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Chapter Text

The news came during one of Cal’s training sessions.

His padawan was progressing nicely. Jaro admitted as much to himself as he watched the boy delicately balance himself on the floating platforms spread across the training center, arms splayed for balance. He steadied himself, then jumped up again, using a Force-assisted push to propel himself up to the next platform. A moment later, a stun shot rang out—and Cal’s lightsaber flew into his hand, the blue blade slicing the stun into a fizzle of crackling energy.

“Hey! Cheap shot, Commander!” He yelped, jerking backwards, but Commander Alloy just laughed, firing off another shot that the padawan easily deflected.

“Focus. Were you concentrating, you would have anticipated that distraction,” Jaro cut in before they could start goofing off in earnest, sending an appraising look at his commander, who was only mildly chastened by his words. Shaking his head, he typed in a few more commands, sending the platforms flying across the room. Cal scurried after the new path, now paying attention to his exposed back, and Jaro watched his progress with no small amount of pride. 

In the ten months since he had been apprenticed, Cal Kestis had improved in leaps and bounds in his training. Jaro was already considering taking him to the field on their next assignment, months before he’d initially planned. He’d be far from the front lines, of course; age aside, Jaro had focused much more on Cal’s Force abilities than his saberwork, which was nowhere near ready for the battlefield. But he would be planetside, likely helping with the supply division, and hopefully it would be enough for his padawan to begin to see this war as more than an abstraction.

The clinking of leather boots on metal drew him out of his musings, and Jaro allowed himself a satisfied expression as Cal clambered his way into the observation office, glistening with sweat but grinning at his accomplishment. 

“Excellent work, Padawan,” he rumbled. “We’ll get you started on physical training first, then—”

He was cut off by the ping of Commander Alloy’s communicator. He paused, glancing over as Alloy answered the ping with a click.

“Lieutenant Commander Tomcat,” Alloy greeted, mildly relieved. “I hope you’ve come with good news.”

“I wish I could give it to you, sir,” Tomcat sighed, his miniature hologram crossing his arms with great consternation. “It’s official: the Albedo Brave ’s hypercomm system is completely busted. We won’t be getting any signals further than Bracca until we can get it up and running again.”

“That’s not good,” Cal mumbled, his disappointment flaring in the Force. Jaro knew that he had been hoping to message some of his padawan friends earlier that morning, but with the hypercomm currently malfunctioning at the level it was, it looked like that wasn’t going to be an option for him.

He stopped himself there, then made a mental note to work on his pawadan’s mental shielding—Jaro couldn’t afford to be drawn into the typical preteen trials that Cal was projecting, not out here—as he turned over to his commander. 

“How long can we expect repairs to take?” He asked, and Alloy turned the comm so Tomcat could address him directly. 

“Hard to say, General,” he admitted. “Without the hypercomm, we don’t have faster-than-light communications, so we can’t ask the engineers on Coruscant or Kamino. Burrow’s looked into it, though, and thinks we’re out an essential part to the amplifier that we don’t have a replacement for. Fortunately, Bracca will almost certainly have it somewhere in the scrapyards planetside, but it’s impossible to guess how long that will take. I’ve already spoken to Lieutenant Commander Flick about sending a squad down to look, if I may have your permission?”

“Yes,” Jaro agreed immediately. “But make sure that your sailors have some infantry protection as well. Major Keel from Gold Company should have a squad or two to spare.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” The hologram flickered off. 

Right as the transmission ended, the Force screamed.

It was a shuddering, grievous wail, with such strength that it very nearly made Jaro lose his footing and cry out. As it was, the fall became a wobble, and the cry a grunt as a hand flew up to his head in an effort to steady himself. 

“Master!” Cal cried out, his concern in the Force a pinprick against the maelstrom of the greater galaxy. Little hands grabbed at his free arm, and it was enough for Jaro to center himself, blinking reflexive tears out of his eyes. He was gasping for breath, he realized, and as he returned to his bearings, there was a sudden chill in the air.

It was Dark. So Dark.

“Should I call medical, sir?” Alloy asked, all business. He had to be well aware that this was a Jedi matter, but Jaro had served with him long enough to see his question as his way of showing concern. 

“No, Commander…” he trailed off, shaking his head as he looked down at Cal, who was watching him in worry. He did not seem to have sensed the scream, and for that Jaro was grateful. “Something terrible has happened. We must get our communications up as quickly as possible and contact the Jedi Order.” He paused, then set a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Padawan, go and find Lieutenant Cabur.”

The dismissal went over about as well as he thought it would. Cal’s eyes shot wide, big and green in dismay.

“But Master, if something’s happened—”

He had no patience for it. “Now. Go.”

For a moment longer, Cal stared back in protest with those eyes of his (and he really ought to know better, the big-eyes look hadn’t worked on Jaro Tapal since the second week of his apprenticeship), before finally crumbling. He gave a curt, stiff nod, then darted off, the lapels of his robes swaying behind him before the door wooshed shut.

Jaro sighed heavily, running a hand over his face again. He had not been so unnerved by the Force since he was a young padawan under Master Yaddle, and his natural sensitivity to the living Force had gone unchecked. He was lucky Cal had a different proclivity to the Force than he—the last thing he wanted was for his apprentice to have suffered what he had. 

His hands were shaking. Jaro stared at them for a moment, surprised, then clenched and unclenched them to quell it. 

“Inform the Lieutenant that my apprentice is to remain away from any area of importance on the ship until I call for him,” he commanded Alloy, who nodded curtly and started typing into his com immediately. 

“I’ll get him to Medical,” he replied easily. “Sargeant Mantle is still recovering from his concussion, and I know the Commander has been asking for him.”

Jaro nodded, only half-paying attention to the news of Cal’s clone squad. Technically they were there for his apprentice to lead, though more often than not they were his bodyguards—as Sgt. Mantle had valiantly demonstrated during the space battle above Bracca, saving his padawan from falling down some stairs due to an errant missile hit—and even more often, his babysitters. Cal would be in good hands with Lt. Cabur while Jaro dealt with this new development. That man knew how to distract a youngling without them even noticing.

“Something dreadful has happened, Commander,” he finally said, removing his hand from his face. He took a deep breath and centered himself. “A great many Jedi have just died.”

“Sir?” Alloy echoed, shocked, but Jaro just shook his head. 

“I have no answers for you, but a great evil has occurred. We must get our communications up and running as soon as possible. Have Lieutenant Commander Tomcat head the efforts personally if he must. It is imperative that we know what’s just happened.”

“Yes, sir!” Alloy saluted, then made his way down towards the Communications wing. Jaro watched him go for a moment, then shook himself and started towards the bridge. 

And everything continued on as normal. It unsettled Jaro deep in his core, in that manner of speaking that was more due to the Force than any instincts of his own. It set him on edge. He felt almost like he was a dead man walking, like he was missing something vitally important, and he had no method of figuring out what.

He hardly registered the greetings of his officers as he walked onto the bridge, waving away the officer of the deck in a manner unbecoming of his station, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. With the Force as tumultuous as it was, he found himself feeling quite adrift in the busywork of his men. 

The minutes ticked by. There was a faint shudder as the Albedo Brave’s hangar doors swung open and two landing ships began their journey down to Bracca. Jaro couldn’t see the planet directly from the bridge due to their orientation, but the two small moons the planet boasted swung into view as he watched Tomcat’s men make their way to the surface. As he watched the ship leave his line of sight, he prayed that they would find their replacement parts quickly. 

In a moment of morbidity, he wondered if anyone he knew personally were among the deaths he had felt in the Force.

Perhaps an hour passed in silence before the officer of the deck called them to attention. Every clone in the room who was able snapped to their feet, and Jaro turned just in time to see the bridge’s new arrival set them at ease.

“Admiral Venaya,” he greeted, dipping his head as the Pantoran woman strode towards him. Only a few years older than him, Rear Admiral Myran Venaya was impeccably dressed as always, her uniform neatly pressed and hair tucked underneath a simple, small white headdress. Her expression was kept smoothly expressionless, but Jaro had served with her for almost four years now, and knew the tells of her concern when he saw it.

And she had every right to be. As captain of the Albedo Brave, Admiral Venaya was of equal rank and authority as him when it came to naval matters, and so Jaro was not surprised when she immediately got down to business.

“Commander Alloy told me that something happened,” she said in lieu of returning his welcome, quiet so the men couldn’t overhear. “Something to do with the Force. Is it a matter I should be concerned about?”

Jaro hesitated. It was not often that he spoke of Jedi matters with Venaya—they both knew their authorial purviews and rarely went beyond that. But the Force, still stinging and sobbing, prodded at him, and so he decided to be open about it.

“A great many Jedi died, all at once,” he said, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. “I cannot say how or why, only that it is true.”

“All at once?” Venaya repeated, and Jaro nodded. “A coordinated attack, then.”

“After the kidnapping of the Chancellor, it does not seem beyond their capabilities. The question in my mind is where it happened, and how many.”

For a long moment, Venaya was silent. The darkness of the Force clouded Jaro’s ability to sense greatly, but even in his diminished state, he could see the moment a thought she found quite horrifying crossed her mind.

“General,” she said after a long moment, glancing at him. “There is only one place in the galaxy where any large number of Jedi can be killed at once.”

The Temple. The mere thought was so horrifying that Jaro shuddered, and it was made worse by the fact that he knew she was right.

“That’s impossible,” he replied, sounding much more certain than he felt. 

“I can only speculate,” Venaya deferred, turning her attention back to the vastness of space before them. Thankfully, she changed the subject when she spoke next. “I just finished speaking with Lieutenant Commander Tomcat. He’s headed down to the surface personally to oversee the replacement retrieval. He expects repairs to take another quarter rotation at the least, however.”

Too long. Jaro resisted the urge to twitch at the news. He almost suggested setting a course for Coruscant immediately, to provide help wherever needed, but stayed his hand before the idea could get too far. The last orders the 13th Battalion and the Albedo Brave had received was to ensure the containment of Bracca—the system was too critical to risk losing just because they had lost their comms.

“Is there a chance of using Bracca’s communications systems to contact the Order?” He tried again, and Venaya shook her head. 

“The Separatists’ bombing of the capital was thorough,” she replied. “I had Communications look into it during the ground campaign, and it was unusable by then. The Scrapper's Guild… perhaps they have a hypercomm, but…”

“They wouldn’t give us access to it even if they did,” Jaro finished with a sigh. That was what he thought. The Scrapper’s Guild of Bracca had sided with the Separatists in the battle for the planet, and opinions of the Republic would be as low as they could be right now.

They stood together in companionable silence for a while longer, listening to the bustle of the clones as they went about their typical duties. The more Jaro listened to it, the more it grated underneath his skin, that burrowing wrongness emanating from the Force. He felt like a dead man walking, waiting only for the moment that some unforeseen enemy would come and strike him down where he stood.

He suddenly wished that he hadn’t sent Cal away. Despite the common sense of the move, the Force was still echoing danger, danger, you should be dead, and it was severely unsettling.

“General Tapal,” Venaya said, breaking the silence. “I can keep the watch here on the bridge. Like as not, things will get busy once the hypercomm is up and running again.”

It was a subtle offering, and Jaro raised an eyebrow at her. Venaya shrugged minutely, and he acquiesced. 

“You know me too well, Admiral,” he chuckled hoarsely. “Very well. I’ll retire to my quarters for a few hours. Inform me immediately if anything changes.”

“As you say, General,” Venaya nodded, then hesitated before adding, in a softer tone for only him to hear: “I hope you can forgive me when I say that I want your instincts to be wrong.”

They were not. Deep in his heart, Jaro knew that something had gone terribly wrong, even if he could not say what. But for the sake of his men, he held himself high and dipped his head, then left the bridge to try and clear his mind.

He likely should have slept, but Lasats as a species needed less sleep than the typical human, and even if he had wanted to, Jaro knew himself well enough to know that he would be lucky to get anything deeper than a light doze. So instead, he tried to meditate.

Key word being try. It was another thing this upset in the Force had set askew in himself. When Jaro tried to immerse himself in the Force, to try and deduce where the screaming was coming from, he found himself nearly drowning in a whirlwind of grief. Never before, even in the worst days of the war, had the Force felt so dark. There was no peace to be found in meditation, not today.

When he finally gave up and resurfaced, he was shivering. 

Only a few hours had passed, so Jaro took his meal in the privacy of his quarters. Just as he was putting his dishware away, there was a flicker on the edge of his consciousness, and he moved to the door. He opened it just in time to see Commander Alloy raising his hand to knock.

“Commander,” he greeted, and Alloy went to attention. “What is it?”

“News from Bracca, sir. Tomcat’s men found the replacement part quicker than expected. He’s returned to the Albedo Brave and has initiated repairs.”

“That is good,” Jaro nodded, though he found it difficult to find relief in it. “Has anything else changed?”

“Commander Kestis convinced Lt. Cabur to run the jungle gym,” Alloy answered, dryly, and that did bring Jaro some alleviation to his troubles. “Without direct authorization.”

“Let it slide this once,” he decided, waving a hand. Cal was always itching to try out the different trainings Jaro would facilitate for him, and more than once had tried to run one on his own when he was bored. These unsupervised escapades usually ended with him stuck in some high corner of the training room, which was why the troopers referred to it as the ‘jungle gym’. “I want Cal uninvolved with these troubles for the moment.”

Alloy nodded, typing a brief message into his com before returning his attention to him. “The hypercomm should be mission ready in a few minutes if you’re ready, sir.”

Jaro took a deep breath, steadied himself, and nodded. “Then there is no time to waste, Commander.”

Alloy fell into step behind him as Jaro made his way over to the Communications wing. As they went, he noted the temperaments of the men—calm, content, happy in some cases. That, at least, put him a little at ease. The ship’s all-knowing rumor mill had yet to add his worries to its catalogs.

Admiral Venaya was waiting for them just outside the main communications room, LCDR Tomcat at her side. The latter came to attention as he approached, then relaxed when Jaro nodded at him, pulling out a datapad as he came to a stop.

“How are the repairs, Tomcat?” he asked, doing his best to quell the Force-inspired jitter in his heart. 

“Better than expected, sir,” he replied, a deep satisfaction in his voice. Jaro could not blame him; communication issues were notoriously difficult to address, and Tomcat had addressed a critical failure within a day. “It will take around another hour to reconnect our inner communications with the hypercomm, but everything’s up and running.”

“Any news?”

“We have several missed messages, including from Master Yoda on Kashyyyk and from the Senate.” He paused then, his pride fading into a flicker of worry. “Less than I would have expected. Nothing from the last four hours. I didn’t want to open anything before you arrived, sir.”

“Nothing?” Alloy echoed. “No new orders from High Command?”

Tomcat shook his head, and Jaro’s frown deepened. They had been told to expect new orders sometime today—why hadn’t it arrived?

“Put us through to the Jedi Temple immediately,” he ordered, and Tomcat nodded, hurrying off to pass on his orders. Jaro didn’t wait for him to return, pushing into the communications room. It had been entirely emptied during the repairs, thankfully, and as Venaya and Alloy filed in after him, the holotable in the center of the room flickered on, pulsing blue as it waited to be picked up.

The minutes ticked by. The call continued to go unanswered. The pit in Jaro’s chest opened into an abyss.

“They would have answered by now,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Something has happened.” It was becoming frustrating to say. Something had happened, but what?

“Should we take the messages we’ve already received?” Alloy asked, and Jaro considered it. Yoda’s message had been expected, likely an update on the campaign on Kashyyyk, which was only two sectors over. The Senate, though, was odd. Any news they had to give was typically transmitted through High Command.

“If I may,” Venaya began, glancing over at them. “I have the personal communication number of Admiral Jaskyl, in Mace Windu’s command. He’s on Coruscant with him right now, and has his personal communication number.”

“Do you trust him?” Jaro asked, and Venaya nodded firmly.

“With my life. I’ve known him since we were midshipmen at Coruscant’s Naval Academy. He’ll be able to put us in contact with the Temple.”

“Very well, then,” Jaro acquiesced, and Venaya pulled out her personal comlink, plugging it into the holotable. She typed in a few commands, then stepped back as the call went through.

For perhaps half a minute, the call hovered in limbo. Just as Jaro was about to voice his concerns, however, the holotable flickered, and then their call was picked up. 

What met them was a human male in a ragged military uniform, balding at the top and with a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He was walking, almost jogging, and his breaths came in short bursts as he immediately began talking, eyes trained on something out of sight.

“Myran, am I glad to see you. I was starting to worry that you were dead too. Are you alright? It’s just the 13th around Bracca, are you alone? The clones—”

“I’m not alone, Admiral Jaskyl,” Venaya cut in, her voice thin. Finally, Jaskyl looked down at his communicator and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“...General,” he said, suddenly very quiet as he addressed Jaro. He glanced over at Alloy, and Jaro had a feeling that if the hologram was in color, they would have seen him gone white. “Five minutes, Myran. Take no other communications. That’s an order.”

The hologram flickered off. 

“Sirs,” Alloy said after a long, drawn out moment of silence. “What was that?”

“Whatever happened,” Jaro replied, deep in thought. 

They said nothing else for a long time. Jaro could feel Venaya’s roiling fear rising in the Force, which was enough for him to know that Admiral Jaskyl’s demeanor had been extremely unusual. He had thought that Venaya might have been dead too… perhaps this disaster had taken place off Coruscant after all? It was a morbid relief, but the thought that the Temple might have been attacked was even worse.

After what felt like an eternity, the holotable indicated an incoming call. Without a word, Venaya bent down and accepted it. 

Admiral Jaskyl’s hologram reappeared. He seemed to have composed himself somewhat, but Jaro suspected that he was still white in the face as he adjusted himself. 

“Admiral Venaya, General Tapal,” he began, then paused to swallow. “Forgive my bluntness, but I must ask that clone trooper to leave the room.”

Alloy straightened, and Tapal glanced over at him, confused. “Admiral Jaskyl, I can assure you that Commander Alloy is completely trustworthy—”

“No, he’s not,” Jaskyl interrupted him. “Forgive me. But I will say nothing until he leaves, and I don’t have much time.”

“It’s alright, General,” Alloy cut in. “I can go see to the bridge.”

“Very well,” Tapal sighed, and Alloy left the room.

“Haven’t you received the Order?” Jaskyl asked as the door closed, and Venaya shook her head. 

“An order? No, our hypercomm was defective. We just got it back online.”

“Thank the Force,” Jaskyl breathed, staring off into the distance. “That’s why you’re still alive.”

“What happened, Admiral?” Jaro bit out, growing quite tired of all this mystery. 

“I hardly know,” Jaskyl replied, his voice suddenly thick. “There was… I don’t know, something happened. The Chancellor’s taken power and declared the Jedi to be traitors. There was some sort of order…” he trailed off, emotional. “The clones have been turning on their Jedi. All of them. Captain Criscov called me just before you, Venaya, with news from the 104th. Master Plo Koon’s gone, shot down by his own men above Cato Neimoidia. When Melisa tried to stand them down, then protested their actions… they shot her dead, too. Criscov got promoted to replace her.”

Jaro did not know who this “Melisa” was, but considering how Venaya’s hand flew to her mouth, she had been close to both officers. 

“There was no hesitation?” He asked, in disbelief, and Jaskyl shook his head.

“None. The reports are still coming in, but… Master Tapal, it was the entire Grand Army. Plo Koon will only be one of many. Every clone who got the message turned. The 501st marched on the Temple; I don’t know what happened there, but it’s burning. I think Mace Windu is dead as well. None of my calls to him have gone through.”

Jaro felt like he might faint. The 501st. The Temple. Burning.

Then he sucked in a long breath, held it, and released the barrage of emotions he was feeling into the Force. The last thing his men needed in this time of trial was for him to break. He would not let them down.

“Admiral Venaya,” he said. “How many non-clone officers do we have on board?”

“A dozen, including me,” Venaya replied. As if she could sense Jaro’s resolve, she too brought herself up, wiping at her eyes briefly before reigning herself in. “All of us are Navy. We wouldn’t stand a chance against the clones.”

“Then we must ensure that they don’t receive this order. Tomcat must not continue in his repairs; if the hypercomm is reconnected to our inner communications all will be lost.”

“I have to go,” Jaskyl cut in, glancing at something out of range of the hologram. He chuckled loosely, but it didn’t last long, fading back into grief as he spoke. “There’s only so long I can hide in the refresher. I’ll contact you when I have more information.”

“Stay safe, Terris,” Venaya said softly, and he nodded.

“You need it more than I, Myran.” He turned to Jaro then, and dipped his head. “May the Force be with you, Master Jedi.”

The hologram flickered off. For a moment, they stood there, processing. Finally, Jaro forced himself to think. There would be a time for grieving later—for now, his first priority needed to be the safety of himself and Cal.

“Ensure that no clone gets access to the communications system, Admiral. Transfer as many non-clones here as you must to ensure this. I need to find my Padawan.”

Chapter Text

Nothing made any sense anymore. 

Cal curled up in his bed, his training holocron tucked in his hands as he finally gave up on getting any sleep. Across the room, Master Tapal snored softly in his bunk, a steady rumble that was usually enough to lull him to sleep… until now.

He knew he should be sleeping, except he wasn’t in his own quarters anymore, but using a cot in his master’s. They were supposed to be en route to their next campaign, hopefully the last one before the war ended, but instead they were in limbo above Bracca.

Because the Jedi were all dead.

Cal still wasn’t sure if he believed it. Master Tapal had sworn him to secrecy when he had told him about the impending betrayal of the clones. No one could know, except him, his master, and Admiral Venaya, because if the clones heard about it they might kill him. 

It didn’t make any sense. Commander Alloy was his friend, as was Lieutenant Cabur and Sargeant Mantle and the rest of his squad. He’d certainly sensed nothing to the contrary, and the Force never lied—Master Yoda had said so!

He tightened his grip around the holocron. All it held was a simple training module for him to study while out with the fleet, but Master Cin Drallig had made it special, just for him. Every time he touched it, the memories the battlemaster had purposefully imparted on it brushed against his mind. Even now, the faint echoes of his crechemates laughing rang in his ears, followed by amusement and confidence (“You will do great things, Cal Kestis.”) from Master Drallig. 

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

They were leaving in the morning. Master Tapal had it all figured out, even before he had told Cal about it. Admiral Venaya would stay on the Albedo Brave to try and figure out why the clones had betrayed the Jedi, but he and Master Tapal would leave before reveille. Without even a goodbye.

Master Tapal had not said where they would be going. Cal had a feeling that he didn’t know.

He was jealous of his master for being able to sleep so easily, because Cal had been trying for ages and he just couldn’t. Everything felt fake, unreal, and every time he thought about the clones’ betrayal being true, he wanted to cry.

Finally, he gave up on sleep and crept out of bed. He kept the holocron in his hands, desperately clinging to his last piece of normalcy, and slipped outside.

Most of the crew was asleep, so as Cal wandered the passageways of the Albedo Brave, he encountered only a few clones on the nightshift. Each one of them greeted him like they normally did, with a “Good evening, Commander.” Some called him “Adiik”, instead. Little one .

Every time, Cal would look up at them, sense nothing by sincerity, and feel so guilty that he barely squeaked out a “hello” in return. 

Eventually, someone more familiar called out his name, and he turned around to see the leader of his squad, Lieutenant Cabur, approaching him. He was without his helmet, and smiled at him in a way that made Cal want to cry.

“Evening, vod’ika,” he said, stopping alongside Cal. They were somewhere near the Communications wing, Cal realized, even though he hadn’t had a destination in mind when he started wandering. “What are you doing out so late?”

Cal swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You must act normal around the clones,” Master Tapal had instructed him, impressing the seriousness of his order in the Force.

“Who tattled on me?” he said instead, and Cabur laughed, ruffling his hair. 

“You should know by now that us clones have eyes everywhere,” he replied, and despite his teasing tone, the remark sent shivers down Cal’s back. He shrugged, stiffly, and Cabur frowned, getting on one knee. “You’re not looking so good, Commander. What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t tell the truth, but as Cal looked into Cabur’s eyes, he found that he couldn’t lie, either.

“I can’t tell you,” he whispered, and though Cabur’s frown deepened, he dipped his head in acceptance. “Sorry for waking you up. I just wanted to walk around because I couldn’t sleep.”

“Eh, you didn’t wake me up. I drew the short straw and got called to inspect some of the scrap Tomcat brought up earlier today.” He paused then, and got to his feet. “If you can’t sleep, how about we go see Mantle? We weren’t able to visit him yesterday.”

Cal’s cheeks colored. He had meant to, really, but then Freelance had dared him to beat Master Tapal’s obstacle course in under ten minutes, and he’d gotten distracted. 

“Yeah, okay,” he gave in. I should say goodbye, he thought, and something steeled in his chest as he realized his conviction in it. Even if they don’t know, I should say goodbye.

The walk to the Medbay was silent; Cabur seemed to sense the roiling nature of Cal’s mind, and didn’t start with his usual chatter. Cal was grateful for it, and as he walked, he tried his best to commit the bulkheads and corridors to memory. Who knew when he would see it again.

LCDR Matrix, the head medic in the 13th Battalion, was still awake when they arrived, tapping away on a datapad with a look of utmost consternation. He glanced up, annoyed, but the emotion swiftly faded away when he realized it was just Cabur and Cal.

“We’re here to see Sargeant Mantle,” Cal said, trying very hard to sound normal.

Matrix gave him a long look, seeming to consider whether this was a battle worth fighting. Then he sighed, glancing at his datapad. “At 0100? Sure, why not. Medbay’s practically empty, anyways.”

“Love you, Matr’ika,” Cabur crooned, and Matrix flipped him off as the lieutenant ushered him inside. 

Matrix was right—the Medbay was almost empty. The campaign on Bracca must have gone even better than Cal had thought, because he only saw a half dozen troopers in the communal treatment area, all asleep under the darkened lights.

“Mantle’s special,” Cabur said quietly, so the injured wouldn’t wake. “Got a room all to himself.”

“Cool,” Cal whispered back, relieved that he wouldn’t have to be quiet for long.

Cabur pointed him towards the room, where the lights were still on, and Cal was quick to hurry over, slipping inside to see his friend in the middle of watching some holodrama.

“Commander Kestis,” Mantle chuckled when he saw them, setting the show aside. “What are you doing here so late?”

“What are you doing up so late?” Cal shot back, but grabbed the stool at his bedside anyways. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Brain surgery skewed my sense of time,” Mantle confessed, indicating the sizable bandage on his head. “I think I’m back on Coruscant standard, instead of Bracca standard.”

“Timezones,” Cabur said sagely, but Cal’s attention was caught by the first part of the statement.

“You had brain surgery?!” He exclaimed, and Mantle had the decency to look abashed. “I thought you just had a concussion!”

“Sorry for not telling you sooner, but in my defense I was about as surprised as you are.” Mantle shifted in his bed, wincing as he sat up a little. Cabur hurried to help him up. “It was some sort of brain cancer. Matrix found it while he was screening me after the concussion.” Mantle grinned, though it was lopsided from all the bandages. “It was pretty easy to remove, all things considered, but I’ll be on radiation treatments for a few weeks. I should thank you for falling down those stairs! Matrix never would have found it unless I was already getting screened.”

“I should thank you for saving me,” Cal mumbled, fiddling with the holocron in his hands in embarrassment. It had been quite a silly mistake on his part, and Mantle had stopped him from getting seriously hurt, at the cost of his own health.

“It's what I was made for,” Mantle shrugged, still grinning as his look turned more conspiratorial. “Wanna see it?”

“See what?”

“The brain cancer. Matrix is keeping it in here until he can biopsy it.”

“Absolutely not,” Cabur declared, disgusted, as Cal said “Yeah!” at the same time. Mantle glanced between the two of them, then winked at Cal and pointed at a particular drawer in the cabinet that sat against the wall. Cabur groaned. 

“You’re an awful influence,” he mumbled into his hand as Cal pressed the open button for the drawer. 

“Our vod’ika saved my life, he can take a look at the attempted murderer.”

The drawer opened in a blast of cold air, and Cal pulled out the sample. It was almost entirely surrounded by glass save for a metal handle, and Cal gripped the latter tightly as he laid it on Mantle’s bed, giving it a look.

“It looks kind of like a spider,” he admitted. “A small spider.” At about the size of a credit, the tumor didn’t look remarkable at all. It was flesh-colored, and had tendrils extending out of its four rough corners.

“Almost like a computer chip,” Cabur admitted, folding his arms as he looked down at it. Mantle shrugged again.

“I dunno what cancer’s supposed to look like. I’m just glad it’s out of me.”

Cal peered closer. Now that he was looking, something about the cancer felt weird, a tickling in the back of his brain that he couldn’t quite describe. Frowning, he absentmindedly reached out and brushed his fingertips against the glass, wondering—

Cold.

                    Dark.

                                         Execute Order 66.

“Are you sure such a measure is necessary, Master Jedi?”

“We must be prepared for any… scenario.”

        Dark.

                            Cold.

Laughter. Evil laughter.

DARK.

          Execute Order 66.

CT-8733, batch 1582, round 14.                                           

“Mantle sounds like a good name.”

“The padawan? Really?”

                                                 Laughter. Happy laughter.

“We can call ourselves The Tooka Patrol!”

Execute Order 66.

EXECUTE ORDER 66.

EXECUTE ORDER 66.

Cold.

“COMMANDER!”

Cal jerked awake with a gasp. Everything was blurry— he was so cold— he ached all over—

He turned his head and vomited.

“Cabur, go get the general!” The voice commanded as Cal gagged, struggling to breathe between retches. Hands wrapped around his shoulders—had they always been there?—and his back was pressed against something firm yet warm, holding him up and pushing his padawan braid out of the way.

Finally, the nausea resolved, and the moment Cal was able to suck in a deep breath, it came out as a wretched sob. Voices he did not bother to decipher spoke rapidly above his head as the cold seeped into his bones and he cried like he was a youngling again.

“Hey, adiika, it’s alright,” the voice murmured, close to his left ear. “You’re safe. Let’s get you away from all this sick, okay?”

Cal nodded numbly, hiccuping into the plastoid armor. Numbly, he reached out in the Force—it was so Dark, how had he never noticed? Dark and cold and evil—until he felt the flicker of Master Tapal’s presence, roused from sleep. 

Help, I’m scared, he pushed across their bond, more a feeling than any coherent thought, and the reassurance and worry he felt in return was all the confirmation he needed that his master was on his way. Cal retreated back into himself, looking up just in time to see Matrix lift him, curling him protectively against his chest.

“Here, put him next to me,” Mantle said from somewhere he couldn’t see. Cal must’ve really scared them, because Matrix didn’t make any snide remarks and just set him down instead. The bed was comfortable, at least, and Mantle wasn’t wearing any armor, which meant that Cal could burrow into his chest and try to shake the quivers that wracked his body.

“Alright, adiika,” Matrix said after a moment. “You doing good?”

Cal pursed his lips, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Was he okay? Could he ever be okay? The echo had been so evil, so dark and cold…

“That thing was inside you, Mantle,” he sobbed instead, pressing his face into the trooper’s shoulder. That was the worst part, he decided. That the tumor had been inside his friend. How had no one noticed such an evil thing?

“We don’t need to talk about that right now,” Matrix cut in, soothing. A hand carded through his hair, and Cal looked up to see the medic pulling out a penlight. “Let’s make sure you’re alright, first. That was quite the seizure.” 

“Scared the Sith hells out of me,” Mantle murmured, just loud enough for Cal to hear, and Matrix shot the trooper a sharp look.

“Ignore him,” he said instead. “Remember our procedure, adiika. Can I check your eyes?”

Cal nodded, and Matrix flashed his light in both, leaving spots in his vision. This he knew; though Cal’s physcometric seizures while on the Albedo Brave in the last year could be counted on one hand, he knew well enough to follow Matrix’s finger as it tracked across his vision, then extend an arm so he could take his vitals. 

“Good thing you were in the Medbay, eh?” Mantle chuckled, clearly trying to keep things light, and Cal laughed hoarsely, more out of appreciation for the effort than anything. 

“Your pupils and coordination look good,” Matrix announced after a moment. “Your blood pressure is high, though, as is your heart rate, but that’s probably just the scare. I’ll keep you here for a few hours to monitor, then I think you’ll be fine.”

Cal didn’t feel fine. He felt like he would never be fine again.

“…Was it the tumor, Commander?” Mantle asked tentatively, and Cal found himself nodding.

“It was evil,” he whispered, and the room lapsed into silence before Matrix moved over to the foot of the bed. Cal shuddered as he watched the trooper pick up the brain tumor, turning over the piece of glass in his hands.

“Cancer tumors can be malicious,” Matrix mused, slotting it back into the cabinet. It returned to the frozen container with a hiss, and Cal shook again. “But this one wasn’t even malignant. Are you sure it was the tumor, Commander, and not the glass?”

Cal shook his head. “It was the tumor,” he whispered, fully confident in that, at least. “I don’t need to directly touch something to sense its echoes if the memories are strong. And that was really strong.”

Matrix didn’t have a chance to ask anything else, because it was at that moment that Master Tapal thundered into the room. He threw the door open with enough force to send it rattling off his hinges, and Cal felt sorry for the sleeping clones in the main room. 

“Padawan,” Master Tapal breathed, relaxing a little when he saw he was alright. Then his eyes flickered over to Mantle and Matrix, and he tensed again. Cal remembered, quite abruptly, that he wasn’t supposed to be interacting with them, and he flushed with shame. “What happened?”

“It was my fault, General,” Mantle said before Cal could think of any reasonable explanation. “The Commander came to visit me after I had brain surgery, and I thought it would be a good idea to show him the tumor that got removed.”

“It had an echo,” Matrix clarified, when Master Tapal turned on him. As he spoke, Cal spotted Cabur sneaking in through the open door. He must have run into Master Tapal on the way and gotten left behind. A Lasat’s legs were very long. “He had a grand mal seizure in response—the worst one I’ve seen. His vitals are good, though a little high. But just to be safe, I’d like to keep him for observation until morning if possible.”

Master Tapal sighed, and Cal wilted when he realized his master was disappointed in him. He was right, of course; the troopers were supposed to be dangerous, and Cal had gone and waltzed off with one because he felt guilty about it.

“What did you see, Padawan?” He finally asked, smoothing his features. He walked over to the side of Mantle’s (and his, he supposed) bed, and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye.

“I don’t really know,” Cal replied, and he wanted to cry again when he thought about it. “It was so dark and cold. I felt like I would never feel happy again.” He paused then, mouth working as he tried to remember. “Someone was asking about necessary measures, and then…” his mouth worked, and it took Cal three tries to say it without feeling the need to throw up again. “Execute Order 66. He kept on saying it over and over.”

“Who was saying it?” Master Tapal pressed.

Cal thought for a moment. “…I don’t know. But he was evil. I could feel it.”

Master Tapal frowned, eyes flickering in that way of his when he was deep in thought. “Padawan, a tumor should not have been able to hold such things. Your psychometric abilities might have picked up some of Sergeant Mantle’s memories, but those don’t sound like his.”

“He calls my squad The Tooka Patrol when we aren’t around,” Cal mumbled into Mantle’s shirt. Matrix snorted into his hand, and out of the corner of his eye Cal saw Cabur turn red. Mantle just sighed, and Master Tapal didn’t react at all. Instead, he rested a hand against Cal’s face, then probed at his mind gently, with the Force. Cal let him in, and Master Tapal skimmed him for a moment before drawing back, disturbed.

“Padawan, you have just had contact with the Dark Side. Significant contact.”

“From a tumor?” Cabur exclaimed, disbelieving, but Tapal paid him no mind, standing back up to turn on Matrix.

“Lieutenant Commander, I need you to biopsy that sample immediately. You have no higher priority. Get back to me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Matrix responded, snapping to attention. However, his eyes wandered back to Cal. “Sir, the Commander…” 

“Is not to leave my side,” Master Tapal finished for him. “I will watch him. But we cannot stay in the medbay.”

Cal remembered that they were leaving in secret in a few hours, and felt even worse. Still, Matrix didn’t question his general’s orders, and instead snatched the - tumor? Sample? - out of the cabinet once more. He hurried out of the room, and Cal could distantly hear him calling for assistance. 

Master Tapal looked very thoughtful as he raised a hand. Despite himself, Cal hesitated for a moment, reluctant to leave Mantle’s body heat, but did as he was silently told, shivering harder once his skin met bare air. 

“Stay with me, Padawan,” Master Tapal said, sending him warmth across their bond. To Cal’s surprise, it heated him more than any physical sensation had - perhaps that had something to do with the Dark Side? “You will be alright.”

“Yes, Master,” Cal replied, then looked down at his feet. “Sorry, Master.”

“We’ll see,” was Master Tapal’s reply, but he was cut off by his communicator pinging.

Cal’s heart leapt into his throat in anticipation before he remembered that they hadn’t reconnected the hypercomm to the ship’s inner communications, and the call had to be coming from within the Albedo Brave. Sure enough, the hologram of Captain Kenned Yellen, Admiral Venaya’s executive officer, sprung up.

“Captain,” Master Tapal greeted. “How goes the Communications watch?”

“We’re getting the hang of it, sir,” Captain Yellen replied briskly. “Sir, the Jedi Temple has started pinging again. Someone is online. We await your orders.”

This time, Cal’s heart leapt straight into his mouth. The Jedi Temple! Surely all of this had been an overreaction if the Council was contacting them.

“Send a call immediately!” Master Tapal ordered, shooting to his feet. He glanced over at Cal in silent question, and he nodded, more firmly than he felt. “We’ll be over as soon as possible.” He cut the comm and turned to Lieutenant Cabur. “Give Matrix any assistance he might need. Padawan, with me!”

He took off, and Cal knew how important this was because his master didn’t shorten his steps to wait for him to catch up. Without a goodbye to either trooper, he sprinted after his master as best he could on shaky legs. 

Thankfully, the Communications Wing was right next to the Medbay, so they didn’t have to run far at all. Despite the fact, Cal was gasping by the time he stumbled past Captain Yellen and into the communications room. 

Master Tapal spared him only a glance as he typed into the holotable, anxiety and hope swirling around him in an unrestrained tangle. It made Cal uneasy, how his master was projecting.

A few seconds later, the call went through, and Master Tapal sagged when the hologram of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared on the screen. Cal almost cried again. Master Kenobi. Cal knew that he had been on Utapau last. Surely if he was back on Coruscant, everything was alright.

“Master Tapal,” Master Kenobi breathed, sounding quite shocked. “You’ve also escaped?”

“We haven’t sprung the trap,” Master Tapal replied heavily. “Our hypercomm has been out of order until recently. We’ve heard from Mace Windu’s admiral. Are the rumors true?”

“Yes.” And it was then that Cal noticed how haggard the Council member looked. His robes were frayed, singed with blaster holes on the edges, and he looked very tired, even through the blue of the hologram. “I don’t have much time, Master Tapal. The clones stormed the Temple… to my knowledge, there are no survivors. Master Yoda and I are reconfiguring the beacon to tell all Jedi to stay away from the Coruscant. There is nothing for us here.”

“As you say.” Tapal bowed his head, his voice thick. Cal just stared up at him, suddenly feeling quite numb to it all. “Where are you going?”

“To face the Sith,” Master Kenobi replied. “The attack on the Jedi Temple was led by someone with a lightsaber. We will find out who and bring them to justice. You said that your clones have not betrayed you yet?”

Master Tapal paused for a moment, then shook his head. “I think I might know why they did,” he mused slowly, like he was just connecting the dots as he spoke. He laid a great hand against the nape of Cal’s neck, his fingers spanning from shoulder to shoulder. “One of my troopers recently had a suspected brain tumor removed. My apprentice sensed something of great darkness in it, more than something of biological origin could be. Tell me, does the phrase Execute Order 66 mean anything to you?”

Master Kenobi stared at him. “Yes,” he whispered. “That’s the order for the clones to kill the Jedi.”

“Then I've decided. Currently, the Albedo Brave is a ticking time bomb. Is there anyone you trust right now?”

“Senator Bail Organa,” Master Kenobi replied immediately. “With my life. He’s already helped Yoda and I get here. I can send you his communication information.”

“Do so. I will send Cal here to him for his safety. I will remain on the Albedo Brave and investigate this Dark Side activity. If we know what turned the clones against us, then we might stand a fighting chance.”

“I’ll send them now,” Master Kenobi replied, just as his master’s words fully registered in Cal’s head.

“You’re not coming with me?!” He exclaimed, and Master Tapal shook his head, brushing comfort against his mind through the force. Cal shoved it away, betrayal rising in his throat. “All of this, and you’re going to send me away?”

“We will speak on this later, Padawan,” Master Tapal said, kindly but firmly, and Cal dutifully shut his mouth, blinking against the tears that pooled in his eyes. The holotable pinged, and his master bent down and pressed a few buttons. “I’ve received it. Thank you, Master Kenobi.”

“I have to go. For your sake, don’t contact the Jedi Temple again. I’ll erase the traces you left here, and hopefully I can buy you some more time. The government is in chaos right now, but it won’t be long until they notice that the 13th Battalion hasn’t reported in.”

Master Tapal bowed. “May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi.”

“And with you, Master Tapal, Padawan Kestis. I hope we can see each other again.”

Master Kenobi’s hologram winked out, and Master Tapal leaned against the edge once it was over, breathing heavily. Cal just sniffled, staring straight ahead as he struggled to feel his toes.

Finally, Master Tapal straightened, and Cal could feel the ripples in the Force where he released his immediate emotions. Cal slowly raised a hand and wiped at his eyes.

“Padawan. Cal,” his master sighed heavily, getting down on one knee. “You cannot stay here.”

“You can’t, either,” Cal replied, hating how his voice cracked and broke. “You heard Master Kenobi. The clones have killed everyone.”

“And we must know why.” Master Tapal said, shaking his head. “You’ve potentially done a great thing today, Cal. I believe what you found might prove that the clones have not done this evil of their own free will. If that is so, it’s my duty to discover what.” Cal opened his mouth to protest, but Master Tapal cut him off before he could. “Not yours. Cal, even with this hope, this ship is still a ticking time bomb. If something happens here, and to Masters Yoda and Kenobi, the Jedi Order will just be you.”

“But I don’t want it to just be me!” Cal exclaimed, crying in earnest now.

“Neither do I, Padawan. But we all have our duties. Remember what I’ve taught you. Trust only in the Force. I pray we'll meet again.” 

Cal hiccuped and sobbed, and Master Tapal pulled him in close, embracing him firmly. 

They stayed that way for a long while.

Chapter Text

Cal left in the next hour.

It was 0300 by that point, earlier than Jaro liked, but he had learned how to change his plans on a dime during the war, and it served him well here. The shuttle was already prepped for transport, except now it would only be taking his padawan to safety, and not him.

Despite the firm front he had put up in making the decision, Jaro felt anything but. Cal had hardly left his side or the Albedo Brave since being apprenticed, and now he was doing both. It was a leap of faith, sending his young padawan out into the wilds of the galaxy on his own, but it was the only way forwards that Jaro could see. 

At least he wouldn’t be entirely alone.

He and Cal were waiting on the loading dock, deserted save for Admiral Venaya and one of her non-clone officers, when Cal’s new escort arrived. Thankfully, despite having had surgery the day before, Sargeant Mantle was recovering nicely, and it had only taken a few minutes of directly ordering LCDR Matrix to have him let out of the Medbay. Jaro had ordered that he change into plainclothes for this mission, so he was in a blue jacket and black pants, borrowed from Captain Yellen, who happened to be near his size.

Cal, who had stopped crying but was still quite distraught, just nodded numbly when Sargeant Mantle greeted him. 

“General,” the clone greeted him second, and Jaro dipped his head. He reached into his belt and pulled out a datachip, then pressed it into the clone’s hand. “If I may… why me? I’m no pilot.”

Jaro knew that was the least of his concerns, could feel them circling around him in the Force. Why is the Commander leaving? Why aren’t you going with him? Why haven’t you told us what’s going on?

“I cannot,” he said instead of answering. Despite the fact that he was fairly certain that Mantle would not betray them now that the tumor was gone, it was not an assumption he was going to stake his padawan’s life on. Best he remained as clueless as possible. “I can only say that you are the only one who can perform this mission. Go to the coordinates contained in this datachip and meet with the Alderaanians waiting there. Communicate only with them and the Albedo Brave , and accept no other messages. The autopilot should see you most of the way there.”

“Yes, sir,” Mantle replied, curt and to the point despite his confusion. He saluted, then moved to the shuttle to embark.

He trusts me, Jaro thought, then: Of course he does. He’s a good soldier, like all his brothers.

Despite himself, he hoped the tumor had something to do with this Order 66. The thought that millions of clones would be able to hide their intentions so well in the Force… it was not something he wanted to consider.

Cal wasn’t moving. Jaro drew himself out of his thoughts to address his padawan, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Do I have to?” Cal whispered, his voice still thick with tears. Swallowing against his own emotions, a deep swirl of grief and uncertainty, Jaro lied.

“I’m sure of it,” he said, forcing himself to remain firm. “If it is the will of the Force, we will meet again. Stay safe, my padawan, and assist Senator Organa in anything he might need.”

“Yes, Master.” Despite his acquiescence, Cal didn’t move for another few minutes, reaching out to him in the Force. Jaro allowed it for a time, letting his apprentice be soothed by his presence, but their time was running short. Such was the nature of farewells.

He gave Cal a little push, and his apprentice stepped forwards. One step, then two, and then he was walking up the ramp. He paused at the top, hesitating, but Jaro made himself nod, and he was gone.

Jaro waited until the shuttle had taken off and was leaving the hangar bay to finally move. He sucked in a long breath as he walked, then slowly let it out, releasing his whirlwind of emotion into the Force for the third time that night.

“Has there been any more news, Admiral?” he asked once he was done, shortening his stride so Venaya could fall in step with him. She nodded, lips pursed as she began speaking.

“Admiral Jaskyl and I spoke again while you were preparing Padawan Kestis to leave. The Chancellor seems to be at the root of this; he called an emergency session of the Senate and in it dissolved the Republic, declared the Jedi traitors, and named himself Emperor.” She fell silent for a long moment, then picked up again. “Any clones not immediately engaged in combat are being recalled to Kamino. The 13th Battalion was among them. We received our orders fifteen minutes ago.”

“Then the countdown has begun,” Jaro murmured. “We only have so long until we miss the rendezvous time.”

“I’ve been summoned to Coruscant,” Venaya continued. “As have all other natborn officers that I know of. Most likely, our new Emperor wishes to assess our loyalty to his new cause.” She spat out the title with venom, a sharp sting of grief-born anger rising from the Force before she dispelled it. “You need not worry about me. I have no intention of returning. I serve the Republic.”

“You are certain?” Jaro probed, and Venaya nodded, throat bobbing as she swallowed. 

“Melisa Turnwood, the officer Admiral Jaskyl and I spoke of, was my roommate during our Academy years. We were close friends. She was the most loyal woman I knew, and she was the reason many of our campaigns in the Mid Rim were a success. It meant nothing to the clones when the Order went out. They still killed her.” She glanced over at him, her skin glittering chalk blue in the lights of the ship. “What would they do to me? What would they make me do? No, my place is here. My officers’ places are here.”

“Then we must work quickly. We need to take a full inventory of what supplies we have on board, as well as send down teams to Bracca to pick up as many replacement parts as we can before our disappearance is noticed. Have one of your non-clone officers stand and listen in on any incoming communications. I don’t want them sending any transmissions, but we need to  catch any intelligence that might be of use.”

Venaya nodded as they came to a break in the corridor. The ship was silent around them, the troopers that might still kill him asleep in their barracks. Jaro took another long breath. Now was not the time to dwell on his own emotions. 

“It will be done,” Venaya said, breaking him out of his musings. “And Jaro…” she shook her head, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

That, of all things, was what almost broke him. Jaro sighed, pushing away the rising grief once more. “We must do what we can to negate the damage. I will head to the Medbay and do what I can to investigate this tumor. Good luck, Admiral Venaya. Inform me of any changes.”

“Of course.” Venaya removed her hand, then bowed and moved towards the bridge. Jaro watched her go for a moment, then started towards the Medbay.

It took only a few minutes to get there; by necessity, a Venator -class ship kept its medical equipment close to the hangar. When Jaro pushed open the door and entered, he saw that the communal space with the injured clones had been emptied and the space cleared. LCDR Matrix had worked quickly, it seemed; several machines he did not know the names or uses of had appeared in the back of the room, along with a stretcher with an MRI machine up and whirring. Jaro blinked when he realized that a clone was in it. 

As if on cue, Matrix appeared from behind a radiation curtain, followed swiftly by Commander Alloy. Jaro pushed aside his surprise at seeing his commander awake, and instead moved towards them, putting his hands behind his back and doing the best he could to project a calm, collected image. It seemed to work, because Alloy relaxed upon seeing him. 

“Commander, I didn’t know you were usually awake at such hours,” Jaro began, moving behind the curtain to get a look at the computer screens that had been set up. All of them showed a different angle of a human brain. 

“Apologies, General, but with the situation I thought it would be best to wake him,” Matrix replied, his voice tight. “There’s a lot to inform you of, sir.”

“Then let us begin. Whose brain is this?”

“Lt Cabur, sir. He volunteered to be the control sample for me.” Matrix tapped on a datapad a few times, and one of the computer screens changed to a different brain. The medic pointed to a splotch of a white that hadn’t been in the first. “This is an MRI I took of Mantle’s brain two days ago. See that spot in the right frontal lobe? That is what I thought was cancer and removed in yesterday’s surgery.” He gestured at the other screen. “If you compare, we can see that it isn’t visible in Cabur’s brain.”

“So it is just cancer?” 

“No.” Alloy was looking at his feet like they were the most interesting thing in the room now, and Jaro frowned as Matrix continued, pulling up another image, this one nearly microscopic. “This is the picture I took of Mantle’s tumor before I started dissecting it.” He spread a hand across the image, and suddenly Jaro saw what had disturbed the medic. The cells in the tumor were geometrical, arranged in a straight latticework. “This… is not what cancer looks like, sir. These aren’t cells. They’re nanites.”

“Nanites?” Jaro echoed, and Alloy gritted his teeth in the background. 

“This is a mechanical chip, implanted deep in the front lobe of the brain. He only could have obtained such a modification while he was still a tubie on Kamino.”

All at once, the breath left Jaro’s lungs. So it is true. But it was one thing to have hope, another to have reason. The relief at this one assurance was almost enough to bring him to his knees, but Jaro had been holding himself up since his conversation with Admiral Jaskyl the previous evening, and so he didn’t buckle.

“You say that you cannot see the chip in Lt Cabur,” he replied after a long moment, and Matrix nodded. 

“I know it’s there. It has to be there. I believe that when Mantle received his concussion, his chip was damaged in some way, resulting in enough swelling that I could detect it in a brain scan.” Matrix threaded his fingers together, deep in thought. “There’s no reason for the longnecks to put a coded chip into Mantle’s head if it wasn’t already in the regs. We all have it. I just have to find it.”

“We’ve extrapolated the code from the chip,” Alloy picked up where Matrix left off. He was still glaring at his feet, his voice tight with anger. “But it was heavily encrypted. I sent it to Tomcat and the Communications division to see if they could crack it.”

Jaro nodded, stepping away again. 

“Stop the MRI, Commander,” he said. “I will find the chip.”

“...As you say, sir,” Matrix nodded, clearly confused, but he did as he was told, pressing a button on his datapad. Slowly, the whirring of the MRI machine stopped, and the machine retracted to allow Lt Cabur to sit up, blinking the disorientation out of his eyes.

“Sir,” he began upon seeing him, but Jaro only held up a hand.

“Matrix has already informed me of the situation. He cannot find the chip in you, so with your permission, I am going to try.”

“Of course, sir,” Cabur nodded, not even questioning him, and Jaro was grateful for that. He reached out and laid a hand on top of the clone’s head, his fingers spanning from temple to temple. Slowly, he reached out with the Force.

There wasn't much distinction between the soul and the body when it came to the Force. Jaro didn’t need to delve into Cabur’s emotions or thoughts, and he did his best to focus on the nerves and cells of his biological matter, but it made little difference in truth. Fear and anger, clear and untrained, smacked headlong into Jaro’s mental shielding, and it took him a moment to parse it and move it and the many whirling thoughts in Cabur’s mind aside, probing deeper. For a time, he found nothing. But it is there, Jaro reminded himself, and pushed further, focusing on the right frontal lobe, where he’d seen the chip in the scans. 

And then a flicker. Jaro could hardly even sense it, but in the end, the chip stood out by simply being different. A small spot of cold, unfeeling darkness amongst the swirl of living Force that permeated all living things. This part of the brain was not alive, which meant only one thing.

“It’s there,” Jaro announced, opening his eyes. Cabur was looking up at him with an indiscernible expression that shuttered into a long sigh as he spoke. “In the same location.”

“Sithspit,” the trooper swore, and Jaro let it slide this once. “Can we take it out?”

“I would rather wait,” Matrix confessed, pulling back the radiation curtain. Alloy had gone back to staring at his feet like they were a particularly nasty Separatist unit. “I have contact with some of my batchmates who are still on Kamino. Even if we can’t trust the Kaminoans, they’ll be able to get us more information about the purpose of these things. I took the chip out of Mantle because it was swelling too much to be safe—I don’t know what the long term effects of such a procedure will be.”

“No,” Jaro announced, before he could think better of it. “Take them out now, Commander. Start with your medical team, then work downwards from the officers to the infantrymen. Navy first, then Army.”

“...Sir?” Matrix echoed, confused. Jaro just shook his head. 

“You will find your friends on Kamino to be of no help to you. It is just us now, and I need the chips out as soon as possible.”

Matrix bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable, but nodded, standing up and typing on his datapad. A moment later, Alloy straightened, his eyes going wide as he whipped over to Jaro. 

“Sir, with all due respect,” he asked. “What happened to Kamino?”

Silence in the room. Matrix stopped in his tracks, and then all three clones were staring at him. For a moment, Jaro just watched them, weighing the options in his mind. Then he decided.

“Nothing has happened to Kamino,” he said gutturally, and it is a difficult thing to put into words. It twists up his throat in threads of steady grief and confusion: why, why, why?

You know why. The question now is: how?

“This is what happened to the entire Grand Army of the Republic,” he continued, and he looked Alloy in the eye. The man deserved that, at least. “Twelve hours ago, an order was given by the Senate. We did not receive it due to our communications malfunction, but every other unit in action did. You recall the disturbance I felt in the Force, Commander Alloy.”

“Yes sir,” Alloy replied thinly.

“At that moment, every clone who heard this order turned on their Jedi generals and killed them in cold blood.”

If the silence before had been frost, delicate and anxious, the silence that descends in Jaro’s confession (and it is a confession, he realizes, a confession of reality, a confession of helplessness and tragedy. No longer can he shelter his men in the naivety of ignorance) is ice. It’s the cold ice of Ilum, he thinks, frozen into rock and stone, but without the glowing Light of the Force to guide them through the freeze.

“The 501st marched on the Jedi Temple,” he continued, because he might as well say it all. “And slaughtered all inside, from the elders to the younglings. The Chancellor has dissolved the Republic. The war is over. Forgive me for not telling you, but we had no assurance that you were trustworthy until now.”

Alloy was just staring at him now, his mouth slightly parted. Jaro watches him for a moment, then tears his gaze away when he can take it no longer. 

“There is no time to grieve,” he said instead, when it was clear none of them would reply. “Continue with your work.  You may inform the officers, but do not inform the general ranks until the chip is removed. We have 784 clone troopers on board. Every one must be accounted for. Best we get moving.”

By the time Reveille began at 0630, exhaustion was already nipping at Jaro’s heels. 

It wasn’t the typical exhaustion of a lack of sleep—the few hours Jaro caught earlier in the night would be enough to fuel him physically for a while—but the deep-seated exhaustion that started in the back of his throat and radiated outward. Part of it, Jaro knew, was from the stress of the situation, from grief and the other myriad of emotions he kept releasing into the Force but never really processing. But the rest of it came from the Force itself. It was an odd feeling, one he’d never felt before. The Force was tired, overtaxed almost, and so very Dark and smothering.

When Jaro moved to the bridge to speak to Admiral Venaya, it was with an uncharacteristic slouch to his shoulders that he couldn’t quite remove from his bearing. 

It was made worse by the eyes of his men around him. Gossip flew faster than light in the clone ranks, and even if they weren’t in the officer corps and unaware of the larger issue at hand, it was hard to miss the shuttles ferrying scrap metal from Bracca’s surface, the disappearance of their Padawan Commander, and the sudden brain surgeries going on in the Medbay. Now, with the ship slowly coming alive, the troopers are watching him. None with the authority to outright ask him what was happening, but they were silently questioning all the same.

Jaro didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with them right now, so he ignored it. Instead, he gave a cursory nod to the Officer of the Deck and strode forwards to meet Admiral Venaya, who turned to meet him with a nod.

“The operations are well underway, Admiral,” he said quietly, so the men couldn’t hear. “The medical wing and Commander Alloy have all had their chips removed, and we have moved on to the officers.”

“That is good to hear,” Venaya murmured, her brow creased in thought. Jaro could hardly blame her; no doubt she had been running logistics for their now solitary battalion since he had last seen her. “I’ve run our supplies. We have enough rations to last for another six weeks, as was expected in a worst-case scenario for the Bracca campaign. Tomcat has overseen three sorties down to the planet’s surface to scrounge for scrap, but our luck is running out. News has made it to the Scrapper Guild of the happenings on Coruscant, and it’s emboldened them. We’ve already had a skirmish. No one was killed, but it will only be a matter of time.”

Either that, or one of the Braccan scrappers got the bright idea to activate the chips still in his infantry’s heads. Jaro resisted the urge to run a hand down his face. Everything was a precious resource now, but the absolute last thing he needed was to lose more men. Supplies could be scrounged for on other planets; his men could not.

“We run short on time,” he said instead, shaking his head. “No more sorties. We must prepare to leave the system.”

“And go where?” Venaya questioned, looking up at him earnestly. Jaro just gave a minute shrug.

“That is the question we must answer. Do we confront this new Empire, or do we chase after the Separatists? Attempt to bargain our way through Hutt Space? Or perhaps we try our luck with the neutral systems?”

His transmission with Obi-Wan Kenobi had been a gift from the Force in this matter. In his initial plans to leave, Jaro hadn’t been able to come up with any trustworthy contact outside of his ship or the Order, and had been forced to fly blind and hope for the best. But while Senator Organa might have been able to shelter a single human Padawan, a towering Lasat Jedi and a Venator full of almost 800 men was an entirely different matter. Stealth would not be an option for them. 

“Anaxes , ” Venaya’s voice, stronger than it had been, caught him by surprise. Jaro turned in time to see her eyes flickering in thought as she continued. “Yes. It’s no permanent solution, but it's a small military base at the border between the Outer and Mid Rims. We used it to monitor hyperspace lanes and for basic ship repairs, but it itself is little more than a dwarf planet in an asteroid belt. There are minimal civilians, a small garrison, and plenty of supplies. We could overrun it easily.”

“It’s a Republic base,” Jaro pieced together, and Venaya nodded, uneasy but still firm in her decision. 

“Was one. We recently recaptured it, so the supplies there will be new, but the garrison can be easily fooled by our approach. We can assess their loyalties when we arrive. What do you think, General?”

Jaro thought about it for a moment, then reached out into the Force, trying to listen. It was more difficult than it had ever been, but as he concentrated, peering through the Dark mist to make out the specks of Light that remained, he found a sense of confidence.

Yes.

Jaro nodded, then turned around to face the Officer of the Deck, standing on the other side of the bridge. “Officer, set a course for Anaxes. We must be there as soon as all preparations have been finished.”

The trooper nodded, turning to echo his orders to his men. Jaro let him go, still leaving himself open to the Force, and for a moment just let himself feel through the Dark. The paths ahead of him still felt muddled, uncertain, but in this one decision he felt firm. In the end, that was all he needed.

But then his mind wandered to Cal, so far away. Jaro could just barely sense him through their training bond, a thin presence he could see trailing to safety. He wondered whether he had made it to the rendezvous point already, if Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi would be able to properly care for him.

It will be a long time until I see him again, Jaro thought suddenly, a realization half-prompted by the Force. It was difficult to come to terms with the fact that he had given him away, sent him off into hiding while he remained here, in the front lines of a war that would not end for a long, long time. But Cal was a youth still, with his life ahead of him. Jaro had already dragged him into one war, at the behest of a Republic he was sworn to defend. Now that war had changed into something even darker, more dangerous, than it had been before. Jaro held no qualms within himself over what he had signed up for. Neither did Venaya, or Alloy and the clones. But Cal Kestis was twelve years old, and the more Jaro thought on it, the more he grew firm. Their paths were different now, and all he could do was hope he was making the right decision in sending him to those who could protect him.

He turned around and gazed at his men. 796 men served on board the Albedo Brave, and each of them relied on him to see them through the tumultuous years ahead. Jaro watched them, and was relieved that he had decided to stay at their side. This decision, he knew, had been the right one.

The war continues, he declared silently. Perhaps one day, after Anaxes and the chips, he would say it aloud. If only for us.

Hold the line.

Chapter Text

The shuttle was cold.

Cal didn’t like flying outside of the Albedo Brave. He didn’t like the way the whole galaxy could twist and turn on a moment’s notice, nor the cramped space, where there was hardly enough room to stretch his legs. It felt unnatural. And it was cold.

The shuttles that came with the standard Venator, though equipped with hyperdrives, were not meant for true galactic travel. Cal knew because one of his last classes before leaving the Temple had been all about Venators and how they worked. Cal knew every ship housed in the hangars of the Albedo Brave and their specs, from the bombers to the freighters.

Shuttles like these had little save for a piloting system, a single gun turret, and a hyperdrive. Its conditioning unit was designed for clone troopers in full armor, not teenaged Padawans in Jedi robes. And the resulting cold made everything worse.

Cal adjusted himself in the jump chair, trying to crack his neck to get the crick that refused to go away after he had dozed off in it earlier. His datapad said that he’d slept for a few hours, even though he didn’t feel like it, and that they would be arriving at the rendezvous point soon. 

He tried to be good. He did. Cal slept, because humans needed more sleep than Lasats, and after he woke up he’d tried to go over the lessons he’d downloaded into his datapad. But it was cold, and his fingers trembled whenever he tried to scroll. So eventually he just gave up. Who cared about the judicial process of the Galactic Republic if the Order didn’t exist anymore?

Mantle had been pretty silent for the whole trip, and Cal hadn’t seen much of him since he had disappeared into the cockpit. Cal knew he was frustrated and more than a little scared. Cal never kept secrets from his squad, that was something all of them knew. And now Cal wasn’t allowed to tell Mantle anything, because he might try to kill him. 

Tears welled in his eyes at the thought. It wasn’t fair, and nothing made any sense anymore. Cal raised his knees up and pressed them to his chest, trapping his datapad between his limbs and letting the screen chill his abdomen.

He stayed like that for a while, until he heard the doors to the cockpit swish open. Cal looked up in time to see Mantle enter the staging bay, one hand pressed against the bandages covering his surgical sight. He looked weird in civilian clothes, a backpack slung over his shoulder like he was heading to a normal job instead of ferrying a rogue padawan to a senator.

“Hey, Commander,” Mantle said, exhaustion steeped clear in his voice. He moved and sat in the same row of seats Cal was using, but left one between them for space. “We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes.”

“That’s good,” Cal mumbled into his knees, wondering what his Master was doing right now. Was he safe? Had the clones turned on him yet?

“Here.” Mantle bent down, rustling through his pack until he pulled out a holocron. His holocron. Cal hurried to sit up straight at the sight, wiping at his eyes as he hurriedly snatched it up. Master Cin Drallig’s soothing emotions flooded up to him as soon as his fingers made contact, and he almost cried again. “You left it in the Medbay after… the whole tumor affair. I meant to give it back to you when we got on the ship, but you were out cold by the time I had everything in the cockpit settled.”

“Thank you,” Cal whispered, turning his treasure over and over in his hands. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”

“Nah, I get it.” Mantle laced his fingers and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees so he could study the opposite wall. Silence fell for a long moment, and then he spoke again. “I don’t know what happened, or why I can’t know, but I can see that this situation is really bad.” He glanced over at Cal for a moment, then looked away again. “Your Master would never have sent you away like this if he didn’t think it was for your safety.”

“He was supposed to come too,” Cal murmured into the holocron, before he could even think about it.

“Why didn’t he?”

“He saw a chance to save your brothers.”

A flare of deep emotion Cal couldn’t quite catch flared off of Mantle, and he swallowed visibly as he went back to staring at the wall. 

They didn’t say anything until a steady beeping sounded from the cockpit, and Mantle stood up, dusting off his pants and picking his backpack back up. He glanced over at Cal, then jerked his head in a silent invitation to follow. Cal considered it for a moment, then nodded, unbuckling himself. He tucked his holocron into his own bag, then followed the clone trooper to the front of the ship.

The pulsing blue lights of hyperspace were blinding after the dull white of the interior shuttle, and Cal had to blink spots out of his eyes as his vision adjusted. Mantle pulled out the co-pilot’s seat for him, and he did his best to fasten buckles made for an adult human as his trooper did the same.

“Just no touching, alright?” Mantle tried, his voice light, and Cal couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he got himself comfortable. The pilots’ seats were more comfortable than the ones in the staging bay, at least. Mantle flicked off the alarm that had drawn them to the cockpit, then rested a hand on a large lever on the ceiling. “Three… two… one…”

He flicked the lever over, and the ship jerked back into realspace with a shudder that made Cal tense so he didn’t get thrown around. Before them, an asteroid field came into view. It was situated far away from its host star, leaving the hunks of rock shrouded in shadow. As Mantle took the helm and made a steep turn, muttering something about directions, a base came into view, white lights sparkling against the starry backdrop. 

“Where are we?” He asked, and Mantle shrugged.

“The navigation system says this is a planetoid called Polis Massa, but I’ve never heard of it before.” Then he tilted his head, considering. “That’s probably why the senator wanted us to meet here.”

“It’s so… quiet,” Cal said, leaning forwards to get a better view as Mantle brought them in for a landing. “I can’t sense anyone.”

Mantle frowned, putting down the landing gear of the shuttle. He wasn’t very good, though, and the shuttle shook and shuddered some more as it transitioned to the artificial gravity of the desolate outpost. Thankfully, touchdown was a gentler affair, and Mantle visibly relaxed as he took his hands off the yoke. 

“I never liked our piloting modules on Kamino,” he sighed, standing up. “How about we meet this senator, Commander?”

“Let’s go,” Cal hummed, following suit. 

The artificial atmosphere of Polis Massa was just as cold as the conditioning unit in the shuttle. Cal shivered, hoisting his bag up higher as he descended the ramp and settled onto the durasteel floor. 

Just as he wondered if they were truly alone, something flickered on the edge of Cal’s senses, and he turned just as the doors to the nearby complex opened up. From them emerged the Alderaanian Senator, Bail Organa. Cal recognized him from the news holovids he’d been required to watch for his government class, but it was different seeing him in person, with strands of gray stuck in his hair and an exhausted sheen of sweat clinging to his face.

The flicker on the edge of his consciousness came again, stronger this time, and Cal looked down to see Master Yoda following at a slower pace, leaning heavily on his gimer stick. 

“Master Yoda!” Cal exclaimed, the words coming out as more than a sigh than anything as relief came crashing down on his shoulders. Before he realized it, he was running.

Master Yoda dipped his head as he came to a skidding stop, and Cal dropped to his knees, like he was a youngling again in need of a scolding. But Yoda had no words of instruction or comfort for him. Instead, he simply took one of Cal’s hands between both of his, and for a moment, nothing existed save for the two of them and the Force. A silent grief passed between them, and then Yoda pushed forward joy. Joy?

Cal blinked, and Master Yoda only tilted his head. 

“A joy it is, to see a young Padawan again,” he explained, and Cal forced a smile, dipping his head. It faded as he remembered that Master Yoda had been with Master Kenobi in the Temple. How many dead younglings had he seen?

“We should go inside,” Senator Organa said, and Cal looked up to see him watching with a saddened expression. “Obi-Wan just made contact with my men. He will be arriving shortly with Padmé.”

It took Cal a moment to connect the latter name with the Senator of Naboo, Padmé Amidala, as another name he had heard of but never met. 

“Join us inside, you will,” Yoda said, and Cal nodded jerkily, getting back on his feet. He glanced over at Mantle who was standing back a little awkwardly. Senator Organa seemed to notice his indecision, and waved over one of his bodyguards.

“The Albedo Brave contacted us shortly before you arrived,” he said. “Master Tapal’s suspicion was right. The clones without their chips are trustworthy.” He turned to Mantle. “Go and get yourself checked over, Trooper; I know you’re still in recovery from your surgery.”

Mantle glanced over to Cal, who nodded, and then he went a different way without a fight. Cal watched him go, something aching in his chest as he vanished from sight. 

Senator Organa and Master Yoda were already moving, and Cal lengthened his stride to meet them. Senator Organa’s eyes crinkled in empathy when he came up alongside them, and Cal jerked in surprise when he felt his hand rest on his shoulder, warm and firm.

“I’m sorry you had to leave your master, Padawan Kestis,” he said, and Cal just shrugged minutely as they came to a stop on an observation deck that overlooked the whole facility. “But we will take care of you here. Have you had something to eat?”

Cal shook his head, and the senator nodded at yet another of his bodyguards, who left with a swirl of his cloak. Senator Organa led him to a table to sit down, taking the seat across from him as Yoda stared out at the sprawling view of Polis Massa that the great window provided. Cal had never seen him so reclusive and sad before.

It was another reminder of how real their situation was. Cal resisted the urge to hug himself, instead just keeping his hands tight in his lap. After a few minutes, the guard returned with a plate of food, and even though he didn’t have an appetite, Cal nibbled at the roll provided halfheartedly.

“Thank you, Senator Organa,” he said once he remembered his manners, and lowered the roll a little. “Are we waiting for Master Kenobi and Senator Amidala to return from Coruscant?”

“You can just call me Bail, Cal,” the senator corrected him, but despite his light tone, his aura was tainted with worry. “And Obi-Wan and Padmé are on their way from Mustafar.” He dipped his head, running a hand over his mouth. “Obi-Wan fought one of the Sith, the new apprentice.”

A chill of terror ran up Cal’s spine, and he tried to hide it by taking a bite out of his roll. It took a great effort to chew and swallow it through his dry mouth and rolling nausea. “Did he win?” He asked quietly.

“I think so,” Bail murmured, watching the sky.

They passed some more small talk, and Cal steady picked through his food until he could stomach no more. Soon after he finished, Yoda’s presence in the Force flickered, and Cal looked up just in time to see a ship appear out of hyperspace and enter the atmosphere. It was a glittering silver Naboo freighter, and Bail shot to his feet when he saw it. 

“I will meet them on the way,” he said, bowing to Master Yoda. “Padmé is injured, so we will go to the medical wing.”

“Meet you there, we shall,” Yoda rasped, and then the Senator was gone, followed by his guards to go to the landing bay. Cal watched him go, feeling quite helpless. 

“If Master Obi-Wan killed the Sith, will we be able to go back to the Temple?” He asked once Bail was out of sight. It was a reaching question with an answer he already knew, but something in Cal’s heart shattered when Yoda shook his head, cane tapping on the ground as he began walking. Cal went to follow him.

“The apprentice, Kenobi has defeated. To kill the master, failed I have.” Yoda sighed. He looked older than Cal had ever seen him before. “Failed you, I have.”

“You didn’t fail me, Master,” Cal mumbled, looking away, but he knew he couldn’t change Master Yoda’s mind. No one could, not when he had that undercurrent of certainty in his voice. “Besides, you always said that failure is our greatest teacher.”

Yoda only hummed, falling silent once again. Grief pooled around him in waves, and even though Cal knew that the Jedi Grandmaster was shielding himself excellently, it tugged at his heart as they made their way to the medical wing. 

They ran into Bail, Senator Amidala, and Master Kenobi on the way over, and Cal’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sight. Master Kenobi was carrying Amidala, who was unconscious, in a gentle cradle as he walked as fast as possible. Bail led the way, calling for a medical droid, and Cal hurried after them.

By the time they made it to a room, the droids had gotten everything ready. Cal came to a stop at the glass wall, resting a hand on the chilled surface (grief for a deceased loved one, suffering from a patient with chronic illness, joy from a miraculous recovery) to watch as the droids begin their work. 

Cal didn’t know that Senator Amidala was pregnant, but it soon became apparent that she was very much with child. He couldn’t help but watch in morbid curiosity as he watched her be treated. He’d never seen a pregnant lady before, only in holovids for health class. He hoped that she would be alright.

She didn’t look alright. She was whimpering, thrashing from time to time, as the medical droid attended to her. She seemed to be vibrating in the Force, pulsing in a way he’d never seen before. It was uncomfortable, almost, tugging at the edges of his mind. Cal could only watch in pity before a hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Master Kenobi looking down at him.

Somehow, he looked even worse than he had during their holo conversation. The shoulders of his frayed robes were singed with holes and he smelled like ash, his hair hanging in strings over his forehead. 

“Perhaps this isn’t a place you should be, Padawan,” he suggested quietly. “Padmé is going to have her child soon, and it is not something young eyes should see.”

The Force whispered at him, tantalizing murmurs through the threads of the echoes. Cal didn’t want to leave. He pressed his fingers more firmly against the glass, listening to the memories in the Force. He opened his mind on almost a whim, listening to the ebbs of the currents around him. Something was snagging, like thread being pulled out of a cloth, and he opened his eyes, unaware that he had even closed them. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said, pulling his hand away from the glass. Master Kenobi blinked down at him, uncomprehending, and so Cal just slipped underneath his arms and moved into the room. Footsteps followed him, and as Cal reached out with the Force again, trying to find the catch. All he could sense was Master Kenobi’s confusion. “In the Force.”

“What?” Padmé gasped, eyes flickering over to them as he approached. Master Kenobi went to her side, laying a hand on her head as he reached out with the Force, brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he returned for himself, shoulders heaving.

“I can’t quite catch it, but I see it, barely,” he murmured, then motioned Cal over. “Padmé, I’m too… I’m too weak right now. Can Cal here look? Something is wrong in the Force.”

Cal nodded as Padmé did. Whatever seemed to be ailing her seemed to have subsided for a moment, and though she was weak and shivering, her eyes were aware, pooled with grief as she caught his gaze.

“I’ll help you, Senator,” Cal said, trying to sound strong and certain of himself like Master Tapal. He raised a hand, brushing it against Padmé’s brow, and pushed aside the echoes (terror, betrayal, all-encompassing sadness, the heat of Mustafar as she begged) as best he could, chasing the snag in the Force.

It was hard to find. Usually, Cal likened his vision of the Force to a woven linen, with an infinite amount of threads that went off in all directions. When he tried to find the threads associated with Senator Amidala, he found them near scalding hot. Some were broken, and some were still forming, leaving him dizzy when he tried to make sense of it.

But beneath it all, something was snagging. Cal pressed further, past the scalding heat, and was suddenly freezing cold. Ice burned him from the inside out— he coughed violently— was someone laughing? It was so dark— he couldn’t breathe—

And then there was light. A new presence joined him at his side, strong and bright, and chased the darkness away. Master Yoda. Cal nearly cried in relief when he fought the evil cold off, snipping at the edges of the thread until Cal was back in his own body again.

Someone was holding him. Cal looked up to realize that he had collapsed, and Master Kenobi had gathered him in his arms. He flushed in embarrassment, and did his best to stand up on shaky legs. 

“It was dark, like the tumor in the clones,” he said, then paused to cough. His throat was sore and dry. Master Kenobi only pursed his lips, thin tendrils of alarm trailing around him.

“What happened?” Padmé gasped, waving off the medical droid as it approached her. “What’s going on?”

“Present, the Sith Master was,” Yoda rumbled, leaning heavily on his cane. If he had looked exhausted before, he seemed almost ready to collapse now. “Attached to your life force, he was. His purpose, I cannot say.”

Padmé opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out save for a guttural cry as the pain returned. Yoda stayed at her side, continuing to say something to her that Cal couldn’t make out as Master Kenobi steered him away and out of the room.

“It felt like the tumor,” he said again, pressing himself into the Jedi Master’s side. “The laughter was the same. If that was the Sith Lord, did he have something to do with the tumors?”

“I don’t know,” Master Kenobi replied, sounding utterly lost.

It was several hours more until the babies were born. 

Cal was kept out of the room after the affair with the Sith Lord. Instead, Bail’s bodyguards kept him in a different room and gave him a checkup to make sure everything was okay with his own body. It was, he was just tired, and so after a little while the bodyguards let Mantle in, now with a fresh bandage over his head and a faintly horrified expression that told Cal that he’d been given the news about his brothers. 

More messages came from the Albedo Brave, but they were little more than status updates. The ship had discovered tumors—behavioral control chips—in all the clones, and was working on removing them as they traveled to Anaxes for supplies. Master Tapal wrote him a short note, admonishing him again to do whatever Master Yoda and Bail Organa wanted, but he didn’t send him a holo transmission. Cal knew he was probably really busy, but it hurt anyway. 

“I don’t know why he sent me away,” he found himself confessing, setting down the game of sabacc he and Mantle had been playing. It was a lousy game anyways, since they had nothing to bet, and neither of their hearts were in it. “I should be there with your brothers, fighting alongside you.”

Mantle was quiet for a long moment, considering the cards in his hand before sighing and flinging them down alongside Cal’s. “I think he just wanted to keep you safe, Commander. It’s a lot easier to hide a padawan and a single clone than it is an entire ship of men.”

“But why are we just hiding?” Cal exclaimed, throwing up his hands. The tingling numbness and timidity that had been swirling around him for the past day felt like it was evaporating the longer he sat around and did nothing, leaving behind only bubbling frustration and anger. “If Master Kenobi really beat the apprentice Sith, why are we just sitting around? Can’t we try and go after the master Sith again?”

“General Yoda already tried that, Commander,” Mantle tried, his voice placating. It only set the fire burning inside of Cal alight, and he stood up to try and pace away his sudden energy. “We can’t go after him again. I don’t think we could even get to him right now.”

“It’s not fair! Master Tapal is fighting! Why can’t we?”

“General Tapal isn’t fighting as much as he is trying to survive,” Mantle muttered, shaking his head. Even he had the slump to his shoulders that seemed to pervade everyone on Polis Massa, full of defeat and hopelessness. The sight sent Cal’s anger skittering away as quickly as it had come, and he sat back down with a heavy sigh, hugging himself. 

“I don’t want to be left behind,” he confessed. 

Mantle didn’t have a chance to respond before there was a sudden burst of Light in the Force. Cal shot up in surprise, turning instinctively towards it. He’d never felt such a presence before… or, in a very long time. Master Skywalker had felt like that, though always from afar. Master Yoda too, though only before the war. His presence had dimmed as the Temple had emptied.

But even this burst of light was purer than them. Instinctively, Cal reached out—and started when he realized he wasn’t looking at one person, but two. He touched one, a tentative greeting, but received nothing save for a flicker in reply.

“Babies,” he realized in surprise. Cal had only ever visited the youngest annals of the creche a handful of times, so it took him a moment to recognize the purity for the youth it was. Even then, though, the sheer strength of them nearly knocked the breath out of him. 

“Did the Senator give birth?” Mantle asked, watching him. “You can sense that?”

“I guess so,” Cal shrugged. “I’ve never really been around babies before. They’re really strong in the Force.”

More time passed, this time in silence. Cal could hardly look away from the babies; he hadn’t even realized how dark the Force had become until they were there to contrast it by simply being alive. It was soothing almost, even though they were babies and couldn’t respond to his glancing touches.

After a while, the door opened again, one of Senator Organa’s bodyguards beckoning them forwards. He told Mantle to go and stay with their shuttle, and guided Cal further into the facility and into a conference room. 

Master Yoda, Master Kenobi, and Bail Organa were all waiting for him there. The bodyguard left, and Cal stood in the doorway awkwardly until Master Kenobi moved aside and pulled out a chair for him. 

“Is Senator Amidala okay?” he asked as he sat. Master Kenobi hesitated, glancing over at Bail, then replied.

“The birth was difficult for her,” the Jedi Master explained. “You may have saved her life when you caught the Sith’s presence, Cal, but she is still very weak. She will need time to recover.”

“Time, we do not have,” Yoda sighed. “Senator Amidala’s death, we cannot fake.”

“The Queen would ask for a body,” Bail agreed, folding his hands on the table. “And we will not be able to provide a sufficient double. The Empire would DNA test any body we sent back to Naboo.”

Master Yoda seemed to consider this for a long moment before he replied. “Hidden, safe, the children must be kept. Far from the Sith, they must be. Too bright, they are together.”

“They already have a Force bond,” Master Kenobi mused, but it seemed to pain him to even say the words. “If it is allowed to grow unchecked, hiding them will be impossible.”

“It will be difficult to convince Padmé to give up the children,” Bail said, clearly the least convinced of the three. “It’s an incredibly cruel thing to ask.”

“In cruel times we live,” Yoda replied. “One, she would be safe to keep. Two, too bright will be.”

Bail put his face in his hands for a moment, then ran one through his hair, his mind whirring. “If she does not return to Naboo and simply disappears, there will be an outcry in the Senate—from half the Empire, truly. Padmé was the minority leader, and had many allies spread far and wide.”

“But returning to Naboo would be too dangerous,” Master Kenobi protested, but Bail shook his head. 

“If Padmé goes into hiding, we will not be able to hide the survival of her children,” Bail argued. “But if she doesn’t… Naboo does have systems in place for disgraced politicians, or those seeking a quiet retirement. It would not raise questions the same way a disappearance would. She has family and a support network who would do anything for her or her children. We could make use of it. If we must… my wife and I have always spoken of adopting when the time is right. I will seek her opinion.”

Though he was unhappy, Obi-Wan nodded, leaning back in his seat heavily. He looked like he could fall asleep right there, though his eyes remained open as he glanced over at Cal.

“We must speak on Master Tapal,” he began, and Cal sat up at the change of subject. “His men have engaged at Anaxes and taken over the base. His survival and the 13th’s defection is no longer a secret. It will only be a matter of time before the Empire descends on him.”

“Dissuaded from his mission—from his men—Master Tapal will not be,” Yoda replied. “Difficult to hide, a battalion is. Even more difficult, to hide a Venator. Different from us, his path will be.”

“Can’t we help him?” Cal protested, the words slipping past his lips before he could catch himself. All three heads in the room turned to him, and he couldn’t help but shiver under the weight of it all. “We can’t just abandon him! I need to go back, he’s my master and now that we know the clones are safe—”

“Cal,” Master Kenobi said softly, pity in his voice. “I’m so sorry. But you’re not going back to Master Tapal.”

The wind rushed out of his lungs in a single moment. “…What?” Cal breathed.

“One thing it is, to bring a young Padawan on a minor campaign,” Yoda explained. “Quite a different thing, a guerrilla war is. Seek your safety, Master Tapal does.”

“But my training…”  

“Continue, your training must,” Yoda agreed. “Continue, all our training must. Into exile we must go, until the time is right. Hold the line, Master Tapal will.”

They were abandoning him. Cal felt very cold. He wanted to say something, to protest, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

Master Tapal agrees with them, he realized silently. He was the one who sent me away.

There was a stinging pain in his heart as he drew into himself, letting the rest of the conversation flow around him without any more input from himself. Eventually, the talk ended as Yoda asked to speak to Master Kenobi privately.

Bail Organa draped a hand on Cal’s shoulder as they left the conference room, the door hissing shut as the remnants of the Jedi Council continued their conversation. 

“Why would he leave me?” Cal found himself asking once they were alone, the words leaving his mouth rough and hoarse. He had no tears to give; he felt like the last day had wrung him completely dry. “Why would he give me up?”

For a long moment, Bail didn’t answer, but his emotions, unhindered by Jedi training, betrayed his sense of loss.

“I can’t pretend to know what kind of man Jaro Tapal is, Cal,” he replied. “I’m in no position to speak on his decisions. But… to Obi-Wan and Yoda, you’re something just as precious to them as Padmé’s children. They do not want to risk you as they might themselves. I imagine your master feels the same.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re the future, I suppose,” Bail pressed them forwards, pushing them towards a destination he had in mind. Cal couldn’t bring himself to care where. “The war is lost, Cal, and they have accepted that. So it falls to you to be their hope for the next generation.”

The war is lost. Cal thought he was out of tears, but the phrase suddenly made him want to cry again. He never was going back to the Temple, was he? 

After they walked for a while, Bail stopped them in front of one of the medical rooms. Inside sat two bassinets—the sources of light, Cal realized, the twins who were so bright in the Force they chased the darkness away by being near. 

“Padmé is still being seen to by the medical droid,” Bail said softly. “Would you like to see the babies?”

Cal nodded mutely, and let himself inside when the door opened. The babies were sleeping soundly in their bassinets when he peered down at them.

“I never knew a human could be so small,” he whispered in awe, and Bail chuckled. “But they’re so bright.”

“That’s what Obi-Wan said, when he held them,” the senator remarked as Cal extended a cautious finger to touch one of the baby’s toes. Their skin was soft and smooth to the touch, and combined with their light in the Force… it was hard to be sad when they were around. “That one is Luke, he’s the boy.” Cal glanced over at the other baby, and Bail elaborated. “And that’s Leia, the girl.”

“They are good,” Cal said, then let himself fall quiet once more. Suddenly he understood why the creche masters had always spoken so highly of their roles. If working around the babies always felt like this, he didn’t know how every Jedi in the galaxy wasn’t clamoring for the job. The light was like a balm to the frayed edges to his mind.

Eventually, another presence, shielded and gray, flickered on the edge of his mind. Cal drew himself up just in time to see Master Kenobi enter the room. Even he seemed to lighten in the presence of the babies, pausing for a moment by Leia’s cradle to watch her sleep. 

“We must leave soon,” Master Kenobi said to Bail, who nodded. Then his eyes slid over to Cal, and he moved so that Leia’s cradle was no longer between them. “Cal, I know this situation has been incredibly unfair to you.”

Situation was one way to describe it. Cal just shrugged, humming wordlessly as he drew himself away from Luke’s shining warmth. 

“Cal Kestis,” Obi-Wan said again, and it sounded heavy, like he was intimidated. “Master Yoda was right. We all have training to complete. Our own journeys. Would you like to join me on mine?”

Cal stared at him. 

When he was youngling, Cal had dreamed of being Obi-Wan Kenobi’s apprentice. Who hadn’t?  Every initiate in the temple seemed to go through the phase where they talked of becoming the sith-killer’s padawan, and the daydreams had only gotten more expansive after the war began and word of his exploits in battle started trickling back to Coruscant. But it had always felt like a pipe dream. Obi-Wan Kenobi had always seemed like a larger-than-life figure to Cal. 

Jaro Tapal had been the perfect Master, and knowing that Master Tapal had picked him out himself had only solidified that further. Cal did not want to replace him. He didn’t want to be left behind, to hide and cower while his master fought the only fight worth having. He didn’t want to give up on their training bond, on all the progress they had made together as master and apprentice.

But that choice hadn’t been given to him. Perhaps one day Cal will be angry that Jaro Tapal chose that fight over him. Perhaps one day he will understand why. For now, he’s just sad.

Obi-Wan didn’t look like a larger-than-life legend, standing in front of him in half-burned clothes. He just looked old, and tired, and utterly uncertain of himself as he extended this olive branch. Suddenly, Cal wondered if this was even his own idea, or if Master Yoda had put him up to it. The options for Cal’s new master were remarkably limited now, after all.

The brightness of Luke nudged against his mind, chasing the dark thoughts away. Maybe it was true. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was here. Jaro Tapal was not.

“Okay,” he decided, and stepped forwards into this new, desolate world. “I’ll be your padawan, Master Kenobi.”