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Scheduling

Summary:

Taungsday 11.30 - 19.00, Kidnapped by Sith.
Recurring meeting.

Cody blinks as sees the entry in his General's calendar. Apparently he was actually listening during Cody's lectures on proper scheduling.

Hopefully the pretty Sith has the good biscuits this week.

Or: The dark wizard keeps kidnapping the princess because he's in love with the knight that comes to rescue her. Star Wars edition.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

"It's my turn!"

"No it isn't."

"It must be by now, surely!"

Cody sighs as he heads towards the squabble. As flattering as it is to be considered capable enough to run a battalion without continuous oversight from a General, he's really not sure it's worth it. 

"Nope."

"Boil, please!"

"Enough!" Cody barks.

Boil and Wooley snap to attention.

Actually, scrap that. This is much easier to deal with than his General.

"Wooley," he starts, keeping the exhausted sigh out of his voice, "the schedule is right there. If you trade out your turn for extra rations or lose it in sabacc, that's your own fault. Turn the tooka eyes off, or they'll get stuck like that."

Wooley pouts at him.

"You don't have the arms for it anyway." Longshot adds in helpfully from his perch across the way. Cody's just glad they don't get bangcorn as part of their rations, or that's exactly what Longshot would be eating as he watches this unfold.

"ETA on the General?" Cody asks. 

Wooley pouts harder.

"Only a few more minutes, Commander." Boil tells him, bringing up a holo of Waxer sat on the General's bunk, Crys carefully painting stripes of shimmering gold across his face while Trapper fusses with the wig.

 

Waxer emerges dressed in Jedi robes, arms bare. Cody contains his instinctive twitch at sending one of his brothers into battle underdressed.

"You have the chest plate on underneath?" He checks.

Waxer rolls his eyes.

"Of course, Commander Sunshine." 

His impression could use some work.

"And you have the laser sword?"

"Yes, Buir." Waxer chirps happily. Cody wonders if maybe the General isn't so ba- no. The General is worse. So much worse.

Cody is surrounded by eternal torment.

"We leave in three."

 

"Sunshine!" 

Cody turns as the General somersaults over the heads of his brothers and lands in the mud next to him, deflecting a stray blaster bolt as he does. Their actual General. Artery had put a very definite stop to excessive somersaulting in fake Generals in a determined effort to reduce injury.

"General Vos, Sir."

"I'm heartbroken, Commander, I thought you would be happier to see me after so long apart!"

"I'd be happier to see you, Sir, if there weren't currently two of you running around on the battlefield."

"Ooh, who won the lottery to be my absurdly handsome self today?"

"Waxer, Sir."

The General laughs, bright and carefree.

"You know what would really confuse the enemy? If there were multiple copies of me running around."

Cody can see a number of problems with this plan. Not least in sourcing that many laser swords of similar shades. And it would definitely give the game away that more than half the time the 212th was led by a clone in a wig. That their General spent most of his time away and being shadowy, rather than at the head of his battalion. 

Also - 

"There are multiple copies of me running around, Sir, and that doesn't appear to have confused them in the slightest."

 

"So." The General says happily in the after action meeting, clapping his hands together. "That went well."

"Your help was much appreciated, Sir, but If you could give some notice of your arrival that would help us prevent this duplication happening in future."

"I'll make sure to schedule it into my calendar for you, Sunshine."

"I'd appreciate that, Sir."

"While we're on the subject," the General continues, "I'm off again tomorrow."

Cody narrows his eyes. His General had better have scheduled some time for sleeping in there somewhere.

"Do I have to call for Artery, Sir?"

"No need for that, Commander." His General says, slightly panicked and edging towards the door.

Cody lets him go. The threat should be enough.

 

-

 

Cody frowns as he flicks his eyes to the datapad again. Their General is two days late.

"Sir," Crys calls, sticking his head around the door. "I have a lead on the General."

 

Cody stares up at the castle in front of them. 

"You sure this is the right place, Sir?" Wooley asks. "I thought Sith strongholds were supposed to be dark and looming and ominous."

"It's so pretty." Waxer coos. "Commander, can we get one?"

Cody stops admiring the round turrets with colourful glass windows, wrapped in some sort of flowering plant which is wafting a gentle scent at them, and turns an exhausted look on Waxer.

"I'll consider it if you bring me the plans on how you're going to fit it into the Negotiator."

Waxer deflates, but Boil has his head tilted, considering. 

"We could paint the durasteel to look like stonework." He suggests thoughtfully. "And if we can't get plants to grow, then we could paint those in as well. And the windows should be easy enough."

 

The door swings silently open as they reach it, which isn't suspicious at all. Cody exchanges a glance with Boil, to the sound of Wooley humming ominous music in the background, rolls his eyes, and steps inside.

Into a perfectly normal entrance way. It even has a little table with a vase of flowers on. And one of those fancy glittery dangling lights. 

Waxer whistles, low and impressed. 

"Split up?" Boil suggests, indicating the doors leading further into the castle.

Wooley gasps.

"Haven't you ever seen a horrorholo?"

"It's a basic search pattern." Cody says on a sigh. "If you can't look after yourself, tag along with Waxer."

"Nah," Wooley says, a grin in his voice. "Nothing's gonna attack us in a place this nice." He heads to one of the doors. "But if there's a creepy basement dungeon full of Sith, I'm calling for backup."

 

"Oh, wow." Wooley breathes in awe, only just loud enough for the bucket coms to catch. "It's a library. Are those.... actual flimsi books?"

"Found the Kitchen." Boil reports.

"Office." Crys says, "I'll take a look around."

"Fresher." Longshot whines. "Why do I always end up in the poodoo? I'm gonna meet up with Crys."

"Sir." That's Boil again. "I might need a mental eval. I'm seeing an incredibly delicious looking cake." Cody's not entirely sure why this is grounds for a mental eval. He's in a kitchen. "That keeps getting closer."

"You're just hungry vod!" Wooley yells, "Have a ration bar!"

"Sir. The cake is chasing me." There's a short pause. "Very slowly."

He should have no difficulty evading it then.

Waxer is suspiciously quiet.

Cody flicks over to his cam feed, and sighs. 

"Waxer. Leave the tooka alone."

"But Commander, look how fluffy they are!"

There's a startled yelp from Boil.

He's perfectly capable of keeping quiet when necessary, so whatever this is isn't serious.

"Sorry Sir. I just turned and the cake was behind me." He takes a slow breath. "It switched countertops." He murmurs. "How did it switch countertops? It's on a plate! Plates don't move. And they can't jump three feet gaps!"

Cody tunes out Boil's impending mental breakdown, and focuses on the door in front of him.

 

It swings open, by itself again, is this castle sentient? That or haunted. And Cody sees the General. Sprawled out along a fancy sofa, socked feet up on the armrest, crossed at the ankle. He always makes himself at home in the most ridiculous places. There's a tea set on the low table next to him, and in the seat opposite sits a Sith. All golden eyes and ginger hair and relaxed elegance. Pretty. Crys was right, this is a new Sith. Not one they've encountered before. 

"Cody! Light of my life!"

Cody doesn't bother sighing. He's well used to the General's antics by now.

"Sir."

"See Obes, I told you my Commander would find me. He's terrifyingly competent."

The Sith raises an eyebrow.

"So I can see." Golden eyes land on him, head tilted slightly in assessment, a friendly smile that looks natural on his lips. "It's good to meet you, Commander."

"Really Obes, you call yourself a Sith? Sith don't have pleasantries! You should be greeting people with 'May the seeds of darkness sprout in the roots of your despair', or 'may you enjoy the spine-curdling screams of your enemy's terror'."

The Sith arches an eyebrow, looking amused rather than offended. And... fond?

"I had no idea you were quite such an expert on the subject."

"You're hardly the first Sith I've met." Cody's General dismisses with a lazy wave of his hand.

The Sith raises his eyebrows, elegant and assured.

"I'm hardly the first Sith I've met either."

"Yeah," The General concedes after a second. "That's fair."

There's a brief pause, and Cody turns back to the General.

"Are you finished here, Sir?"

The General sighs and flaps a hand at him. 

"Yes, yes. I suppose I really probably should. Let me just find my shoes." He hauls himself off the sofa, and the Sith rolls his eyes before turning to look at Cody.

"Tea, Commander?"

"No thank you, Sir."

"The Commander's a caff man, Obes!" The General calls from the next room.

The Sith fixes him with a pitying look, humour glittering in his eyes. It's a remarkably pretty expression.

"Oh I'm terribly sorry to hear that, my dear. Hmm, lets see if we -" he cuts himself off as a steaming mug slowly emerges from the center of the low table. That is... not how physics works. It looks like it's being pushed up through the table surface, only there's nothing underneath for it to be pushed up from. Cody chalks it up to Sith-osik, and therefore not his department. His department is fetching wayward Generals, corralling brothers, and punching droids. Nowhere in that list does it say strange Force magic.

The Sith picks up the mug as if this is a perfectly normal occurrence, which Cody guesses it probably is for Sith, and peers carefully at the contents.

"Ah, hoth chocolate." He looks up at Cody, a pleased and welcoming smile on his face, and Force but he's pretty. "Take a seat, Commander." He says, encouraging and hopeful, "and try this. It's a particularly dark blend and I'm curious as to what you make of it."

Cody glances briefly towards the door his General had disappeared through. He doesn't move his bucket, but the Sith-magic must give him away because the Sith waves his free hand dismissively. It's a very similar gesture to the one his General often uses. 

"Oh, don't worry about Quin." Cody files away the shortening of his General's first name. "I'm sure you know how long it takes him to get into those boots."

Cody huffs a laugh, and takes a seat on the edge of the sofa his General had been sitting on, lifting off his bucket and resting it on his knees. 

"He has so far proved resistant to the suggestion of installing a zip." Cody reports. 

The Sith laughs, throwing back his head. He has very faint collar scars around his throat.

"It's for the aesthetic, my dear."

Cody hums noncommittally, and the Sith chuckles again.

"Here," he says, leaning forward to pass the mug of hoth chocolate over the table. 

It smells divine. Dark and bitter and thick and sweet. Nearly as good as the posh caff stalls he's walked past. 

When Cody reaches out to take the mug, the Sith's hand lingers. Their fingers overlapping. Deliberate. He looks up, into golden eyes glittering with mischief and dare. The hint of a smirk on his lips is amused and inviting. 

Cody raises an eyebrow. Surely Sith have better things to do than flirt with enemy Commanders. 

The Sith leans back, taking his hand with him, eyes still glittering, smirk soft and satisfied. 

He's expressed his interest, Cody has acknowledged his interest, and that's it. He isn't going to push.

Cody lets his own smile just touch his lips as he stares down into his hoth chocolate. There are definitely worse things than being flirted with by a pretty Sith. 

The hoth chocolate is delicious.

 

"Right." His General says, reappearing in the doorway, boots laced all the way up. "It really was good to see you, Obes." There's a sincerity in his voice that's impossible to miss. 

"You too, Quin. Try not to do anything too stupid, won't you."

"Oh, you know me." His General says with a grin over his shoulder as he strides towards the exit, Cody at his heel.

"Oh and Commander," The Sith calls as they reach the doorway. Cody looks back over his shoulder. "May the inevitable and brutal demise of your enemies give you a great deal of pleasure."

Cody carefully squashes his feral grin.

"May yours depart this existence with minimal effort from yourself, Sir." He returns, composed and polite.

The Sith's grin is delighted.

"Cody?"

His General has turned and is studying him with a raised eyebrow, somewhere between amused, intrigued, and validated.

"It's important to respect the traditions of other cultures, General." Cody tells him, keeping his voice innocently professional as he heads towards the exit 

"Yes, that's exactly what you were doing." The General says, full of mischief, but his face is thoughtful.

Oh force, his General's plotting.

 

They meet up with the rest of Ghost in the hallway. Waxer has tooka hair clinging to his blacks in the gaps between his armour, and Boil is surreptitiously brushing cake crumbs off his chest plate.

 

"Well." The General says once they've all settled into the shuttle. "That was a surprisingly enjoyable kidnapping."

"Leave a review on Sithadvisor?" Crys suggests. "Five stars, extremely pretty. Very polite. Quite flirty. Nicest kidnapping I've ever had?"

"Would get kidnapped by again." Wooley adds, warming to the theme.

"Has an incredibly polite sentient house that tries to force feed you cake?"

"One star. His tooka bit me."

"Four stars, only saw the fresher, but it was clean and the decor was nice."

Cody pauses and looks at Waxer.

"You got bitten?"

Waxer holds up his hand, tiny little puncture marks in his gauntlet.

"They were just playing."

 

-

 

"I have a lead on the General, Sir." 

Cody studies the highly amused smirk on Crys' face. Doesn't rise to the bait.

"Same as last time?" He asks with a sigh as he grabs his helmet.

 

The door swings open, and the Sith glances up at him with a smile.

Cody nods back at him.

"May the letter s be missing from the keyboards of your enemies, Sir."

The Sith rubs a hand over his beard, hiding his mouth, eyes crinkled in a smile. 

"May the tea of your enemies always be lukewarm, Commander."

Cody dips his head and turns to his General, whose legs are dangling over the arm of the sofa.

"Really, Sir," He scolds, "again?"

"I'm afraid I appear to be rather good at this whole kidnapping malarkey." The Sith comments, taking a casual sip of his tea as he leans back in his chair. The smug kriffer.

"You should be," the General mutters, "with the amount of practice you've had."

"It's hardly my fault that most of the people who have kidnapped me have been rather terrible amateurs."

Cody decides he does not like the word 'most' in that sentence.

His General levers himself up out of the chair with a muttered "right, boots."

"Do remember the left boot as well, my dear."

The General flips him off.

Cody takes the General's place. Except sitting properly. He recognises classic batchmate behaviour when he sees it.

"Now," the Sith says, with a soft little smile. "this one is a red tea. It's made from the fruits of a plant, rather than the leaves. About the only commonality it has with your usual teas is that it's steeped in hot water."

The Sith hands him a glass mug, the tea inside is a deep blood red. The steam coming off it somehow ominous.

"This looks more on brand for Sith." Cody comments as he takes it. And then he can smell it. Sweet and fruity and not Sithy at all. 

"That does not smell how it looks." Cody points out, a little disappointed. Looks evil, but is sweet inside. He wonders if there's supposed to be a metaphor there. His lips twitch at the thought.

"Mm. Yes, it does look rather sinister, doesn't it. But I'm afraid it is only fruit, Commander."

It tastes like the fruit flavoured ration bars, but more. More intense, sweeter, deeper.

Golden eyes watch him through the steam from the Sith's own mug, soft and amused.

 

"Come on then Sunshine," His General says, reappearing in his boots, "See you later Obes."

Cody suspects they probably will. He sets his now empty mug down. The fruit tea had been very different from the hoth chocolate, but still absurdly nice. He puts on his most professional face.

"May your enemies always try to push doors that need pulling, Sir."

The Sith smirks at him.

"May your enemies get eternally trapped in a customer service com menu with terrible hold music."

 

-

 

Cody glances at Crys' grin. Grabs his helmet.

 

The door swings open for him and the Sith presses a finger to his lips, tilts his head towards the sofa opposite him. Cody takes a silent step closer, so he can see. His General is asleep, curled up, a blanket thrown over him, and cuddling a cushion to his chest.

Finally. The General is getting some actual karking rest. Cody snaps a holo to send to Artery as proof. Then sits himself down on the other end of the sofa to the Sith.

Who hands him a datapad. Cody glances sideways at him, and his particularly blank expression, then flicks it on. It's full of pictures of his General sleeping. With his mouth open. With drool across his cheek. With a tooka sat on his face. Prime blackmail material. Cody pulls a marker pen out of his belt pocket, the high-vis florescent one, and without looking away from the pad, offers it up. The Sith inhales sharply, and then the Force-magic tugs it out of his fingers.

 

The holos are spectacular.

 

When the General finally wakes up, Cody and the Sith are discussing the calming properties of chamomile tea, and the proper amount of valerian to add to knock someone out without killing them.

The General blinks at them, shakes his head, and goes to find his boots.

 

"May your enemies get a really long hair trapped between their toes in their socks, Sir."

"May the food of your enemies never taste quite as good as it smells, Commander."

 

-

 

Crys shoves his head into Cody's office. Cody grabs his helmet.

 

"Ah, there you are Sunshine." 

The door opens to reveal the General and the Sith, lent forward over the low table, which is covered in datapads and displaying a very familiar holo. "I was just picking Obeses brains about this next engagement."

It looks to Cody very much like his General is showing a Sith the very detailed plans of attack that Cody had drawn up.

"Is that wise, Sir?"

The Sith shoots him an amused look, and gives a haughty sniff, all mock offence. 

"I'll have you know, I'm technically unaffiliated my dear."

"And how much work is 'technically' doing in that sentence, Sir?"

Cody definitely sees the Sith's lips twitch before he raises his hand to cover his smile. 

"Perhaps not as much as it might." He confesses. Then, with the look of someone who's tired of arguing his point, "I was just explaining to Quin that I'm afraid that this is utterly different to battles I've fought before. They were much smaller in scale, for one, and it's impossible to plan effectively without detailed knowledge of the personalities and abilities of the people under your command."

"Obes took over a planet with a handful of malnourished children. When he was still a child." The General tells Cody. It's not very often the General gets angry. Even less often that he decides to let it show past his mask of careless troublemaker. But it's clear he's not angry at the Sith at all. He's angry at whatever had led to him being in that situation. Very angry. Understandably so.

"Quin-"

"And he's led three slave revolts by my count."

"Quin."

Cody interrupts the glaring by taking a step forwards. Both men turn to look at him. Despite how hard he tries to pretend otherwise, Cody's General is far from stupid. And Cody does actually trust him. With some things.

"Alternate view points are valuable." Cody states. "A new perspective can be highly useful." He stares the Sith down. "And I will take whatever advantage I can get to keep my brothers safe."

The Sith's eyes turn serious as he picks up the implied threat in Cody's words.

"Your trust is a heavy thing, Commander. I will not break it."

Cody is very capable of making the Sith regret it if he tries.

"I know the personalities and skillets of my men. What do you need?"

The Sith's ideas are ... unconventional. But Cody can see how some of them might work. 

 

"May the socks of your enemies always be damp, Sir."

"May your enemies always be one credit short for their purchase, Commander."

 

-

 

Cody doesn't wait for Crys.

 

He steps through the door and neatly and precisely clasps his hands behind his back, feet hip-width apart. The Sith glances up at him, but wisely stays quiet.

"Sir. We've had to delay our transit to retrieve you, and General Windu was giving me a look. Next time could you please schedule being kidnapped around our previously arranged engagements?"

Both his General and the Sith wince.

"My apologies, Commander."

"I'll make sure to check my calendar next time, Codes. Feel free to blame everything on me." The General offers, looking mildly guilty. As he should.

"I'm sure General Windu already knows, Sir."

The Sith snickers, and the General grins, bright and trouble. Cody turns to the Sith as his General grabs his boots.

"May the pets of your enemies abandon them for the person who lives next door, Sir."

"May your enemies be unable to get packets of snacks open, Commander."

 

-

 

"Ah hah!"

The ginger Sith with a habit of kidnapping Generals spins over their heads, lands lightly on a rock, lightsaber lit, and unclasps the front of his cloak.

It's all incredibly dramatic.

"Oh no!" His General cries, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead like someone on the front cover of one of Ponds' novels. "A Sith!"

"Cower before me!" The Sith cries, raising his lightsaber.

Cody wants to close his eyes in despair, but unfortunately he needs them open to properly punch this droid in the face.

"Never! You vicious fiend, you awful scallywag!"

Cody ignores the hum and crash of lightsabers as he spins, bringing up a foot to kick the head off another droid.

"You know," the Sith says pensively, a tiny pause in his words filled by the woosh of a saber, "I'm not sure anyone's ever called me a scallywag before. I think that might be a new one."

Cody kicks the legs out from under the next droid, -

"I shall not listen to your lies, you mischievous toerag!"

- stamps on its wrist to snap the limb there, -

"Really, Quin? Mischievous toerag?"

- and snatches up its blaster, ducks, -

"You bounder! You abominable cur!"

- but the droid aiming at him is decapitated by a flash of red, and Cody looks down to see a deactivated saber lying at his feet.

"Now that's really quite rude." The Sith continues, "Young Jedi these days, no manners."

Cody scoops up the saber and tosses it back. He is not getting involved in whatever that is. He has an army of droids to fight.

"I'm older than you, you young whippersnapper!"

He hears the lightsaber reignite with a whoosh, and sighs, deep and heartfelt. This is not what he'd expected a war between Jedi and Sith to be like.

 

-

 

Cody steps through the open door and sets down the bundle of brown fabric he's been carrying.

"Is that... my cloak?"

"You should have kept it, Sunshine." The General says from where he's sitting upside down, legs over the back of the sofa, head dangling by the floor. That is not proper posture. "Trophies of war."

"Seems a little premature, Sir, given that you have, once again, been kidnapped by the Sith it belongs to."

"That is a pity," the Sith muses, eyes glinting with mischief, as they very deliberately scan Cody up and down. "You would have looked good in it."

The General buries his head in his hands with a groan, presses his hands over his ears and screws his eyes shut. The Sith's lips twitch at the dramatics.

"I feel one clone running around the battlefield in robes is more than enough, Sir."

"Well then." The Sith says, eyes glittering with delighted mischief.  "I have to say I look forward to being taken by you in our next engagement, Commander."

Cody raises an eyebrow.

"Do you frequently drop your lightsaber in battle, Sir?"

"It was tactical, Commander."

The Sith blinks innocently at him, the hint of a smile just curling across his lips. Then he darts his gaze to the General. A cushion floats up and taps the General gently but insistently on the head. The General groans, flings the cushion at the Sith, who catches it with a laugh, and stalks off to find his boots.

 

"May your enemies get bitten by lots of tiny itchy insects, Sir."

"May the boots of your enemies be full of holes, Commander."

 

-

 

"Good morning." Cody says.

The giant door swings silently open, and he steps inside. 

"Thank you."

The corridors lead him to the kitchen, where a mug of caff is sitting on the counter. He swipes it on the way past with a smile, patting the countertop in thanks.

This really is an excellent castle.

 

"I knew the house liked you." The Sith says as golden eyes catch on the mug in Cody's hand.

"Your house doesn't like me." The General pouts.

"That's because you were rude to it." The Sith tells him placidly.

Cody turns slowly to face his General, disappointment etched in every line of his face.

"Am I going to have to ask for a new General, Sir?"

The General tries to deploy his best set of tooka eyes. They still have nothing on Waxer's. 

"It might not be to my personal taste," his General admits, "but it's perfect for you, Obes."

The Sith sniffs. 

"It's also a perfect castle for imprisoning kidnapped royal princes, thank you."

The General demonstrates his understanding of rude hand sign, and his boots emerge from the floor next to him. 

"Fine, fine. I can take a hint."

 

"May the pets of your enemies demand a different food brand every week, Sir."

"May all your enemy's datapads refuse to charge, Commander."

 

-

 

Cody's used to the corridors of the castle not always leading to the same place. But this is a room he's never been in before. It's a bedroom.

"Is this a hint?" He asks. He's not at all surprised the castle can tell he's been awake for thirty-nine hours.

The door lock engages with a pointedly loud clunk, and Cody suppresses a chuckle.

"An instruction, then."

He shrugs and toes off his boots. An armour rack appears next to the bed.

"Thank you." The Castle is always very thoughtful.

The bed is very, very soft.

 

"Yes I understand that you thought he needed sleep, but why did you decide to put him in my bed? Surely you have others?"

Cody blinks open his eyes and watches with a smirk as his Sith argues with a sentient building. A sentient building that's just dropped a blanket on his Sith's head.

"Really?" The Sith protests with a splutter, splaying his arms out to emphasise his point, looking like a cadet playing at being a ghost. A pile of pillows land on top of the blanket with soft thumps. "What point are you trying to make here?"

"I think," Cody starts, and watches as the Sith, still under the blanket, spins in surprise to face him. "The point they're trying to make is that you should speak a little more quietly so you don't wake the Commander sleeping in your bed."

The Sith pulls the sheet off himself, and Cody tilts his head, amused, as he studies the absolutely sheepish look on the Sith's face.

"Ah. Yes, that would make sense. My apologies, Commander."

Cody considers apologising for helping himself to the Sith's bed, but decides that he's actually not sorry at all.

"May the sleeves and pockets of your enemies clothes get caught on the handles of every door they pass through, Sir."

"May the spam filter on your enemies holomail stop working, Commander."

 

His General glances sideways at him as they leave.

"It's not me he wants to see, Commander."

As if Cody hasn't worked that out for himself.

"As you say, Sir."

The General looks sad, briefly.

"Let him down gently, won't you."

Cody has no intention of doing any such thing.

His Sith won't put Cody in an awkward position by asking him anything while they're on opposite sides of a war. He thinks he knows his Sith well enough by this point to know that. But if Cody survives the war, afterwards is another matter entirely.

 

-

 

"Commander Cody?" 

His Sith looks genuinely surprised to see him.

"He's not here, is he."

"I'm afraid not."

Cody sighs.

"If he'd just put in his diary which Sith he was scheduled to be kidnapped by, it would save me a lot of trouble."

"Ah, yes, I would imagine so." There's a soft smile and a brief pause. "Would you like a drink before you go?"

Why not.

If his General can't put the relevant details in his calendar, then he deserves to wait.

"Don't tell Quin," his Sith says, conspiratorially, as he offers him a tin. "These are the good biscuits."

 

It turns out Dooku's got him this time. Crys's message reaching him while he's still having tea with his Sith. 

"May I join you, my dear?" His Sith asks. "I'm absolutely sure you'll be able to extract him from whatever mess he's got himself into this time, but it might be easier with an, hmm, inside man, as it were."

Cody's not about to turn down additional help.

From the middle of the low table emerges, not another cup of tea, but a sniper rifle. A slugthrowing sniper rifle. 

"Where in the Galaxy did you get that?" The Sith asks his house.

 

It is considerably easier, breaking into Dooku's stronghold with his Sith's help. Cody just follows at his Sith's heel as he swans straight in, slugthrower over his shoulder. No one even tries to stop them.

 

They pause outside a giant austentatious throne room, which seems to contain both Count Dooku and what is very clearly Chancellor Palpatine in a big cloak with a hood. 

That certainly explains a lot.

"You haven't been replying to my messages, Tyrannus." The Chancellor-in-a-hood scolds.

"My apologies, my Lord. My datapads appear to have stopped charging. There seems to be a fault in the electrics which nobody can track down."

"A large portion of the senate has been afflicted with similar issues. The quality of new technology is abysmally poor it seems. Very well. I shall accept your excuses, for now."

"Thank you, my Lord."

 

Cody exchanges a bemused glance with his Sith, then tilts his head in invitation, and follows him into the hall.

"Ah, grandpadawan," Dooku says, voice full of oiled satisfaction. "Finally joined us I see. And you've bought a gift."

"Of course." Cody's Sith agrees, all easy charm. "The Commander is very pleased to be here." His Sith waves his hand subtly in a gesture Cody's seen the General make before.

"I am very pleased to be here." He recites in a monotone. Really, it's not that different from Kamino.

"Excellent." The Chancellor-in-a-hood says. 

"Let me just take him down to the cells," his Sith offers, "I'll be with you in a minute."

 

"Would it be an issue if I..."

Cody gestures vaguely at the steps up to the walkway that overlooks the hall.

"Not at all, my dear, be my guest."

His Sith hands him the slugthrower. 

Cody nods his thanks and disappears up the steps, settles down to take the shot. 

Two quick cracks and Dooku and Palpatine are both dead. 

His General comes running in through a side door, bruised and bleeding, clutching a pair of stolen blasters, and gapes at the bodies.

"You're a little late, Sir." Cody points out, leaning against the balcony.

"Well, someone didn't have 'massacre the opposition's leadership' or 'assassinate a head of state' in their calendar for today."

"My apologies, Sir. I'll remember to include these things in future."

"As you should, Commander. Besides, a Jedi is never late, they arrive precisely when they need to."

"Just after someone else has done all the work for them?" Cody asks innocently.

Cody's Sith snickers.

 

"Commander." His Sith says, coming to lean next to him on the railing while they watch Cody's General draw back Palpatine's hood and gape in shock. "May our enemies stay far away from the little café I'd like to take you to."

Cody glances at his Sith, who's trying not to smile.

"May our date be blissfully free of politicians, battle droids, and brothers." He agrees.

 

Taungsday 11.30 - 19.00, Date with Sith. 

Recurring meeting. 

Notes:

Holonet roundup: Check out the latest viral video of the Chancellor of the republic trying to push a door clearly marked pull!

Coruscant Times: Time to push - Is the Chancellor capable of leading us in these difficult times?

Republic News: Clone production halted! - Reports of supply shortages reportedly due to cloners stuck on hold! Who will keep us safe from the Separatist threat?

Separatist Inquirer: Who is the mysterious prince in Mos Eisley and why is the Count of Serrenno sending him millions of our credits?

Templenet: Compilation of holos of Master Jinn with his robe sleeves caught on doors.

 

"Why are you squelching?"
"Damp socks, my Lord."
"Would you like me to electrocute your feet and dry them out?"
"I don't think that will be necessary, my Lord."
"Hmm."

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