Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One:

QUINLAN VOS DID WHAT NOW?

In his defense, Quinlan was more than slightly drunk at the time. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Two:

QUI-GON JINN DID WHAT NOW?

Cody heard it from Helix, and Helix heard it from Kix. Who Kix heard it from, Cody didn't know, but he was at least quite sure it hadn't been from Rex. Because if Rex had heard it, then that meant Skywalker would have heard it, and if Skywalker had heard it, then that meant everyone would have heard it. Since they had not, it meant Skywalker had not, which meant Rex had not. 

Thank the Force for small mercies. 

So it was with extreme prejudice and aforethought that he gave the orders that he did. 

When he knocked on the General's cabin door at half past 3 in the morning, he had already composed the perfect explanation and justification for the untimely awakening, as well as for the orders he had elected to issue. 

He was ashamed to say those well-educated recitations all but completely left him when the General opted to answer the door without the benefit of a shirt. 

"Cody?" General Kenobi asked groggily, tussling the sleep from his hair. "What's going on?"

"Uhhh…" With a tremendous expenditure of willpower, Cody managed to wrench his thoughts back on track. "Security breach, sir. Communications all the way up to Jedi Council level have been leaked. We've been ordered to run dark for the foreseeable future, and set a new course of our own choosing immediately until such time as the leak is uncovered."

What Cody deliberately failed to mention was the fact he had been the one to issue said orders. 

"A new course?" Was the General's bleary reply. "But we're due in the Abregado system in two days time."

"I am aware, sir. But orders are orders."

They were the magic words. Orders were orders. And no one knew them better than the General.

The General sighed as he finally gave his hair up for a lost cause. "Very well Cody. Set course for Niet Vam. I doubt any Separatists will be insane enough to look for us there. And it will be a good vacation for the men."

If Niet Vam was the General's idea of a good vacation, Cody would hate to see what he thought of as a prison camp. "As you say, sir. Sorry to have disturbed you sir."

"Not at all Cody. Good night, Commander."

"Good night, sir."

Now if they could just manage to stay out of the way of the rest of the Republic (and the Separatists) while all the squall blew over. Honesty, what had that incompetent osikla Vos been thinking? Publishing the General's personal memoirs on the Holonet without permission…what a gross invasion of privacy. If the man was in front of him right now, Cody would cheerfully throttle him. 

Then again, maybe there'd been a reason Vos had done what he did. Maybe some good was meant to come of it. Maybe the Force had issued General Vos orders of its own. Cody wasn't one to argue with an omniscient presence on the matter of Jedi affairs. It was, however, his prerogative to do so on the matter of his General's kriffing sanity. So Vos or no Vos, the Force could get on with whatever it wanted without involving Jedi High General Obi-wan Kenobi, thank you very much. And if the Force ever decided to put Vos in range of Cody's armored boot, well…again, who was he to argue? 

Now, if Cody could somehow get around his own damn restrictions and download the memoirs from the Net to actually read for himself, that would be great. Not that he was worried about it. He'd named himself "Code"-y for a reason after all (and no Bacara, it was not a Basic bastardization of the word kote ). There wasn't a security lockout in the galaxy he couldn't reprogram. He just wasn't so sure those idiots from Ghost Company wouldn't get there first and make a mess of things. 

He would have to have a… talk… with their Sergeant. That ought to put the fear of the Force in them. Or rather, of Commander Cody. Kriff but sometimes he loved being scary. 

Ahsoka Tano walked in to find her Master sobbing face down on the ground of his private quarters. This was an occurrence she was becoming increasingly familiar with. What she wasn't so familiar with, however, was the accompanying sight of an open Holo line. An open Holo line displaying an equally bawling Senator Amidala. 

Hoo boy. If Amidala was crying, then things were bad. Like, 'Padme's parents had found out about Anakin' levels of bad. And those were levels Ahsoka was absolutely not equipped to handle. Nope, nuh-uh. Not her. So, she did the only smart thing she could do. 

She walked back out, and closed the door. 

Her Master could handle his own problems for once. He'd find out they'd been recalled to Coruscant soon enough. In the meantime, she had other things to do than wait around for him to feel better. 

BZZT! BZZT!

And apparently, she would start by answering her commlink. 

"Hi Barris. What's up?"

…

"Yes, we've been recalled to Coruscant too."

…

"No, the 501st hasn't had any recent contact with the 212th that I'm aware of. We've actually been assigned separately for once. Why? Are they in trouble?"

…

"QUINLAN VOS DID WHAT NOW?"

The first inkling Bail got something might be wrong was when he awoke to find the comm system in his Republica 500 apartment had mysteriously stopped working. 

The second inkling he got was when he finally left the apartment after breakfast and found the corridor outside absolutely swamped with luggage. And not just his own corridor either; the whole floor seemed to be completely swallowed by the mass of wardrobes and suitcases. Senators, Ambassadors, Bankers - all running around like their pants were on fire. Even the stairwells were packed, due to the overload on the tube-lifts. It took him a good half an hour to make his way to his speeder, and not once during that time did he ever get a straight answer from anyone on just exactly what the kriff was going on.

The third inkling he got something was dreadfully wrong was when he finally pulled up to the Senate Building and found - for the first time in living memory - that there were empty parking zones in the front. Probably because of the swarm of buzzing reporters waiting for the first person dumb enough to actually land in front of their pointed inquiries. 

Unfortunately, he only arrived at that particular conclusion a few seconds after pulling in. 

He barely escaped with his life. 

The fourth and final inkling he received that day came when the doors to the Senate Chamber slid open, he took his place in the Alderaanian pod, and then looked around at his fellow Senators. Or rather, where his fellow Senators would be if they were there. Which they weren't. 

There were a few occupied pods scattered here and there, but they contained next to  no one he knew. The only faces he recognized in the entire chamber were those of the delegation from the Banking Clan. There was no Senator from Kamino, no Senator from the Trade Federation, from Malastare, from Pantora, from Mon Calamari, from Kashyyyk…not even from Naboo. It seemed even the indomitable Padme Amidala had raised the white flag of surrender and stayed at home. 

And when the Chancellor's spire finally rose from the center of the floor and revealed neither Palpatine, nor Mas Amedda the Vice Chancellor, but Sly Moore instead…

That was when Bail realized he probably should have stayed in bed too. Even if he still had no idea what was going on. 

And then Sly Moore opened her mouth and underlined every last word of his realization. 

When Master of the Jedi Order Mace Windu woke up with the largest kriffing headache he'd ever gotten since the day Count Dooku decided to announce his return to Serenno, he got out of bed just long enough to do three things. First, to engage every last lock he had on his door. Second, to throw his communicator out of the nearest window. And third, to swallow down half a bottle of medication and chase it with a stim-drink. It wouldn't get rid of the Shatterpoint-induced headache, but it would give him enough dissociation from the pain to go back to sleep. 

As it turned out, those decisions temporarily made him one of the smartest people in the known galaxy. Because for once in his life, the problems of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi would be somebody else's responsibility. Namely, not his. 

Mace Windu didn't leave his quarters until his headache finally abated three days later. By then, of course, it was much much too late. 

Asajj Ventress was a creature who knew revenge, and knew it well. So when the order came from her Master to enact her revenge against the Jedi by locating and kidnapping a Knight named Quinlan Vos, then delivering him to Dooku for interrogation, she was quite sure her endeavor would be successful. 

That is until she made the mistake of performing a Holo search on Knight Vos and discovered that half the galaxy was also looking for him. And that the bounty on his head was six digits long and growing at an alarming rate. 

When she finally managed to wade through the layers of muck-raking and unearth just what the Jedi had done to make everyone with half a brain despise him so, her quarters did not survive her ire. Along with pretty much her entire contingent of battle droids. 

Dooku wasn't answering his comm. Kriffer. Well kark him. She was just going to have to find her own answers then. And one thing was for sure: Vos would most assuredly not be going to Dooku. Six digits was six digits after all. Plus, she really wanted to conduct her own… interrogation. Ohhhh, Vos wouldn't know what hit him. 

Come to think of it, neither would Kenobi. Now that thought genuinely put a smile on her face. 

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard enjoyed naming days after things that happened to occur on them. For instance, there was 'The Chancellor Accidentally Shorted Out All The Lights In His Office' Day; 'The Senator From Corellia Tripped Over A Cleaning Droid And Spilled Hot Caf On Mas Amedda' Day; and 'Ambassador Binks Unfortunately Didn't Die Again' Day. He did this so that he could mark the occasion on his calendar, and thus always be sure to consume the appropriate amount of alcohol upon the anniversary of the event. For the previously referenced incidents, the allotted amounts were half a glass, two full shots, and half a bottle, respectively.

The new notation on his calendar for 'Quinlan Vos Kriffed Over The Galaxy And Also Obi-Wan Kenobi' Day would require no less than two full bottles of the most deadly Corellian Ale he could procure when its anniversary eventually rolled around. That is, if Fox ever managed to live that long. The matter was a little iffy at the moment. The most recent pool in the Guard had him dead in just under a month. Morons. Three weeks tops and he'd either be dead or everything would be blown over. Either way, it would no longer be his problem. 

That suited Clone Commander Fox just fine. Just fine indeed. For now, he'd just be grateful for the sudden decrease in the amount of important personages requiring the Guard's attention. A mass exodus from Coruscant really was a lovely thing to watch. Like rats deserting a sinking skimmer. 

But unfortunately, the flimsiwork wouldn't file itself. And for what Vos had done? There most assuredly be mountains of it. Tons upon tons of it, all to be filed in triplicate. 

The Jedi Council would have it worse, to be sure. But at that particular moment, Fox just couldn't bring himself to care. Let them suffer, as he had suffered. Let them drown in the flimsi. And let the sharks of Coruscant News Network feed on someone besides himself for a change. 

Ka'ra knew he needed the break. 

When the Governor of the planet Melida/Daan awoke to find his house on fire, his staff missing, his office demolished, and his competency in question, he did one thing first before any other. 

Nield looked up at the sky and cursed.

"KENOBIIIIIIII!!!!!!!"

"My Queen, the Theed Spaceport is reporting an unusual amount of incoming flights."

"Oh? What purpose have they all congregated for?"

"To be frank, your Majesty…I think they're all here to… ehhem… pay their respects to former Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Master Jinn has been a hero of Naboo for over a decade. Why now are so many coming to honor him?"

"Er…to tell you the truth, your Majesty…they're not."

"...I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand. I thought you said they were here to pay their respects."

"Well you see your Highness, when I said that, I was merely trying to convey their meaning as politely as possible. What I really meant was they're all coming here to…er…well, to piss on Jinn's grave."

"...I see."

"Really?"

"No. Place a call to Senator Amidala. Perhaps there is something embarrassing in Master Jinn's story which has only just now come to light."

"I'd say it was a bit more than embarrassing, ma'am."

"It was my turn to be polite there, Captain."

"Oh."

"And now that I realize you already know the truth of the matter, it's your turn to be polite back and tell me all about it."

"With great pleasure, your Majesty…"

On the belt of its bearer, the Darksaber waited patiently for its true Master. Its time would come. The Kryzes would be subsumed. The Vizlas, restored. Mandalore, balanced. 

Ibika Ha'atja. 

This Is The Way.

The world had opened up for Korkie Kryze. And it could never be put back in the box.

His father…his father had been a Jedi. And not just any Jedi; a Jedi Master. No wonder his aunt had never acknowledged him as her heir. 

His aunt… ka'ra, what a joke. He was technically her uncle, for all that they didn't share blood. A step uncle? The thought made him grimace. 

Out of all the possible explanations for his existence, "Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn knocks up Duchess Kryze while on the run and then leaves his child behind after the mother's death in childbirth' was not the prediction he would have made. 

His life was no longer safe. His anonymity ruined. His only hope was to get off-world before Death Watch strung him up. Fortunately, he knew just who to call. 

"Hi, Ahsoka? It's me, Korkie Kryze. Listen, I was wondering if…"

In his secret laboratory far beyond the borders of the known universe, the Sith known as Darth Plaguies threw his head back and howled with laughter. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Three:

ANAKIN SKYWALKER SAID WHAT NOW?

At the beginning of the Clone Wars, Bandomeer had been one of the very many planets to quickly declare itself neutral (alongside the likes of Mandalore, Toydaria, and Sarapin). This was for two reasons. One, because they were one of the largest producers of agricultural products in the entire galaxy - thanks to the rather large Jedi AgriCorps detachment permanently stationed there. Two, they’d seen firsthand the sort of destruction any spat involving the Jedi could quickly spiral into, and wished to have no further part in that sort of business, thank you very much. 

Now, the Separatists were normally rather affronted by the idea of neutrality - even going so far as to attack Sarapin for producing the Republic’s energy and Toydaria for being…well, Toydaria. Even Mandalore found itself quickly beset by plots and potshots. But Bandomeer? Bandomeer, the Confederacy mostly left to its own devices. Mostly because of the aforementioned AgriCorps detachment. It would look rather bad in intergalactic media if the Separatists were to be caught raiding a bunch of unarmed farmers. 

Which was why, when a Separatist fleet dropped out of hyperspace and announced the planet would now be under the protection of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, people were very surprised indeed. 

They were even more surprised when the dreaded armies of droids failed to deploy on the surface. Instead, a single shuttle was dispatched from the Separatist flagship, carrying a party or parties unknown. It returned to the flagship very shortly after, and very shortly after that the entire fleet jumped once more to hyperspace, leaving the skies of Bandomeer once more free and clear. 

When a Republican Fleet proceeded to do the exact same thing (more or less) on the very next day, the inhabitants of Bandomeer became only more confused. It was only when the head of the AgriCorps detachment made an official announcement that things began to make a bit more sense:

Apparently, due to some big to-do back in the Core, the Separatists had pledged to henceforth protect such efforts as the AgriCorps for the good of the galaxy, with all planets currently hosting a delegation of the Service Corps being retroactively being designated as “neutral” - whether they actually were or not. In respect for this gesture, the Republic had in turn pledged to withdraw no further Corps support from any future planets that elected to join the Confederacy. And then - miracle of miracles! They had also pledged to send Corps detachments to any Separatist world that asked for them! With top priority granted to those whose unheeded requests had led to them deserting the Republic in the first place!

When the Bandomeerians finally discovered just what exactly the “big to-do in the Core” was that had led to such a pleasant turn of events, they were rather surprised to find the name of one of their biggest heroes splattered across the Holonet. Alongside the names of some of their greatest villains. Apparently, the Jedi were now sporting quite the proverbial black eye. Something which suited the Bandomeerians (if you will pardon the pun) right down to the ground. 

At least it meant there might be no more DuCrions and Bruck Chuns anytime in the future. Even if it also meant there might be no more Obi-Wan Kenobis either. But as any Jedi would tell you, there was no sacrifice too great to pay for peace. 

The official petition to recognize Obi-Wan Kenobi as a citizen of Bandomeer, and then appoint him as Minister-in-Charge of Defense for life, reached twenty thousand signatures in the first hour of its existence. 

That rate only escalated when it was discovered both Grandmaster Yoda of the Jedi Order and Count Dooku of the Confederacy had signed it. 

Unfortunately, once things reached that level of madness, people began to ask themselves: hey, what does Obi-Wan Kenobi himself actually think about all of this? This question naturally led to the people of Bandomeer making a shocking discovery: no one had seen neither hide nor hair of the Jedi master for the past three days. 

After the resulting riot, the Republic was regrettably forced to admit it had no idea where its famed High General actually was. 

That’s alright, said the Bandomeerians. And then started a new petition: 

Execution of the Supreme Chancellor and the entire Jedi High Council on the grounds of extreme incompetence. 

That petition got fifty thousand signatures in the first hour. 

When the 501st finally disembarked on Coruscant, the reporters were there and waiting. Like sharks, smelling blood in the water. And emotionally speaking? Pretty much all of the 501st was bleeding heart-wise. Especially Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano. 

It took all of thirty seconds for the swarming mob to completely demolish what was left of Anakin’s shattering calm. The resulting tirade against the incompetence of the Jedi, the Senate, democracy in general, and especially slave-trading Dark-Siders was subsequently blacklisted from ever being shown again on Republican runtime. (The Separatists of course played it on repeat for the next month). It is worth noting that during the course of said broadcast Anakin set a new record for the longest-recorded bleep in holofeed history. 

Twice. 

But through it all, there was one thing he said in particular which people would be talking about for decades to come. One thing which would define galactic politics, and beyond, for the foreseeable future.

“I’ve always thought the Jedi were dumb,” he spat. “Now I know I was wrong. They’re not dumb. They’re just dumbasses. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get my brother.”

The petition to officially rename the Jedi Order to the "Order of Dumbasses" generated two million signatures before it was disallowed on the basis of rampant registration fraud. A new petition was subsequently filed with more stringent security. 

It made it to five million before finally being shut down. 

Taking one last look around to make sure he wasn't being followed, Korkie ducked inside the dark passageway. A few twists and turns later, and he was standing in one of Almec's disused black market hangars. 

There was a ship already waiting for him. At the bottom of its ramp stood a young man with dark hair and flashing eyes. The eyes of a man who had already seen too much danger in his very short life. Krokie knew. He had those eyes too. 

"Are you Bonteri?" Korkie asked, face deliberately shrouded by his cloak.

"Depends," the young man replied. "Are you Kryze?"

"Not anymore," he replied as he lowered his hood. "It's just Korkie now."

Bonteri snorted. "Well, Just Korkie Now, we've got a long flight ahead of us, so hurry up and get a move on. Ahsoka wants you out of the system in half a rotation."

"You're flying a MandalMotors Shriekhawk." retorted Korkie as he followed Bonteri up the ramp. "I'm pretty sure you could make it to Alderaan in half a rotation."

"Yeah, well, that way tends to attract a lot of attention. And attention is something Saw definitely doesn't need right now."

"Gotcha. And who's Saw?"

"Saw Gerrera."

"Oh… HEY, WAIT A MINUTE!"

The Shriekhawk screamed to life, pinning Korkie to his seat through sheer thrust alone. By the time they breached the atmosphere, Korkie had something far worse to worry about than an infamous terrorist. Namely, dying in the cold vacuum of space after his ship broke up into little pieces.  "I THOUGHT YOU SAID GOING FAST ATTRACTED ATTENTION!"

"WHAT?!"

"I SAID, I THOUGHT GOING FAST ATTRACTED ATTENTION!"

"OH IT DOES! THAT'S WHY WE'RE TAKING THE SLOW WAY!"

It was right about then that Korkie realized all of Ahsoka Tano's friends were as equally insane as she was. And yes, he was including himself in that number. How else could he explain willingly boarding a ship like the one he was on? Madness; sheer madness. 

Gritting his teeth, Korkie settled back in his chair and tried to relax. He was not particularly successful.