in terms of rank, sometimes.”

Sunshine hummed, absentmindedly munching on a ration. 

“Am I equal to you?”

“What?”

“Shit. Sorry. It's nothing. Forget it,” Sunshine flushed. He clearly didn’t mean to say that out loud, and stuffed his mouth with the rest of the ration as if that would help him eat his words.

“No, it's alright. Speak your mind,” Obi-Wan reassured him. He regarded the young clone quietly as they both kept walking. The briefing room led to another hallway that they cut through and entered another warehouse.  

Sunshine bit his lip, and he flushed further. He looked uncomfortable and kept averting his gaze as he spoke. 

“It’s just... Even though he was a Sep, the way the Admiral spoke to me, about Patch… It's so different from how you’ve treated me. All of us.”

Obi-Wan nodded gravely and crossed his arms. 

“The Admiral and I rarely saw eye to eye on any topics. The treatment of his men was one,” he said. “Frankly, the only reason his battalion never did more than reconnaissance or provide support troops is that he never trusted you to make good decisions in the first place. He was trapped in a limbo of mediocrity because he imagined himself superior to you.”

Sunshine nodded. His lips were thin, still deep in thought. “I think I understand what Pluto meant now,” he eventually said. “What he was trying to tell me.”

“How so?”

“The Admiral kept calling me ‘it’. Like a droid,” Sunshine spat the last word like it tasted foul. “And I know I shouldn’t be bothered. I’ve heard it many times before. But it doesn’t change the fact I have been manufactured, specifically designed from birth to serve you, to protect you - even at the cost of my life. Failure to do so means I have failed in my purpose and a failure as a clone.”

He paused, deep in thought. He turned to look Obi-Wan straight in the eye. “From the Republic’s eyes, the hundreds of brothers I lost today don’t matter at all, as long as you are alive. I have the strongest genes in the galaxy, yes, but I’m just one of millions. And when I die, or get too old, or get lost in dead space, someone else is just going to take my place. How am I any different from a droid on the factory line?”

Obi-Wan stopped. He put his hand on his shoulder and stared intensely into his conflicted eyes. 

“Sunshine. You and your brothers are not below me in any way. Your rank as a private and mine as a General don’t change the fact that we are both sentients - both human ,” he insisted. “Your worth is not dictated by your ability to fire a gun, or to follow orders, or your CT number - but by you being you. The Admiral’s mistake was to believe you were anything less, that his so-called organic humanity made him inherently superior. That mistake cost him everything.”

The clone considered the words quietly. Their gaze met shortly before he broke it again, deep in thought and turmoil. “Yeah,” he mumbled. 

Sunshine squeezed his eyes shut and lightly slapped his own cheeks, and when he was done, his face was neutral again. He hid it well, but Obi-Wan could still sense his confusion and frustration lingering in the Force. 

Sunshine regarded him once more and grinned slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. Let’s go.”

“Let’s,” Obi-Wan agreed and let the clone walk ahead and gave him some time to sort out his thoughts.

Chapter Text

As soon as Sunshine and Obi-Wan approached the entrance of the hyperspace sector, Kitfox appeared before them and ushered them inside. They found the others in a small, insulated monitor station. Under regular circumstances, the immense heat from the hyperspace engine would mean they’d have to wear protective gear, however, with the heat draining from the ship, it was the only place left that had some semblance of warmth. The extra insulation and residual heat from the engines protected them from the worst. It was a pleasant change of pace.

“Sunny,” captain Kitfox beamed. “Welcome back. Good work, kid.”

“Where are the remaining troops?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“We lost three of our men from injuries. Two froze to death,” Frostbite gruffly piped up from the other end of the room.  

“The remaining units are already at the pods and preparing for launch. Until then, we’re keeping the relay safe and warm here until we can leave,” Kitfox said. “The relay is heavy, but between the five of us we can make good time.”

“Did you… did you get it?” Patch asked. 

“Oh, why indeed, my friend. We bring gifts,” Obi-Wan grinned, summoning the chip from somewhere inside his robe. 

Patch’s eyes widened in wonder and coveted it like a holy relic. 

“Yes. Yes, this is it. Fantastic,” he could barely contain his excitement and ran back to the relay. 

To Sunshine’s surprise, it had grown considerably in size from the last time he saw it. It was more rudimentary in appearance than the one Yeltsin had built but looked far more sturdy. Lights littered it haphazardly and it emitted a low constant hum. 

Patch removed the circuit board from the case and slotted it into one of the astromech’s disk slots. The machine suddenly whirred to life and all of the lights turned green and blinked like a Life Day decoration.

“It’s online! I’ve already typed in the emergency signal and it will start emitting it now that the connector is in place. It’s attached to the Vindication’s secure line to Coruscant. They’ll likely patch it through to Skywalker and the 212th, as they’re closest to our position.”

“Wait… that’s it?” Sunshine blurted. He didn’t mean to sound rude, he had just expected there to be… more work. 

“Yes. That’s it,” Patch beamed. “I wasn’t able to attach any audio or holo-modules, but I’m using a binary system that can be read on any Republic-issue computer. While we waited for you, I wrote down a missive about the droid’s behaviors and patterns. Hopefully, any rescue parties won’t be totally unprepared.”

“Good. We don’t want a repeat of what happened here.” Obi-Wan nodded, scratching his chin. “Even without the Admiral’s sabotage, I’d wager even Anakin and the others would struggle against the droid unprepared.”

Kitfox frowned. “Hold up. The Admiral’s sabotage?” 

Obi-Wan sighed. They had both dreaded sharing this. The Jedi leaned against one of the deactivated consoles, arms crossed.

“I’m afraid you won’t enjoy hearing this. Admiral Yeltsin has betrayed us all. This entire operation was his doing, in collaboration with the Separatists.”

The other three troopers frowned and shared concerned glances with each other. The air seemed to leave the room. Frostbite’s steely gaze did not move from the General, and Kitfox’s carefree expression hardened. 

Patch’s face fell. “What? That’s not true,” he breathed. 

“He admitted to destroying the comms as well as the vacuum shields. We don’t fully know the extent of his plan, other than it was all scheduled for when we were meeting General Skywalker and the rest of the 212th,” Obi-Wan said. “However, something must’ve gone wrong, because he didn’t expect the droid to activate this early.”

“It was meant to be launched when we had docked over Coruscant, wasn’t it,” Kitfox deduced, eyes dark. 

“I believe so,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“There’s also the EMP bomb,” Sunshine added. “I just… don’t understand why he would carry it with the droid if it really is the only thing that could deactivate it.”

“Remember, only the Admiral had the code,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “He would have the leverage to force all three battalions to their knees, possibly even done a serious blow to the Core Systems if it ever made it to Coruscant as originally planned. Most likely, he had an escape plan scheduled at the original meeting point. When the droid activated too early, he was stranded, just like us.”

”Oh. No wonder he was so desperate to finish his own relay first,” Sunshine mused.

“It’s possible the vacuum shield and comms sabotages have been placed on the Negotiator and the Dominator as well. Recall, the droid carried three bombs,” Kitfox pondered. “If the comms and vacuum shields were disabled on all three ships simultaneously, each bomb placed at strategic places within each vessel would’ve exterminated anyone within.”

“The droid was just going to be on cleanup duty,” Frostbite murmured. 

“The electrobomb strikes me as a bargaining chip. The Separatists would pay top credit to get their hands on it. The droid would serve as a good distraction while he snuck it away. Possibly faking his death and handing the weapon to the Seps on a silver platter,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Bastard,” Frostbite grumbled. 

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as the information truly began to sink in. Sunshine’s mind span with countless speculations and thoughts. The full scope of the plot felt larger than anything he could comprehend. He could hardly follow the others as they discussed the possibilities. 

Patch looked withdrawn, conflicted. His eyes were distant. “I don’t believe it,” he said, voice small. 

Those words seemed to spark something inside of the captain. Kitfox stomped up to the bridge officer, accusation written all over his face. “Oh, do you now, lieutenant. You were closer to the Admiral than anyone. Is it truly that hard to believe?”

Patch stiffened and took one hesitant step back. “I… He never told us anything. He never told me anything. I had no idea!” With pleading eyes he looked to Obi-Wan, who still sat with his arms crossed, face unreadable. 

“He taught you how to build the relay. You were clearly closer than ‘telling you nothing’, Patch,” Kitfox insisted, venom lacing his voice. 

The room’s considerable silence grew even heavier than before as all eyes fell on the bridge officer. Patch’s distressed eyes flicked between the four others in the room. 

“You knew about the droid,” Frostbite said. It wasn’t a question. 

Horrified, the bridge officer looked to Obi-Wan and Sunshine for any kind of support. The Jedi stayed in the back of the room, leaned against the console, and remained silent. There was no inkling to how he felt about it. Sunshine stood awkwardly in the middle, mind racing as the room was quickly chilling in more ways than one. 

“Did you?” Sunshine apprehensively asked. “Did you know about it?”

The bridge officer’s jaw was tense, eyes flicking between each and everyone in the room. Kitfox stood right in front of him, staring him down. Despite being the same height, it looked like the captain was towering over him. Frostbite scowled at him with a steely gaze while Obi-Wan was as unreadable as ever. 

Patch sighed, deflating even further. If he could retreat into his parka like a tortoise, he would. He bit his lip, clearly conflicted. “Yeltsin used to do research with me. He… I helped him develop the plans for an Old Republic mech. It was an archaeological find. I translated them, improved them. He said he’d send them to his contacts on Coruscant, not...”

He then paused, realizing how it sounded to the others. “But I’m not a traitor! He helped me! I was promised a promotion for this work! It would guarantee me a job outside of the army when the war is over. It…”

“So you sold out your brothers for a pretty promotion, is that it?” Kitfox spat. 

“No! That’s not… He never…” Patch stuttered, horrified. “When the war is over, there won’t be any use of three million soldiers anymore. There will be no use for us anymore. The Republic will downscale, defund us. I… I always liked studying history, it kind of comes with the officer’s training curriculum. When I’m discharged, that’s what I want to do, to keep studying and maybe even teach.”

“I fail to see how this is relevant,” Kitfox shot back. “Get to the point, lieutenant.”

“When I learned the Admiral used to be a professor before the war, I approached him about it. As a clone, I’m not allowed to pursue an education without… well… deserting, so he offered me lessons in our downtime. As payment, I would help him with some of his projects. Then, a few months ago, he told me of a top-secret archaeological find on Zigoola. The only artifact that was recovered before the temple was destroyed was an old, derelict mech. I saw an opportunity to test my knowledge and skills, translating documents and deciphering its inner workings.”

“And it never once occurred to you that the Admiral was planning to use it to kill us all?” Kitfox challenged. 

“Well… he’s the Admiral,” Patch said. “He never gave me a reason to be suspicious.”

“Do you really trust that blindly or are you just stupid?” Kitfox accused, taking a sharp step forward.

“Was I not supposed to trust my superior, captain?”

Frostbite stepped and put a hand on Kitfox’s shoulder, gently pulling him aside. 

“None of us were privy to his plans. None of us knew until the General told us.”

The captain shook his hand off, fist clenched. “You’d think that the traitor’s lapdog would have some inkling to his plans, Frost,” he said venomously and turned back toward Patch, eyes narrowed. “After all, you were very close .”

“It was never like that!” Patch protested. 

“Kit. Back off.” Frostbite placed himself in between the captain and the bridge officer. “You didn’t know of the Admiral’s plot either.”

“Well, I didn’t game the system for a promotion,” he bit back.

“It’s his motives that allowed him to be tricked in the first place. It’s easy to fool a subordinate, even easier to fool a dreamer,” Frostbite said. His voice was gruff, but calm, measured. Despite his words of support, Patch visibly shrank at the last sentence. 

“And that absolves him of blame?”

“That’s irrelevant right now.”

“I fail to see how it’s not. How do we know that the relay isn’t connected to Count Dooku’s personal armada?” Kitfox accused, pointing at the blinking, whirring relay in the corner. 

“We don’t.”

“It’s not," Patch piped up. "It’s on a direct line to Corus…” 

“Did I ask you to speak, lieutenant?” Kitfox said. Patch blanched and shut his mouth, flushing slightly. 

“He framed him,” Frostbite said. Despite the support in his words, he didn’t look any less stern, staring at Patch with unsmiling eyes. “I bet if we go through his files and correspondences in the GAR archives, we’ll find his signature all over the plans. It’s ample proof that the Admiral planted. The blame would easily fall on him.”

“Yeah, it’s proof. Because he caused all of this,” Kitfox snarled, poking an accusing finger at the bridge officer’s chest. 

“N… no! It was never like that,” Patch protested. 

“Even if he admits to being involved in the plot right at this moment, how do you plan on dealing with it? We are shorthanded as it is and he is our only lifeline to the Core.”

“This argument is over. Stand down, sergeant,” he growled. 

“I won’t, captain,” Frostbite said. His voice was level, standing firmly in place with his hands behind his back. 

“Don’t do this, Frost,” he groaned. 

“As the medic, I outrank all of you,” he said. “So no, I will not stand down. I'm asking you to back off. If you refuse to comply, I will have no choice but to make you.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. 

Kitfox shut his mouth, glaring at the medic. Even severely injured and missing an arm, his presence was imposing. However, the medic was equally as commanding, and gladly challenged the glare with a cool one of his own. Sunshine and Patch’s eyes flicked between the two of them as the room chilled further. 

Obi-Wan sighed and stepped up. “Well, I believe this discussion has run its course,” he said.

Immediately, all three soldiers immediately fell into obedient silence as the Jedi regarded them each with a measured, almost calculating expression. His presence had enormous weight, even before he had uttered a word. Just like that, the hostility seemed to drain out of all of them.

“Regardless of plans or intent, Lieutenant Patch has made it clear that he had no idea of the Admiral’s plot. However, that does not clear him fully of the accusations placed by the captain. His concerns have merit, and it needs to be investigated further. This is not an issue we can solve now. I propose that we table this until we aren’t under extreme duress or suffering from blood loss.” 

The last words were pointed directly at Kitfox, who stiffly clenched his jaw in defiance. It looked like he was about to protest until the medic shot him a sharp glance, and he thought better of it. He shot a dark scowl at the lieutenant before he turned and saluted sharply. 

“Yes, General,” he begrudgingly said. 

The bridge officer let out a sigh of what looked like relief and exhaustion and fell back against the wall.

“Thank you, General.”

“I’m sorry, Patch. Yeltsin took advantage of you,” Obi-Wan said softly, eyes sympathetic. “He knew you had an eye for tech and used you to enact this plan.”

“I… yes,” Patch admitted, voice hoarse. “I think… It appears he did.”

Sunshine watched Kitfox stalk off and slump into one of the scattered chairs in the control room. With the rest of the crew engaged in soft-spoken conversation, he approached the captain. 

He had no idea what to say. Instead, he simply handed him his water bottle. It was recently reheated before his arrival at the monitor station, and little flakes of ice were already beginning to build up on the outside of it. 

Kitfox gratefully took a long sip, nearly taking half of the contents in one swig. He handed the bottle back to Sunshine, who capped it and put it back in his pack. 

“Thanks, Sunny.” He sighed deeply and rubbed his temple, no doubt from a killer headache. 

“Anytime, captain.”

He watched as Patch headed over to the relay and returned to work on it, while Obi-Wan and Frostbite remained, seemingly deep in discussion. The room was quiet, the atmosphere awkward. 

Kitfox sighed again. “Ah, fuck.” 

“Something wrong, sir?”

“I messed up. Got too worked up,” he laughed humorlessly and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Shit. I should apologize.”

“Yeah,” Sunshine said, leaning against the console next to him. “But you asked the questions most of us would’ve asked in this situation. I don’t know how this could’ve played out any different.”

“I know of plenty,” he retorted dryly. “I don’t think the anger was helping.”

Sunshine nodded in agreement. He fiddled with the strap holding his rifle, pondering silently for a moment. 

“You know, when I first found out, I was… angry too. I’m still mad, actually,” he said slowly. “I guess I’ve just had a head start to process it.”

Kitfox regarded him for a moment. “I suppose the emotions are inevitable. I'm just not wired like mr. Jedi over there.”

“He’s not as immune as you might think,” Sunshine murmured, sending a pointed look at Obi-Wan. “This situation - this whole disaster... it wears you down. Not just physically, but mentally as well. None of our training could’ve prepared us for it. Losing your cool is not a failure. Just… own up to it, you know?”

The captain stared at him with a perplexed look on his face. 

“What?” Sunshine said.

“Nothing,” the captain grinned, even though Sunshine could easily tell he was lying. However, the captain’s playful, mirthful demeanor was back, so he decided against prying. 

“If only things were as cut and dry as the Kaminoans made it seem.” 

Sunshine chuckled. “If it was, this war would’ve been over years ago.”

“Yeah, right,” he grinned. “I suppose I should be grateful. Without the war, you and I wouldn’t exist. Imagine how boring Kenobi’s life would be. There would be no one around to annoy that ridiculously long lifespan out of him.”

“Fair point. I think I may have single-handedly shortened it by a few years just the last few hours alone,” Sunshine quipped.

“My pride knows no bounds, private,” he deadpanned.

“I’m flattered, captain,” Sunshine joked. 

“Captain, a moment?” Obi-Wan said, approaching them both. He shot them both a perplexed glance when he was faced with their mirthful grins, but he didn't question it. “In the meantime Sunshine, I think the medic over there wants to look at your leg.”

As if on cue, Frostbite was just in front of him with his kit and steered him to a chair to sit down. 

“Thanks, kid. Get yourself fixed,” Kitfox said and patted him once on his shoulder before rising to walk with the General.

“Sir,” Sunshine acknowledged. 

Frostbite didn’t waste any time getting to work. Sunshine hissed as the blacks of his armor were exposed to the cold air, but it was a nice change from the pulsing heat of pain every time he put weight on it. Truthfully, Sunshine had completely forgotten about the blaster wound in his thigh. He hardly noticed it in his whole encounter with the late Admiral. Once the shock had passed, the pain only fueled his anger and absolute contempt toward the man. 

He dutifully sat still as he watched the medic do his work. With the other three soldiers busy on the other side of the room, he spoke quietly, just out of earshot. 

“Do you really think Patch is innocent?” he quietly asked. 

The medic glanced his way with a cocked eyebrow and examined the burn with cool-headed professionalism. He rooted about in his kit for equipment and systematically placed the various tools on the counter next to him. Sunshine began to think that he had completely ignored his question before he suddenly spoke up.

“Would it change our circumstances?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I suppose if he contacted the Seps instead of the Core then things would be different.”

“And do we have a way to figure that out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t speak Old Republic binary. I don’t think anyone does.”

“Then there is your answer.”

Sunshine stole a glance at the bridge officer in the back of the room, who buried himself in the work tending to the relay. His headphones were placed over his ears, even though he could easily tell they weren't plugged into anything. Sunshine couldn’t help but feel a semblance of pity. Traitor or not, he couldn’t imagine what it was like to have lost the trust of his brothers. 

“The blaster bolt only hit muscle. It will heal quickly as long as you keep your weight off it. I’m applying bacta and a stimulant to the area.” He looked up at him with grave, deathly serious eyes. “No matter how much it itches... Don’t. Scratch. It. ”

The medic’s tone and imposing presence frightened him more than the idea of whatever would happen if he scratched his wound would be. Sunshine gulped and nodded. 

Kitfox and Obi-Wan were murmuring quietly to each other, just out of earshot in the back of the room. Judging by the captain’s reaction to the Jedi’s words, he was likely being filled in about the droid’s cyborg nature. Sunshine bit his lip. The rest of the men deserved to know. He wanted nothing more than to yell from the mountaintops that they had been pursued by a brother. However, Obi-Wan would decide when it was a good time to share. The Admiral’s treason had a big bombshell - he could only imagine what the truth of the cyborg would do to the team’s morale. They had enough things to worry about at the moment. 

“I’m glad you returned alive, kid,” Frostbite said. “The captain gets attached easily. He’s been moping ever since you left the Officer’s Deck.”

“Really,” Sunshine said, surprised. “I thought he was like that to everyone.”

Frostbite chuckled. It was strange, seeing the sullen and morose-looking trooper smile so softly. “No, he’s a hard-ass. Always has been. Still, every now and then he picks up every little stray and pathetic little creature he crosses paths with.”

Sunshine cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what I am to you?” he laughed and winced when it jostled the still-healing bacta on his leg. 

Frostbite didn’t answer, but he didn’t miss a small glint in his eye as he packed his medical equipment back into his bag. Sunshine realized that was as much conversation he was going to get out of the medic and gave up trying to press him for more questions. He sat back and watched the bacta do its work. Just as the medic had predicted, it began to itch, but he dutifully kept his hands far away from the offending spot. 

Moments later, Obi-Wan returned with Kitfox in tow. He clapped his hands once, calling their attention. 

“Alright friends, new plan. The temperature is still dropping, so we can’t stay on the ship anymore. The pods are ready for launch, and there’s a crew awaiting us there,” he said. 

“With how close we are to the moon, the pods will likely be caught in its atmosphere and land on its surface,” Patch warned, professionalism and protocol returning to his posture. It’s as if he never was upset in the first place. “It’s just as cold as this place, if not colder.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “We simply have to grab what provisions and gear we can and load them into the pods. The life support in the pods isn’t linked to the ship, so the temperatures should be adequate inside of them. We’ll deal with the moon if it ever comes to it.”

“Besides, we will be safer down there than in here. This ship will just keep getting colder, while the moon will likely stay at a stable temperature, should the weather provide,” Kitfox said. “With any luck, the rescue party will arrive as soon as we touch down.”

The clones nodded in unison. It was a slim hope but hope nonetheless. 

---

Patch and Frostbite carried the relay between the two of them, while Sunshine, Kitfox, and Obi-Wan carried what they could of winter gear, water, and food. Obi-Wan led the party in the front, the relay in the middle, while Sunshine and Kitfox held the back. The captain carried more bags than he ought to, but he argued that Sunshine should have his hands free for his blaster. He didn’t like it but obeyed the order without protest. 

It was a short trek, but with the heavy cargo, it was slow going. 

“Our next mission better be somewhere warm. Like Geonosis or Ryloth,” Kitfox complained. 

“Or Tattoine,” Frostbite agreed.

Obi-Wan groaned. “I’ve been there. Can’t recommend it.”

Sunshine helped Frostbite and Patch carry the relay across a pile of debris that blocked a doorway. They marched further away from the engines and out toward the Vindication’s hull, and the decreasing temperature came with it. The tips of Kitfox’s hair and light stubble were white with frost. Sunshine could feel his fingertips stiffen as the cold began to seep into his bones. 

“I heard Theed is beautiful this time of year,” Patch quietly piped up, breaking the silence.

“What the fuck is a Theed?” Kitfox snorted. 

“Naboo,” Frostbite said. “It’s the capital.”

“It’s a gorgeous city. Very fine architecture,” Obi-Wan nodded. His beard and hair were frosted over as well. His cheeks were flushed. “And certainly warmer than this place.”

“Have you been there, General?” Patch asked. He looked genuinely fascinated.

“A few visits here and there,” he smiled, but then his expression soured. “Though it’s not my idea of a holiday retreat.”

When the Jedi didn’t elaborate, Kitfox and Sunshine shared a curious glance, but they said nothing. 

“I can’t believe you’d even suggest going back to Geonosis,” Patch grimaced. “I’d take the cold over the bugs any day.”

“The bugs aren’t so bad if you know where to shoot,” Kitfox argued.

“But then you have to deal with the bug juice. That shit stains. And smells. I had to burn three uniforms in the span of two weeks,” Patch grumbled, wrinkling his nose. 

“That’s because your uniform is clearly inferior to actual battle armor,” Kitfox teased. “You don’t need to change them nearly as often.”

“I know. I can smell you come in before you even enter the room.”

“Is this really how you speak to your captain, lieutenant?”

“He has a point,” Frostbite added. “Lack of sanitation is the highest clone killer, third to blaster wounds and vacuum exposure.”

“Sanitation is hardly our biggest concern when we’re defending the Republic and the Chancellor,” Kitfox protested.

Frostbite snorted. “It is when you’re within breathing distance of him.”

“I think it’s more concerning that the captain doesn’t know what the capital of Naboo is called,” Patch said. “It’s only the biggest supporter of the Republic and the GAR. You know, one of the planets that funds our entire operation.”

“Oh, so we’re ganging up on the injured man now, huh? Words wound more than blaster burns, you know,” Kitfox complained.

“No, it really is common knowledge,” Frostbite stated.

Kitfox scoffed. He looked mortally offended. He turned to Sunshine for any kind of support.

“I’m sorry cap, it was one of the first things they covered in cadet training,” Sunshine shrugged. Patch snickered and Frostbite grinned. Obi-Wan raised an amused eyebrow at the betrayed captain.

“Alright, alright. Your captain is an idiot. Shout it from the mountaintops,” Kitfox dramatically declared, awarded with the echoing laughter of the other soldiers. 

Kitfox turned to Sunshine and winked with a clever grin. 

“Keep their spirits high, and you can do anything,” he said, so softly that only the two of them could hear. The others were still snickering up ahead, oblivious to their little conversation. “That means you gotta be the butt of the joke sometimes. Hardly the biggest sacrifice a man can make, don’t you think?” 

Sunshine grinned. “Yeah.”

Kitfox readjusted his grip on the heavy backpack. It was bursting with heavy winter clothes and gear. He was clearly unbalanced with just one arm, but he seemed to adjust as good as one could expect considering the circumstances. “You’re doing great, kid. I’m sorry your first rodeo had to be like this, but there’s nobody else I’d face an enormous murder robot with.”

“Likewise, sir,” Sunshine said, smiling. 

The captain patted him on the back and kept marching in silence. They had to walk slowly as the relay weighed them down. Obi-Wan would occasionally help by levitating it, but his reserves were running low as well. He only levitated it in small bursts when Patch and Frostbite grew too tired, helping them carry it over piles of debris or down the numerous stairs. 

Sunshine offered to switch, but he was adamantly turned down by the medic on account of his injured leg. It annoyed him to no end, because he really did feel better with the bacta applied, and his limp wasn’t that bad, but he realized there was sense to the medic’s argument. Having his leg buckle while carrying the relay could be disastrous to the mission. He was better off guarding their rear.

Occasionally Kitfox would crack another joke, and suddenly the trek would feel a little easier. Laughter carried through the corridor, and the captain smiled, pleased with his handiwork. 

And then, they saw it, the doors leading to the escape pods. Just one more corridor. It was a long passage with a series of catwalks running above it. The sight of the end being so close was dizzying. Everyone’s reserves were running dangerously low. The surge of morale and energy was beginning to pass. Even Frostbite and Patch, who were both unhurt, the dark circles under their eyes were speaking volumes. 

Stepping across the threshold, the captain stumbled and fell. His exhaustion was palpable. Sunshine dropped his rifle and dragged him back up to a stand. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep now. We’re nearly there,” Sunshine said. His thigh stung, but he ignored it as the captain righted himself. Sweat beaded down his bleak forehead. A small trickle of blood leaked from his empty sleeve. Obi-Wan hurried over to the two of them to help him back to a stand.

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. Just slipped,” Kitfox murmured, looking dazed. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“No sleeping till we’re in the pod, alright?” Sunshine said softly and the captain nodded sluggishly. 

Kitfox released himself from Sunshine’s grip and shook his head, regaining a little bit of color in his cheeks. “Wouldn't dream of it,” he quipped, voice hoarse. “Thanks, kid.”

“Will you be alright? I can take some of those bags…” Obi-Wan froze, brows furrowed. He straightened and looked ahead, just behind them. Sunshine turned to see what he was looking at, but there was nothing but an empty corridor stretching into darkness. 

Obi-Wan lit his lightsaber.

“It’s here,” he breathed. “It’s here. Run!” He yelled and the men whirled into action. Sunshine’s eyes widened and grasped after the rifle when he realized he had dropped it back by the threshold. 

“I’ll be fine. Go to him,” Kitfox said, wrenching himself free of his grip. He stumbled slightly, but the newfound adrenaline seemed to reinvigorate him. “I’ll get the door open.”

Sunshine nodded and ran back to Obi-Wan, skidded to a stop to pick up his rifle, and took point by his side. He couldn’t see nor hear the creature, but he knew better than to doubt the Jedi’s instincts at this point. Kitfox ran to the final entrance leading to the escape pods, while Frostbite and Patch ran as fast as they could with the relay between them. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to the ceiling above, searching and keenly listening for signs of the droid. He looked unsettled, unnerved. It was strange; the Jedi seemed to have a sixth sense regarding the droid. His eyes tracked movements from above, but Sunshine neither saw nor heard anything. 

They heard a crash from somewhere in the distance. Obi-Wan gasped. He gripped his forehead with a groan, his grip on his lightsaber faltering. 

“This is… this is different... “ Obi-Wan uttered through grit teeth. “I think the Admiral’s death unleashed it.”

“What do you mean?” Sunshine asked, peering down the sighs of his rifle with trained accuracy. 

“The Conduit. It feels… stronger than before,” the Jedi replied, squinting, jaw tense. Unlike the other times they had faced the creature, the Jedi seemed… distraught. “It’s wilder. Feral. Untethered.”

Sunshine didn’t fully understand what Obi-Wan meant, but clearly, something was different from before. The Jedi was struggling as he tried to keep his defensive position, and he stumbled backward just as he heard a massive crunch from somewhere above. It was coming closer. It was fast, and it was angry. 

“This is just like Zigoola. The energy… It’s… I can’t… I...” He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s in my head!”

“Wait, the Conduit is? How does it…”

Obi-Wan stumbled backward, leaning hard against the wall, totally lost in whatever trance the Conduit was subjecting him to. “It’s in my head,” he gasped. He clutched his forehead in pain, eyes squeezed shut. 

His nose was bleeding.

“What… What do you mean, General? I don’t get it!”

“Rust and blood. Rust and blood. Rust and…” Obi-Wan murmured feverishly. He cried out and collapsed to his knees. Sunshine rushed to his side to stop him from crashing to the floor. His pupils were small in the low light, flickering from side to side at something the clone couldn’t see. 

He kept murmuring the same thing over and over. 

Rust and blood. Rust and blood. Rust and blood.

“Guys, this is bad,” Sunshine called to the others. 

The ceiling before him collapsed. The droid crashed to the floor before them in a flurry of sparks and frozen oil. The red gem in its chest flashed, brightly exuding a strong pulse of something that Sunshine had never felt before; a malicious, cold lump that settled deep in his stomach. It made him feel sick.

Obi-Wan cried out again in its proximity. The lightsaber clattered to the floor, extinguished. He feverishly, incoherently mumbled the same three words over and over. 

Rust and blood. Rust and blood. Rust and blood. 

Sunshine grabbed the lightsaber, threw the Jedi over his shoulders. 

And ran. 

Chapter Text

After several drinks of caf and an endless drone of cruising through the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan finally stepped onto the Vindication hangar deck. The hours in the cramped starship cockpit made him feel stiff and sore, and finally setting foot onto the durasteel floor after hours of constant flying felt wonderful. 

He cursed the war quietly under his breath, for forcing him to take the smallest starships available for long journeys. Arriving by transport ship would raise suspicion and civilian shuttles would simply not go this far without risking a Separatist ambush. Thus, he was stuck with a tiny spaceship that barely had enough leg space to fully stretch out. Even while having the little droid drive on autopilot for a big chunk of the journey, he was looking forward to getting some proper rest in an actual bed.

Stepping out on the hangar deck, his ship was retrieved by a crew of ground troops for refuel, his astromech joining them deeper into the brightly lit passageways. The bright red coat of his starfighter gleamed in the fluorescent hangar lights as it was rolled onto a platform and disappeared into the refueling station above. Hopefully it would be the last he would see of it for a few days. 

Stretching his aching shoulder muscles and marching down the highlighted path near the runway, he passed by the countless troopers of the 307th. Morale was high, as he heard the idle chatter and laughter of the men across the large space. The smell of oil and grease had become a welcome scent of familiarity the last few years, and he quietly took in the quiet atmosphere. Caf and chatter meant there was no immediate danger - the troops were relaxed, and it made him in turn feel a little more at ease.

Military protocol usually dictated there would be a small escort of officers or ground crew greeting him on his arrival, but they were nowhere to be seen. As the highest in command, he was in his full rights to head straight to the bridge to begin the debrief, escort or not. However, he was not in a rush to begin work right away. He decided to saunter down the enormous, bustling hangar space. If the Admiral was going to the delayed greeting him, then he had no intention of speeding things up.

He ambled between the ships and the crates, just casually inspecting the place, seeing the men at work. He paused when he noticed a clone who was working on a broken starship just off the side of the runway. His head sported dark curls, short on the sides and slightly matted in places where oil and grease had dropped from the machinery above him. A streak of deep blue was tattooed across the bridge of his nose, only slightly obscured by the marks of soot that covered his cheeks and hands. 

He noticed Obi-Wan’s entrance and broke into a big smile. He stepped away from the starship and dried his hands on a dirty rag. 

“She’s been through a rough patch, I see,” Obi-Wan grinned conversationally, gesturing at the banged-up fighter. 

“Welcome General!” The trooper said, saluting briefly. “I haven’t seen you since the siege of Bothawui.”

“Good evening, sergeant. Or is it perhaps morning? I have been flying too long,” Obi-Wan smiled back. 

“Well in that case, good morning, sir,” the trooper helpfully supplied and tossed the dirty rag aside, apparently having given up on the prospect of fully clean hands. “I beg you have more important business to attend to than chatting with a mere pilot... unless you did come all this way to greet me, to which I would say I’m flattered, but I’m not interested,” he joked and lightly punched Obi-Wan’s shoulder and they both chuckled.

“Well, I was expecting an escort, which seems to be delayed at the moment. So until they arrive, I’m happy to chat. Though by the looks of that ship, I probably shouldn’t keep you for too long. You might need all the time you can get.”

“True, but ‘s not every day I get the chance to chat with a Jedi,” the clone smiled coyly. “Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get an autograph I can trade on the black market. I heard there’s good credit in that.”

Obi-Wan snorted, arms crossed. “I'm afraid you caught the wrong Jedi for that particular endeavor.” 

The pilot seemed perfectly at ease, not minding the soot and grime covering his well-worn armor. He was a little older than most of the troops around, likely from the second wave of batchers. A seasoned, battle-hardened trooper who was marked with nicks and burns across his skin, though few things stood out more than the crow’s feet around his eyes, and lines on his cheeks that dimpled with his grin. 

He walked with a very slight limp, and Obi-Wan observed a knee brace around his left leg. He seemed to notice Obi-Wan’s gaze and displayed the brace proudly with a lopsided grin. 

“Ah, you noticed the ball and chain. I'm grounded until this heals. Thankfully I’ve proved my mettle with the ground troops as a mechanic before I took to the air, so I didn’t have to be shipped off with the other injured.”

“Recent injury?”

The trooper shrugged. “Fairly recent. Haven’t kept track of the time to be honest. But it’ll be off soon and I’ll get my wings back, and that’s enough for me.”

“You mentioned Bothawui,” Obi-Wan remarked. “Did you perhaps serve with Captain Kitfox?”

“Under captain Twine, actually, but we did a joint strike mission with Kit and his crew around the second week of the siege. He provided ground troops and anti-air support. I saw you down there, by the way. You probably didn’t see me though,” the trooper replied. “I was zipping up in the air protecting the convoys.”

“Impressive of you to see me from that distance.”

The clone pointed at his own eye with a light pat on his cheek. “Pilot’s eyes, Kenobi. I can see a clanker’s asshole from a dozen parsecs in a meteor storm.”

“Language, sergeant,” Obi-Wan lightly chided, and the clone just laughed. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

For a split second, the trooper’s posture froze, before he broke back into a wide smile. He gave him another friendly pat on the shoulder and strode back to the starship. 

“What brings you here anyway, General? History dictates that when Jedi board a starship, some serious stuff is about to go down. Anything you’re allowed to divulge? Or want to divulge, that is?”

Obi-Wan looked perplexed at the clone who had just completely ignored his question. However, he let it slide, and ambled after the man who had returned to the repair work on the starship. 

“Nothing I can share at the moment, unfortunately,” Obi-Wan retorted. 

He frowned. He realized he couldn’t remember why he had arrived at the starship in the first place.

“Eh, it was worth a try. Me and the boys usually place bets on what kind of missions you assign us to. Now, since it’s been months since we had a Jedi here, we’re all itching for some action. We hope you deliver.”

“I’ll try my best,” Obi-Wan retorted dryly, leaning back against an errant crate. 

What mission did he come here for anyway? He searched his mind, and it came up blank, like trying to grab something just out of reach. He blinked, squinting as a low, faint beginning of a migraine began to settle behind his eyes. 

“Something wrong, sir?” The clone asked. 

“Nothing a little shut-eye can’t fix. Spending endless hours in a cockpit might be child’s play to you as a pilot, but my body simply does not agree with it,” he quickly deflected with a half-cocked grin, not wanting to dump his problems on a trooper he had just met. The pilot simply shrugged and returned to his work. 

However, something about this whole situation felt off. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. Migraines were nothing new to him, but the way it felt so focused deep within his mind, pressing against his eyes… 

He paused. 

Aside from the trooper’s repair work, the hangar was suddenly completely silent. It was a strange kind of quiet, as if the constant white noise had all died down around them ages ago, and he didn’t notice until now. 

He turned around. The workstations were vacant, drop ships dangling from the ceiling, equipment, and weapons neatly packed in their boxes. Crates left half-open, machines left unattended. The fluorescent lights felt brighter than usual, the smells stronger, the air heavy.

The hangar was completely empty. 

Frowning, he turned back, and the trooper was still there, busy rooting through his equipment. He walked about his broken starship without seeming to notice the strange, uncanny atmosphere within the vast space. 

“Actually...” Obi-Wan said, scanning the enormous room for any signs of life. There were none. “Maybe I should get my eyes and ears checked, or there were hundreds of troopers here moments ago.”

The clone frowned and dropped his equipment back into the box. He slowly walked back toward Obi-Wan, concern written on his face. 

“What do you mean? There’s just the two of us here.” The trooper frowned and took a step closer, concern written on his face. “Apologies for speaking out of turn, sir, but you don’t look well. You should go get some r....”

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan automatically responded and stepped out on the runway. A cold lump settled firmly in his stomach. 

The empty hangar yawned in front of him. The star-fighters and drop ships were all there. Maintenance work had been left half-finished, cups of caf still steaming on the workbenches. 

An enormous space filled with nothing but abandoned gear and the two of them. 

Slowly, he walked deeper into the enormous hall, scouting for anything or anyone. 

“Hey, you don’t look so good. You really should...”

“Do you hear that?” Obi-Wan interrupted, subconsciously reaching for his lightsaber.

Then he turned, following the sound he heard, a tumble of something light and uneven across the floor just ahead. Slowly, he moved past a few crates and a transport speeder before he saw it. 

A helmet rolled across the runway, the hollow sound echoing in the tall ceiling. It rolled several feet before it slowed and came to a stop, at the foot of a derelict transport freighter. 

Unlike the fresh and gleaming coats of the starships around it, the freighter was completely rusted over and covered in space dust. Obi-Wan frowned, moving closer to it. It was placed weirdly along the runway, as if it had been dropped there by accident. He didn’t recall seeing it there when he first arrived, yet it felt like it had always been there, a towering, looming presence among the sleek and narrow battleships. 

The door was broken off, scattered on the floor, still smoldering from the laser tool that pried it off its hinges. The opening was dark. Even with countless work lamps shining into the interior of the freighter, the darkness inside was so encompassing, so all-consuming that it seemed to absorb the light that tried to pierce it. 

The helmet, empty and starkly white against the rusted red of the freighter, drew his attention. He closed in on it, curiously, slowly bending down to inspect it. He recoiled, realizing the it was warm to the touch. From the black insides of the helmet, blood seeped out, eking out of the breathing filters and the sealed joints, spilling out across the hangar floor. It spread, kissing the edge of the rusted ship and filling the cracks in the floor, forcing him to step back or have his boots stained by it. 

His head was pulsing with the imagery, the pressure increasing, with the blackness of the freighter door that seemed to grow larger and larger. It felt like a word he couldn’t recall, the memo he had forgotten to write down, the lecture for a subject he never took, something so close and adjacent to his cognition that he could practically taste it, yet eluded him. Until...

Rust and Blood.

The memories came crashing back into his brain like a kick in the head. Of the invasion of the mysterious droid, the sith artifact, the ceaseless slaughter of his men. The pain, the sorrow, the cold, the exhaustion deep in his bones. 

He turned to the clone pilot who stood behind him, completely oblivious.

“You’re… you’re him… aren’t you?” Obi-Wan said, staring him intently in his eyes. He was caught off guard by the Jedi’s sudden change of demeanor, blinking in confusion. 

“I’m who?”

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. There was no doubt. He swallowed the anxiety further down into his gut as the clone’s life force stood before him, free of the Conduit’s obstruction. 

“I’m going to ask you again, and I want you to be honest. What’s your name?”

The sergeant took a tentative step forward, concern written all over his face.

“I mean it, you’re bleeding. You should probably go lie do-...,” the pilot said. It was as if he didn’t even hear Obi-Wan’s question.

“You’re deflecting. What. Is. Your. Name? ”

It was the trooper’s turn to look like someone had slapped him. His demeanor suddenly froze. His face fell, and his eyes were distant, as if deep in thought, and then it was deflected with a nervous laugh. 

“Why is that important at all, sir?” He reached out to touch his arm again, but Obi-Wan took an instinctual sharp step away from him. The trooper looked confused and a little hurt, straightening. 

“That’s silly, sir. Obviously, I’m…” he paused, frowning. He brushed a hand against his forehead in confusion, leaving a black mark of soot where he had placed it. “I’m…”

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Why does this matter? Listen, I -...”

“You’re CT-6678, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan interrupted, striding closer. “But that’s not your name. Or rather, not your real name, is it?”

The clone’s eyes snapped up to face his. Like the mention of the series of letters and numbers ignited something deep inside of him. His back straightened, face blanching. 

“CT-6678...”

As he uttered the numbers, a cold wind blew across the hangar. It was unnatural, out of place. 

The world flickered. The floor fell away to darkness, the walls crumbled to dust. The steel surrounding them flickered and silently fell away to dark winds, the gentle breeze of salt and tang filling his lungs. The sky was cloudy above, a light drizzle in the cold air. 

Obi-Wan took a step backward, disoriented. 

He was standing on water. The dark greys and blues of the gentle waves lapped at his feet. The telltale platforms of the cloning facility were nowhere to be seen, and the weather was uncharacteristically still, but Obi-Wan knew in his core that this was the waters of Kamino. 

The clone stood completely still, a distant look in his eyes. He slowly turned to face him, confusion and anguish written all across his features. 

“I... I don’t... Why can’t I remember?”

Obi-Wan took a tentative step forward, half expecting to sink into the inky depths below. As his boot hit the surface, a small ripple spread outward and disappeared in the darkness beyond. 

“What do you remember?

“I…”

“This is important. Think.”

“I am. I am. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The Admiral did this to you. He worked with the Separatists. Whatever they did turned you against us. Against your brothers.”

“Stop it,” he gasped, clutching his head. “Against my…? I don’t know, I… I was on leave. I am on leave.”

“That’s how he got you, wasn’t it? You were injured and separated from the troops, so it was easy to make you disappear.”

“I don’t know!” With his words, a strong wind swirled around them, sending sprays of cold seawater flying into the air. 

Undeterred, Obi-Wan took another step closer. As his boot hit the surface, the ripple was replaced with a disturbance, growing choppier and stormier. He could feel himself begin to sink. It was as if the sea was trying to force Obi-Wan under. Gathering his fleeting grip of the Force, he resisted the forces of emotion and nature around him, taking each tentative step toward the trooper. The clone pilot stood still, unaffected by the currents that whipped up around him. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s not your fault,” he said softly. 

“Not my fault? I don’t even know what I did,” the trooper laughed humorlessly, frustration coloring his voice. The waves grew larger and larger as he grew more and more upset. 

“I want to help you. Please, listen to me. I can stop all of this. I can make this end. You just need to help me. We are not strong enough on our own.”

The clone looked withdrawn, hesitant, regarding him with an anguished emotion he had never seen in a clone before. The confusion, the unanswerable questions racked him, whirling up in a storm. 

But Obi-Wan’s words seemed to pierce the thickening veil of fog that had formed between them. His eyes had a moment of clarity, and with it, the wind came to a stand-still. 

“I was in the medbay, I think. I got a message from high command. I was told to make my way to the hangar and meet the Admiral there.”

“What did he tell you? What did he do?”

“I don’t know. It’s all blank from there. Please believe me, sir.” He paused for a second, looking more conflicted by the second as the information began to sink in. “Why does my memory stop there? I… What happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out. Listen, there is something… dark… out there, threatening to kill us. We need your help to stop it.”

The clone remained confused, but he nodded all the same, trying to gather his wits, to calm down. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll try, General.”

“Listen carefully. The Conduit, it’s a powerful sith artifact. It has put you under its thrall because it has stolen something important from you. Your autonomy.”

“My…”

“Try to remember. What is your name?” he repeated, with more intensity.

“I… I’m sorry, I can’t -“

He froze and turned to look at the sky. 

“It’s back,” the clone gasped, staring wide eyed at the clouds.

Behind the thick fog, an enormous triangular shape emerged on the horizon. It loomed heavily on the horizon, like a massive star destroyer, hanging just above the atmosphere. It emitted a strong crimson light, haloing him with red.

The clone’s eyes widened in recognition and fear. He turned to Obi-Wan, urgency in his voice. 

“Get away from it. It warps you. Changes how you think. It-“

His body went rigid, contorted in pain and fear. Obi-Wan watched in horror as the red, malevolent energy took hold of the clone pilot, a swirling storm that stank of the dark side. 

The sea rolled under his feet. A wave of frigid water crashed into Obi-Wan, sending him tumbling to the side. He was ready for the second wave of towering seawater, evaporating it with a pulse of the Force. Another wave rose over the clone and he pushed it away too, destroying the massive shape and reducing it to raindrops that fell over them. 

The clouds began parting and with it, the scarlet light spread, slowly encroaching the waters, poisoning it with malice. It enveloped the misty atmosphere, dying the sea a deep, blood red. Obi-Wan could feel the light envelop him, a freight train of emotion and anger that rammed into his consciousness. He could feel his grip of his emotions weaken, the temptation to grab his lightsaber and go on a rampage. It was an invisible drill at the base of his skull, forcing itself deeper and deeper in his brain.

He had felt this before, back on Zigoola, and when he first struck the Conduit, when he snapped at Sunshine, every time he attempted to meditate. The subtle impulse to be more violent, to forget his logic, his empathy, to strike out on his own… it had been simmering just under the surface ever since the freighter landed on the hangar floor. 

He had attributed it all to exhaustion and grief from the war. Maybe the Conduit had noticed his weakness and exposed it, slowly probing and pushing his defenses until this moment, to pry his brain open and destroy him from the inside. He had been too distracted, too injured, too wrapped up in his own worries to even notice the seed of darkness that had planted itself just behind his eyes, waiting for the chance to take root.

Now, in ground zero of the Conduit’s influence, the presence had no filter, no defenses to bore through and he felt himself vulnerable and exposed to the intangible, red hot, malevolent presence. He could feel his sense of self, his identity, begin to be worn away like dirt against a pressure cleaner. Voices echoed in his mind, repeated, muddled, everywhere and nowhere at once. 

These thoughts are not mine. They’re not mine. Don’t lose control again. Don’t lose...

“Sithspit ,” Obi-Wan cursed. He ran to the clone’s rigid, shaking frame and grabbed his shoulders. His eyes were distant, locked in fear and confusion. “Listen to me, it’s the Conduit that keeps you trapped. We can’t stop this until the Conduit is destroyed, do you hear me? It will end this. It will end everything. Do you understand?”

“I’m cold.”

It was a losing battle. Whatever was left of the clone sergeant’s personality began to disappear, washed away with each raindrop, each heartbeat. That strange, cold presence in the Force, fully centered within him. The malicious energy enveloped him like a suffocating blanket. It didn’t look like he was even aware of the cloying, cold presence that was attached to him like a parasite. His bright white armor darkened with rust, flaking with copper and staining Obi-Wan’s hands. A thin red line began to form at the base of his neck.

“My name… my name is…”

There was a single crack of thunder, the sky flashed into a spectacle of kaleidoscopic reds, and Obi-Wan felt himself drop.

Chapter Text

Sunshine ran for his life. 

The wheeze of steam and engines breathed down his neck as he bounded down the corridor. Slumped across his shoulders, the Jedi murmured incoherently, completely lost in a strange, feverish trance. His legs carried him faster than he believed possible, the desperate need to escape overriding every sense and thought coursing through his body. Desperation, rush, blood pumping in his ears, it all was a cacophony of noise, but he was concerned with only one thing; to bring the General to safety. 

The droid was clearly slower than before. It was creaking from rime and cold entering its crevices and joints, but still moved towards them, undeterred and uncaring. He could feel the bacta unraveling in his thigh as he ran, but he grit his teeth and pushed through. 

He bypassed Frostbite and Patch and skidded to a halt where Kitfox was struggling with the door controls. The captain turned to him with wide eyes. “It’s frozen shut!”

“Hold on! I got it. You take the General,” Sunshine said and unceremoniously deposited his unconscious body into Kitfox’s surprised form. The captain nearly collapsed from his weight, but there was no time to be gentle. He carried Obi-Wan with the little strength he could manage, and he looked back at Sunshine’s strange new idea. 

“Is that…?” Kitfox faltered, peering at the object in Sunshine’s hands. 

Sunshine nodded with a faint smirk, holding the brass hilt of the lightsaber before him, pointing it upright. The weapon was lighter than he expected it to be, but it still had a comfortable weight to it, something that felt right in his grasp. Obi-Wan had been so protective of it, it felt like he was doing something illegal. 

But, as the events of the day had proved to the clone - he didn’t mind breaking some rules now and then. 

“Hold on guys, I’ve never done this before.”

He pressed the button and flinched at the sudden light before him and the hum that came with it. 

It was gorgeous. 

Not letting himself get lost in the mesmerizing glow of the lightsaber, he attacked the door and started carving a hole - one just big enough for humans and hopefully not for enormous murder robots. Sweat beaded down his forehead as the brilliant blue plasma melted the durasteel with ease. 

However, he still met resistance from the thick material - it took too much time. He could hear the bounding footsteps of the giant mech leap toward their little group. 

“Any time now,” Patch impatiently cried from behind.

“I’m working on it,” Sunshine shouted back and pushed the lightsaber harder. 

It was a good idea, but it was too little, too late. By the time he had carved a single line in the door, he felt the droid’s humid fog roll over him. It was like it was practically breathing down his neck. He clenched his eyes shut, driving the lightsaber deeper into the metal, trying to carve faster, expecting the worst when...

“Watch out,” he heard from above. 

A large drum tumbled down from a catwalk above and exploded into liquid and mist. It hit the droid’s upper body with a resounding clang. The robot's machinery screeched and bellowed in protest against the freezing substance, and stuttered to a halt.

Again, the corridor fell into silence. 

Sunshine shielded his eyes from the spray of mist that filled the room, and he looked up to the source of the voice.

“Pluto?” Kitfox exclaimed and laughed in delighted surprise. “And here I thought ghosts weren’t real.”

“Speak for yourself, cap. You look positively spectral,” the sniper deadpanned and reloaded his rifle with a loud clack. Pluto was crouched against the railing on the catwalk above, fully dressed in arctic armor and hidden under a tent of blankets and remote heating units. It looked like he had camped there for hours, protecting the two last remaining escape pods. 

He turned to Sunshine and gave him a brief nod as well. “Glad to see you’re okay, kid,” he said gruffly. “Hurry up and get out of here. It won’t hold for long.”

“On it!” He said, partially preoccupied with the hole he was cutting. “But what about you?”

“I have a few more of these, and that will give you guys hopefully enough time to get to safety,” he said, pointing to a row of liquid nitrogen canisters at his side. “You just focus on what’s right in front of you.”

Sunshine turned back to the captain. Kitfox was looking intently at the sniper with an unreadable expression. 

He didn’t waste any time working on the door. The sniper had bought them some time - it was not something he intended to waste. From the tiny hairs on his back, he could sense the droid would shudder to life at any moment, from the sound of its slow and stuttering creaks. 

He pushed the lightsaber even harder. 

With a final swipe of the sword, a thin rectangular shape was carved into the durasteel entrance. Just big enough to fit the relay through, but too small for the droid (he hoped). Giving it a solid kick, it tilted slowly on-axis before slamming to the floor with a resounding boom. The molten metal sizzled in the cold air and turned grey within seconds. 

He grabbed Kitfox by the strap of his backpack and practically threw the captain inside, before hauling Obi-Wan’s unconscious form over his shoulders. Frostbite and Patch carried the relay through just a few seconds later. 

He turned to check for Pluto, braced himself as the crash of liquid nitrogen hit the droid’s body, sending a flurry of icy mist his way. From the top of the catwalk, Pluto and the sniper sent him a brief finger salute. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll join you. Just got unfinished business,” he shouted. 

“Then you better make it quick,” Sunshine called back.

He turned to exit the hallway when he heard the sniper call back for him. 

“Oh, and Sunny,” he said. 

He peeked back into the room to see the sniper prepare the next canister to douse the creature. Pluto spared him a quick, meaningful look. 

“Don't die.”

Sunshine replied with a quick salute, and ran. 

—

Having passed the insulating layer of the hyperspace chambers, the temperature dropped significantly. The pod station was covered with frost, blooming white crystals spreading across the metallic surfaces of the room. His lungs burned with the cold air.

Under normal circumstances, this was a room containing emergency equipment and escape pods for the hyperspace crew. It contained nothing but a slick, polished floor and a row of six pods, four of which were cracked or warped from the explosions that rocked the hull. 

As Sunshine skidded to a stop, Jedi hanging over his shoulders and lightsaber primed, he immediately found the pods they were looking for. The lights above them shone with a bright green lamp, a glorious sight that filled him with an odd mix of anticipation and hope. 

Turning back, through the hole in the blast door, he could see the legs of the droid, trapped in stasis. And right next to the door, he spotted three clones, slumped, their armor covered with fuzzy white ice particles.

“I think I found the rest of our men,” he called to the other trooper’s who were hurrying across the threshold.

The scene of their deaths was strangely serene. It looked like they had been working on the door before deciding to take a nap. Sunshine realized with a chill that they had tried to guard the pods and got trapped by the jammed door. They had been waiting for them.  

“The cold got to them,” Frostbite said grimly, stepping across the threshold.

“It will get to us too if we don’t get moving,” Kitfox murmured and hurried over to the nearest pod and pulled the activation lever. 

“Right,” Sunshine nodded, not wanting to think about the men who may have been alive not an hour ago. 

“Alright, Frost, Sunny, get the pods ready,” Kitfox ordered, brandishing his blaster and standing by the opening, ready to fire. “I’ll watch the door.”

Sunshine laid Obi-Wan onto the frigid floor as quickly he could muster without hurting the man any further. The Jedi collapsed against the wall, clutching his head, his eyes squeezed shut. He was hardly conscious, gasping labored breaths as blood dripped from his nose. 

Whatever that monster was doing, it was going to kill him. 

The activation levers were completely jammed, with snow and rime covering the entire surface. Sunshine and Frostbite didn’t waste any time going to one pod each and hit the built-up ice with the butt of their rifles. Chunks of ice fell off the joints and cracked upon contact with the glossy floor, freeing the pod with a brutal, desperate fervor. Patch helped Frostbite’s work, freeing the activation levers, one hit at a time. 

Patch and Frostbite’s pod was cleared, and the door slid open with a hiss. 

“Send in the General first,” Frostbite said. 

“No. We should secure the relay and send it out first. It will guarantee the signal won’t be disrupted,” Patch argued. “It’s a guarantee we will be found!”

“Our prime directive is to keep the General safe,” Frostbite insisted.

“We can’t keep him safe if our only lifeline is destroyed. It has to get out first and away from the clanker!”

Kitfox turned back to them, blaster primed. 

“Patch is right. Send the relay out first. The General can survive a few more seconds. Sunny, help Patch with the relay. Frost, you get the other pod ready.”

They wasted no time following his order. Sunshine helped Patch carry the relay. His thigh stung with the effort, but with his adrenaline-addled strength, he picked it up on his own, much to Patch’s surprise. With the bridge officer’s help, he placed the enormous machine inside the pod as carefully as he could. 

Patch doubled back and inspected the result. 

“Damn, the inside of this thing is smaller than I remembered. There’s no more room in here,” Patch yelled. “I should stick with the relay in case it needs repairs, you guys take the General and go into the other one.”

The door shook. Snow and dust flew from the doorframe with the impact, enormous dents bulging in the steel. Sunshine turned to see several robotic arms creep around the hole in the door, attempting to break through. Their headstart was coming to a close. 

There was no time to debate. Kitfox nodded. “Go with it. We’ll be right behind you.”

The trust the Captain placed on the bridge officer wasn’t lost on any of them. Patch saluted, melancholically looking at the rest of them.

Escape pod VVC-307-0459 activated. Initiating launch procedure.

“Thank you, captain,” Patch reported, wiping off the last of the ice. He jumped inside and watched in anticipation as the machinery groaned into action around him. “Counting down.”

“See you on the other side,” Sunshine saluted.

“It was an honor, Patch,” Frostbite said gruffly. 

“You too. Good luck,” Patch smiled with a nod. He looked sadly at the medic. “Oh, and Frost... thanks.” 

Frostbite simply gave him a brief finger salute. 

The door closed, and with a brief hiss, the pod was gone. Sunshine could see it fly away through the viewport, and into orbit around the moon below. The tiny ship twinkled in the moonlight, and then it disappeared from view. 

“Alright, that leaves us,” Sunshine said. “It’s almost ready. Get over here!”

Frostbite helped Sunshine remove the last of the ice on the remaining pod as the captain bounded back to them. Sunshine rushed to pick up the General from the icy floor.

Something large and heavy exploded between them. 

Kitfox was halfway through entering the pod when a piece of metal flew past him and crashed into the panel next to the pod. It barely missed his head by mere inches, and they froze in dumbfounded horror at the piece of shrapnel that almost impaled their captain. 

“How in the…” Sunshine started yelling when he realized what he saw. The molten piece of durasteel blast door he had just carved had been thrown at them, and now the man-sized chunk of debris was deeply embedded into the pod’s ejection controls. 

Kitfox stumbled backward, staring at the piece of steel that had almost been his end. The metal frame crumpled and groaned, sparks flying. The green light above the door flickered and died out. 

The pod was fried. 

“Oh, shit,” Kitfox breathed. 

Metal arms grasped the edges of the steel blast door and crumpled it to the side, an enormous metal foot stepping into the room. The ratty cloak of the droid had frozen completely stiff, flaking and breaking off at the seams. The liquid nitrogen and the overall temperature of the ship had permeated every joint, the hydraulics, the machinery that whirred and groaned loudly as it battled the cold. With halting, jittery movements, it lumbered into the room. 

“Coming through!” Pluto’s voice carried from above. He sprinted onto the catwalk above them and took aim at the droid’s head and fired a single bolt that staggered it for a moment. 

“I’m outta canisters, but I’ll keep it busy! Hurry up with your business and get it done with!”

“Well, great news, Pluto. This pod’s not gonna fly,” Kitfox called back, his voice only barely carrying over the enormous drone of the droid’s creaking machinery. “It’s broken!”

“There is another. It’s down this hallway. It’s a trek, so we gotta leave anything expendable behind,” Pluto shouted, pointing toward the hallway just past the initial series of frozen pods.

“I thought you said there were only two,” Sunshine yelled in outrage.

“I lied,” the sniper shouted back. “Did you seriously think that I would choose to stay behind on this wreck and let you lapdogs get home and take all the credit?”

“I honestly don’t know what you would do, because you’re a lunatic,” Sunshine yelled. He ran inside of the ruined pod and heaved Obi-Wan’s feverish form over his shoulders. 

“A lunatic who is saving your collective asses,” he retorted, punctuated by a heavy sniper bolt in the droid’s shoulder, knocking it back several feet. 

“You seem to have forgotten that you’re the one who caused this cooldown in the first place,” Sunshine shouted. 

“I was a younger man then. You gonna blame me for something I did in my youth?”

“It was today .”

“So? I’m still young.”

“Forget him, kid. He’s being an ass,” Kitfox said. “Keep your eye on the prize.”

“Right,” Sunshine responded and bounded down the corridor, Obi-Wan in his arms, closely followed by Kitfox and Frostbite. 

Sunshine didn’t bother wasting time checking if the next blast door would even open; he brandished Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and attacked the metal surface. Carving another hole, he let the other trooper’s through before he snuck inside. 

He found himself in a munitions storage room, tied to one of the ship’s many anti-air gunner stations. Each gun was placed in a row along the right-hand wall, unused and frozen. On the left, dozens of enormous crates dotted the sizable room, creating a small labyrinth of boxes and cylinders. On the other side, next to the guns, sat a small number of pods. Just like the other pods, they were warped and cracked, unusable.

But one of them still had a green light shining above it.

“Found it,” Sunshine called and sprinted for it. 

The frigid room was longer than it was wide, framed by a tall ceiling with crates dangling from above. As Sunshine sprinted, he dashed between spools of metal wire, similar to the one he and Obi-Wan had used to travel to the bridge. A catwalk surrounded what would be the second floor, creating a grated, geometric pattern that was conveniently close to the pods. It was fair to assume Pluto planned to use this room to make his quick escape. 

Obi-Wan’s blood dripped onto his armor, spattering onto the floor and freezing into tiny, bright, red gems upon contact. Frostbite and Kitfox were running just ahead, weighed down by only the lightest packs they could carry. 

Something large and metallic wrapped around his shin, his balance was toppled, and suddenly he found himself tumbling, forced to a full stop. The Jedi’s unconscious form tumbled from his grasp, rolling onto the floor and coming to a stop just ahead. Sunshine looked down in horror to see that the droid’s long, crane-like arm was firmly attached to his shin. 

“Shit!”

He attempted to crawl backward, but the grip was iron, and his leg would not budge.

The droid lumbered closer and dragged him toward it. The vice grip around his shin tightened, and he couldn’t hold back a pained cry as he tried to shake himself loose. Angrily, uselessly, he fired his rifle at the droid’s form. 

“Oh, would you just fuck off already! ” he screamed, firing bolts at the uncaring carapace until the magazine ran out. “It’s been a long day, and I’m very tired !” He kept pulling the trigger, knowing it was empty. Angrily, desperately, he tore off the weapon from its strap and tossed it at the droid. The weapon clunked hard into the rusted surface and clattered to the floor, useless. 

Sunshine craned his head to see that Kitfox and Frostbite were already at the pods. They had heard his cry, and they were shouting, about to run his way. 

The droid’s ratty, brown veil had completely disintegrated, flaking off and flying with each deep puff of machine-like breath, each wheeze exiting the crevices and joints in a fog cloud. The head was exposed, the big blue eyes staring indifferently at him. Expressionless, emotionless, purged of whatever semblance of humanity that it may once have contained. 

The creature was slow, slower than ever, but the sheer strength of its grip was unaffected. The arm squeezed harder around his leg, yanking him closer, the armor creaking against the pressure. The droid brandished a closed fist, ready to strike down. Sunshine squeezed his eyes shut because this is it. This is how I go out. This is how I -...

“I hear you, Singer.”

It was Obi-Wan’s voice. 

The Jedi was suddenly beside him, standing straight, his blue eyes gleaming in the bright lights, uncaring - or unaware - of the blood dripping from his ears and nose. His expression was completely serene, eyes locked on the Conduit. 

Reaching out a bloodied hand, the droid suddenly froze, firmly trapped in his invisible grip. The machinery creaked and struggled against Obi-Wan’s grasp, frozen hydraulics whirring and whining a high-pitched scream. The Jedi took another step forward, pulling the droid closer. The red gem pulsed faster and faster, flickering against his powerful grasp. 

The machine let out a wheeze of struggle, and it seemed to lose interest in the clone in its grasp, and Sunshine’s leg was freed from the vice grip. He crawled backward, astonished. He had never seen the Jedi like this; so strangely silent, so strangely imposing. Obi-Wan didn’t even acknowledge his release.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

“G… General,” he stammered, surprised. 

He did not reply. Obi-Wan and the droid were locked in an excruciating standoff, his bloodshot eyes trained exclusively at the triangular red gem in the droid’s chest. The dull, red light of the gem pulsed brighter, more erratically, as Obi-Wan’s hand slowly began to close.

Sunshine realized that the Jedi and the Conduit were trapped in an intense, Force-equivalent of an arm-wrestling match - and neither party showed any signs of giving away. The room fell into an odd, tentative quiet as the droid stood still, looming over the defiant General. 

Then, the Conduit cracked. 

A thin, hairline crack, that ran from the top of the gem and ran down to its lower point. 

Overpowered, the match lost, the droid tumbled backward with a wheeze of machinery and steam. Having won the proverbial high ground, Obi-Wan took another step forward and slowly began to close his fist. The metal carapace shook against the invisible power that held it, threatening to buckle inward. It was like watching him crush an apple with his eyes, the surface slowly threatening to collapse and become crushed in the Force-induced vacuum.

The droid seemed to grow desperate and attempted to swipe at him with one of its many arms. Obi-Wan simply sidestepped it. Without sparing it a look, he twisted the crane-like arm in an unnatural direction. Making a swiping motion with his fist, the arm disconnected, torn off like the limb of an insect. The severed piece of machinery tumbled and crashed to the floor, useless. 

Obi-Wan redirected his power at another arm. It crumpled like it was in a vacuum, and was tossed to the side with the flick of his wrist. A third arm was cracked off like a dry twig and went flying into the ceiling above. It rocketed like a javelin, and got stuck in the ceiling with a flurry of sparks and snow.

Sunshine watched in stunned awe as the Jedi was brutally dismantling the droid, piece by piece. The entire time, he was completely serene, intently staring at the cracked, red gem. 

However, the stillness of his focus had a cost. Blood ran down his dirty space armor, from his ears, from his nose, a single red streak running down from his eye. His breaths were erratic, legs shaking - but his focus remained intent, a single-minded laser nucleus, trained at the red gem. He took a faltering step forward, intent on destroying the droid at whatever cost. 

It was killing him. 

“Obi-Wan…” Sunshine said, slowly. The Jedi didn’t respond. 

He stumbled to his feet and shook the Jedi’s shoulders. “Obi-Wan, stop!”

Like a boulder crashing into a still pond, his voice seemed to connect somewhere inside of him, and Jedi was rocked back into the present. Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on him. He seemed surprised to see him, as if he had just woken from a deep sleep. 

Sunshine grabbed the hem of his tunic and dragged him away from the reeling droid. But Obi-Wan resisted. He pushed his hand away and retreated behind a crate. 

“Sir, the pod is right there!” Sunshine yelled.

“No. He’s still in there,” Obi-Wan uttered through his gasping breaths. He was pale, delirious. “He’s still alive.”

“What? Who…”

“I can’t leave him. He’s in there,” Obi-Wan insisted. “I can still save him.”

The crate they hid behind exploded with the sheer force of the metallic fists that hit it. The Conduit flashed, and suddenly Obi-Wan stumbled backward, clutching his head in pain. The droid loomed above them both. They were sitting ducks. 

One of the arms flew downward - directly toward the General’s head. Without thinking, Sunshine leaped forward and tackled Obi-Wan out of its trajectory and -

Chapter Text

The world froze to a stand-still. 

The noise, the chaos, the droid - it all disappeared as Kitfox watched Sunny’s body fly across the room and collide with the wall. There was a telltale sound of the helmet visor cracking, and he tumbled to the cold floor, rolling to a stop. He stared at the kid’s unmoving body, the visor caved inward, the blood seeping from the cracks, the -

He stood for a second, not daring to breathe, stomach sinking, just waiting for him to get back up. 

He didn’t. 

At the edge of his awareness, he could tell Kenobi was barely conscious, bleeding profusely, gasping for breaths. After being pushed to safety by the rookie, he had fallen to his knees, just out of harm’s way. He was immobilized, gripping his head in agony, exposed to the Conduit’s strange, malevolent radiation. 

For the very first time since captain Kitfox was produced, he was torn with indecision. The General needed to be brought to safety, no matter what, but the kid…

Pluto bounced down from the catwalk and rolled to a stop just before the droid’s feet. He fired two shots with his heavy-duty rifle that sent the robot reeling. It let two deep dents in the rusted shell, sparks flying upon contact. He was distracting it, drawing it away from the Jedi. Drawing it away from Sunny.

Frost appeared at his side and sent him a knowing look.

“I’ll get Kenobi,” he said.

It was the reassurance he needed. Without hesitation, Kitfox bolted toward the rookie's slumped form. He darted between wires and crates, skidding to a halt just before him. 

“Kid. Kid. Hey, Sunny,” he pleaded, placing a hand on his cheek. Gingerly, he lifted the cracked helmet off his head. Blood gushed from his forehead where some glass from the visor pierced the skin. He was pale. Unmoving. The blood pooled in his palm, seeping into his undershirt. “Hey, stay with me. Stay with me.”

There was no response. He was still, too still. Panicked, fingers shaking, he slid his hand under his collar and down his neck. Sensing for a pulse, a breath, anything. 

“Come on, don’t flake out on me now,” he encouraged, lightly slapping his cheek. The kid didn’t even twitch, head lolling to the side. “Come on, kid. I can’t carry you. I can’t… you gotta get up.” He sounded pathetic, on the verge of tears, but he didn’t care. 

“Stay with me, stay with me,” he murmured repeatedly, finding the correct vein and waited. His body was nothing but pure adrenaline, stars dotting his vision. The world was a whirlwind of chaos of noise, but his attention was solely focused on the kid. Time slowed down as he closed his eyes, waiting to sense something, anything, just a sign that Sunny was alive.

He was dizzy with relief when he felt a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. 

Kit turned back to call for Frost for help, but the medic was carrying the General to safety while Pluto was busy keeping the droid occupied. 

That meant it was up to him to get him to safety.

The kid was too heavy. Kit tried to drag Sunny toward the pod, but he was so tired and one-handed and so goddamn weak. Stars dotted his vision, head spinning, exhaustion so deep in his bones that he hardly noticed his grasp slipping and he fell back on his ass, having made no progress. He crawled back to his side, prodding, trying to coax him back. 

“Kid. Sunny, please. Wake up. Wake up.” 

The kid roused at the sound of his voice, moaning drowsily, his head lolling with sluggish movements. 

“Cap…” he mumbled, groggily, slowly returning to awareness.

“Sunny, come on. I don’t… we don’t have time. Please.”

Sunny’s eyes fluttered open, before he squeezed them shut against the light, a hoarse groan deep from his throat. Blood stained his lashes, sticky against his face.

“Ow.”

“Hey, you with us? Come on, get up.” Kitfox snapped his fingers before his eyes and clapped him on his cheek. Disoriented, he followed the captain’s hand with his right eye, the other glued shut by the amount of blood that was running down his brow. 

“Y’ssr,” he slurred. “K’nobi?” 

“In the pod. Come on, live up to your name. Rise and shine,” he joked desperately.

“Is he dead?” Pluto yelled from the other end of the hall, deftly dodging a flying fist and drawing the droid’s attention. Kit ignored him, fully focused on the rookie sprawled on the floor.

“I’m up, I’m up,” the kid mumbled, rousing, slowly rising from the floor. 

“Faster. Come on, we don’t have time for this,” Kit coaxed. He wanted to help him up and carry him over his shoulders to safety, but all he was rewarded with was darkness threatening to tunnel his vision. So light-headed, so weak, so tired, he could hardly keep himself on his own feet. All he had left was his blaster and his words. 

Sunny gave no indication that he registered anything that came out of Kit’s mouth, only the innate need to get back up and keep going. He stumbled to his feet, unsteady, clutching his bloodied forehead. The sudden change in altitude seemed to make him look nauseous, but Kit didn’t care - as long as he got to safety he could vomit as much as he liked. 

“I’m fine,” Sunny mumbled, shaking his head, which didn’t seem to improve things. “I’m fine. I’m…”

“To the pod. Now .”

“Yeah. Yes, captain,” Sunshine murmured, dazed and unbalanced.

“Taking your time, I see. Don’t worry, I can do this forever,” Pluto yelled, making no effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice. He rolled to the side, missing the thunderous strike of a metal fist and fired his hand blaster at the creature.

The red plasma ricocheted off the armor, hardly making a dent. However, interestingly, although slight - it did make a dent. All of his blaster bolts did. Kit eyed the carapace, the broken metal arms, the cracked gem in its chest. The clanker was compromised - actually, genuinely, compromised . 

Whatever Force magic Kenobi did to it, it worked. 

“Aim for the joints,” he ordered Pluto, who immediately redirected his aim at the cracks of the robot’s armor. “Disassemble that bitch!”

Pluto grunted in acknowledgment, firing scores of bolts perfectly in the shoulder joints, the legs, any openings he could find. The strategy worked immediately, the bolts connecting with vulnerable pieces of machinery that had been impenetrable up until this point. The droid staggered backward with the explosion of a tube of hydraulics, and one of the metallic arms crashed to the floor, limp, unusable. 

“Captain, the wires,” Sunshine said, wiping blood from his eye. He pointed to the spools of cable along the polished floor. 

Kit knew immediately what the rookie was thinking. He held Sunny’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. 

“Can you handle it?” 

Sunny was still woozy, but he was quickly recovering, adrenaline and automation keeping him running. His ingrained training and years of conditioning was kicking back in. 

“I can, sir. I’m a little dizzy, but I can do it.”

“Good. I’ll help distract it.” 

Kit darted off behind to crouch a crate and watched Frost finish depositing Kenobi’s body in the pod. The medic’s eyes connected with his, and he immediately sprinted to his side. 

“We need to go now,” Frost said.

“The ejection countdown is too slow with the clanker right on top of us. Pluto is keeping it distracted while Sunny is handling the wire. I want you to help him tie that bastard up. Got it?”

Frostbite gave him a sharp nod in acknowledgment and darted around the side of the crate, firing rounds at the rusted shell of the droid. 

The team was doing impressive work, exchanging commands and working together. 

Kit grabbed his blaster, intending to join them. He rose… or attempted to rise from his crouching position. He tumbled back to his knees, out of breath, stars in his vision. The remains of his mangled arm pulsed, a concentrated, white hot ball of pain. His body was so cold, but he felt like he was on fire. Sweat dripped onto the floor and froze immediately upon contact. 

He was so tired. 

“Move, legs. Move,” he coaxed to himself. His blaster clattered to the floor, his grip too shaky to hold it. He picked it back up. “Shit. Just a little longer.”

With the combined effort of Pluto’s and Frost’s distraction, Sunny had an easy time carrying the spool past it unnoticed and firmly attached it to a nearby pillar. The wire rounded several crates, creating several points of tension. He ran a loose circle around its legs, placing the cable just outside of its feet, and darted to the other side of the room, tying the other end to a crane. 

Frost darted off and helped secure the wire and ran to the control panel of the crane. The hook started lifting, and with it, dragged the wire that had been zig-zagged across the room. Kit observed how Sunny had cleverly placed the wire at points to create the maximum tension without risking the integrity of the cable, and as the crane lifted higher and higher, the loop finally tightened around the droid’s legs. 

Like watching a tower collapse, the robot lost its balance and crashed to the floor with a resounding boom. The two remaining arms flailed as it struggled against the bonds, the frozen joints and gravity held it down. Despite its strength and power, it wasn’t designed to be pressed down onto its back and it rolled around uselessly like an upturned beetle.

“To the pods, now,” Kit heard himself scream. At some point he had somehow gotten back to his feet, ushering Pluto and Sunny into the pod. He was running on pure automation. Frost typed in the launch sequence and the machinery whirred to life in the tiny ship. 

Escape pod VVC-307-0460 activated. Initiating launch procedure.

“The pod’s operational!” Pluto’s voice called at the edge of his awareness. “It can launch in T-Minus 59 seconds.”

“Good,” Kit heard himself say. 

“Why the hell is it not faster,” Sunny yelled.

“It’s heating up the ejection controls. It won’t be released until the ice has melted,” Pluto yelled back.

Kit was about to jump in, but he slowed. He looked back, at the droid, at the wire holding it. It creaked against the pressure as the robot recovered. Despite the clever weight distribution of the wire, the metal threads were already beginning to fray. The robot was just too strong.

And the countdown was too slow. 

“What the hell are you doing,” Frost hissed. He stomped back out of the pod, grabbed his hand. “Get in.”

“I… I can’t do that, Frost. I have to…”

“Do what, Kit,” the medic pressed. 

Kit sighed, looking back at the droid. “Look, Frost, it’s not going to stop. It can’t stop. It never, ever stops. It won't end with us leaving this place. I… I have to do something.”

Frost regarded him with a dark expression. His sharp gaze pierced him like a dagger, like he was reading his every thought. 

The wire creaked, the crates crumpling against the immense pressure. The droid clambered to its feet, eyes trained at them. 

“No way. You have to stay. For him.”

“I can’t, Frost,” Kit laughed humorlessly, desperately. “I’m not gonna make it. You know it. We all know it.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.”

He scoffed, making a wide gesture. “Fett. Look at me, Frost. This is it… this is the best I can do.”

Frost regarded him quietly for a moment. His eyes briefly fell on the bleeding stump of his arm, the stitches torn again, the bacta unraveled. He was bleeding out and burning up on the inside. Adrenaline, army grade drugs and spite were the only things keeping him going. 

Frost’s dark eyes sized him up, deep in thought.

“Alright...” he said. 

Kit felt himself sag in relief. 

“... but at least let me come with you.”

Kit’s gaze snapped up to meet his, surprised. 

“What…” Kit said, trailing off. Frost’s eyes were soft. Vulnerable. Kit hadn’t seen him like this since they were boys, before the war changed them, separated them. “No. No way. You're still needed, Frost. The General will…”

“... be fine,” Frost finished. “My work is done.”

Kit stared at Frost with sheer and utter disbelief. He was earnest. Completely and utterly committed. The decision was already made. 

He knew there was no way to change his mind - the captain was stubborn, but he learned it from the medic. 

The crane that held the droid toppled, crashing down to the floor with a resounding boom. It was a cacophony of sparks and flying rubble. The dust billowed from the crash site like a tidal wave, and behind the haze, two blue eyes were trained directly at them.

Kit put his hand on Frost’s shoulder with an earnest grin. Frost grinned back, dropping his rifle, clattering loudly on the rime-white durasteel floor. The medic dug up an explosive charge in his side pouch. He had kept it hidden all this time. He offered one to Kit.

“Together?”

“Yeah. Together.”

The wire snapped. It was a loud twang that resounded in the chamber, whipping right past them and crashing into a nearby crate with sparks and a spray of ice. The droid rose to its feet and started marching toward them. 

After Kenobi’s brutal treatment and Pluto’s bolts, it had three arms left. One of the arms was limply dragged across the floor, screeching and twitching as metal grinded against metal. 

Kit stared at the droid with pity. The mindless creature was brutal, uncaring, impossibly strong - but it was on its last legs. Dents covered the surface, scorch marks, burns, patches of ice that made each footstep stilted, slowed. The red gem that powered it was weakened, vulnerable. He eyed the grenade in his hand. 

The clanker was stupid, easily distracted. Just by drawing it away from the pod, just outside of the blast radius...

Pluto peeked out of the pod, frustrated and impatient. “What the hell are you waiting for, the pod is going to -...” he paused when he saw the resigned expression on both of their faces, to the droid that was prowling toward them. His face fell, and he regarded them with a quiet, dark expression. He knew immediately what they were planning.

“Captain!” Sunny yelled, about to jump out.

“Heel, kid,” the sniper said. He grabbed Sunny’s collar and held him back, much to the rookie’s frustration.

“Why the hell are you just standing there,” Sunny yelled, anger and confusion coloring his voice. He wrestled against the sniper’s grasp, and Pluto simply kicked the back of the knee of his injured leg and he tumbled to the floor with a pained yell.

Kit had to fight the urge to laugh. The rookie was so goddamn clueless. The kid sputtered in protest, outraged that the sniper refused him to exit the pod. 

“Come inside!” Sunny yelled. “What are you doing? You’re both gonna die!”

His voice cut him deep into his core. He didn’t want it to turn out this way. The kid was bright, too bright, and he had lost so much family before he even had a chance to know them. They would’ve loved him. 

23… 22… 21...

Kit turned to face him with a grin. 

“Take care of Kenobi, will you?” 

“What… what are you talking about?! Get inside!” Sunshine yelled back, confused. He tried to force his way out to grab him, but Pluto's grasp on his shoulders held him back. 

Frost looked out at the approaching droid.

“Remember when you got caught red-handed stealing instructor Balin’s spice stash?”

“Do I remember?” Kit chuckled. “You bent over backward trying to cover for me to the point where they just gave you detention for a full week. I got off scot-free because they said that watching you take the consequences was enough punishment for me.”

“It was. I could tell you were moping on the other side of the door,” Frost grinned.

“And so little old me ruined your perfect obedience record.”

“It was worth it.”

The droid ripped off the last of the wire as it walked. It snapped like a loose thread. 

10… 9...

“He looks up to you.”

“Must mean I’ve done something right,” Kit chuckled. 

Frost gave him one last look. His dark eyes glinted in the red and green lights, a reassuring smile he hadn’t seen in years. He stood before him, hand on his shoulder, his back facing the approaching robot. 

“Your martyr complex means nothing if you can’t be there for him.”

Kit scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I was stalling.”

“Huh?” 

The medic suddenly grabbed Kit’s grenade, and kicked him hard in the stomach. Surprised, the captain stumbled backward and fell into the pod. He tumbled right into Pluto’s arms. 

2... 1… 0. Escape pod launching. 

Rattled and confused, he recovered quickly and sprang up to the door, only to find it was shut. 

No. 

The door is shut. It’s shut. It’s…

Then, it suddenly dawned on him. What the medic just had done. 

“No! No! Fuck you, Frost! Don’t you do this to me!” he shouted, banging his fist intently at the viewport glass. 

Frostbite looked down at him wistfully. He mouthed words he couldn’t hear, because the door is closed, it’s closed, it’s closed, why the hell won’t it open ...

The medic made brief eye contact with Sunny. He gave him a respectful nod, and the kid gave him a baffled, uncertain one in return. 

He turned away, activated the grenade in his hand. It flashed red. Marching slowly toward the blue eyes in the dust cloud, distracting it, drawing the droid away from the pod. Away from them, away from him . A single red flashing light growing smaller and smaller. 

Kit screamed. He knew he couldn’t hear his passionate protests through the reinforced viewport, but he kept screaming anyway. Until his voice was raw. Until his fist was a ball of pain. Until...

“You’re supposed to outlive me, you asshole.” His voice cracked. Kit slammed his fist against the glass viewport, to no avail. He was furious. Afraid. Hurt. “Don’t you fucking dare take this from me! Don’t you-…” 

Suddenly the pod rocked backward and they flew into space. All was silent, except for the captain’s continuous banging against the steel door. 

“I was supposed to go with you! You asshole ! I don't want to die alone!”

But the medic was gone. 

Kitfox fell to his knees. His face crumpled into a completely blank expression, his hand still pressed against the glass. They all watched in stunned silence as the Vindication slowly grew smaller and smaller in the distance. 

A few seconds passed, and an explosion rocked the section the pod had just retreated from. The viewports flashed white, orange and yellow, flames licking the glass, eating what was left of the ship’s oxygen reserves. 

Sunshine sat dumbfounded, eyes wide. 

Kit felt himself shake in anger and sorrow. Emotions flying through him faster than he could comprehend, feeling trapped in his head and detached at the same time. It was all so fast, so abrupt, there was no chance to stop him, no chance to...

Pluto stared at them both with a grim resignation on his face, still clutching Sunny’s shoulders. Kenobi laid pressed against Sunny’s lap in the small space. His nosebleed seemed to have stopped. 

There was no sound but blood and adrenaline pumping through his system. 

The Vindication disappeared from view and all they saw were stars.

Chapter Text

* chapter-specific content warnings: ableism (self-inflicted), suicidal thoughts

The tags of the work have been updated to reflect this.

Kitfox didn’t say anything or move for nearly two full hours. Or maybe it was three - it was hard to tell. He clutched his bandaged shoulder and stared, jaw tense. His eyes darted across the starry horizon beyond, but Sunshine doubted that was what he actually saw.

Sunshine wanted to say something, anything, but words died on his lips before he could utter anything. Kenobi breathed calmly against his lap, eyes flickering under closed lids. Pluto had slinked to the back, jaw tense, arms folded. 

“I saw the explosion. Who’s left? ”

“The General, the captain, Pluto, and me,” Sunshine replied, voice flat and hoarse. 

“I see ,” Patch said eventually, after a considerable silence. “ I’m sorry. ”

“Me too,” Sunshine murmured. He watched the stars pass them by as they circled the moon’s orbit. Occasionally, the Vindication would appear back in view and he’d avert his gaze. 

The sooner the rescue crew arrived, the better.

“In a few hours, your pod will enter the moon’s atmosphere. When that happens, set up the pod’s beacon to synchronize with the relay so that rescue ships can see you. I’ve managed to calibrate mine to stay close to yours, so whatever happens, we’ll touch down on roughly the same landing zone.”

Sunshine grunted a noise of approval and half-listened as Patch rattled off tech talk in his ear. He understood that the bridge officer was speaking more for the sake of filling the air, but he had a hard time trying to say anything at all. Instead, he simply sat and felt the time crawl by.

Pluto didn’t say anything. He seemed to want to keep his distance, despite being confined the small space, scowling at the unconscious General in Sunshine’s lap. He then wrapped himself with his poncho and closed his eyes, likely his first real rest in hours. 

The life support system of the pods whirred, feeding them recycled air for heartbeat after heartbeat, until the moments began to blend into each other, and Pluto’s breaths deepened into a full sleep. 

“You’re bleeding,” Kitfox said. His voice was hoarse and torn and uncharacteristically flat. 

“Ah,” Sunshine said and dabbed a finger against his forehead. It came away red, seemingly having been bleeding for a while. He had been too preoccupied with not dying to notice. “Ouch.”

“There’s bacta in this pack. Hold on,” the captain said and dug into Frostbite’s medkit. He found a strip with a delighted sound and regarded it for a moment. He handed it to him. “Wait to open it till I’ve cleaned it,” he said and dabbed some disinfectant onto the offending site. 

Sunshine winced at the burning liquid hitting his face, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sensation. The pain was… strangely comforting. Grounding him in the present. Kitfox carefully dabbed his forehead, and Sunshine realized that the cut was larger than first thought. The wipe moved from the top of his head to his cheek. 

“Yeah. That’s gonna scar,” Kitfox said. There was no personality behind it. It was like a robot was speaking to him. “Congrats, I think it’s gonna be an impressive one.”

“I’m just glad it didn’t take an eye,” Sunshine said, toying with the unopened bacta patch in his hands. The cracked visor glass had come close, but the most damage was some tiny scratches on his eyelid, a far cry from the deep cut just a few millimeters above. It was a considerable amount of luck considering his track record for the day. 

“Gimme that,” Kitfox said, and eyed the plastic casing for a second before handing it back. “Open it for me, will you? It’s a two-hand job.” He motioned to his bandaged arm as if it needed explanation.

Sunshine quietly obeyed and handed the opened patch back to the captain who placed it on his forehead. Kitfox leaned back, eyeing his handiwork. 

“It’s not pretty, but it will do.”

Sunshine inspected the site with mild interest and sighed with relief as the bacta began to do its magic. 

“Thanks, captain.”

“Call me Kit.”

“Alright, cap… I mean Kit.”

Kitfox grinned and leaned back against the viewport, opting to sit on the floor. 

“I’m sorry. About Fro…”

“Not now, kid. I can’t... I can’t think about him right now,” Kitfox interrupted. He hissed, clutching the bleeding stump of his arm. The bandages had completely bled through. The adrenaline and stim jabs that had kept him going up until this point were beginning to pass, and he was quickly turning into an exhausted mess on the floor. 

“Of course, sir. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Let me change the bandages.”

The captain eyed him darkly, protectively hiding his injured side from him. 

“How’s the General?”

He sighed. “Still stable, and you’re deflecting. Those bandages need to come off.”

In terms of sheer strength, Sunshine was arguably the strongest of the two of them, and the captain quickly came to realize he was not going to stop the young clone from getting his way. He gave in without a fight, letting the rookie take care of him. 

Sunshine had dealt with many kinds of injuries as part of his regular training, but he still wasn’t prepared for the very real, very disgusting reality of infection that combat medics dealt with on a daily. Unraveling the bandages, he was faced with the red, angry flesh that pressed against stitches, some that had torn and others that were just on the cusp. He had no tools to address it aside from cleaning it, placing a bacta patch against it, rewrapping, and hoping for the best. 

By the time he was done, they were both worn out from the harrowing experience. Kitfox clutched his shoulder as if his life depended on it, and Sunshine fell back into his seat, hoping he’d never have to do anything like that again. 

“Thank you,” Kitfox said, voice small, jaw tense. He was on the cusp of sleep, eyes bleary and unfocused.

“Just helping a brother out,” Sunshine answered, smiling faintly. 

“They're gonna promote you, you know,” he said. 

“Huh?”

“Yeah duh. A rookie infantry trooper, the savior of the Jedi’s superstar poster boy? They’re gonna send so many medals your way, you will trip on the ribbons on your way to the podium.”

Sunshine chuckled lightly at the mental image and the captain smiled a little too. 

He had never considered how the outside world was going to react to this attack. What it meant for the war. If the Seps had struck a devastating blow against the Republic. Of if they truly were just a blip in the galaxy, a dip in the line graph in the Chancellor’s archive.

But it didn’t matter to him. They had left the ship in one piece and the relay had been sending signals to General Skywalker for a few hours by now. A pretty promotion and encouraging words from the Chancellor was nothing compared to that feeling. 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbled for food. He turned to one of the backpacks and made a pleased hum when he found what he was looking for; two bags of jerky. He held out one of them. Kitfox eyed it, but turned away, disinterested.

“You have to eat something, cap,” Sunshine chided him lightly, taking a few bites himself as if by demonstration. It tasted disgusting, but his stomach didn’t care. “When was the last time you had something?”

The other clone didn’t answer, but took the bag and looked down at the pack with an empty look on his face. Then he tore it open with his mouth and took a bite. Then another. Then another.

“This was Frost’s favorite,” he said softly. “I think it tastes like salted sand, but he has never been a man of fine taste. Part of his charm, I guess.”

Sunshine watched as the captain took another bite. They both stared out of the viewport. 

“I'm gonna miss that bastard.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm going to be decommissioned, Sunny. 

“What?”

He laughed emptily. “They don’t take defectives.”

“Why? You’re not...”

“My arm is gone, kid. My dominant hand,” Kit interrupted harshly, voice flat. He looked utterly resigned. Feverish. “Yes, I’ll probably get a neat prosthetic, but do you know how much they cost? Army grade? The Republic is not going to spend that much on a single clone like me, regardless of rank or commendations. For all they care, I allowed that creature on board. I’ll be held responsible for the lives lost today and be recycled and replaced as soon as we touch down on Coruscant.”

Sunshine closed his mouth, staring aghast at the captain who was looking increasingly despondent before him. His eyes were glassy and red, cheeks flushed. The fever was getting to him. 

But the captain’s words unnerved him. He really had no idea what would happen to clones that were too hurt to return to the fight. It was something they never talked about. Death, sure. But never injury. He always assumed the wounded would be shipped back to the front as soon as they were healed, but he realized how foolishly cadet-like that idea was. Of course, not everyone could make it back. 

It was a dizzying thought.

“That’s your fever talking, cap. They’re not going to decommission you,” he said softly. 

Kitfox shot a dark look at him, utterly unconvinced. 

“I was supposed to die out there with him. With my brothers. I don’t understand how Frost would not see that? What he has subjected me to? He knew. I was supposed to die a soldier’s death. That bastard knew, and he robbed me of it,” he cried and slammed his fist against the wall. 

The strike rang in the small space. The bag of jerky fell to the floor and the contents spilled out, a small constellation to add to the thousand others outside. Pluto cracked one eye open, watching the two of them without comment. 

“He wasn’t even injured. He would’ve survived just fine. He just… decided to pull a goddamn switcharoo. Of course he did, how else would he make me stick around?” 

“He just wanted you to live, cap-…”

“Well, maybe I didn’t want to. ”

Sunshine’s stomach plummeted, the air left his lungs. The air went from stifling to almost unbreathable as silence hung over them like a thick blanket. Kitfox looked as surprised by his outburst as Sunshine did. Like he had just spilled a secret. 

“I… I didn’t mean…” Kitfox mumbled, trailing off. He breathed unevenly, blinking back tears and he shook - maybe from the blood loss, maybe the fever, maybe from pure emotion. Maybe all three.

A few minutes passed, and his eyes cleared somewhat, his frown lessened. He sighed, deep from his chest. He grinned charmingly, a practiced, rehearsed smile. 

“I’m sorry kid,” he grinned with a light chuckle. “Lemme just get this cleaned up.” 

He began tidying up the spilled jerky on the floor. Sunshine moved down to help him but was flatly refused. One by one, he picked up each piece. With the blood loss and only one hand, it was agonizingly slow. It was hard to watch.

Sunshine spoke softly. “You can stop now.”

“What are you talking about, kid?”

“You don’t... you don’t have to pretend, Kit,” 

His smile fell. He turned away, still kneeling on the floor. 

“I don’t know how,” he whispered. “It’s all I know.”

“You can stop. It’s okay.” 

And when Sunshine uttered those last words, he suddenly paused. As if given permission, the captain’s shoulders dropped. He trembled. Small droplets of water fell to the ground and Sunshine realized with a start that the man was crying. Not knowing what to do, Sunshine lightly put his hand on his shoulder. 

Kitfox leaned into it and sobbed. 

---

The captain passed out minutes after finishing the little amount of rations he could stomach. He slept fitfully, sitting on the floor and resting his head on the seat of the pod. His breath was labored, heat was radiating off him, and the sweat on his neck stained the seat. Sunshine felt his temperature. It was too high.

His sleep became more and more unsettled, and for each heartbeat, it was becoming clearer that he wasn’t getting better. Most of Frostbite’s medkit was equipped with emergency equipment, meant for instant painkillers and stim jabs for the heat of battle, not the aftermath of it. 

Pluto had said nothing the entire time, pretending to sleep. Patch stopped talking on the comms and Obi-Wan showed no signs of waking. So, Sunshine spent the long hours completely still, watching the viewport for signs of the droid, a rescue party, anything. 

Just hours of watchful, anxious quiet. 

It was the longest he had been left alone with his thoughts since the attack began, and he decided he didn’t like it. 

His mind began to race with thoughts, regrets, what-if’s - countless flashes of memories from the last 24 hours that he had hardly had time to process. Every time his eyes began to drift shut, he was rocked back to the present, his pulse rapid and throbbing in his ears. It was all topped with the splitting headache from the droid’s strike - fortunately not strong enough to concuss, but certainly strong enough to make the bright lights in the pod feel like knives in his eyes.

He dozed, not quite sleeping, not quite staying awake. Suddenly, Kitfox woke in a frenzied, wide-eyed panic, grasping for his gun. Sunshine realized that the captain was aiming at the viewport, about to fire.

Pluto was immediately on him, disarming the captain and tossing the blaster aside. He held him in a headlock, the captain barely lucid, his wheezing breaths labored against the pressure on his neck. 

Sunshine hurried over and kneeled in front of the captain. He took the blaster and hid it from view, shuddering to think what would’ve happened if Pluto didn’t take it away in time.

“Hey, hey. It’s us. Captain, calm down. You’re safe. You’re safe,” Sunshine said.

His words didn’t land. Kitfox’s wide eyes darted from side to side, seeing threats that weren’t there. His hand pulled uselessly at Pluto’s elbow, trembling with pure, unbridled fear.

“He’s hallucinating. There, in the medkit, there’s an emergency stim. It’ll get him cooled down,” Pluto commanded. “Now .”

Sunshine threw himself over the kit, rooting through the various tools until he found the canister he was looking for. Kitfox wrestled against the sniper’s grip, his hand grasping feverishly at Pluto’s chokehold. He was significantly weakened, but his kicks left dents in the thin, flimsy sheet metal surface beneath the benches. His heel hit Sunshine’s injured leg and he couldn’t help but cry out as the pain blossomed in his thigh.

“He’s too strong to hold him for long. When I say go, hit that in his neck. Try to hit the vein or we’ll have to do this again in five minutes.”

“Got it,” Sunshine said tightly through grit teeth, still reeling from the kick in his leg. 

He prepared the syringe and positioned himself just over Pluto and Kitfox. He had done this before on a training dummy. He had been the best in his class, but the dummy hadn't been wrestling against Pluto's chokehold, crying out for its dear life.

“Go!”

Pluto wrenched Kitfox’s head to the side, exposing his neck for Sunshine to attack. He uncapped the syringe and stabbed it into his exposed skin, pressing in the contents just like he had been trained to do. Kitfox cried out from the rough treatment, a primal, anguished noise that made his stomach drop with worry. Pluto let the captain go, and stood close by as the injection slowly began to do its work. He collapsed onto the floor with a sob, reeling from the chokehold.

Sunshine stared at the captain in horror. He was on his knees, curled in on himself, clutching the remains of his severed arm. The fever was stripping away everything, his strength, his wit, his personality. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re here. We’re here.”

He held him close, wrapped in a tight embrace. Kitfox’s hand grasped the back of his neck with a tight squeeze, as if he was going to disappear if he let go. He didn’t speak, didn’t respond to Sunshine’s words, but it didn’t stop him from murmuring reassurances, to coax the captain back to the present. 

Slowly, as time ticked by, his breaths slowed, his temperature cooled, his eyes droopy, but gradually recovering coherency. Sunshine carefully carried him to lie down on Pluto’s seat, leaving the General and captain in their own opposite, separate seats, while the remaining two sat on the floor. 

Kitfox watched him with bleary eyes, lips dry, eyes dark. 

“I kicked you,” he murmured.

“Shut up, captain. Just sleep,” Sunshine said, checking his temperature. The stim had cooled him down significantly. It was a temporary fix - without rest and medicine, his fever would just go up again. But he was safe, for now.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sleep. It’s an order.”

Kitfox didn’t even think to respond with a witty comment. As if magically commanded by his word, his eyes closed and promptly fell asleep. 

Sunshine regarded him quietly for a few seconds, before slumping onto the floor with a heavy sigh, exhausted. 

This was a different kind of battle than what he was prepared for. No bullets had been fired, no droids to shoot, but somehow, this felt worse. 

“It would’ve been faster to let him die on the ship,” Pluto said.

Sunshine shot him a dark scowl, and the sniper had the decency to look a little ashamed. He crossed his arms and went back into his feigned sleep, stopping any attempts at conversation. Sunshine didn't mind. He was too tired and too goddamn angry to talk. If he opened his mouth at the sniper, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself from saying whatever he would say.

So, Sunshine was back to watching the others, quietly, anxiously keeping tabs on their temperatures and staring at the stars outside. 

Despite being surrounded by his brothers, he couldn’t help but feel alone.

Chapter Text

Their pods touched down on the northern hemisphere of the moon. The two tiny pods had completely orbited it a few times before they came into contact with the upper atmosphere and began falling. The landing wasn’t too rough, though the strong winds on the planetoid rocked the little capsule upon entry. Snow and wind cushioned their landing, and before they knew it, they once again stepped on solid ground.

And for Sunshine, it was his first time stepping on natural soil.

He marveled at the open expanse that stretched out before them. The icy surface covered the entirety of the moon, and the cold was only just a little more bearable than the temperatures had been on the Vindication. Only barely. The wind cut through his clothing and chilled him to his bones.

But, the air was fresh. The ground was firm, unmoving, safe. Flakes of snow whizzed in spirals and loops, a mesmerizing pattern of nature like he had never seen it before. It was hypnotizing.

The thick cloud cover revealed little, but if he squinted he could see the flickering lights of the star destroyer up above. It loomed over them like a decomposing sea creature drifting in an endless sea. It was eerie.

There was nothing but an icy desert as far as the eye could see. No mountains, no landmarks, just a white expanse of winter dunes stretching on for miles.

And it was quiet. Aside from the wind gently rocking the pods, every footstep was muffled, his breaths sounded closer, his heartbeat again returning to his attention.

“Well, this place is just a hoot,” Kitfox said and wrapped the parka tighter around himself. He sat at the entrance of the pod, having just woken from a few hours of fitful sleep. Thanks to the stim jab, his fever had broken and his condition had improved somewhat. Sunshine had begged him to stay inside, but the stubborn bastard insisted on joining them, despite being too sick and exhausted to even stand.

“I’m just happy to be out of that labyrinth and breathe non-recycled air,” Sunshine retorted and helped his captain zip his parka shut. He was rewarded with a grateful pat on the shoulder.

“Speak for yourself, kid. In my opinion, we’ve simply exchanged one icy death trap for another,” Pluto grumbled.

“Not for long,” Patch insisted. “The relay has been transmitting constantly at 5-minute intervals since the chip was inserted. Someone has likely picked it up by now.”

Kitfox raised an unamused eyebrow. “I don’t like the word likely.”

“It’s the best I have for now.” Patch said. “We simply have to stay awake for however long it takes for them to arrive. It’s the only thing we can do right now.”

“So we stay awake and keep warm. Simple. Real simple,” Kitfox grimaced.

“Well, I’m not gonna sleep for the rest of my life, that’s for sure,” Sunshine mumbled under his breath, too low for the others to hear.

“Speaking of napping, how’s the General holding up?” Patch asked.

“Still unconscious, sir. But he’s doing better,” Sunshine reported, squinting at the star destroyer above. “I think the distance from the Conduit helped.”

“Alright, then we need to make sure he stays warm above all else. We didn’t keep him alive this far just for him to freeze to death in this shithole. Imagine how embarrassing that would be,” Kitfox said.

Thankfully, the escape pods were supplied with a rudimentary life support system that would keep them warm for the time being, and if treated well, the power generators would run for weeks. It meant that even though the General was unconscious, it didn’t immediately put him at risk of freezing to death.

They took all of the warm clothes and blankets from Patch’s pod and dumped them all into the other pod, creating a thick, insulated pocket that was actually quite comfortable, considering the circumstances.

As Patch was carrying the last of the winter gear to the pod, he paused and squinted off in the near horizon.

“Oh, you’re not gonna believe this.”

“Lieutenant, considering everything that has happened today, you could tell me gungans can fly and I’d believe you,” Kitfox deadpanned.

“That’s… that’s the bomb. The one we were supposed to pick up,” he exclaimed and pointed just ahead. A few feet ahead from them, just barely hidden by the strong winds and sleet, a huge black capsule-shaped object stuck out of the snow. A triangular red light blinked at the center of the large shape.

Pluto cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. “Well, would you look at that.”

Sunshine’s eyes widened, surprised to see it so close. The windy conditions were really messing with his perception, or maybe he was just tired.

“What are the odds? How in Fett’s name did our pods land so close to it?”

“I imagine it followed the same orbit as us when it was ejected from the escort. See?” Patch pointed to the area around them, and Sunshine noticed how much debris and scattered parts of starfighters had landed in this particular vicinity. The snow and wind had obscured a lot of it, countless pieces of metal and ship parts dotted the landscape.

“Hot spots of debris are pretty common on planets when there has been a skirmish up in orbit. I’ll note down its coordinate so that we can pick it up as soon as General Skywalker arrives. We don’t want this in Sep hands,” Patch said.

“Yeah.” Sunshine scowled at the bomb as if it had personally offended him. “Maybe there are some of the escort fighters that have landed nearby. Could be our ticket out of here.”

“You think any of them could survive entering the atmosphere?” Pluto asked, arms crossed.

“This entire moon is covered with snow. I think even with the speed and atmospheric burn damage, the snow would’ve cushioned their landing somewhat. It’s worth a look,” Patch said.

The idea of a potential functioning spacecraft was motivating. They decided to search the immediate vicinity of the landing site to scan for one, and potentially any salvage they found on the way.

Sunshine volunteered right away, because spending all of those hours cramped in the pod made him stir crazy. He had hardly rested at all since leaving the Vindication, watching the General, the captain and the sniper to make sure none of them somehow died in their sleep. Despite all of the hours awake, he was still energized, jittery, on high alert.

Pluto agreed to search with him, while Patch stayed to watch over the injured.

Pluto was already fully dressed for the winter, and Sunshine quickly rooted through their salvaged gear for warmer clothes. There was little they could do about weaponry - Pluto’s sniper rifle was out of ammo, same as Sunshine’s assault blaster.

Among the few weapons they brought from the ship, they had salvaged a hand blaster and a pair of vibro-knives. Pluto took a knife and the blaster, as his aim was sharper, and Sunshine had to mettle with the remaining knife. Kitfox offered him his own blaster, which was immediately shot down by the others, as it would leave the remaining group defenseless. It was decided that Patch take Kitfox’s gun and guard the relay and the injured.

The two of them began searching the snowy landscape for anything useful. There was mostly scrap and burnt remains of what were likely pieces of the Vindication’s hull and the fighters of the escort.

Behind the spotty cloud cover, they could see parts of debris and shrapnel orbiting above, pieces of it entering the atmosphere and showering to the moon’s surface like shooting stars. Despite it rapidly falling apart, the Vindication floated calmly above the clouds. Aside from the disconnected bridge, the considerable distance made it look like she was almost whole, like nothing had happened to her.

“She might crash down here too,” Pluto said, shielding his eyes while watching the falling pieces fly above.

“Let’s hope we’re well out of the way when that happens,” Sunshine said.

Pluto nodded and they both went back to the search, digging in snow mounds and lifting sheets of metal for anything useful underneath.

Despite the high volume of snow, it was packed relatively hard and it only reached up to their shins. Sunshine assumed there was little to no snowfall on this moon and the wind just blew around the existing snow so it never fully settled.

“You know… you’re not expendable,” Sunshine said.

“Huh?”

“After we last met, when we fought. You kept saying we were expendable.”

“And?”

“You’re not. None of us are.”

“Why this sudden sentimentality, kid?”

“I don’t think we would’ve made it out without you. Your assistance turned the odds in our favor. We’re stronger as a unit, and we’ve survived because of it.”

Pluto scoffed. “Tell that to Frost.”

“Frost mattered, Pluto,” Sunshine snapped, louder than he had intended. He stormed over to the sniper, salvage forgotten. He stood squarely in front of him, challenging his gaze. “They all mattered. I hardly knew any of them, but I know for a fact they mattered!”

“Sure kid,” Pluto sneered, an aloof grin on his face. “And tomorrow the factory will just pump out a thousand new ones to send to the meat grinder. We’re nothing special, kid.”

“If Frost didn’t matter, why would Kitfox cry for him?”

“He is sentimental and unstable.”

“Are you not mourning Brash?”

Pluto’s jaw tensed, the mention of Brash’s name clearly unsettling him. Sunshine grinned, knowing that he found his weak spot. He decided to prod it further.

“You cared about him, didn’t you? You like to pretend you’re a loner, but I know you were close.”

The sniper scoffed. “We were batch mates. So?”

Pluto tried to play it cool, but they both knew that Sunshine was getting under his skin.

“In all of our training, we’re not allowed to feel sorrow, but we mourn anyway. Because we know that when we die, there will never be anyone like us. Brash was funny, strong, smart and completely and uniquely Brash, just like you are uniquely you. And every loss we endured today is a loss to the galaxy. Because we’re unique, Pluto. Kamino tried to make robots out of us, but they made the strongest brotherhood the galaxy has ever seen. We’re united in a way that no other sentient could ever dream of being.”

“You’ve let the Jedi get in your head, kid,” Pluto dismissed, trying to step away from the conversation, but Sunshine blocked him.

“You know what, you and the Admiral have a lot in common.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Pluto’s gaze whipped back to him, offended.

“The things you’ve been saying, about us being replaceable, expendable, meaningless conveyor-belt babies… he held the same beliefs. The reason we were attacked today was because the Admiral was a sad, little man who felt threatened by our unity. You like to preach about being smarter and more clever than all of us, but you know what? You’re just insecure.”

Pluto smiled a feral, tight grin, eye twitching. “So you’re saying I should just stay and fight a war that isn’t mine?”

“I don’t care about the war, Pluto. I’m talking about us. I want to stay and fight with the GAR, but not because Kamino or Obi-Wan told me to. Honestly, the Republic and their miserable little admirals can all go to hell for all I care, because my loyalties lie with my unit.” He took an insistent step forward, pressing a closed fist against his own chest, against his heart. “My brothers!

“As long as they’re out there fighting, then I want to be there by their side. I don’t expect you to do the same. Your path is not the same as mine. But the way you fought against us, sacrificed our brothers just so you could go on a personal crusade… it’s wrong. It’s against what we stand for.”

Pluto paced in the snow, shoulders tense, fists clenched. Sunshine’s words were hitting him where it hurt. He glared at him intensely, his green eye vivid in the white light.

“I did what I thought was right.”

“And you sacrificed the lives of dozens of men. They froze to death because of you.”

“Listen kid, we tried to fight back. We failed. I watched that fucking monster tear Kit’s arm off like a twig. I watched it snap Brash’s neck like it was nothing. You saw what it did to Imp and Slack. It didn’t fucking work. None of it. I did what no one had the guts to do. I figured if I killed the clanker, at least some of you would make it.”

“Your mistake is that you tried to do it on your own. You’ve seen how well we do when we work together. Why didn’t you try to join us and he-...”

“I was scared, okay?” Pluto snapped.

Their breaths were visible, blending with the drifting snowflakes. Sunshine gaped, wide-eyed.

The admission seemed to surprise the sniper as much as he. Pluto’s fists shook. He took a faltering step back, biting the inside of his cheek, averting his eyes.

“I was scared out of my fucking mind,” he admitted, quietly, voice rough. “I was angry. Fucking livid. It stole Brash from me right before my fucking eyes, and I wanted to get back at it. I wanted to be the one to dismantle it, piece by piece, and tear its rusty little heart out.

The frosty air felt heavy, silence punctured by the smallest whistle of wind passing through the charred bits of starship on the snowy surface. Pluto dropped his bravado, just a little, and for once his cold, green stare didn’t feel as intense.

“But I was afraid that… I was afraid for Kit. Seeing him hurt like that, hallucinating, burning up… it terrified me. It still terrifies me. And I was afraid for you. I remember what it was like, being the new guy, graduating early - I mean, hell, you look like a fucking cadet. When shit hit the fan, after that second blast and I couldn’t find you or Kenobi… I had made up my mind to stop that clanker, to get revenge, no matter the cost.”

Pluto took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes in frustration, wiping away what Sunshine suspected to be an unwelcome, hidden tear. He cleared his throat and turned back to face him, plastering his cocksure grin back on his face.

“So that’s my reasoning. Well? Are you happy? Are you done? Or do I have to explain myself in writing as well?”

Silence fell between them, heavy and stifling. The cold wind blew snow into their hair, little flakes gathering on their brows and lashes.

Sunshine grinned sadly.

“Yeah. I’m done. I just… I just wanted to hear it from you.”

Pluto stared at him quietly, perplexed. Then, he snorted. The hostility drained from him as he laughed. It was short and sad.

“You’re a weird one, you know that?”

“I… kind of got that impression the moment I stepped on board,” Sunshine grinned sheepishly.

“You would’ve fit right in.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get this little scavenger hunt done with.” Pluto heaved his pack back on his shoulders and marched off to a corner of the debris field, searching quietly on his own.

Sunshine decided to stay put and search the immediate area, despite it being mostly fully looted. Pluto was outwardly serene, but he could tell that on the inside he was still steaming, and he didn’t want to poke that fire-beetle nest just yet. He would speak up when he was ready.

They filled their packs with gear and parts in the frozen field for about twenty minutes before they moved on. They didn’t move too far from the pods so they wouldn’t get lost, but far enough that they covered a wide area of the search. None of them spoke, both too tender and raw from their conversation earlier.

There wasn’t much of use in the burnt wreckage of the debris field. It was clear that whatever had flown from the Vindication and the escort was mostly destroyed or didn’t have parts that were useful to them. Sunshine picked up some tech-looking things for Patch, not really knowing if they had any real use or not.

In a last ditch effort, he climbed over a dune of snow just past the initial wreckage. Most of the gear had been useless scrap and they decided it would be the last step before returning to the pods. Sunshine crested the top of the mound and paused when he saw the scene ahead.

“I think… we just found the escort,” he called.

The debris field was localized in a small crater-like area, a graveyard filled with charred starfighters and broken hulls. The wings and tails of the ships stood out of the snow dunes, catching drifting snow. The fires had gone out ages ago, leaving the ships blackened and smoldering. The paint flaked off the lightweight metal fuselages, chipping off and drifting away with the wind.

“Or what’s left of it,” Pluto said, lips thin.

“What happened to them?”

Pluto shrugged and ambled toward the closest starship. “Beats me. Looks like the clanker went amok this squadron or something.”

They decided to drag the charred bodies of the pilots aside and bury them in low mounds with their cracked helmets placed on top.

Without the constant threat of the droid pursuing them, they had time to do the proper rites - or as properly they could in the snow - and give them the respect they deserved.

Sunshine finished placing the helmet on the last mound when he noticed a shape outside of the debris area. He squinted against the harsh light.

“Look over there! That ship is intact!” Sunshine exclaimed, pointing just past the initial wreckage.

A starfighter had skidded to a stop just off from the rest, a long trail in the snow from what Sunshine imagined was a rough landing.

“The squadron leader, by the looks of it,” Pluto observed and headed toward the ship.

It was a single-person manned starfighter, dented and scorched, but otherwise whole.

Pluto climbed up onto the fuselage and opened the cockpit. Sunshine vaulted himself up from the other side and peered in.

“A captain, I think. Looks like he froze to death.”

“That must be Twine,” Pluto supplied. “He was in charge of the escort squadron taking the bomb to the rendezvous point. Looks like a torn connector from the engines caused him to have an emergency landing down here.”

“He survived the onslaught up there to die down here,” Sunshine murmured.

“Help me get his body out,” Pluto said. “You get him buried with the others and I’ll see if this thing works.”

Sunshine obeyed without question and dragged the frozen body to be buried with the others. There wasn’t much they could do about funeral rites other than placing their weapons and helmets by their shallow graves. It wasn’t a perfect burial, but at least when rescue arrived, they would be taken in for a proper funeral.

Sunshine finished placing the last shovelful of snow when he heard the sound of the cockpit opening.

“Well, it’s been grand,” Pluto said, vaulting into the cockpit and strapping himself in.

Sunshine blinked. He watched perplexed as the sniper began to press buttons and turn dials with the cockpit.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I’m going.” Pluto didn’t turn his gaze from the dashboard as the wing engines were sprayed with defrosting fluid.

“Wait… you’re…”

“Save your speech, kid. I know your whole spiel, so I’m gonna let you save it. I have no interest in going back to the GAR. I have wasted enough of my lifespan serving Kenobi and his ilk. I’ll just disappear before he and his precious padawan put me back on a leash.”

Pluto started the engine and began the take-off procedure. Snow whirled around them as the starship roared to life.

Outraged, Sunshine ran toward the ship and had to stop short from the snow and ice being whipped up and into his eyes.

“And so you’re just gonna leave us behind, is that it?!” he yelled over the roar of the engines.

Pluto closed the cockpit, located the microphone in the cockpit and switched it on with the crackle of the starfighter’s external speakers.

“Hey, Skywalker’s on your heel. You’ll be picked up in a matter of hours. This one has room for just one passenger, and I’d prefer it to be me. Sorry, finders keepers.” He turned some dials and buttons, and the ship was levitating.

“At least have the decency to stay till they arrive, asshole!”

“Sorry, not taking my chances. You see, I’m dead. Unfortunately, I exploded along with the rest of the ship. It’s all very sad.”

“I could report you,” Sunshine warned.

“I could turn this ship around and vaporize you with the jet fumes. But I won’t, because I don’t turn on my brothers.”

“Turn on brothers you like, that is,” Sunshine spat.

“Eh, semantics.”

“And what will you do now?”

“Just going to pick up a little something and then I’ll be on my way.”

“What the hell are you talking about!?”

Pluto’s face was unreadable for a moment before he returned to the snarky, deadpan demeanor.

“I’ll see you around, kid. Don’t worry, I’ll send people your way the first chance I get. You know, in case Skywalker has forgotten about you.”

He didn’t wait for Sunshine’s yells over the engine noise and shut the cockpit. He sent him a cocksure grin, did a finger salute, and took off.

Sunshine was dumbfounded, watching in stunned silence as the ship disappeared into the atmosphere. It twirled in the air for a few seconds and promptly disappeared into the snow clouds beyond.

Then, as the shock of the sniper's disappearance began to sink in, Sunshine was filled with an immeasurable rage.

“Yeah, very funny, Pluto. I hope you’re happy. Way to leave us in the dirt! Good fucking riddance!”

He screamed obscenities into the sky, knowing full well that the rogue sniper couldn’t hear it. Fuming, he grabbed the salvaged gear and began to head back to the pods.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan’s head was pounding. 

He came to, slowly, eyes heavy and mouth dry. It felt like he had been hit by a runaway speeder. 

But, at least he was warm. Everything had been so cold for so long.

He found himself in an escape pod, filled with various gear and equipment. Outside was a windy, snowy landscape that stretched on for miles, dimly lit by the sun past the cloudy blanket above.

His brain was fuzzy, unclear. A cloudy blanket on his consciousness, the sleepiness, and weariness heavy in his eyes.

Then, the memories of the past day came crashing back and he woke with a start. 

“Good morning, General.”

It was Kitfox.

“Lovely to wake up in a new place every time I close my eyes,” Obi-Wan deadpanned, rising slowly from the seat that was sticky with his own blood. He pressed a hand to his waist saw the fresh bandages. “Ah. I forgot.”

“Patch rewrapped it, but it got a little messy.”

“Tell him I said thanks.” His temples were throbbing, a telltale sign of overexertion in the Force. It was just the tip of the iceberg, considering the cuts and scrapes and bruises, and the hole in his side. 

The captain didn’t fare much better. He was pallid and lethargic, a far cry from the energetic, wisecracking team leader he had seen on his arrival. He sat slumped against the wall, nursing a canteen of something that smelled of petrol. 

He eyed the flurry of white outside. 

“I see we made it out of the ship.”

“By the skin of our fucking teeth.”

“Who's left?”

“Patch is on watch duty. Pluto and Sunny are out looking for gear. Frost is… he didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

The mention of Frostbite’s name was a tidal wave in the Force. It welled from Kitfox, a torrent of barely contained sorrow and regret. However, the captain simply shrugged with a joyless grin and took a sip of the drink. Obi-Wan was offered some, but he politely declined. Pure distilled liquor didn’t appeal to his already upset stomach, nor his tender head. 

“I heard you and Sunshine talk in the pod. I was out for most of it, but I heard you,” Obi-Wan said, voice low. 

The captain’s face tightened and he stared blankly at the snow outside, refusing to meet his eyes. Obi-Wan could sense the clone’s emotions like a raincloud, hanging low and on the brink of a storm. 

“I’m sure it was thrilling,” he said. 

“We’re not decommissioning you, Kitfox,” Obi-Wan said softly. 

“Never took you for a liar, Kenobi,” he grinned humorlessly, wiping sweat from his brow and winced when he brushed against the cut in his forehead. 

“I don’t lie. I tell tactical truths,” Obi-Wan joked, which was rewarded with a light chuckle from the captain. “But the cold, hard fact is that there is no reason to discharge you. You are a capable fighter and a good leader.”

“I fail to see the tactical advantage of this pep talk, General. Illuminate me.”

Obi-Wan sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. 

That vulnerability the captain had shown Sunshine in the pod was long gone. Kitfox remained guarded, but Obi-Wan’s words seemed to pierce his defenses, if by a little bit. 

“Anakin was saying the same things. After Geonosis,” he said, combing shaky fingers through his dirty, matted hair. “He had a hard time adjusting at first. It’s hard to see any possibilities after a big change, a big injury. It’s easy to assume there’s only one version of yourself that is acceptable, and when that version is gone, you lose your worth.”

“What if the new version is worse?” Kitfox murmured.

“That’s not for me to say, is it?”  

“I suppose not,” he chucked. He pondered in silence for a moment and then piped up, softer this time. “How did he do it? Ana… General Skywalker, I mean?”

“You can ask him yourself when we get out of here,” Obi-Wan said with a soft grin and lightly patted his shoulder. The gesture brought some warmth to the clone's features, and he gave him a brief grin in return. 

“Going back into the field with a metal arm is not going to fix everything, it will just be different.” Obi-Wan turned to look at the captain. 

Kitfox didn’t look sad or despondent, just… tired. Drained. Older. Staring ahead at nothing and nursing the canteen in his hand. 

“Thanks, General. It's just... I’ve been in this since the very beginning, Obi-Wan. I’ve made friends who got shot and blown apart and burned and drowned and starved and froze to death. Whenever we land on a new planet, we trample its cities and forests into dirt. Death follows us wherever we go. It’s in our blood. You have been there with us on the battlefield, so you know what it’s like. But, you have a life outside of… this,” he said, making a wide gesture. “You know what peacetime is like. Your purpose is beyond just fighting the Seps.”

Obi-Wan was silent, just watching the clone talk as the wind rocked the outside of the pod. He leaned against the wall, feeling the vibrations, from the humming machinery, from sleet hitting the surface. Blood from his torn stitches in his side had begun to seep into the fabric of the seat. He clutched it harder. 

“It felt like a lifetime. Being without Frost, I mean. We had been together ever since we were produced, in the same classes, the same training squad, fighting together on Geonosis and then Christophsis. When he got transferred to the 212th… it stung. I had lost so many brothers to the war, that when he finally came back to visit us, it felt like I was given a second chance. That when the war ended, we could go back to being the idiot troublemakers like we were back on Kamino. Stupid, I know,” he snorted. 

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan said. 

Kitfox looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but didn’t bother protesting. 

He took another sip from his canteen. The sip turned into a full swig, and when he lowered the metal can, he inspected the shiny surface. His reflection was scratched, distorted. He chuckled and gestured toward the bottle.

“You know, when I look in the mirror, I don’t see my own face anymore. I haven’t since the war began. I just see the brothers I was supposed to protect. The ones that I used to share meals with. And now I see Frost too, among the thousand I failed today.”

“You didn’t fail them.”

“Can you really say that for certain?”

“You didn’t,” Obi-Wan said.

Kitfox didn’t bother to argue that point, but he could tell he was considering it. Under normal circumstances, both of them would’ve made silly jokes and excuses to walk around this subject. Their collective blood loss and exhaustion kept the conversation subdued. Quiet. Honest.

“I guess what I’m saying is… I don’t think… I don’t think giving me a shiny new arm and a week in bacta is gonna fix me. Or any of this mess. I just look at Sunny and I just see another version of myself that has yet to be broken.” 

“You’re not broken,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Well, I don’t feel whole. Haven’t for a long time.”

“For what it’s worth, my good captain,” Obi-Wan said with a wry grin. “That is something we have in common.”

“Cheers, I'll drink to that,” Kitfox said and took a swig from the canteen. “How’s the stab wound?”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan lied. “How’s the fever?”

“Fine,” Kitfox lied. 

They fell into a companionable silence, watching the snowdrifts dance outside. 

“You know, Kitfox, I knew a man once. Older fellow, wise. A bit of an odd one. He was my guide, my master. He taught me everything I know,” Obi-Wan grinned softly, thinking back to his younger days as a Padawan. Thinking back to when he knew nothing, but felt like he understood everything, when every new morning was met with a sense of adventure and anticipation. “He never lived to see my knighthood. I witnessed his death, helpless, powerless to do anything about it. It’s… something I never have fully moved past, no matter how often I meditate on it.”

“He was family,” Kitfox said softly.

Obi-Wan nodded, clutching his side with a tight smile. 

“He was. He is. And despite the meditation, the time passed, the war… I sometimes see him when I look at myself in the mirror. It was subtle at first, but as I grew into knighthood and then as a Master - as I surpassed his role in the Order - I slowly came to realize that my choices are still in some way influenced by him. We weren’t related by blood, but I sometimes see him in the way I carry myself, how I present myself, in my actions. He is with me in the Force and in my memory, but he is also in my reflection. Sometimes as a painful phantom, other times a guiding hand.”

“How do you know which is which?”

“Sometimes the guiding hand hurts more.”

“Why? Because you miss him?”

“Because pain and hurt are easier to hide away. You can train for a lifetime to ignore the things that cause you pain. But love, now that’s a force to be reckoned with.” Obi-Wan said, turning to him. He looked the captain in the eye, earnestly and with gentleness. “You see these ghosts in your reflection because you care. Because you loved, no - love them. They are a reminder that you have a heart, that at your core, you want to care for others. There is no blame in that, but a plea to do better.”

Kitfox regarded him quietly for a moment, considering his words. He seemed genuinely touched, his vulnerability clear in the Force. 

“I thought you Jedi didn’t care for the L-word,” he joked. 

Obi-Wan chuckled.

“I am allowed to love. I can’t be a mediator or peacekeeper if I didn’t care. At the heart of every issue I’ve dealt with, there are sentients who need to be understood, to be seen, who need a helping hand,” he calmly explained. “I am allowed to care for others - however, it comes at a greater cost. My creed to keep no attachments means that I must be ready to let go, even if I don’t want to.”

Kitfox emptied the canteen and tossed it aside, not caring to close the lid. He dragged his hand across his face, stubble dark and his eyes darker. 

“And do you?”

“What?”

“Do you let go?”

Obi-Wan thought about it for a moment. 

“Yes,” he lied. 

---

Their quiet reprieve was interrupted by the incoming rumble of engines approaching the landing zone. Kitfox immediately perked up by the noise and peeked out of the viewport in anticipation. Outside, Patch shielded his eyes, looking up at the sky. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and listened. He sensed it too, the approach of a single starfighter, headed directly their way. 

“Is that…” Kitfox murmured, trailing off, looking for the source of the noise. 

“Our rescue? I don’t sense...” Obi-Wan said, trailing off, eyes still closed. He sensed Kitfox’s confusion, and he held up a hand before the captain had a chance to speak. “Listen. It’s just one engine. Don’t you hear it?”

“I can hear just fine, General. You’re the one with the freaky senses.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Something's wrong. Why is he returning alone?”

Kitfox’s eyes narrowed. “Alone? Wait, who?”

Obi-Wan stumbled to his feet and exited the pod, followed by the confused captain. They both stepped out into the cold, seeing the arrival of the starfighter. 

“It’s not the rescue crew,” Obi-Wan called to Patch, who was at the edge of the perimeter, eagerly watching the horizon. 

“Good to see you awake, General,” Patch said, fetching a pair of binocs. “And yes, I figured, since there’s just one set of engines. I’d wager Pluto and Sunshine got what they were looking for. Unless we’ve attracted pirates or scavengers that is.”

“I sure hope not,” Kitfox said. 

Patch paused. He turned and scowled at them both. “I thought we agreed both officers were to stay inside where they won’t freeze to death.”

“Protocol states the commanding crew greets the new arrivals, lieutenant,” Kitfox joked, shivering, leaning against the threshold of the pod.

Patch gave Obi-Wan a long-suffering look and simply shrugged with a heavy sigh, realizing it was impossible to change either of their minds. 

“Just please don’t catch your death out here. The ground is too frozen for a proper burial and I forgot to bring a shovel,” he grouched. 

“Wow. Didn’t know you knew how to get that grim, lieutenant,” Kitfox quipped. 

“It’s been a day, captain.”

“Look sharp,” Obi-Wan said, and all three watched in anticipation as the single starfighter finally came into view. The roar of the powerful engines blew wind and sleet in every direction. The snow insulated the worst of the noise from the starfighter, but they all had to cover their ears as Pluto made himself known over their pods. 

Pluto lifted the windshield of the cockpit and leaned out, a smarmy grin on his face. 

“Hey there Cap. Patch. Kenobi,” he greeted using the ship’s speaker system with a lazy finger salute. He circled around the perimeter and touched down just behind the pods. He opened the cockpit and jumped out, opening a hatch behind the ship. 

“Where is Sunny?” Kitfox yelled over the idling engines. When the sniper didn’t respond right away, the captain stormed toward the ship. “Where is he?! What did you do?!”

“Cool your jets, cap. He’s probably running back as we speak. We just agreed to split up, is all,” Pluto said, pulling out a panel at the side of the starship. 

“Meaning you left him behind,” Obi-Wan said. 

Pluto shrugged. 

He pressed a series of buttons at the panel and pulled down a crank, and suddenly the ship’s tractor beam flickered to life. The sheer blue light of the starfighter’s tractor beam was a pallid, stark light in the snow-covered field. Flakes of snow and ice hung suspended, floating idly in the ray-light. He did some minor adjustments, and suddenly, the large bomb that sat just a few meters behind it began to lift from the ground. 

Kitfox’s eyes widened. “Wait a sec…” 

Obi-Wan groaned. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Kitfox yelled. 

“I decided I’m taking an early retirement, so I’m just picking up my advance,” Pluto said, shutting the panel with a decisive slam. 

“What do you plan to do with the bomb,” Obi-Wan asked. 

“I don’t know yet. I think I’ll find out soon enough,” the sniper answered dismissively.

“It’s useless without the code,” Patch yelled.

Pluto grinned and tapped his comm on his wrist. 

“Looks like someone forgot they set up the comms to synchronize with every trooper armor commlink,” he tut-tutted. 

Patch blanched. “You heard everything.”

“And more. Only Sunny actually remembered to shut off his comm sometimes. The rest of you were all fair game. I heard the Admiral’s confession, your little heart-to-hearts, your secrets, everything.”

“So just tell us already,” Kitfox shouted. “You’re not taking the bomb for fun. What do you plan to do with it?” 

Pluto shrugged. He rested his chin on his hand, as if deep in thought. 

“To be honest? Taking it away from you. I’m not gonna let you prolong this war with your funny schemes and good intentions. This weapon is better suited being far away from people who plan to use it. Maybe at the bottom of a sea somewhere. Or the digestive tract of a sarlacc. I have some ideas.”

“Or you’re just gonna sell it,” Kitfox yelled. “Make big bucks.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s not like I’m gonna tell you or the war profiteer over there,” he sneered, sending a pointed look at Obi-Wan. “Enough people died for this stupid thing already, so I’m taking the chips off the table. That way you guys have to find something else to kill each other about. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

The tractor beam had fully lifted the huge black capsule from the snow. Clumps of snowflakes and ice swirled around it, caught in the pull of the beam. Pleased with the angle, he jumped into the cockpit, the engines revving back into full power. The force of the jetstream punched holes into the layers of falling snow. 

“Well, I’m wasting precious fuel. I’ve said enough goodbyes today, so I’m just gonna head off. May the Force be with you or whatever. Let’s hope for your sake I never see you again.”

“Kenobi, don’t you have any magic left? Do something!” Kitfox hissed, fist clenched. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m sorry, captain. I’m spent.”

Patch and Kitfox stared dumbfounded as the starship disappeared into space. The red light of the bomb blinked erratically in the flurry of snow and then it was gone. 

“The little rat bastard. I served with him for years and this is how he treats us. His comrades.” Kitfox sneered. “Why are you not saying anything, General? He stole Republic property. Your property.”

Obi-Wan simply stared into the cloud-covered sky, scratching his chin, deep in thought. 

“He did indeed take the chips off the table. The question remains to be seen if he can let it stay that way.”

When the Jedi didn’t elaborate, Kitfox scoffed and stormed back into the pod. Patch returned to his post with the binocs and watched the horizon for Sunshine’s return.  

They were all too tired to get worked up over Pluto’s second major act of high treason of the day. Obi-Wan returned to the pod shortly after, trying his best to regain some warmth after the few minutes outside. 

“You wanted him to take it, didn’t you?” Kitfox said. 

Obi-Wan got situated back in the pod, shaking snow from his hair. He didn’t reply at first, simply looking at the dancing snow crystals outside in contemplative silence.

“Well, my good captain, I’m afraid I don’t know the answer myself.”

“And here I thought you knew everything,” Kitfox snorted. 

“So did I,” Obi-Wan retorted sarcastically. 

Kitfox leaned back into his seat with a heavy sigh. He kicked the empty canteen and watched it bounce off the viewport with an empty clang. 

“What a crew, huh? A Jedi, a one-armed captain, a rookie, the Admiral’s accomplice, and now a thieving deserter. I think there is a joke in there somewhere,” Kitfox deadpanned. 

“Either I missed the punchline or I lost my sense of humor,” Obi-Wan said. 

There was no sense in spending any more precious energy, so Obi-Wan decided to meditate. Kitfox snored lightly at his side. The sun had inched closer to the horizon when they heard Patch call out to report Sunshine’s return. 

Obi-Wan rose from the seat, watching the clone stomp toward them. His face was filled with intense fury, red-faced, and carrying two heavy backpacks of salvaged weapons, gear, and food. 

“He fucking abandoned us! The asshole! ” 

Sunshine stormed toward Patch and angrily tossed him one of the backpacks. The heavy pack combined with the clone’s strength almost knocked the bridge officer over.

“He found the only functioning ship and hijacked it. He didn’t even hesitate. He just… flew off. He’s a coward.” He turned to the clouds and shouted at the sky. “You’re a coward, Pluto! You hear me? I hope you’re happy.” He grabbed a fistful of snow and tossed it toward the clouds. “ Asshole!” 

They watched him from the other side of the viewport.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said. “Do we tell him?”

Kitfox raised an amused eyebrow. 

“About the bomb? Better wait for him to cool down.”

Sunshine shouted obscenities in outrage and kicked the snow until he got tired and slumped into it, lying down on his back and staring at the sky. Then he kicked the snow some more and yelled into his scarf. 

“Yeah, better wait a little while.”

---

Skywalker didn’t arrive. At least, not yet. 

It wasn’t surprising, considering how remote the moon was from the Core. There were several hours of hyperspace to even get to this podunk corner of the galaxy. 

The rendezvous and delivery of the bomb had been a strictly clandestine operation. It was on a need-to-know basis where not even General Skywalker or Commander Cody knew the exact details. There was no doubt the two officers were looking for them - however, finding them was another matter. 

Still, Patch insisted his invention would work - it just needed time.

Patch and Sunshine agreed to take turns standing watch. The bridge officer was already frozen and tired from his first bout standing guard, so the rookie offered to go first. It would give Patch some time to regain some warmth and some much-needed sleep. Sunshine situated himself at the foot of the relay pod, which gave him ample overlook of the snowy perimeter, while also monitoring the blinking machine, making sure it didn’t malfunction on his watch. 

He hadn’t slept at all since the attack. He didn’t want to. He didn’t dare to. With his single blaster and combat knife, he was the sole protector of their little group. With Patch resting and the others in various stages of sleep, he didn’t dare close his eyes in fear of what might happen if he did. 

As he sat by the foot of the relay, monitoring its status and watching the warm light from the other pod, he watched his foggy breaths dissipate in the cold air. He had a pair of heat signature binocs and warm soup, courtesy of the escape pod’s inbuilt water boiler. Combined with the gentle winds, the lowering sun, the calming heat of the pod’s space heaters warming his back, the little comforts of warm clothes and food…

The moments between his blinks slowed. Breaths quiet. Cushioned against soft snow. Puffs of mist leaving his mouth and nose, dissipating into the wind and becoming nothing. Snowflakes swirled and fell into his soup, melting as soon as they hit the broth.

He dozed, watching the sun kiss the horizon, carrying a heavy blanket of stars, draping the landscape in darkness.

“Sunshine,” Obi-Wan said, lightly touching his shoulder.

“I’m awake,” he gasped and fumbled with the binocs. “General, why are you…?”

Obi-Wan watched the snowy dunes, face drawn and colored with resolve. How long had he been standing there?

“I can sense him again. He is here.”

Sunshine's stomach dropped. He knew immediately what the Jedi was talking about. Sleepiness dissipated, he stood up, activated the binocs, and scanned the horizon.

There was a single, red, hot spot in the endless mist and fog. It was slow, looming. Moving with stuttering jerks in the snow. It was smaller than before, smoldering and smoking from a burning entry into the moon’s atmosphere. It had just arrived.

“He is. Take this,” Sunshine said and unceremoniously handed the binocs to the General and loaded his handgun. “Get back inside. I’ll deal with it.”

Obi-Wan took the binocs, but he didn’t leave. He stood, wrapped in his parka, lightsaber drawn, looking into the snowy distance with resolve. 

The lightsaber ignited, casting the clearing in a vivid blue light. Sunshine loaded his blaster. 

It was time to end this. 

Chapter Text

The droid had turned into a disgusting imitation of what it had once been.

The Conduit was warped, changed. From the crack in the vibrant, red gem, a strange, fleshy material oozed. It leaked profusely, dripping pinkish fluid into the snow.

Its body was crumpled and broken, the explosion and entry through the atmosphere having burned most of its limbs away. It was left with a single, long arm that it dragged itself along the snowy ground with. With the wheezing, grinding machinery and the loud pumping of the Conduit’s pulse, it groaned like the imitation of a human, the cracked, glowing blue eyes firmly directed at Sunshine. 

From the corners of the Conduit, thin tentacle-like tendrils spread across the droid’s warped torso. It filled every crack, every hole and crevice of the rusted metal shell. It formed a cocoon-like appearance, seemingly protecting it from the frigid elements. The skin-like material created a freakish, warped appearance that smelled so horrid, Sunshine felt like he could vomit.

“Fuck, you’re ugly,” Sunshine murmured. 

“Not going to disagree with you on that one,” Obi-Wan murmured. Snow crystals glimmered brilliantly in his lightsaber’s radiance. 

He heard Patch and Kitfox limp their way just behind them, watching the writhing monster that floundered in the snow. They didn’t say anything, just watched it squirm and wriggle with disgust and revulsion. 

A plate in the droid’s chest armor broke off. It leaked steam and air, and it was immediately covered by the pulsing tendrils. It was like the slick, flesh-like substance protected the very core of the droid’s chest. Exposed to the elements, it manifested a patchwork of flesh, like desperately covering holes in a leaking balloon. 

“It’s weak,” Obi-Wan said. 

Sunshine stared at the wriggling, slick creature in the snow. He walked toward the creature. It lunged toward him, but Obi-Wan parried with a single swipe of the saber. Sliced at the wrist, the arm fell away to the whine of steam. The lost limb was replaced with the same, fleshy substance. 

The Conduit flashed and Obi-Wan winced, pressing his fingers against his eyes, in pain. However, instead of collapsing to the Conduits trance, he reached out his open fist and lifted the creature from the snow.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you in this time,” he said.

The droid - no, the creature, wriggled and protested but the Jedi’s grip held firm. He pushed it back and deeper into the snow, baring its belly to expose the seeping, cracked Conduit. 

“It’s all yours,” Obi-Wan said. “I can hold it.”

Sunshine loaded his hand blaster and aimed at the red gem. He fired one round. It screeched as the plasma burned its vulnerable insides. It sparked and sizzled like an emergency flare. 

“Aren’t you tired?” He said, firing another round. “Are you still even in there? You were known by some other name once, weren’t you?” 

He fired another blaster bolt. The gem cracked further with a pathetic whine. 

Sunshine pulled the trigger again, but it came up empty. He tossed the blaster aside and grabbed his vibro-knife. He walked close, stabbing it once, twice, three times.

“Aren’t you tired of all this?” He murmured, twisting the knife. As the droid shuddered and twitched under his grasp, he yanked the knife out and watched as it endlessly spewed pinkish, translucent liquid. It crystallized as it hit the snow.

“Obi-Wan found out, didn’t he? I heard it, back at the ship. He said your name.” The droid shuddered in the snow, attempting to swipe at him. He grasped the fleshy appendage and twisted it, chopping it off with the knife. “Am I right, Singer?”

The droid didn’t respond, not at first. 

Then, it slowed. Heartbeat after heartbeat, it struggled less and less. The arm landed in the snow, twitching. 

The unmoving, blue eyes intensified in strength. It lifted the remains of its arm as if to strike before it struck the Conduit in its chest. It grasped hold and ripped it out. The gem was pried away, revealing countless tendrils that were attached to tubes and cables within the droid's machinery. The tendrils frayed and snapped like an unraveling piece of fabric. The Conduit fell into the snow, tendrils still attached that wriggled like dozens of worms, and then they stopped moving. 

Wide-eyed, Sunshine stared at the droid that had just ripped its own heart out.

The flesh that encased the metal carapace immediately began to wither away, having lost the connection with the Conduit. It grayed, darkened, crumbled into dust.

And then, all that remained was the rusted, crumpled mess that used to be a droid. With no cursed artifact to power it, it slumped in on itself, and the blue eyes began to fade. 

Obi-Wan dropped his Force-hold over the metallic shell. He shook his head and stumbled over to Sunshine, where he kneeled just in front of the droid’s - no - Singer. He put his hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s over,” Sunshine said, voice hoarse. He wrapped his parka around him tighter. He felt cold, but it wasn’t from the snow. 

Obi-Wan walked over to the robot’s body first. He closed in on it, carefully inspecting the remaining shell of the droid. A little hesitant at first, but then determined, Sunshine followed suit and helped check for any signs of life. 

“Help me with this,” Obi-Wan said, gripping a hatch on the robot’s front. 

“Aren’t you… “ Sunshine began to argue, pointing at the red stone in its chest, but the Jedi shook his head. He smiled. Soft, faint, tired, but a smile nonetheless. 

“I think… I think there’s still hope. Come on, give me a hand.”

The two of them grabbed the handles on the side of the robot’s chest panel and pulled. It was difficult with frozen fingers and rust practically gluing the panels together. The plates were bent inwards and crossed in on themselves, likely from the vacuum pressing down on them. It made loosening the hatch difficult, but they ripped it open after some effort.

“Your lightsaber would’ve been far more efficient,” Kitfox remarked, stumbling over to inspect the wreckage before them. He looked mildly nauseous but was otherwise okay, all things considered. 

“True,” Obi-Wan nodded. “But I didn’t want to risk hurting him .”

He pointed to the inside of the robot’s machinery. Patch gasped when he saw it, and Sunshine and Obi-Wan shared a knowing, grim look. 

Affixed in the middle of the robot’s machinery, shackled to dozens of wires, hung a clone. He was pale, sallow. His head was shaved, but with dark stubble growing back from likely days or weeks inside of the droid’s shell. The blue marking across his face stood out from the pallid appearance of his skin, contrasted by the dark circles under his eyes. 

His arms and legs were tied up into the machinery, with tubes and wires attached to the skin. He observed, as the clone began to stir, that his lower left leg was a mess of sutures - an older injury - bluish purple bruises covering his entire thigh and parts of the other leg. 

He was barely conscious, eyes half-closed, breathing slowly through a mask that was soldered shut. He was practically naked, wires and tubes were inserted in his elbows, his neck, feeding his vitality straight into the cracked red gem. 

He was a portable fuel source to the foul, cursed artifact.

“Fuck,” Kitfox breathed. 

“Get him out. Get him out of there,” Sunshine begged, and gently touched his face. The clone’s awareness was only beginning to return, breaths hitching as the machine stopped whirring from the power source being cut off. “Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and touched the mask. His entire reserves of the Force had been tapped, but he eked out a little more channeling it into the soldered metal that held the pilot trapped. With a little pressure, the metal snapped. 

Freed from the breathing tube, the clone gasped instinctively, waking suddenly and struggling against the bonds that held him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sunshine reassured him as Obi-Wan worked on removing the rest of the shackles and the tubes. The clone was hardly lucid, panicked, looking around frantically under labored breaths. “Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna get you out of this, okay? Just focus on my voice.” 

Sunshine kept murmuring reassurances to his brother, forcing his attention to him while Obi-Wan removed the last of his restraints. With nothing to hold him, the clone tumbled out, caught by Sunshine’s strong grip. 

“I got you. I got you,” Sunshine said. They both collapsed to their knees while Sunshine held his shivering form. 

Patch was there immediately, removed his own parka, and wrapped it around the clone, uncaring of the cold he was exposing himself to. 

“Pod, now ,” Sunshine ordered, and the bridge officer helped him carry the trooper inside. 

Obi-Wan stared at the mangled carcass of the droid. The rancid malevolence of the dark side had evaporated, snuffed out by the winds. He reached out and grasped the gem with the Force and crushed it. 

With no host to leech off of, the Conduit was pathetic. Weak. It crumbled into dust and scattered into the snow. 

Kitfox regarded the droid, horrified.

“I don’t want to believe it,” he whispered. “He really was in there, the whole time.”

“Unfortunately. I only wish I realized it sooner,” Obi-Wan said, wrapping himself tighter. “We’re going to catch our death out here. Come on.” 

He began moving toward the pod and supported the captain walking the short trek back.

---

They entered the pod and quickly closed the entrance, so as not to let out any heat. The clone was already fully wrapped up in warm clothes, carefully watched by Sunshine and Patch. 

He was beginning to regain consciousness, weary and confused, and when his eyes met Obi-Wan’s, he grinned. It was small and tired, but it was there.

“G- go- good m-morning General,” he shivered, voice rough from disuse. 

“Hello there. How do you feel?”

“Like I could take flight any m-moment, sir,” he grinned.

“Do you remember now?”

“Y-yeah,” he breathed, exhausted but with a warmth of genuine relief. “Singer. That’s my name.”

“Welcome back, Singer,” Obi-Wan grinned with a short, respectful bow. The mention of his name brought a smile to the clone’s face - tired, but genuine. Relieved. 

“I was so afraid we’d lose you too,” Sunshine murmured. 

“Takes more than that to get rid of me,” Singer grinned. 

He was handed a bottle of water and he drank greedily, not caring about spilling the drink from the sides of his mouth. 

“What… what happened to you?” Patch asked, horrified.

“It’s hazy. I don’t… I don’t remember much.” He slumped back against the makeshift mattress. “It’s… spotty.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. We can discuss the details later,” Obi-Wan said. “You should rest.”

“N… no I’ve rested enough,” Singer insisted. “I don’t want to go back there again.”

“But… you’re not. The droid is dead,” Sunshine said. “You’re free.”

Singer bit his lip, looking between the three of them. 

“You’re not real.” He grasped the fabric of the shock blanket with a white-knuckled grip. “This is not real, it’s…”

“Singer. You should rest,” Obi-Wan said again with a subtle hand gesture. 

By his suggestion, his eyes grew heavier and heavier, slowly nodding off into a deep, heavy sleep. 

His skin was still scratched and bleeding in the places where he had been shackled, and Patch was hard at work treating it to the best of his ability. 

“What… What the hell happened to him?” Patch asked, dumbfounded by the new addition to their party. He wrapped his arms and legs with Sunshine’s help. 

“The Admiral happened,” Sunshine answered, eyes dark, cleaning the blood from Singer’s face and neck. The tubes and wires had created a gruesome, geometric pattern at the side of his face and the skin of his arms, chest, and legs. The cuts were small, but many. 

“I… I didn’t know about this. This was never part of the blueprints or…” Patch said, trailing off in sheer disbelief. 

“So you’re saying this wasn’t part of the design?” Sunshine asked.

“No… or not that I know of. Yeltsin might’ve kept it a secret, even from me.”

“I thought Singer deserted. I was ordered to stop the search. I obeyed it without a second thought,” Kitfox said. He couldn’t do much but help hold the gauze for Patch and Sunny. 

“You were doing what you were told,” Patch said, looking at the captain. 

Kitfox stared at him for a moment before he chuckled sadly, leaning back. 

“Patch, I… I owe you an apology.”

“You really don’t, captain,” Patch said.

“No, I do. I tried to pin this whole thing on you. I was angry. It didn’t even occur to me that that’s what the Admiral wanted to happen… To push the blame on someone else. Well, now it turns out I am complicit as well.”

“We were both fooled. After all, good soldiers follow orders,” Patch said with a wry grin, taking the last of the spool of gauze and wrapping Singer’s arm. 

“Well, I don’t feel good,” Kitfox said.

They could all agree with that sentiment. 

However, Singer’s rescue was an immeasurable weight off their shoulders, the recovery of someone they once thought lost a bright light in their minds. 

They were all beaten and tired and hurt, but they saved one. 

That mattered more than anything. 

“For what it’s worth,” Obi-Wan said, looking out at the three of them. “I am still alive because of you. You all have my sincerest gratitude.”

The clones looked at each other for a brief moment. It was like the fact that they were still alive began to truly sink in. 

That they had survived. 

The Conduit is dead, and they’re still here.

“Just doing our job, sir,” Kitfox said.

“You protected us when you didn’t have to,” Sunshine said. “So… likewise, I guess?”

Obi-Wan grinned. 

Sunshine gave him a meaningful look in return, a small, hopeful smile that slowly began to wobble. His eyes watered. A single tear rolled from his eye, followed by another then another, then another. He blinked in confusion.

“What is this…” he started to say, perplexed, before he broke into a sob. He was confused by the budding onset of emotion, a tidal wave of pure, distilled feelings that had been bottled up for so long. He held it back, displaying a wobbly grin, voice shaking. “I, ah… I’m fine. Don’t worry, don’t…”

Kitfox pulled him into an embrace, pressing him into his chest. He was still burning up, the heat radiating from his body. But his grip was firm, his presence an anchor.

“You can stop now, kid.”

Sunshine froze at first. Stock still, he didn’t know how to handle the contact nor his own rogue emotions. The pressure in his chest that made him feel like he was about to explode, his lungs feeling heavier, breaths uneven, his hands clutching the fabric of Kitfox’s parka... It didn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop. The tears kept flowing, despite him forcing them to cease. 

“Seriously, it’s fine. I’m fi…”

“You can stop now. You can stop,” Kit murmured, the reassuring vibrations of his voice touching his heart. It felt comforting. Warm. “It’s okay.”

The floodgates opened, and he cried. 

—-

Obi-Wan meditated until everyone else fell asleep. 

The healing trance wasn’t much. With his reserves of the Force having run dry, he was at the mercy of the living Force around him to restore his energy. But it made him feel more at ease, more balanced. It would keep him going until Anakin’s arrival.

He cracked an eye open, watching the group, asleep in a pile on the cushioned floor they had made for themselves. Asleep on top of shock blankets and parkas, Singer laid outstretched, resting peacefully. Patch was slumped right next to him, having fallen asleep in the middle of wiping the dirt from the trooper’s cheek with a cotton swab. Sunshine was resting on top of Kitfox, the captain restlessly sweating and murmuring in his sleep, but calmed by the shiny trooper’s arms wrapped around his chest. 

Obi-Wan looked down and noticed Singer was awake. The clone quietly looked at him. 

“Hey,” he croaked. 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan grinned. 

Singer closed his eyes with a deep breath, relishing the feeling of back in control. However, his joy was short-lived, his face fell, regarding the brothers huddled around him. Exhausted, shivering, he looked at everyone, like he was trying to memorize their faces for the first time. His eyes landed on his bleeding waist. Sunshine’s bloodied forehead. On Kitfox’s missing arm. 

“I… I’m… I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I caused all of this.”

“I sensed you, when you first arrived,” Obi-Wan said. “It was faint, but I felt a glimpse of your consciousness before the attack began. The Conduit… it overrode you, tried to erase you. This was the actions of an evil greater than us, assisted by the Admiral’s personal agenda. You are in no way culpable for this.” 

“Why does it feel that way?” 

“Your sense of responsibility, I’d wager,” Obi-Wan replied. 

Singer chuckled. 

“Yeah right,” he joked, voice hoarse, throat dry. Obi-Wan offered him a bottle of water and he drank from it eagerly. He slumped back, exhausted from the simple action. “I don’t know. Until you came to me in that dream... I was just reliving the same day, fixing that ship, waiting for my sick leave to end. But even while working on that ship, I could feel those lives get snuffed out like a candle, one by one. But I just… kept fixing that ship. And for every screw and every bolt I affixed, something else would break. I tried to wash off the rust, but it just kept piling up.”

Obi-Wan frowned, curious. “You felt their lives end?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Obi-Wan leaned back, scratching his chin, regarding the clone with intrigue.

Singer shifted as if to rise and winced, slumping back down onto the floor. 

“Ow.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Obi-Wan said. “The boys worked hard to fix you up. Would hate to mess up all that work.”

“Give them my thanks.”

“Give them yourself.”

Singer side-eyed him and grinned. “Yeah, alright. Though they look wiped. Might have to wait till next year.”

“I’ll make sure to write it in your calendar.”

Singer snorted and leaned back, watching the ceiling quietly.

“There’s something on your mind.”

“I… I think I was genuinely gone for a while. I don’t think I would’ve come back if it wasn’t for you,” he said, gazing at Obi-Wan.

“You freed yourself. We only helped.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Singer murmured. 

Obi-Wan watched as Singer slowly began to drift off again. The sun had passed the horizon, and there was nothing but darkness and snow outside. Yet, just past the heavy cloud cover, he could still see the blinking lights of the Vindication. It hung over them, a great shadow, one that would loom over them for years to come. 

But they were free. They had left her frigid, winding hallways. Now all that remained, was landing safely on solid ground.

“It hurts so much, sir.” 

Singer stared at the ship too, the flickering lights blinking down at him. 

“What does?”

“In here,” he said, touching his chest. “Their absence. There used to be so many. Now there’s only us.”

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. He knew that feeling all too well. Anakin knew it too. Every Jedi did.

“You’ll learn to live with it.”

“Have you?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer at first. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know himself. He opened his mouth to reply and saw that the clone was fast asleep. 

And so he meditated. 

Obi-Wan was the last one awake when he felt the atmosphere shift slightly. He heard the distant hum of engines. The hazy figures of drop ships entering the airspace. Obscured by wind and snow.

White and blue and yellow shapes entering his vision, loud chatter, a swirl of movement, and a pinprick to his neck. A firm hand on his shoulder. He glanced over to the others and saw they were being carried away by arms of familiar white armor. 

There was another dark shape, tall, a blue lightsaber at his side. 

He nodded. Grinned. 

Good. 

And he gave himself permission to rest.

Chapter Text

Stepping into the Kaminoan medical facility, Sunshine realized immediately he stood out like a sore thumb. He removed his helmet as strode across the vestibule of the enormous place. Clones were relaxing and patrolling about in the pristine corridors.

He could tell he was being stared at.

In the few weeks that had passed, word had spread of the mysterious disappearance of the Vindication and the near-total decimation of her crew. Their curiosity was only amplified by the total radio silence from high command about what truly happened. As far as the other clones knew, the ship blew up and Sunshine was one of very few survivors. Most of the soldiers knew better than to pry, but he didn’t miss the strange sort of reverence and curiosity as he passed them by.

He flushed. He still felt like a rookie.

Sunshine sported fresh scars - his very first - a series of thin jagged lines that ran from the top of his forehead to his left cheek, from when his helmet had been cracked open by the droid’s fist. He sported a faint star-shaped burn on his thigh, courtesy of the late Admiral, and his fingers were still a little darkened from the hours spent in the subzero temperatures.

The directions had been clear, but navigating the enormous medical center took more time than he expected. He finally found the captain - not in bed, but by one of the desks in the back, framed by the large viewport showing the stormy ocean outside. He was working on the circuitry of his new arm. It was white, just like his armor, but with a single red stripe running down from shoulder to palm.

“I knew I’d find you eventually,” Sunshine smiled. “How are you finding medical leave?”

“Miserable, Sunny. I’m miserable,” he complained, back turned, still deeply focused on one particular circuit. “I’ve eaten nothing but womp rat food for a week. I'm willing to bet the cooks droids here have never seen a patty of good beef in their lives.”

“Well, if you’re recovered enough to complain…”

“I’m serious,” Kitfox pleaded. “Please tell me you brought some real food. My body is falling apart from the lack of proteins. My muscles are withering away.”

Kitfox finally turned around. His eyes landed on him, and he paused. Wide-eyed, he slowly took him in, looking at him up and down, to his recently painted helmet and armor and cleaned-up face.

Shortly after being released from the medical ward, Sunshine had taken it upon himself to get a fresh coat of paint. Circular patterns with lines of yellow fanning out, like a rising sun, spread across his chest and above the brow of his helmet. Minimalist patterns running down his body only highlighted the sun rays above. However, his left sleeve was painted forest green, the 307th’s color. Etched into the sleeve he had made simple drawings of a vulptex, a relay circuit board, six eyes, a sniper rifle, and dozens of other patterns - swirling and running down his arm until they reached the final pattern on his palm that depicted a single crystal of snow.

“I ah… I may not be 307th anymore, but... I wanted to take them with me, you know?”

“Sunny, you sentimental bitch,” Kitfox choked out and embraced him.

It was a strong hug, carrying the weight of hundreds of brothers and hours and hours of pain. His metal arm was stronger than his organic one and creaked against the armor.

“I think I went a little overboard. Do you think I went overboard?”

“Kid, you look great. The 212th looks great on you.”

“Yellow does bring out my eyes, true,” Sunshine joked. “You look as fit as ever. Expecting a deployment soon?”

“I won’t be fit for much longer if I have to spend one more minute in this place,” he quipped and melodramatically leaned back in his chair. “Kenobi did put in a request for me to join you with Cody’s boys, but last I heard I might stay planetside for a while. Some other battalion lost a captain, so I might be stepping in. I'm at the mercy of the higher-ups on this one, so wherever I end up, I hope there’s some action.”

“Fingers crossed,” Sunshine said.

“Look, I know you’re on a schedule so I won’t keep you long. I just wanna show you something.” Without waiting for a reply, he threw on a robe as he suddenly disappeared out of the room.

Sunshine blinked at the sudden turn of topic, but he followed the captain anyway.

They walked down several corridors, a long and confusing path that the captain clearly had taken several times before. It made him wonder how much he actually had spent the time resting instead of making clandestine trips around the facility.

At the end of the final passageway of the furthermost area of the complex, they entered a hall that Sunshine quickly recognized to be a gym. Clones in various states of recovery were milling about the place, training and building up their strength for their next sortie.

Near the back of the room, with a seaside view ran a clone on a treadmill. He had built up enough speed to a full sprint and kept it up for several minutes.

Singer noticed their arrival and slowed down, stepping off the treadmill and dried sweat off his brow. His injured leg had almost fully healed, leaving a messy scar that spiderwebbed across his knee and thigh. Thin geometric lines and cuts spiraled across his skin, most notably by his temples and scalp. His hair was growing back, and it came out speckled with grey over the nicks and scars. He was harrowed, but healthy.

“If it isn’t the cap,” Singer smiled, out of breath, greeting Kitfox with a firm handshake. His eyes fell on Sunshine. “And someone new. You been bootlicking with the 212th, Kit?”

“You got it all wrong, sarge. This is Sunny, formerly one of mine. He’s the one who saved you back there.”

Sunshine waved awkwardly from behind.

Singer’s expression dropped for a second, watching him with a scrutinizing look before recognition filled his eyes and broke into a big smile.

“No way, that was you? You were the kid with the blood all over his face.”

“I had a… close encounter with a steel fist,” Sunshine sheepishly explained, and pointed to the jagged scar over his eye.

“I remember you. I mean, I… thanks.”

“Of course, Singer. The moment I learned about you… I just had to do something.”

Singer wiped the sweat from his neck, looking between Kitfox and Sunshine, not quite knowing what to say.

“Look, I… I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, okay? The things I did to you, I…”

“That wasn’t you.” Sunshine strode forward, determined. “None of that was your fault. None of us blame you for what happened.”

“It’s as the rookie says,” Kit agreed and gave him a thumbs-up with his new hand.

Singer didn’t look fully convinced, stealing a glance at the captain’s metal arm, but he didn’t argue. He smirked and laughed sadly. “I suppose there’s no changing your minds on that one. I wouldn’t even know what I would apologize for. I’m not fully certain of all of the events myself, I’m mostly aware of the last couple of hours and after I was… kidnapped. The rest is all very hazy.”

“What happened?” Sunshine asked. “If you don’t mind sharing, I mean.”

“Well, first things first: collided with a meteor,” he said, pointing to his knee. “It tore up the starship’s fuselage from below and almost depressurized me. I was lucky I didn’t lose the leg while captain Twine and the squadron carved me out of that rock. I was dropped into the medbay shortly after, and that’s when the Admiral’s message came in, telling him to meet him in secret. I was still… hazy from the drugs and the meds, but I somehow managed to get to the hangar unnoticed. He was there, along with some goons that weren’t military. By the time I realized something was wrong... well, I think you can imagine the rest.”

“Way to kick you when you’re at your lowest,” Kitfox spat. “Traitor scum.”

“You were picked because you were injured?” Sunshine asked.

“He was picked because he was alone. I think captain Twine was out on a mission with the squadron and the rest of the 307th were still returning from the siege of Bothawui. The ship was mostly running on skeleton crew at the time,” Kit said, arms crossed.

Sunshine scratched his chin, deep in thought. “It was the perfect time to stage your desertion.”

Singer nodded. “Yeah. I bet the holosurveillaince made it all look like I was leaving by my own volition.”

“It did,” Kitfox concurred. “And I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.”

“I’ve always been a good actor,” Singer joked and tossed the towel aside.

“Too good,” Kit snorted.

“Were you the only one taken?” Sunshine asked.

“As far as I know? Yes. But I seriously doubt I was the first. And I don’t think I would be the last if the Admiral hadn’t been stopped,” Singer surmised. “The 307th was a good place to be, but… I think this has been going on for a while. Any one of you could've disappeared just like I did. I was just a convenient target.”

Sunshine’s jaw tensed. Entertaining the thought of multiple abductions prior to the droid’s attack wasn’t an appealing notion. All three of them looked uncomfortable with the idea.

“I’m… I'm glad that despite everything, we found you. When the Admiral told me what he had done, I was afraid we’d find nothing but your remains in there.”

“Had you waited longer then I wouldn’t be surprised if that is what I’d be,” Singer quipped lightly, stifling a shudder.

He was making light of it, but Sunshine didn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes, the way he anxiously squeezed the towel, how his eyes constantly darted around searching for threats. He was antsy, uncomfortable and passed it off as jokes.

“So,” Sunshine said. “What happens now?”

“Gotta wait for the Council's permission to resume duty.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yeah. Physically I’m about as good as before, so I’m ready for some action. But apparently, the Jedi Council were concerned about my connection with the ‘dark side’, or whatever that means,” he said, shrugging. “Until then, I got the impression I’ll be grounded for a while.”

“They still think you’re a threat after all this?” Kitfox asked incredulously.

Singer just shrugged and took a long swig from his water bottle. “I mean, I don’t even know if I am. A clone trooper who single-handedly killed his battalion using the power of the dark side? It’s not a shining commendation, is it?”

“That wasn’t you.” Kit insisted.

Singer didn’t respond and simply smiled a weak smirk, sitting down on a nearby weightlifting bench. He bent to the dumbbells by the side and Sunshine had to stifle a gasp when he noticed the extensive scarring on his back. Countless circuit-like patterns sprawled from his neck, across his shoulders, and down his arms. Dark thin lines that almost looked like tattoos until he noticed they were actually metallic circuits grafted to his skin. His mind wandered back to the tendrils attached to the Conduit, how the vein-like tubes had attached themselves to the insides of the robot.

“I suppose I’ll just have a little vacation until they make up their minds about me. It’s fine, really. I don’t want to cause any more trouble,” Singer said.

“Obi-Wa… er, General Kenobi will put in a good word for you. I’ll make sure of it,” Sunshine reassured him.

“He better,” Kitfox grumbled.

Singer smirked gratefully, but it was obvious he didn’t have his hopes up. He seemed to be content with being alive, the prospect of what comes after being a mere afterthought.

Kit looked at Sunshine. There was little they could do about the Jedi Council. They had next to no knowledge about matters of the Force, and if Singer was ‘contaminated’ somehow by it, then it was hard to tell what could happen. What Sunshine did know, was that they were speaking to a recovering veteran who wanted nothing more but to fly again. ‘Contaminated’ or not, he was a loyal soldier through and through.

He prayed that the Council would see that too.

“At any rate… I’m glad you came to say hi. The days since I was taken out of bacta have been… quiet. It’s strange to wake up to the entire battalion gone. It hasn’t quite sunk in yet, I think,” Singer said.

“You and me both,” Kitfox concurred, crossing his arms. “I mean, hell, I was there for the whole thing and it still hasn’t fully registered yet.”

Sunshine nodded quietly. He and Patch had been the only ones to recover without needing to be submerged in bacta. As Patch had been ushered away to the military police for questioning, it had left just him on his own for the better part of the past weeks. It had been more than enough time to think, and he was still not on friendly terms with his thoughts.

“At any rate, I’m very happy to meet you again, Singer,” Sunshine grinned. “I didn’t have much time with the 307th before things went tits up, but I know they were good men. And I’m even happier knowing you’re back with us.”

“You’re a good kid,” Singer said. “It’s a shame to see you leave with Cody’s folk so soon. Next time we’re planetside, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Actually, there is something else I want to do before I go. Both of you, get cleaned up and meet me at the front hangar. There’s something I’d like you both to see,” Sunshine winked.

Kit and Singer shared a curious glance but didn’t protest. Sunshine turned on his heel and disappeared out of the gym.

—-

Anakin would not leave him alone. By the time Obi-Wan had been taken out of the bacta tank, his former Padawan was practically assaulting him with questions and barely contained fury at the forces that had injured him so badly.

Apparently, of the handful of people who had been rescued, Kitfox and Singer had both been recovering in tanks, while Patch and Sunshine had been sleeping for the better part of their stay. As soon as Patch had recovered, he had given himself up to questioning with the military police, and the things he had shared were wilder and more incomprehensible than the Jedi Knight had expected.

The bizarre circumstances of Obi-Wan’s return had both the 212th and 501st abuzz with rumors and hearsay. The remains of the Vindication limped back to a recovery dock, and the startling display of the ruined ship had everyone talking. With no traces of the attackers, the massacred crew, the frozen halls, and bloodstained passageways, the rumors quickly devolved into a ghost story between the troopers. Judging by the men’s reactions to Obi-Wan being alive, it seemed the rumors had escalated to him being dead as well.

He had opened his datapad to hundreds of messages, most of them from Anakin, Cody and the Council, followed by the dozens of liaisons who had run around like headless chickens in his weeks-long absence. The press had been no better, running tabloids and newsletters about his mysterious disappearance. Going on longer missions off the grid was nothing new for Obi-Wan’s modus operandi, but combined with the very public disappearance of the 307th battalion, the media was abuzz with speculation and rumor. It meant he could expect a month of clean-up and public appearances for the sake of keeping up a well-presented front to the Republic.

Anakin didn’t care about any of that. As soon as he had been filled in on what really happened, he grew quiet, angry. The forces at play that caused all of this were out of the picture, but the Jedi Knight still wanted something or someone to punch.

“Should’ve been me who went instead,” he murmured, arms crossed.

“We discussed this before I left, remember? You stayed behind because watching me inspect and recruit replacement troops would be ‘boring’ and you’d rather stay behind and plan the joint strike with Rex and the others.”

Anakin groaned. “I did say that. I still wish it was different.”

“Me too, but now we’re both here. There’s not much we can do about it.”

“I know, I know,” Anakin grumbled. “I was just… worried.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan grinned faintly and Anakin gave him a brief one in return.

“Word came in from Master Windu this morning. The attack is officially canceled. Without the bomb, we don’t have the tactical advantage anymore. I’ll be shipping out with the 501st tonight.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan said, crossing his arms.

Months of work, months of secrecy, months of coordination, and suddenly the plan had fizzled out into nothing. The single strike that was meant to topple the Separatist army was no longer happening.

A small part of Obi-Wan was relieved. The bomb was one of a kind. It would be a massive advantage against the Separatist army, but once the secret of its existence was out, the arms race that would ensue from its existence would claim too many lives. It already had. As long as Pluto kept it secret and hidden, there would be no further death in the name of finding and claiming it.

“Still no clue on its whereabouts?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No sign of Pluto anywhere. He ditched the starfighter as soon as he reached the closest dock. There have been no movements in the black market and there have been no reports of the bomb going off. It’s starting to look as you expected.”

“I can only hope. Pluto is a melodramatic dastard, but he’s principled. As long as he thinks this weapon prolongs the war, he will keep it hidden.”

“And when the war is over?”

“It’s not. It won’t end until either the Republic or the Separatists yield. Until then, fretting over this loose thread will do us no good.”

Anakin snorted. “That’s the easy answer, Master.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Perhaps it is. For now, we need to put our best people on the case. He will reappear. One way or another. But I, for one, am done with it.”

“Fair enough, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, crossing his arms.

“Oh, Anakin, before you leave, would you please do me a favor? There is something I’d like to do.”

—-

The two clones appeared at the hangar precisely on time. Neither of them was cleared to be in the field yet, and both had opted for a standard navy uniform, except Kit’s right sleeve, which was cut off at the shoulder. They both stood at attention and shared a perplexed glance when they were faced with the impressive visage of the Negotiator hovering just above the cloudy atmosphere.

General Skywalker grinned, leaning relaxed against the door of the shuttle. Sunshine waited just behind him and waved.

“You the 307 guys?”

“Captain Kitfox and sergeant Singer, sir.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Skywalker said, ushering them inside. “Obi-Wan’s waiting.”

Kitfox didn’t hesitate to get on, closely followed by Singer. Patch was already seated in the back of the shuttle, looking about as confused as the others. Skywalker didn’t elaborate, and sat wide-legged across the other side of the shuttle, arms crossed.

They sat in expectant silence, all eyes on the General.

“I wanted to thank you guys for the intel on Admiral Yeltsin’s sabotage,” he said. “We did a quick search on our own ships and found corresponding tampering with the vacuum shields and comms. They were well hidden. I don’t think we’d spot them until it was too late.”

“Of course, General Skywalker,” Kitfox acknowledged.

“Just Anakin’s fine. Nice paint job, cap,” the Jedi grinned, gesturing at Kitfox’s metal arm.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin chuckled. “You can loosen up. This is not some inspection.”

“I… of course not, si-… Anakin.”

Kit was taken aback at the Jedi’s casual demeanor and grew sheepish. Sunshine stifled a snicker and he was shot a dirty look. It was refreshing to see the captain flustered for once.

The shuttle took off, and within minutes, the Negotiator came into view, closely accompanied by the Dominator. It was surprising to see both star destroyers docked in the atmosphere above Kamino at the same time. It made for a magnificent sight.

Anakin sat wide-legged at the other end of the shuttle, lounging casually in his seat with his arms crossed. Sunshine stood close by, carrying his freshly painted helmet under his arm.

“There wasn’t much left of the droid to investigate,” Anakin continued. “The Conduit had turned to dust and couldn’t be recovered. We did, however, find a fragment of it on Yeltsin’s body. It has been contained and is locked safely in a secret Jedi temple vault. As for the bomb, I’m afraid we’ve met a dead end.”

“Pluto knows how to stay hidden. He’ll stay off the radar for as long as it takes,” Kitfox said.

“Had a feeling that’s the case. That means the bomb is out there somewhere out of the Republic's reach. Let’s hope that’s the case for the Seps as well.”

“He hates the Seps as much as we do. I don’t think he’d sell it to just anyone if even chooses to sell it,” Kitfox said.

Anakin didn’t look like he either doubted or agreed with the statement and regarded them for a few seconds.

“You all brought the General home safe. As his former Padawan and his friend, I’m immensely grateful. I hope you understand how much it means to me.”

“It was our duty, sir,” Patch said, earnestly.

“It was our honor,” Kitfox said.

“It was a pain,” Sunshine deadpanned.

Skywalker stared at him blankly for a moment, then burst into a fit of genuine laughter. The rest of the shuttle followed suit.

“I’m not gonna disagree with you there, Sunny,” Anakin snickered. “Well done for putting up with the old man while I was away.”

“Well, he was also putting up with me, sir. I think it’s fair to say it went both ways.”

The shuttle landed in the hangar bay of the Negotiator. The men stepped off and were met with the sight of dozens and dozens of troopers, standing at attention.

“Is this the part where you line us up against the wall?” Kitfox joked, followed by Sunshine lightly smacking him against the back of his head.

“They’re here for us, idiot,” he deadpanned.

Someone shouted a command, and the men slammed the stock of their rifles against the floor. It echoed in the enormous bay.

“After you,” Anakin said, gesturing down the line of troopers.

Sunshine, Kitfox, Singer, and Patch stepped off the shuttle and walked down the passageway of men. As they passed each trooper by, they lifted their rifles up, one by one, a sequence of trained synchronicity and overwhelming respect. It was an entrance reserved for diplomats and royalty. The gesture was not lost on any of them.

Obi-Wan waited at the end of the procession, Cody just behind. At the end of the pathway, Sunshine and the men came to a stop. They saluted. Cody shouted another command, and the men slammed the rifles into the floor again, and again, and again, accelerating and increasing in volume and speed until it climaxed with a loud battle cry. The cheer was loud, resounding, it filled the room with an incredible atmosphere, of a hundred men expressing their deepest respect and camaraderie.

The sound was exhilarating. Blood pumped in Sunshine’s veins, his heart racing with a refreshing feeling of unity, a belonging. He looked to Kitfox, who stared at Obi-Wan with a steely expression, to Singer who looked utterly dumbfounded, to Patch who bit his lip with barely contained emotion.

Cody gave Sunshine a brief nod. Sunshine saluted back and stepped up to Obi-Wan’s side, he looked across the room and at the men who were standing before. He met Kitfox's gaze and winked. 

“At attention,” Sunshine ordered. Immediately, the men quieted and returned to neutral position. The look on Kitfox’s surprised face at seeing him command the men made his day. “Troop, dismissed.”

There was a synchronized series of salutes, and the men dispersed. Some of them returned to work, but most remained to celebrate their return. 

"You never told me you got promoted," Kitfox laughed, punching Sunshine's shoulder.

"Well, I didn't wanna ruin the surprise," Sunshine beamed. 

A congregation of yellow armored troopers greeted and chatted with the four men in the center. Obi-Wan joined in, congratulating Kitfox and Singer on their speedy recoveries. Within moments, the hangar was a bustling space of activity and cheer. 

Sunshine retreated to the back, watching the other clones banter and joke around. He already had his fill with social interaction. 

Anakin tapped his shoulder.

“A moment?”

“Sir?”

“He talked a lot about you," he said.

“Really.”

“Yeah. Obi-Wan has the patience of a saint and you broke it. You actually pissed him off.”

“I, ah… Yeah. I was being foolish. I deserved the reprimand,” Sunshine said. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

Anakin paused, eyeing him curiously.

“Oh, I’m not reprimanding you. I’m actually impressed. Very few people I know have actually managed to get under his skin. Don’t worry, it’s a good thing.”

“I’m sorry, General, I… I don’t think I follow.”

Anakin smiled softly and leaned against the wall, watching the men cheer and celebrate. One man had brought an expired ration and challenged Patch to eat it. Kitfox snapped it out of his hand and swallowed it whole, much to the uproar and delight of the troopers. Obi-Wan groaned in disgust, but the smile was visible in the corners of his eyes.

“For all of his jokes and smiles, he’s hard to truly know. He lets nobody in. Not really. You’ve brought something out that I haven’t seen in him since before the war. A real connection.”

Sunshine blinked.

“This war has dragged on for a very long time and we’ve all lost very close friends, very fast. I don’t think Obi-Wan has fully understood how much he has gone through. He just plays it off and walks into the next mission. This whole disaster, the droid, your battalion… it was a tragedy, but I think it brought back some light that I haven’t seen in years.”

Oh.

He had no idea.

“I suppose what I’m saying is… you’re 212th now. That comes with a lot of responsibility. I hope you will take care of him when I’m not here.”

“Sir,” Sunshine acknowledged with a salute.

“He likes to talk about how I’m foolish and reckless, but that’s because he hasn’t looked at himself in the mirror. I know you’ll keep him in check.”

“I’ll try,” Sunshine smirked.

“That’s all I ask,” Anakin replied and patted his shoulder. “Alright, don't party too hard if you're not gonna invite me.”

“Sir,” Sunshine saluted and watched Anakin amble off into the Negotiator’s halls.

—-

The procession had been a small, impromptu thing, and once the crowd dispersed, the four clones and Obi-Wan were left in the hangar, giddy and cheerful.

“All of you, come with,” Obi-Wan said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

The four troopers were all surprised to enter Obi-Wan’s private office. He had pulled some strings and placed a table from the officer’s deck and some chairs, and had some of the crew prepare a dinner for five. Due to the rationing during wartime, the meal wasn’t anything spectacular but included known favorites among the troops, as well as things Obi-Wan had kept for diplomatic visits, like fresh meats and fruit. It was topped with some expensive alcoholic beverages - courtesy of Bail Organa - leftover from his latest visit. It was haphazard, but it would do.

“Have a seat,” he graciously smiled to the surprised men as they entered the room.

They looked at him like he had grown two heads.

“Is this…” Patch said, eyes firmly trained at the expensive bottle.

“For us?” Kit finished, eyeing the food.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else around. Do you?” Obi-Wan grinned and invited the men to sit.

Patch didn’t have to be asked twice and settled down to read the label on the bottle, while Kitfox immediately helped himself with a sizable chunk of steak. Sunshine rolled his eyes and took a modest serving, helping himself with the fruit. Any sense of politeness or circumstance was immediately thrown out of the airlock and the troopers were deep in conversation and deeper in their drinks within moments.

However, Singer remained standing, staring unbelieving at the pleasant scene.

“Not hungry?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Just ate, sir.” Singer lied.

The other men were chatting vicariously and were oblivious to Singer’s and Obi-Wan’s chat.

“Come with me. There’s some food I haven’t picked up yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Obi-Wan guided the trooper out of his room and into the entry chamber that stood empty. He retrieved a box from one of the nearby cabinets.

“Have a try,” he said, presenting a slice of Kashyyykan jewel-fruit, a sweet and sought-after delicacy in many corners of the galaxy. Obi-Wan had preserved it for special occasions. “Enjoy while it lasts. When opened, it only keeps for an hour.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Singer accepted the strange-looking fruit. He stared down at it with a perplexed look on his face.

“Something’s on your mind.”

“General, I… should I even be here? You’re celebrating and I’m here. I shouldn’t…”

“It’s because you’re here we’re celebrating, Singer. It’s because you’re still with us that this is not a wake. With you, we can put this horrible ordeal behind us.”

Singer quietly watched the others chat and eat their fill through the door.

“Why not? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but why choose to celebrate me when a thousand brothers are dead? My life is so small in comparison.”

“Who said we are comparing? There will be time to grieve. Time to remember our fallen. But there are also times where you need to stand firmly planted in the ground and look at what’s right in front of you. And in front of me, I see someone who was doomed to enslavement and - against all odds - broke free. I’d imagine that is very celebration-worthy.”

Singer grinned hesitantly. “I should be happy. I know I should. Don’t get me wrong. Surviving was supposed to be a good ending, but… it doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel like I’ve won.”

“Being a survivor is not an ending, Singer. That’s not what the word means. It means you live to see another day. You defied the Admiral and the Conduit and even the collision with a meteor. Experiencing all of those things and still being around to tell the tale is a victory on its own.”

The pilot stood rigidly, ponderously rolling the fruit in his hands. “I know, sir. I… I just can’t help but feel that I caused all of this to happen.”

“And, yet, you’re right here, holding a slice of rare, expensive fruit. The question is if you want to keep replaying your regrets in your mind or if you want to eat that fruit.”

Singer looked down at the fruit with a frown.

“It’s not that simple, General.”

“No. It never is.”

He peeled it and took a small bite, unfamiliar with the taste. Then he took another one. And another one. Before he knew it, there was nothing but the rind left.

“Well? Did it fix anything?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No,” Singer said.

“But do you feel better?”

“I… yeah. Yeah, I do. That shit’s delicious, sir.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Good. Rejoice in that. There is a victory to be claimed in the little things. Joy is fleeting, but so is sadness. Learn to recognize your feelings and appreciate them with all of your being, so that when grief knocks on your door again, you are better prepared to greet it. Here, have another.”

Obi-Wan handed him a plate with an assortment of more melon and different kinds of preserved fruit he had saved up from the last few weeks. The clone was apprehensive at first, but accepted Obi-Wan’s little stockpile gratefully.

“General, I... I guess what I wanted to say is, I want to make amends. This whole disaster happened because I got caught. I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan regarded him quietly for a moment, closing the cupboard. Singer was totally earnest, ignoring the loud chatter of the clones in the other room.

“You will. For now, just focus on recovering and gathering your strength. I will let you in on a secret.”

“And what’s that, sir?”

“Word came from the Council just a few hours ago. Both you and Patch have received a full pardon. You’re cleared for duty. You’ll have your wings back in no time.”

Singer smiled earnestly, relieved. Obi-Wan realized that the uncertainty of his future in the GAR was weighing heavily on his mind. Having the General’s reassurance and official confirmation brightened his spirits considerably, and his presence in the Force was shining yet again. He was vibrant, a beacon of light amid the gray hues of the Kaminoans ocean.

Singer helped himself with more food and soon he began to join the others with the meats and the alcohol as well. Soon, his reservations evaporated and the evening rolled on with cheer and laughter.

Nighttime arrived, and they chatted and ate undisturbed, a pleasant dinner framed by the crashing waves of Kamino through the viewport.

Kitfox rose, a cup of expensive brandy in hand. He had already had a few helpings of the drink already and he swayed happily next to the equally tipsy troopers by his side.

“I would like to thank the host, the General, for the food. I knew you top-brass officers had hidden the good shit somewhere and now I know where to steal it from.”

“Hear hear,” Singer nodded solemnly.

Sunshine groaned, cheeks flushed from the drink. “Please don’t steal from the General, captain.”

Kitfox winked.

“And I would like to thank Skywalker’s prosthetics supplier, for this fancy thing,” he said, flexing the metal arm in all its pride and glory. “I think they installed a bottle opener in this somewhere and I’ve yet to find it.”

“Have you checked the palm compartment?” Patch asked.

“Nah, that’s where I keep my knife,” he said and unsheathed a gleaming vibro-knife at the click of a button. “I keep it next to my sandwich leftovers.”

“Handy.”

“And I’d like to thank you assholes for dragging my dead weight around for all of those hours. I didn’t make it easy for you guys and I know for a fact I wouldn’t be standing here without you,” he said, giving both Sunshine and Obi-Wan an important, respectful look.

Sunshine raised his glass. “For the 307th.”

“For the 307th,” the others chimed in.

“For Frost,” Kitfox said quietly, and they all drank heartily.

Several helpings of food and drink later, and the ship-wide comms system chimed, alerting them to the next space jump.

“Well, I guess that’s our cue,” Kitfox said, rising from the table. He was a little woozy from the drink, as was Singer, and they leaned against each other with content grins on their faces. “Wouldn't want to accidentally stow away on the Republic’s flagship.”

“Thank you for this, General,” Patch said. He savored the last sip of the brandy and put the glass back down on the table. “You’re too kind, sir.”

“Trust me when I say this is the least I could do,” Obi-Wan said, finishing the last of his tea. “This is but a portion of the gratitude I can offer on such short notice. I’m afraid you have to receive the rest once this war is over.”

“Then we better win it quickly,” Singer said. “Whatever was in that Wookie-fruit, I am hooked.”

“Had I known that bribing my men with food and drink would make us win the war, I would've done it years ago,” Obi-Wan retorted dryly.

Obi-Wan joined them out to the hangar where the shuttle waited. Singer, Sunshine, and Kitfox were already headed to the entrance of the ship and chatted among themselves. Patch was about to join them, but Obi-Wan tapped his shoulder before he could do so.

“You sure you don’t want to transfer to the 212th? We could use your skills out here,” Obi-Wan proposed.

Patch simply grinned. “Thank you, General, I appreciate the offer. I won’t say I am fed up with starships, but I think staying planetside suits me best at the moment.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised by the answer, but he would be lying if he didn’t feel a little disappointed. “Should you ever change your mind, you have my recommendation.”

Patch gave him a brief salute and turned to walk away.

“Oh, before you go,” Obi-Wan called after him.

From his tunic, he fetched the small book. In the chaos of the incident and the weeks after, he had nearly completely forgotten.

The moment Patch laid his eyes on it, the professional demeanor dropped and he gawked at the small thing in shock.

“That’s…”

“I found it on the bridge with the relay circuit and some other things. Unfortunately, I was held at gunpoint so I only had time to hide this one away in the rush.”

Patch clutched the small book in his hands and broke into a wide smile. He opened it, leafed through some pages, and turned it toward him. The pages were scrawled with little paragraphs and notes and sketches, and displayed in the center of the page, a small white bloom. The flower was skillfully pressed, looking as fresh as the day it was picked.

“Geonosian sandbloom. I found it during the extraction after the second siege.”

“And here I thought the planet was barren,” Obi-Wan said, intrigued, examining the plant closer.

“Not if you know where to look,” Patch grinned. It was a small and delicate thing. If there were any of the flowers around during his visits to the Separatist planet, then they would’ve probably been trampled or destroyed long ago. The fact that the officer had found one and preserved it so well was impressive.

He flipped to a new page, displaying a new plant, just as delicate and beautiful as the last.

“Felucian goldenrod,” he said, pointing to the vibrant bells of the plant, before flipping to the next. “Anemone from Ryloth. It’s not native to the planet, but it adapted by changing its nutrient source, hence the strange color. And here,” he flipped to a new page, which was more crumpled and stained than the rest. “Calamari salt-lily. This one was a pain to get. The water got everywhere. It looks a lot like the Kaminoan lagoon-tulip, doesn’t it?”

With a childlike passion, the officer showed him his little collection of memories, gathered from the cities and planets he had visited over the course of the war.

“General… thank you. This means a lot to me,” Patch grinned.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan smiled back and gave him an amicable pat on the shoulder.

“I mean it, sir. Working at the bridge, serving under the Admiral… unlike the ground troops we generally don’t have the freedom to have visible tattoos or fancy hair colors or anything like that. Since we work with a lot of natborn, the dress code is a lot stricter up there.” He looked down at the book in his hands, a distant, strangely reverent expression on his face. “This book was… it’s a little piece of me. If I was on that bridge when the Admiral killed everyone… who's to say you would be able to tell me apart from the rest? When I die, I want to be more than just my uniform, you know?”

Obi-Wan nodded. The chasm of differences between clones and natborn was wider than the Kaminoan ocean, but he could understand a human’s innate desire to leave something behind. A proof that they had dreams, goals, and feelings. That they existed. Patch’s little book of plants and sketches was an archaic, old-fashioned thing, but unlike a data file or a fleeting human life, it had permanence. If preserved well, it would outlive all of them for centuries.

“Well, I’ve kept you long enough with my ramblings,” Patch chuckled. His professionalism was suddenly back at the forefront, and he closed the book and hid it within his uniform tunic. One could hardly notice the small outline of it just over his heart. “I have a shuttle to catch.”

“See you again, Patch. May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan said, giving him a polite bow. The clone looked surprised at the gesture but quickly straightened and saluted in return. He turned on his heel, walked to the shuttle, and stepped inside.

—-

Kitfox leaned heavily against Sunshine, stumbling down the hangar. They both smelled of alcohol, drawing the attention of curious troopers who were working nearby. Kitfox stopped right at the entrance of the shuttle, looking a little queasy.

“I don't think the brandy mixes well with the painkillers, my dude.”

“Or expired rations,” Sunshine snorted.

“I was caught up in the moment,” the captain complained.

“Not my problem, cap. I warned you,” Sunshine rolled his eyes, walking slowly toward the shuttle door. As they were about to cross the threshold, Kitfox stopped.

“Kid, I… We never had a chance to talk. I mean, not really. And now that you’re going off with Kenobi and winning this war, I just…” he trailed off, sheepishly dragging his new hand across his hair. “I’ll miss you, kid. I really will. I hope that once this war is over, we can meet again. Not as captain and rookie, but as brothers.”

“Of course, big bro,” Sunshine chuckled and punched him lightly on his shoulder. “I got assigned to your unit once, and you better bet it’ll stay that way as long as I breathe. The 212th is just a color to me. 307th is where I belong.”

Kitfox smiled gently.

“You've come so far, kid. You’re commanding a unit now! It’s unbelievable you were a fresh-faced little squirt just a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t know… I don’t feel very commanding, captain. I’m going to mess up. What if the men don’t listen?”

Singer appeared at Sunshine’s side. He was drunk, flushed, and swaying slightly. He gave him a meaningful look, touched his shoulder.

“You've been forged in ice and frost. The men can see that. They will listen to you.”

Before either Kitfox or Sunshine had a chance to open their mouths, the pilot just gave them a lazy grin and a thumbs-up, and stumbled into the shuttle.

Kitfox laughed. “He's a strange one, but he’s not wrong. You’ve had the harshest teacher, but you have learned. You’re smart, strong, you think on your feet, and you care about your brothers. You’ll be a better leader than the best of us, kid. I know it.”

“Now who's the sentimental one?” Sunshine joked, blinking away a rebellious tear.

“Oh shut up,” Kitfox laughed, punching his shoulder.

Sunshine chuckled, and he stilled. The shuttle was right there, ready to take off within minutes.

“Kit, I… I will miss you too.”

The captain’s face softened.

“Of course you will. I’m a fucking riot,” he quipped with a cheesy wink that looked so stupid Sunshine had no choice but to laugh.

Kit looked back at the shuttle where Patch and Singer waited. Then, he pulled Sunshine into a strong hug. It bled of alcohol and tender emotions, a softness none of them allowed themselves to feel. A moment of absolute vulnerability, of peace, of contentment, of a bittersweet aftertaste.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me, you hear? It’s an order,” Kitfox whispered.

“Yes, captain,” Sunshine acknowledged softly.

—-

He remained standing on the hangar deck as the shuttle left for the ocean below, back to Kamino and the safety of her docks.

“Will I see them again, sir?”

Obi-Wan watched the shuttle take off, arms crossed. “The Force brought us together once. It will do so again. Come. There’s one last thing I want to show you.”

Obi-Wan showed him back to his office.

“Cody nearly had an aneurysm trying to find this on this edge of the galaxy, but he did find some. Here,” he said, handing him a box.

Sunshine eyes it curiously. It was smaller than his helmet and had some weight to it. He pressed the button on the side and it opened with a hiss. Inside, there was an unfamiliar substance, cold and smelling faintly sweet.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Try it,” Obi-Wan smirked. He handed him a spoon and jabbed it into the bucket.

Sunshine did as told, and grabbed the spoon, taking a tentative, tiny taste. His senses exploded with the colorful new sensation of ice cream on his tongue. It was a totally new experience, the flavors were smooth, velvety confetti for his taste buds, and a pleasant zest that he had never tried before.

It was heavenly.

“Well?” The Jedi asked, leaning against the table, arms crossed. He looked content, happy.

Sunshine responded by taking another ravenous bite. The delicious dessert was a party to his senses and drowned out anything else. He scarfed down a few more bites when his forehead suddenly began to sting.

“Ow,” he winced.

“Watch out for brain freeze,” Obi-Wan chuckled.

“Thanks for the warning,” Sunshine said, taking another bite despite his body protesting it.

Sunshine sat and processed the gift he had just been given.

“Well? How was it?”

Sunshine grinned and gave him a simple thumbs up.

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?”

By the time the Negotiator jumped into hyperspace, the box was finished. Sunshine placed it back on the table with a satisfied flourish and leaned back in his seat. He smiled. 

“Thank you, General.”

“It was nothing, Sunshine.”

“I didn’t mean the ice cream… although I’m thankful about that too. It’s just… everything you did for us. For me. It means a lot.”

Obi-Wan smiled softly. He grabbed the empty ice cream box and scooped up some of the little that remained with a finger. Tasted it.

“Oh, Cody picked a good one. I should send him on more errands like this.”

Sunshine chuckled. He sat comfortably, helmet on his lap. He dragged his fingers over the fresh paint that had yet to see the heat of battle. The gold paint of the 212th complimented the pattern well, the sunrays stretching out like watching the sun finally set on the frozen moon, finally safe and sound.

To think his armor was a blank canvas just a few weeks ago.

“You know, growing up on Kamino, I kept mostly to myself. I was never given a name. I made no effort to make one myself. I think if given the opportunity to, I’d just stay ‘33 forever. And for every step I took on that awful ship, every conversation with you, every fight we had - I felt a little more like me. Kitfox gave me my name, but you made me feel like I’m a person. You gave me permission to become more than the gun I carried.”

“You were worthy of personhood long before you met me, Sunshine.”

“But you made me see it, Obi-Wan. I was willing to accept being just a faceless grunt until you apologized to me. Or when you called me he instead of it. How you would run head-first into danger to protect us without considering your own well-being. I notice these things, sir. All of the men do. That’s why they are loyal to you.”

“And here I thought it was my roguish charm,” Obi-Wan quipped, and Sunshine chuckled.

“We went to these lengths to protect you when you were hurt and defenseless, not because you’re our General, but because you are our brother.”

Obi-Wan smiled with such a soft, genuine fondness, in a way he had never seen before. The Jedi stepped up to the viewport and looked on as stars and nebulas flew by at imperceptible speed. A calm, comfortable serenity befell both of them, watching the streaks of light and listening to the machinery that hummed in the walls.

Outside the General’s office, they could hear troopers pass by. Men who were in casual conversation, on patrols, transporting goods, living their daily lives on the ship. An army of brothers, friends, family. He couldn’t wait to meet them all.

This is it, Sunshine thought. This is my second chance.

I will make them proud.

END