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General Obi-Wan Kenobi. Until now the Alpha class had been the only clones working directly under the Jedi after the incident on Geonosis had been the start of an intergalactic war. But both the republic and the separatists were seriously gearing up now, doubling, tripling their war efforts.
The time for negotiations and budgeting were over, the structure of the Grand Republic Army was formed by the senate and that meant the Jedi would be actual Generals with legions and battalions of their own.
The Alpha models were slowly phasing out and being replaced by the command class, aka me and my batches of brothers. Not that the Alphas weren’t our brothers, but they were built and trained differently, obvious in the way they towered over us, their younger brothers more closely built after the image of Jango Fett.
Alpha-17 had been the first clone to work with Jedi Master and newly minced General Kenobi as well as his pupil, commander Anakin Skywalker. We on Kamino didn’t hear too much about what was going on in the early throes of the war, but 17 took the time to talk to me about his General.
Not that he’d be his General for long now. They’d been captured on a mission, trying to save some big shot from the senate, gone missing, been tortured. 17 assured me that the Jedi would recover from his ordeal and that the politician was safe and sound. Not that I cared particularly much about those two, but Alpha did. The mission was always most important, it didn’t matter that 17 would never fight again, leg crippled.
At least they didn’t decommission clones from the Alpha class, they were early models, strong and well trained. The kaminoans offered those who didn’t die out in the field positions as trainers and advisors, so I knew 17 would receive good care.
He actually didn’t look too bad once he was back on Kamino, a dark expression on his face when he said that his Jedi took most of the damage. I could only partially understand why he cared so much.
Sure, the Jedi were important for this war, just as much as the clones were, the kaminoans taught us that they were spiritual and good beings, that they were graceful on and off the battlefield, polite and reserved, good negotiators and resourceful. That we were made for them.
The kaminoans also described themselves as merciful, intelligent and empathic, so there couldn’t be much truth to their words.
I also graphically remembered 17’s stories about a certain commander Skywalker, an impulsive youth who was always up to mischief. Not exactly the picture of grace and serenity the kaminoans had been trying to paint in our minds.
The young man had recently been promoted as far as I was informed, as many of the Jedi pupils had been. War promotions weren’t a new concept, but it looked like it might as well have been for the Jedi. Nonetheless, the Republic needed Generals, so the Jedi provided.
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with an annoying brat on top of a haughty General. Not that I’d ever say so in front of 17, who talked so highly of his General. As if they’d been friends even, but that wasn’t possible. We were clones, made for the Jedi to use from the very beginning. We were leader and subordinates, nothing more, nothing less, and both parties had to play their roles perfectly to win this war.
Still, 17 took the time on his sickbed to tell me about how professional Kenobi was, how capable and enduring, how intelligent and strategic. He empathized that I should always consider his words and integrate his thoughts into plans and strategies in battle. Apparently, the peacekeeping Jedi had a lot of battle experience. Alpha wouldn’t elaborate when I asked, but assured me that he handpicked me for this position himself.
17 also told me that the General was an absolute idiot, and that I’d probably have to save his sheebs every other day. Competent and skilled my ass!
“Take care Kote. Care for yourself and your brothers. And please, also take care of the General for me, Kote. I know you’re skeptical of the Jedi, I was too, but Obi-Wan is a good person, you’ll see. Please, do it for me.” Alpha said to me the morning we departed from Kamino on the newly christened Negotiator, a Venator class battleship for General Kenobi and the 212th.
I didn’t know what to think. Whatever had happened on Zigoola, 17 probably had some serious kind of Stockholm syndrome going on.
The man in person was rather… underwhelming, to say the least. His skin was nearly as pale as the kaminoan’s, but he had hair. A fair color, strands that looked softer than our curls, whipping in the wind beneath his hood. He wore typical Jedi clothing, as far as I could tell, light beige and earthy browns. His posture was straight, arms hidden away in voluminous sleeves in front of his chest. Still, he was a little shorter than average clone height, but not by much. The robes hid much of his build, so I could only assume it wasn’t very impressive.
He also had a beard, well cared for and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were sharp, intelligent, but he was smiling politely. An unreadable expression I’d usually affiliate with a politician. Not exactly the warrior I had been hoping for.
At least he looked healthy, not like Alpha-17 who was still laid up in med bay. They probably had better healers and medical equipment on Coruscant then on Kamino.
A storm was raging around us, as it usually did on our home plant. Rain was pelting the walkway that led us to our new home, the battleship named Negotiator. What a joke, a battalion under a man who was most well-known for his ability to talk when the time for talking was long since over.
Behind me rows and rows of clones waited, orderly and equally nervous. This man would decide about the further course of our lives.
“Greetings commander, my name is Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am a Jedi Master. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and what is your name?” He smiled, voice soft, a little hoarse. Hm, so maybe not as healthy as I thought after all.
“CC-2224, the pleasure is all mine Sir.” I answered in a neutral but nonetheless polite tone. Still, the other man winced visibly. “I meant your name, not your designation. Unless you’re uncomfortable with me using your names, then I will of course call you by designation.” He amended quickly and for a moment I just watched him, his gaze drifting over all the identical faces, or rather, helmets in front of him. Although he looked like he could gaze into our very soul beneath our buckets, he was nervous.
Just as nervous as my own men it seemed, I didn’t dare to guess at the reason the Jedi had to be nervous. It wasn’t like we’d decide how to sacrifice his life in the coming battles.
“Cody.” I finally answered and the General seemed to deflate a little. “Commander Cody.” He repeated back at me and I gave him a short nod. “Good, thank you very much. I greet you and all your men on the Negotiator, now, please follow me, the weather on Kamino is as dreadful as I remember.” He stated quickly and led us up the ramp into the belly of the battleship.
After he didn’t say much, every trooper already knew their job and where to settle in, what they had to do to get the ship started and into orbit. Then it was hyperspace, a direct course towards our first battle as the 212th battalion of the GAR.
The officer’s quarters only took a small section of the ship, the rooms weren’t big but at least offered some privacy compared to the shared quarters of the other troopers. Still, I was surprise when I saw the General disappear in the door opposite of my own. Somehow I always thought the Jedi would have bigger rooms.
In the following days Kenobi surprised me again and again with his strange behaviors. He ate in the mess. Not the officers mess, where most of the natborns ate, but in the regular mess, with all the clones. It nearly looked like he preferred the company of my brothers rather than the natborns on board.
He was exceptionally polite to all of us, learned our names, invited his staff to tea and coffee. He often stated that his comm, as well as his office was open at all hours. As far as I knew the General didn’t have an office other than his personal quarters, where he spent most of his time if he wasn’t on the bridge, with the men or in a meeting of some kind.
I spent more time with the redhead than I planned on, to be honest, but I didn’t have much time to come to a conclusion how I felt about the man personally as battle came near.
Our first mission was already going to be a tough nut to crack. Arumir was a mining planet, cold climate, mostly tundra and mountains, important rare earths hidden deep in the numerous mining shafts, populated by few settlements of different species and currently held hostage by the separatists.
Rare earths were the core of every computer, of every ship. Arumir wasn’t the only planet to get them from, but it had been a partner of the Republic for a long time. It would be cruel to simply hand them over, so it was our job to free the biggest of the mines in the hope that the separatists would leave by themselves if the most lucrative source on planet wasn’t available anymore.
Which wasn’t going to be easy. We could enter the mines at the foot of the mountain, mines long since emptied and abandoned and make our way up through the winding and uncharted shafts. A good way to get lost and die, if you asked me.
Or we could fly to the top, where an army of droids would wait for us, possibly with anti-aircraft weaponry in tow. A snow storm could be helpful in disguising our arrival, but would be a hindrance once we had to fight on ground. We also had no intel on where the civilians were being held.
The General seemed confident that he could tell as soon as we touched ground, something to do with the force I presumed. He did not seem as optimistic about leading us through the tunnels, so option two it was.
The rocky terrain and the snow was another set of problems. We had to fight our way to the hostages, free them, get them to safety and then had to try and defeat the droid army with very little knowledge of the area, while the enemy had already settled there, possibly laid out traps for us.
Nobody was in a good mood in the days before we reached Arumir. Except for the General of course. He was always smiling, chatting with random troopers he came across when he wasn’t on the bridge, strategizing with me and our command staff or in a conference with his fellow Jedi.
He was learning the troops names, all of them, not just his personal squad or assist staff. Waxer was pointing it out, he was starting to like the General. I myself didn’t much care what he was chatting about with the troops, as long as he wasn’t distracting them from their jobs. Or he himself from his own job…
When we reached Arumir the mission went surprisingly smooth. As predicted a snowstorm was raging and hid our presence until we were nearly touching ground. Our gear wasn’t the best for snow like this, most of the heavy artillery was, well, too heavy for the deep snow, so light weapons it was.
Surprisingly the General himself took point, myself and Waxer’s Ghost Company right behind him. It wasn’t the first time I saw a lightsaber in action, but still, for a second it left me stunned. General Kenobi wielded the blade of burning hot plasma like it was a part of himself. Even though the blue light shone brightly in the grey and white backdrop of the snowstorm it moved nearly too fast to see what was going on.
He was spinning it, drawing the attention of every droid in his way confidently, blasters firmly pointed at his head. The bolts didn’t land though, he caught them on his saber and redirected them, often right back through the droid that had tried to shoot him.
The General’s eyes were slits, nearly closed in the onslaught of the weather around us, still, his movement was sure and fluent, faster than us without any kind of armor.
I myself was struggling to keep up, sinking into the snow up to my knees with every step and the company behind me wasn’t doing any better. Shit, he’d disappear on us if he kept up like that!
The comm was hard to understand, not because of the signal, that was excellent thanks to our techs, but because Kenobi wasn’t wearing a helmet, so his transmissions were mostly howling wind and him nearly screaming to be understood in the harsh environment.
“Straight up ahead, half a klick, is a large boulder, good cover, regroup there! I will continue drawing the fire, so pass me by!” He instructed. By now not a single blaster shot had even grazed the General even though he was drawing the majority of the fire, leaving us with very few casualties. I signaled the go ahead to the men behind me.
“How are the cannons?” I commed my officers keeping the ships secure. “Not too good, snow’s too deep. We’re currently readying some of them on the ships.”
“Good, keep enough ships secure for civilians, fire cannon on command only.” I instructed further.
Soon Ghost Company was huddled around me, as well as our two follow up squads. “Kenobi, Come in.”
“Kenobi here, cannons ready?” “Ready to fire.” A second voice answered. “Fire.” I gave the command. A new target found the General quickly caught up to us, the fire on him letting up long enough to advance.
The Jedi was a little out of breath, panting puffs of warm air when he reached our position. He quickly pointed past our cover. “One klick straight, then to the right until we reach the tunnels. There’s a large building I think, the hostages are there.” He explained quickly. “Same strategy until we reach the bend, keep your distance from me and stay behind. Then we reach the hostages as fast as we can and get them to safety. Ghost Company and I hold the front until Civilians have left, then we retreat. No workers, no point in keeping this place for the separatists.” He concluded his plan simply.
I nodded. It was a good plan. Casualties on our side couldn’t be avoided, but with the flashy sword of the General most attention was on him anyways and the cannons from the back of our troops at least helped until we were around the bend. Then the Jedi darted away like an arrow.
I decided then that I’d give 17 a call, he could’ve mentioned that this Obi-Wan person moved through battle like a predator on a hunt. Negotiator my ass!
The plan went down smoothly, we were slowly retreating, the hostages far ahead of us, some already entering transport when the ground beneath us shook. The air was vibrating, there was the noise of something crashing, a loud boom.
Fuck! Fuck, the separatists rigged the place! No one knew exactly how many tunnels led through the mountain, or where they were, but if a bomb was placed just right the whole thing would probably come down!
“Retreat, retreat!” The General’s voice was shouting through the comm, his lightsaber stilled, head turned back at us. “Retreat!” I repeated watching how every trooper tried their best to run, the droids doing the same on the other side of the mountain.
The General could’ve leaped past us, he’d easily done so on our way here, but now he was at my side, firmly at the back of the group when the floor literally crashed into nothing beneath us, and for a second everything was spinning.
The men around me were shouting, it looked like Ghost Company was swallowed by the mountain in its entirety. The landing was hard, but the dusting of snow had followed us down and for the first time ever was I grateful for the cold wet to seep past my armor. At least I didn’t break my spine, snow making it’s way into my blacks was a small price to pay.
The tumble ended and I was surrounded by bodies clad in the same armor, everything was white. There were groans going through the comms, but it didn’t look like anyone was injured grievously, so I quickly got back on my feet.
Only to see that the ceiling was probably going to kill us all in a second. “Up, get up right fucking now!!” I screamed at the men, pulling the troopers entangled on the floor up harshly.
Above us were several layers of destroyed tunnels, steel bars and nettings intended for keeping the ceiling stable were struggling to hold on to boulders and rubble formed through the explosion that had brought us down here. It was a miracle nobody had been crushed just yet, but it wouldn’t hold much longer.
Panic broke out as soon as more troopers realized our predicament and then we were running, but not fast enough, we couldn’t be fast enough! The crashing and groaning was already following us when an unseen power pushed the company and myself forwards harshly, away from the destruction.
Shocked I stared behind myself when I landed on my ass, pressed against a wall that felt stable enough. And there in the dust and rubble and dirtied snow he lay.
The figure looked small and vulnerable surrounded by broken steel and rocks double the size of his head, opposing the picture that had formed during the recent battle. His brown robe contrasted sharply with the black of the mountain and the white of the snow, but his red hair looked even odder. Especially next to the red puddle forming beneath him, soaking his surroundings with blood.
Kriff, that was the General. Kix was already standing up, looking between us and the crumpled form of the Jedi. “Did.. did he push us? With the force?” He stammered softly and I felt something klick in my head. Yeah, that made sense, but also, not really? Why would he do that? Why would he push us, mere clones, out of the way instead of saving himself?
I didn’t get more time to ponder the questions I had, because the medic was already sprinting over to the downed General, a sharp gasp going through the comm before the medic threw his helmet to the side.
Furious I ripped my own helm away: “Kix, what do you think you’re doing?! The tunnels are unstable, keep the fucking bucket on!!”
“Cody, come here now, I need your help!” The other simply called back, a panicked expression on his face like I’d never seen before. It wasn’t like this was Kix’s first outing with this particular Jedi either, he should know how to stay calm…
I soon realized the reason for his panic though when I stepped closer, bucket tucked beneath my arm until it dropped. If our General died on our first mission, we’d probably all get decommissioned, right? I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
There was a meter of rebar sticking out of the downed Jedi’s back and from the stiff position he was lying in, nose pressed into the gravel and snow I could guess fairly assured that it was also sticking out of his chest, literally nailing him to the ground.
The puddle of blood was rapidly spreading even though Kix was already stuffing the wound in the General’s back. The man in question was stirring, groaning in pain and then gurgling softly, probably breathing his own blood flooding his lungs and choaking on it.
“Cody, what the fuck, snap out of it and help me!” The younger clone screamed back at me, tears gliding down his pale face, panicking.
Kenobi chose the moment to wake fully, twitching and then rapidly trying to righten himself, hindered by the rebar and Kix who pushed him down frantically. “General, don’t move!” He instructed sharply, still trying to stop the bleeding.
“Cody!” He pleaded again and my brain finally rebooted. “Waxer, comm ahead, we need a med evac!” I called back to the troops. “I need two men here, the rest of you ensure the stability of this place!”
After receiving commands, the troops came out of their momentary freeze quickly. Boil and Apex were by my side in an instant, helping Kix with the General as best as they could. Well, it was mostly holding him still, putting pressure on his wounds and keeping his bleeding nose out of the dirt so he could breathe… Not much we could do honestly, other than hoping he’d make it long enough for extraction…
I grit my teeth, watching the Jedi’s hands tremble where they were reaching for something. I followed his fingers until I found the silver cylinder that was slowly getting familiar. The hilt of his lightsaber.
“Commander Cody, could, could you maybe hand me that?” The General wheezed, having noticed my glance to his fallen weapon. I quickly strode over and picked it up, surprisingly heavy for such a small object, but at the same time surprisingly light for I now knew what kind of power the weapon wielded compared to a simple blaster.
“Thank you, my dear.” He wheezed again when I crouched by his head to hand it over. His fingers were weak when they grasped it, his whole form trembling, cold and adrenalin and shock as well as immense pain and blood loss. He’d probably not make it, so the least I could do was thank him for saving my brothers.
“Thank you, Sir, for saving us.” There was blood dripping from his nose, most definitely broken from faceplanting the rock like this, and also from the corner of his mouth, probably from the blood crawling up his throat and filling his lungs.
He was smiling, teeth stained pink. “Oh no, not for that. Now, could you please all take a step back.” He answered softly, tone going for soothing as far as I could tell, not that it particularly was with how weakened he sounded.
“What, sir we can’t!” The medic protested, still trying to stop the bleeding, but Kenobi waved him away with a confidence that left no other option.
As soon as the four clones surrounding the Jedi stepped back the lightsaber in his hand activated. The General lifted himself up to his elbows with a pained growl and cut the bloody bar beneath his own chest, falling to his side gracelessly as soon as the feat was done, saber dropping back to the ground.
“Could, could you..?” By now the man was panting and wheezing too much to actually say what he wanted to say, but his eyes were roving from his saber to his back in a deliberate way, what he wanted was obvious enough.
I once again picked up the lightsaber and carefully activated it. The blade hummed with life and danger at the same time, guiding it felt like cutting the air itself. The weapon wasn’t made for anyone that wasn’t a Jedi, nonetheless it obeyed my command. For the time being at least.
Cutting through the rebar was like breaking a twig, the General didn’t even twitch until the saber was firmly reattached to his belt and Kix and Boil were working in tandem to secure the piece of rebar still sticking out of his chest and back.
The redhead was trembling, but he was calm, trusting his troops with his life. He’d cut himself free and protected his squad with the force instead of himself. Slowly I was beginning to see what 17 had been trying to tell me. Something about Obi-Wan Kenobi was exceptional, truly unique and irrevocably good.
Now that the man was freed and stable, we could move towards the evac team instead of sitting down here and waiting for the General to bleed to death. Boil helped the man to sit up, but for a reason I couldn’t quite remember I intercepted, kneeling down by the Jedi’s side and picked him up myself, carrying him out of the tunnels.
After all I had promised Alpha-17 I’d protect his Jedi for him, it was the least I could do.
The storm was clearing, a shuttle and medics awaiting us as soon as we reached the surface. In their capable hands and with the equipment of the Negotiator Kenobi was quick to recover. I was glad when I spied the man once again bothering troopers just trying to do their job. He learned every single medic’s name Kix told me.
“Your Jedi is a bother 17, but I think I’ll keep him around for a while. It’s amusing.” I sent a short comm back to Kamino.