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Appo's general was on medical leave throughout the entire first month of the war.
This was a matter of some teasing among his fellow clones. Thire, secure in his prestigious assignment to the Coruscant Guard, was particularly amused by it, though his comments were largely of the variety that suggested that no other clone commander would be able to handle the magnitude of the challenge of operating a front-line battalion with a missing-in-action Jedi General. Naturally this was incorrect, as there were many accomplished clones in the ranks capable of excelling in command, and that was certain to be true whether they were with or without their General. Still, Appo appreciated Thire's expression of confidence in his abilities.
As it happened, Appo found that his never-expressed (and, per military requirements, never-existent) anxieties about his fitness for his role slowly began to fade as time and battles went by. He remained capable of rational decision making under the stress of open warfare, with his selections seeming sound - he was able to minimize casualties to his side and maximize harm to the enemy - and even morale, that tricky and invisible measure that responded only to social skills Appo knew he lacked, remained quite high in the 501st. To all appearances and by all objective or subjective measures, Appo was doing well.
Still, as the days ticked onwards, Appo found himself increasingly impatient for the chance to meet his Jedi.
He examined and reexamined what little he knew about his future General with a voracious hunger and curiosity that startled him. It was not in Appo's nature to be dissatisfied with his lot - clones in general were not encouraged to question much of anything, and Appo had always been scored quite highly on obedience metrics - but he found himself growing quite irritated with the sparseness of the information available.
His Jedi was young: that much was clear, based on how recently he had been promoted to the rank of General (or "Knight", as the Jedi termed it).
His Jedi was capable: that could be extrapolated, based on his having lost part of his arm but not his life in a fight with Count Dooku himself on Geonosis.
His Jedi was brave: this could generally be taken as given for any Jedi, but seemed particularly true in this case given rumors of how he had come virtually alone to Geonosis to help rescue his master.
His Jedi was -
Well, after that it all got frustratingly vague.
According to military records, Appo's Jedi was a Human male. He was paler than a clone, taller than a clone (who were themselves above average for their species), thinner than a clone. He was Force-sensitive (obviously). He originated from an Outer Rim planet known as Tatooine, which following some surreptitious additional research appeared to be something between a desert hellhole and a corrupt cesspit located in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
And that was it.
There was nothing about what Appo's Jedi was actually like. Would he be strict? Kind? No-nonsense like General Windu? Charismatic like General Kenobi? Dashing? Thoughtful? Careful? Reckless?
Appo knew nothing, could guess at nothing, and it grated on him. His beloved 501st, so carefully trained and even more carefully preserved in a war that was already too harsh on worthless clone lives, supported him in his curiosity, allowing him to "overhear" their own speculation, the guessing games, the betting rings. They did not mind the occasional indications of displeasure and temper he could not wholly suppress, even though they knew as well as he that it was inappropriate for a clone to express such things. They tolerated in good humor the endless drilling and redrilling he put them through in his determination that they be fully prepared for the moment the much longed-for General Skywalker finally came to collect that which was rightfully his.
The 501st were a Jedi's battalion.
They were fully armed and dangerous and ready. They had been designed for this, decanted for this, trained for this. To be wholly complete they only needed their Jedi.
And then, a month into a war that already felt as though it would last forever, that Jedi finally came.
The notice came in with very little advance time to prepare, but Appo's troops all but ran to organize themselves into formation. They were as excited as he was, all of them buzzing with nerves and anticipation, though of course they would never let it show. It had long ago been made clear that clones were expected to behave like automatons, the more obedient and droid-like the better, and none of them wanted to be labeled as divergent, deficient, or decommissionable. The Jedi were known to be empathetic to some degree, so Appo had always presumed that the request for calm came from that - though Thire had always maintained the provocative position that everyone preferred their canon fodder to be quiet and biddable, not just Jedi.
Why was Appo thinking about Thire, anyway? He had a Jedi to welcome.
His Jedi.
Appo could only hope he was a good one.
As commander, Appo put himself in the front position ahead of his troops, conveniently located near the hanger door. It put him in precisely the right position to be ready to greet his Jedi General immediately upon arrival - and if, by coincidence, it also meant that he would be able to hear him coming and try to get some sense of him in advance, well, that was just good planning. Commander clones were meant to assist their Generals in planning.
All of those strategy and tactic modules Appo had slaved over for days and nights besides paid off: he heard his Jedi before he saw him.
"- please stop worrying, Master. I told you already, I'm ready…yes the hand is fine. Yes, I've been practicing with it. Don't worry. I'm not worried, am I? I'm not worried…"
The doors to the main hanger slid open.
Appo saluted. "General," he said.
Behind him, the entire 501st battalion, in crisp perfect lines, saluted in unision.
"…at all," General Skywalker finished, his voice cracking a little. He hastily turned off his comm, swallowed visibly, and then just…stared.
Appo stared back.
His Jedi was young. He'd known that. His Jedi was capable and brave and human and male and -
Appo's Jedi was young.
His hair was still growing out from having been shorn short, like the padawan he'd still been so recently. It gave him a sort of soft and fuzzy effect, a little like a baby chick, or maybe one of those dandelions they made iconographs of on Coruscant. His skeletal metal hand in no way detracted from this impression, and if anything seemed to increase it.
Appo's Jedi was afraid.
Appo himself was often afraid, or else he would have missed it. But he was, and so he instinctively tracked the signs of nerves: the way his Jedi's eyes flickered over the battalion, the way his (human) fingers twitched, the flatness of his mouth as he struggled to convince himself that this was a challenge he was up to facing.
Appo had the distinct impression that his Jedi would have been more comfortable if they were a battalion of enemy droids he'd need to fight.
Appo's Jedi -
Appo's Jedi smiled.
He smiled, took a step forward, and said, to Appo: "Hi. My name's Anakin Skywalker. What about you?"
Appo's Jedi was brave.
Very brave.
Appo was still staring, but only for a minute.
"CC-1119, sir," he said crisply. "I'm your clone commander."
Officially, that was all Appo was. Officially, that was all any clone trooper was: a number and a rank.
But because Appo was a commander, and because that meant that he'd earned a special privilege with sweat and blood and tears in a way that all the other equally deserving troopers standing quietly behind him had not no matter how much he longed to give it to them - a privilege that came only because the Jedi were supposed to like it - because of that, because he and he alone had been permitted and even encouraged, he dared to add:
"You can call me Appo, General. If you want."
General Skywalker's smile widened into a grin. "Appo," he said, repeating it as if commiting it to memory. "It's nice to meet you."
Appo felt absurdly pleased by that.
It was only logical, only reasonable. His General was no doubt eager to join the war he had been kept away from, and troops were an essential part of that. There was no reason to think the generic pleasantry was meant sincerely (even if it obviously was) nor to think it meant anything about Appo specifically as opposed to his rank in general…
"All right, Appo," General Skywalker said, and laughed a little. "I take it you're the one who's going to introduce me to all of these fine men that I'll be serving with? I can see that it's going to take a long time, so we'd better get started."
Appo's Jedi was -
Appo's Jedi was capable and young and brave and human.
Appo smiled.
Appo's Jedi was the best.
Appo liked rules.
He was aware that this was, to a certain degree, intentional on the part of his creators. He had been genetically modified to be obedient, and years of flash training had reenforced the message that following orders and staying faithful to the regs was the best approach. But even comparing himself to other clones, Appo liked rules. He liked the regs, he liked routine, he liked doing things by the book.
Appo's Jedi…did not.
It was fine.
General Skywalker was the superior officer, after all. He was entitled to make any decision he pleases, whether or not it accorded with rules of any sort. He was free to believe that the orders he had been given were simply an attempt to hold him back from greatness, and to implement his own approach instead.
It was fine.
Appo's job was to support his Jedi and he would do it without complaint.
It was fine.
"Appo," General Skywalker said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, sir," Appo said, wondering why his Jedi was asking when all the monitors in front of him were displaying perfectly acceptable progress. Perhaps he needed an interpretation of the admittedly abrtuse military report system. "The boys are almost ready to set out, so we'll be able to leave in five."
"Not the progress," General Skywalker said. "I can see that we're on track. What's wrong with you?"
"…nothing? I mean, nothing, sir."
"You feel sad," the General clarified. "We Jedi can sense things like that."
Appo hadn't realized Jedi were so sensitive.
"My apologies, sir," he said crisply. "It won't happen again."
"No, no, that's not what I meant!" General Skywalker raised his hands up, then grimaced at his metal hand. It had become second nature for him to use it, but the sight of it still caused him some level of distress. Exactly why, Appo wasn't sure, given that General Skywalker was the sort of person who cheerfully asserted that his astromech droid was his best friend. "I wasn't saying you couldn't feel sad. I just - I wanted to know why."
He smiled crookedly.
"Is it the weather we're about to go into? Hot and humid is nobody's favorite."
"No, sir." Appo hesitated, but General Skywalker had been kinder than he had known was possible. He knew every trooper's name, visited them in medbay, and had not signed a single decommission order during the entire time they'd worked together, even though in that relatively short time there had been plenty of opportunities. There was no reason to think that telling him the truth would have a bad result.
And yet…
"Come on, Appo, it's fine," the General coaxed, sounding not unlike the way he talked to his favorite fighter when she was being repaired after a hard battle. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."
Appo didn't think that was true.
Still - Appo's Jedi was brave, and Appo would be no less. Besides, it was what his Jedi said he wanted, so Appo would obey.
"You're not strapped in for reentry."
General Skywalker blinked owlishly at him.
"You're supposed to use the safety restraints when we do this type of low-atmo maneuver," Appo said. "It's in the regs in at least three places. We even had cadet marching songs about it back on Kamino."
"Hold up," General Skywalker said. "Are you talking about the seatbelt?"
Appo had not heard that particular collequalism utilized for military vehicles before. As far as he was concerned, military ships had safety restraints, with straps and buckles; only civilian vehicles like in-atmo speeders and pleasure cruisers had things like seatbelts. It was reasonable that someone equally familiar with both might conflate the references, though.
"Yes, sir," Appo said. "I suppose I am."
General Skywalker looked completely bewildered.
"The seatbelt?" he said. "You're seriously - are you worried about me?"
Well, yes.
But that obviously wasn't going to be a convincing argument, so Appo tried a different approach.
"It's not about you, sir," Appo tried to explain. "You're a Jedi. If something goes wrong, you'll be fine, I'm sure -"
Mostly sure.
It would admittedly be a little embarrassing to wait so long for his Jedi and then lose him to gravity.
"But it sets a bad model for the men. A single gravity adjustment, an unexpected enemy attack, a sudden swerve…they're not as good at catching themselves. They'll fall."
General Skywalker put a hand to his mouth, then pulled it away as if it was on fire. This time Appo surmised that it was less about the unfamiliar mechanical hand as much as it was how distinctly similar the gesture was to the one General Kenobi generally employed when he was thinking.
"Wouldn't they do it anyway?" he asked. "The men. I mean, you said it yourself, it's in the regs…and a kid's song? Really?"
Appo probably wasn't supposed to talk about that. It didn't really fit in with the professional, efficient soldier image clones were supposed to represent at all time.
"Sometimes flash-training can benefit from reinforcement," Appo said vaguely, then focused back on the core topic: "You know how much the boys look up to you, sir. Most of them will behave, but a few of the more excitable ones might be inspired to emulate your behavior in the hope of…"
He trailed off, unsure of how exactly to phrase it. It wasn't wholly about obtaining popularity or showing off to their peers, though that was part of it. Some of it was just about wanting a certain undefinable essence of the sort that General Skywalker seemed to effortlessly emit - the same which made the men admire him so, made them envy and revere him -
"I understand," the General said, and for some reason he was beaming. "They think I'm wizard - and you're a real 'look before you leap' type. Thanks for the reminder, Appo. I'll strap in now. As part of being a good model for the men, of course."
Appo's Jedi was as good as his word.
"Now," General Skywalker said, leaning forward conspiratorially, irresistably drawing Appo in as well. "About that song…"
The whole damn battalion was loudly singing Three Point Harness Of Mine by the end of the day, and while none of the other commanders could ever be permitted to find out about it, Appo really couldn't find it in himself to make them stop.
Other times, it was Appo that was the problem.
He had always been…vain, perhaps. Arrogant. Cody had observed it about him a few times, in that fondly sarcastic way he had: Appo just couldn't seem to help himself.
He always thought that he was right.
The other command clones had helped him cover it up in training, resulting in his absolutely stellar obedience scores, and they'd warned him sternly to continue to suppress his horrible habit once he was in the field, where they couldn't assist. Appo had done his best, really, but with his General out of action for so long, he'd gotten a little used to having his way.
Worse: with the General being as kind as he was, Appo had gotten used to speaking his mind.
"Sir, I think the revised mission plan is incorrect," he said to the approximate area around General Skywalker's knees, because he knew exactly how badly the General was going to take this but still being unable to stop himself. "I have no doubt it will achieve the objective faster than the one we received from HQ, but the risk of failure is much higher."
General Skywalker went silent.
"I see," he said, voice flat. He was suppressing rage, and not particularly well: Appo's Jedi hated being told he was wrong, and he hated it even more when - "So you agree with Master Obi-Wan's analysis that we're not capable of taking the factory by ourselves?"
When it came from his Master.
"No, sir," Appo said respectfully. "It's well within our abilities, especially with you joining us on the field. But if even the slightest thing goes wrong, we'd lose all of Team Cresh. I understand that that's not an essential part of mission planning -"
"Whoa hold up," the General said, suddenly seeming much more himself again. "Who says that?"
Appo gave his Jedi an odd look. "Military regs, sir. Clone lives are a tertiary consideration at best."
General Skywalker scowled.
"Well, I don't agree," he said. "Team Cresh isn't just a tertiary consideration. That's Betta and Mink and Radar and Leatherbottom -"
It was to the General's credit that he no longer made a face when saying Leatherbottom's name. There were plenty of clones that were still incapable of that.
"I know, sir. But if we attack the factory via a forward formation going through the main valley, they're left completely exposed up on the ridge. A single strike from the ground guns or a ship would take them out…and we can't guarantee we'll be able to intercept them all."
The General's scowl deepened.
"You're saying is that you think the men will be safer if we follow Master's approach, then?"
Appo struggled briefly, but - in for a credit, as they said.
He really couldn't help himself. It was terrible.
"HQ's plan is slightly safer, in the sense that we won't lose a whole squadron, but it provides absolutely no reenforcement for clones bringing up a rear position," he said, hoping desperately that this never made it back to General Kenobi. Appo had no idea how open that General was to criticism, but he knew perfectly well what Cody would have to say about Appo sticking his nose into matters above his grade again, and none of it would be complimentary. "I would expect the loss of at least one clone in any division that encountered enemy resistence, giving up their lives to warn the rest - and of course, sir, it's not that we're not willing to do that. It's what we've been trained for! I wouldn't dare to think otherwise -"
"Except you obviously do," General Skywalker said wryly. "Okay. If I'm wrong and Master's wrong, what do you think we should do?"
In for a credit, Appo reminded himself. You've gotten yourself into this: the only way out is forward.
Luckily for him, that was also his Jedi's favorite way of dealing with problems, too.
"Well, sir," Appo said. "If you take a look at the topography maps, you'll notice that the indigenous population of this planet quite correctly built a dam at this location up here before the Seppies kicked them all out…"
The General looked.
The General listened.
The General all but cackled with glee when the recently reinvigorated river swept all the droids away, all of them saying things like "Uh oh!" and "That's not good!" and crackle-blitz-spark as the stiff water, full of cliff dust, got into their joints and rendered them little more than useless hunks of metal.
"All right," General Kenobi said on the holocall later. "You disobeyed orders again, but I'll give it to you this time, Anakin. That was a good idea."
The General nudged Appo's shoulder.
"I couldn't have done it alone, Master," he said, visibly pleased at the praise.
Inside the safety of his bucket, Appo smiled.
Over General Kenobi's shoulder, Cody - much more familiar with clone body language - turned his own bucket minutely until he was looking straight at Appo, then very deliberately shifted his own body language to convey You did it again didn't you and I'm going to tell everyone else about this, you know.
…oops.
Oh, well. As long as Appo's Jedi thought it was fine, who cared what anyone else thought?
"Appo," General Skywalker said, grabbing Appo by the shoulders. His grip was powerful, his gaze desperate. "Appo. I'm so glad you're here. Can you do something for me?"
"Your daily reports, sir? I've already filed them."
"My -" the General paused. "Oh, thanks. I nearly forgot about those."
It was funny how the General said that as if it was the first time, Appo reflected fondly. His Jedi was not exactly very good at the day-to-day minutia of command. Procurement in particular was something that could make all spirit fly out of his Jedi's eyes - so naturally Appo had taken the initiative to take the unwanted task away from him. The only time he ever mentioned it, or indeed his Jedi's much-loathed daily reports which occasionally required Appo to utilize his Jedi's signature without approval, was when he wanted to make a point of it.
Managing upwards, Appo believed it was called.
He'd read about it in a book about command that his Jedi had received as a gift. General Skywalker hasn't himself had the time, or possibly the inclination, but Appo was pleased to stand ready at hand to provide him with a summary if required.
It probably wouldn't be. Also, Appo had the sneaking suspicion that his Jedi might have bought the "gift" himself on purpose after Appo had expressed some of his anxieties about sufficiently living up to the responsibilities of his rank - though he'd possibly not noticed the aforementioned much appreciated managing upward chapter.
"What can I help you with, General?" Appo asked.
"Right." The General hesitated. "So, there's this - Senator. From the Senate. Who happens to be nearby -"
"Do you want us to kill them, sir?"
"What? No! No, not at all. The -" The General paused. "Wait, is that on the table?"
"Technically the regs have provisions in place allowing us to kill anyone if we get the right order, but no, it's pretty firmly against protocol," Appo said dryly. "Just a poor attempt at humor, sir."
"You make jokes? Since when do - no, wait, we can deal with that later. I'm on a deadline. This Senator is going to be in this system soon, but without any overlap to our travel schedule. So unless something comes up, I don't get to see her. Senator Amidala -"
"Say no more, sir," Appo said, pleased that he could be of help. "I can certainly identify some sort of repairs to keep us here longer so that you can spend time with your wife, sir. More than happy. I'll get on it right away. Anything else?"
The General was staring at Appo.
"Sir…?"
"Appo," the General said. "What was that you called the Senator?"
Appo reviewed his language and did not find any faults. "Your…wife, sir?" he asked hesitantly. "Should I not use that terminology? I know some species prefer 'brood partner' or 'matepod'…"
"Definitely not either of those. But what makes you think that Padme and I are - uh, I mean, that Senator Amidala and I are…married?"
His voice squeaked a little at the end.
Fascinatingly, he seemed genuinely nervous. He hadn't been nervous when diving into a sea of enemy droids with virtually no backup, nor piloting though conditions that were so red for danger that they were practically purple.
"The only planets you've ever spent any time on for anything other than a mission have been Tatooine, Coruscant, and, briefly, Naboo, with the latter being in connection to your medical recovery and rehabilitation," Appo said. "I looked up available records in each of them to try to get a better sense of what you like to do in your downtime."
"My downtime," the General echoed. "My downtime?"
"I admit the assumption that your downtime activities were likely to be captured by public safety records was perhaps a little ungenerous, sir, but I was able to determine that you'd encountered legal action in all three planets: podracing and parts smuggling on Tatooine, building climbing violations and droid mod contests on Coruscant, and a marriage on Naboo. From this I determined that you like to spend your free time on piloting, building tech, climbing on things, and Senator Amidala, and I've sought to adjust our operational schedule when possible to maximize each of those." Appo paused. "Should I not have done that, sir?"
His Jedi had covered his face.
"Only you, Appo," he said. "Only you. Have you told anyone about it?"
"Certainly not. Why would I share information on you, General? Especially information it took quite a great deal of effort to obtain."
"Only you," the General said again. "Keep it up, Appo…and I think you might as well start calling me Anakin, don't you think?"
Appo shot his Jedi a suspicious look. "That's against protocol, sir."
"Oh come on," General Skywalker said teasingly. "Looking at police records is okay but calling me by name isn't?"
"I'm bound by military regs. They don't say anything about not slicing into police records, but there's a great deal about hierarchy and appropriate terms of address."
His General pouted. "Cody calls me Anakin."
"Cody," Appo said, "is a -"
He stopped himself just in time.
Well, maybe not fast enough, judging by the way General Skywalker burst out laughing.
"I'll put that down as a work in progress," he said cheerfully. "Anyway, Appo, if you don't mind continuing to keep that a secret, I would appreciate it. But also, yes, if there's anything we can do…"
"I'll make it happen," Appo said.
"I know you will," General Skywalker said. His gaze was particularly intense. "I know. I trust you."
Appo was honored.
"Tell me something," Appo's Jedi said. "Anything. I'd even accept another session from your book about proper filing systems."
Appo was not writing a book.
He just had very strong opinions on the subject.
"Please. We're trapped floating in dead space for another - " He paused.
"Four hours at best, thirteen more likely."
Appo's Jedi made a noise of mild despair.
Sometimes Appo could really tell that Anakin (and wasn't that a strange thought by itself) was very young. No matter that Appo was technically younger: he at least aged clone style, and had the experience of a lifetime flashed into his head. Natborns had no such advantages.
"Appo. I can't even move here. At least talk to me."
"Very well, sir," Appo said, then immediately blanked on any subject he had ever wanted to talk about, ever. Including his views on filing. Flash training was more helpful for combat than casual conversation. "What do you define as trust?"
Appo regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.
General - Anakin's thoughtful silence only made him feel worse. But Appo knew from experience that trying to deny it would only make it worse, identifying it was something he wanted to hide and therefore something that had to be shared at once; better to hope that his general sensed Appo's embarrassment and decided to drop it off his own free will. It happened sometimes.
…sometimes.
"Trust," Anakin eventually repeated, and from his tone Appo knew that this was not one of those times, as he might've guessed. "How do I define trust. That's an interesting question."
"Just something to pass the time, sir. If you prefer, we can discuss -" Other topics existed. Appo was sure of it. "- speeder modifications."
"They're usually called mods, and your interest in piloting is purely utilitarian. No, I like your first topic. Trust." Anakin hummed. "I guess…someone believing in me. Someone who listens to what I say and doesn't doubt me. Why? What do you think it is?"
Appo didn't want to say.
"Appo?"
"Someone who asks me first," he said.
Anakin paused again. "Is this about the mission?"
Yes, it was about the mission. Obviously it was about the mission.
"You said you trusted me," Appo said. His voice sounded hurt, which was wrong. He had no right to be hurt. His Jedi's trust was a gift, a privilege, not an entitlement. He should be content with what little he'd been given and not expect more. "You said you trusted me, and then you didn't listen."
"Appo…"
"You didn't even ask."
"Appo…"
"I know it's an inappropriate expectation, sir. I'm well aware that there's no reason for you to listen to a clone. I know I don't have the Force or anything like that -"
"You don't need to be a Jedi to have an opinion, Appo, you know that."
"There's no point in having an opinion if it's going to be ignored," Appo said. "If your trust in me only extended to scheduling and private affairs, sir, you should have specified. I would have moderated my behavior accordingly."
Appo had been able to do that, once, he thought bitterly. Yes, he had always been vain, always thought himself to be right, but once he had been content in keeping that opinion locked up inside his head. The other commanders had helped him. He had survived. He had tolerated. He had endured.
And then his Jedi had been kind to him.
His Jedi had seen him as a person. His Jedi had listened to his thoughts and followed his advice. His Jedi had encouraged him to speak. His Jedi had said he trusted him.
His General hadn't asked. Hadn't listened whe Appo tried to speak anyway. And now they were floating in dead space, surrounded by the remnants of the forward attack squad, and the only reason the rest of the battalion was safe was because of luck and implausible Jedi powers.
Once that had been good enough for Appo.
Once.
"Do you want me to tell you that you were right? Is that it?" Anakin asked. "Because you were, obviously. I should have listened to you instead of doing my own thing. Is that what you want me to say?"
"No, sir."
"Then what?"
"I don't want you to say anything," Appo said. "I want you to trust me enough to actually rely on me. And not just for when there's something convenient I can do for you. I want…"
He struggled with it.
He didn't know what he wanted, that was the problem. He wanted too much, or the wrong things. He'd scored so high on his obedience markers but it had all been a lie, and exposure to kindness had revealed the truth to any who would look for it.
Assuming anyone ever bothered to look at a clone.
The way Anakin had.
"I would follow you anywhere, sir," Appo said. "I would do anything you asked of me and not think twice. I would do it before you even asked. I'm happy with that. But I wish sometimes that you would follow me, too."
Appo didn't even know what he meant by that.
His Jedi was silent for a long moment.
"You know," he said. "The first time I met Padme, she asked me if I was a slave. I told her that I was a person. And when I did, it was the most important thing in the world to me."
Appo frowned, not understanding the relevance.
"I'm just saying…I know how you feel. I know, and I'll ask," Anakin said. His voice was solemn, his expression reflected in the glass of their fighter's window serious. "I'll ask or your opinion, and I'll listen. I promise."
"…thank you, sir."
There was silence again. But comfortable, this time.
"But also if you did want to talk about speeder mods…"
"Filing first, sir."
"How about appropriate classifications for different speeder alternations as ranked by destructive power?"
Appo considered this.
"Rank it overall utility, sir," he finally said, "and you've got a deal."
Appo's Jedi laughed.
"I'm not sure I can really opine on an area outside of my expertise," Appo tried.
Anakin gave him a pointed look. "Unlike all those other times?"
It had been worth a shot.
"But I really don't know anything about romantic relationships. I spent my -"
"Whole life in a vat, flash training, or at war, yes, I know, and don't think I don't have some pretty strong feelings about that," Anakin interrupted. "But I don't have anyone else to ask. R2 here knows even less about women than you do."
Appo nodded respectfully at his Jedi's beloved astrodroid. He had the greatest respect possible for R2, so he wasn't sure he agreed. Besides…
"Humans have minimal sexual dimorphism, sir," he said. "The externalities are largely driven by different fat distribution and hormonally driven distinctions in resource prioritization."
Anakin looked blank.
"…whether someone is a woman is not necessarily relevant to the analysis of humanoid behavior."
Socially learned behavior is highly significant, R2 beeped.
"Certainly in formal situations, but under pressure -"
Routine is the greatest predictor of action under stress!
"Even if you're right, cultural expectations differ sufficiently across planets that ascribing behavior to gender is simply implausible -"
"Not that this isn't fascinating," Anakin interrupted, "but can we get back to my issue?"
Oh, right.
Must we? R2 beeped forlornly.
"You keep that up and Appo's going to get promoted to best friend," Anakin informed his droid. Appo suppressed a smile (and relief that R2D2 had said what he'd been thinking first). "Listen up, both of you. Padme told me…"
He hesitated.
"She's...she's with child."
Appo blinked. "All right," he said. "Where?"
Anakin gave him a look. "Where?"
"Yes? She's with a child, you said…?"
"No, no." The General laughed. "Not yet. She's going to have a baby."
"Oh," Appo said, still not sure he understood. "Any baby in specific or is she just in the market…?"
She's pregnant, you bipedal moron.
"Oh!" Appo exclaimed. "She's growing her own?!"
Anakin had his head in his hands as he laughed. "Yeah, Appo," he said fondly. "She's growing her own. And mine."
His face twitched. "At least, I hope it's mine."
"I don't think she has either time or interest to look for another donor template," Appo pointed out. "Even if she wasn't married or in love with you, I've seen her work schedule."
Me too. No chance.
Anakin didn't look wholly convinced, which was unusual: ever since he had started asking for their counsel, he typically listened with open ears to anything Appo or R2 said, much less something they agreed on.
"It seems that way," he allowed. "But what about someone she already knows? Someone like...I don't know, Master Obi-Wan?"
Ridiculous.
Appo agreed with R2's assessment. At times it was really quite clear that Anakin's primary socialization on the subject of romance came from watching low quality holoromances.
"It doesn't seem likely," he said as circumspectly as possible, "but I can put together an analysis of the possibility and come up with some ways for you to try to test your wife's sexual fidelity, sir."
Anakin made a face.
"No," he said. "No, thanks. When you put it like that it sounds creepy. Padme isn't like that, and anyway you're right; she's far too busy. She barely has time to see me…not to mention Master Obi-Wan is always out on assignment, so she sees him even less than me! I don't know what's gotten into me. It just sounded much more reasonable earlier."
That was probably because Anakin had just had another of his little chats with the Chancellor, Appo thought disapprovingly. He knew it was inappropriate for him to disapprove of anything his superior officer did - least of all anything done by his most superior officer, as the GAR line of command ran straight up to the Chancellor.
And yet: Appo always did think he knew better.
Terrible habit. And his Jedi's encouragement had only made him so much worse. According to Cody, Appo was practically a free thinker these days.
(Thire hadn't said anything. But he hadn't said anything about anything for a long while, too focused on serving the Senate and the Chancellor - and perhaps that was another reason Appo disliked his ultimate leader, however selfish of him it might be.)
"Anyway," Anakin said. "Anyway, she told me, and I'm happy. I am. It'll be wonderful."
He didn't sound totally convinced. Appo couldn't blame him for the cold feet, though: tubies - well, babies - were a complete unknown. Anakin would probably have preferred to face a nest of horned ice spiders again than deal with something delicate that depended in him under circumstances when he didn't know how to support them.
A little like the clones, actually. They were of an age, in development terms, and Appo's Jedi certainly felt himself one of their brothers, but at the same time he took a certain degree of responsibility for them, greater than what a clone might typically feel.
It was a little like Anakin's relationship with his Master, actually: a little bit brothers, a little bit more. Perhaps it would be helpful if Appo made the comparison? That way his Jedi would realize that he had plenty of relevant experience to draw upon, both as the subject of that quasi-paternal affection and the distributor of it.
Appo could make him a presentation about it.
Yes, that sounded good. He liked making presentations, and his Jedi liked that format of receiving information - he found the image-filled slides much more engaging, even funnier, than the dry text of a report. He had once said that Appo's highly idiosyncratic selection of accompanying images made the information a lot easier to retain in both short and long term - "can't scrub it out of my brain even if I wanted to" had been the specific phrasing, in fact.
"But…" Appo's Jedi took a deep breath in, then released it. He leaned forward with a serious expression, suggesting that this was the heart of the subject he had sought to consult them on. "I've been having these - dreams."
Appo straightened at once.
His Jedi had prophetic dreams, or so he believed - no matter what his Master said. Failure to listen to them in the past had caused him to fail to rescue his mother in time. He had confided in Appo and R2 alike that he had vowed not to disregard them in the future.
"It's…it's Padme. She's in pain. In labor."
That seemed…normal? Appo was given to understand that that pain was one of the major disadvantages of the do-it-yourself approach.
"Not just pain. She…she dies." Anakin looked up at them, his eyes full of pain of his own, haunted already by a loss that had yet to happen. "If we don't change something, Padme's going to die in childbirth."
Appo nodded sharply. "Understood, sir," he said, and he did. He understood exactly how monumentally important the information his Jedi had just shared was, and how equally titanic his responsibilities now were. His Jedi was counting on him. "I'll get on it at once."
His Jedi blinked.
"…you will?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, sir."
"You believe me, then?"
"Certainly."
"Master Obi-Wan wouldn't."
"You're my Jedi, not him," Appo pointed out. "You believe it, so I do, too. Naturally we must take action at once to prevent it - unless you disagree?"
"No, no, I'm with you," Anakin said quickly, though he looked a little flustered. In a good way - he was smiling a little - but definitely as if he had expected something different. Appo didn't know why: he'd always sought to serve his Jedi to the best of his ability. "But…"
"Sir?"
"Nothing bad! But it sounds like you - I mean. You sound like you have a plan in mind? Already?"
"Of course," Appo said, a little puzzled. "That's my job, sir. As your clone commander, I'm supposed to -"
"Supplement my strategic and tactical decision-making in the field, yes, I know."
More like take over them.
"You're not that great at following orders either," Appo informed R2.
"I trust Appo's instincts," Anakin said, and seemed somehow to grow even more settled within himself as he said the words. Said them, and believed them, and there was a reason Appo had the finest Jedi of them all. "I trust Appo. All right. We're going to change things. We're going to save Padme."
He took a deep breath in, then let it out.
"All right, Appo. Tell me what to do."
"You? Nothing just now." Appo pulled himself over to a nearby terminal and started pulling up data files. "R2, I need you to contact C3PO. He'll know what medical care provider she's currently planning on using, and we'll be able to find a better one."
"…medical provider?"
Appo gave his Jedi an odd look. "You said she was going to die in childbirth? That's a medical procedure. If we ensure that she's calm, unbothered, and in the hands of the best medical professionals available, the chances of a death in childbirth are quite low."
His Jedi was staring at him.
"Do you know if she's set on doing it without intervention?" Appo asked, skimming the basic medical file. Their onboard information supply on childbearing was very poor, just the absolute bare minimum that any medical ship had: they should fill up the next time they were next to a data archive. "According to the literature, a prescheduled surgical removal is highly recommended for reducing the chance of something going wrong in high risk pregnancies…"
Anakin made a very strange noise.
Oh, right. Appo had nearly forgotten: his Jedi liked to be involved in everything, even when it wasn't strictly speaking necessary.
"You'll have a very important task as well, sir," he said encouragingly. "During the last month in particular, you'll have to make sure nothing happens that might distress the Senator. Under the circumstances, that might be quite difficult, especially in terms of getting you sufficient leave time without admitting the reason why - but I'm sure we can make it work. Don't you think?"
And that was when Appo's Jedi started laughing.
Night was coming to Coruscant. The sun was setting, the buildings starting to generate their own lights, and somewhere on the horizon there was a storm coming.
Appo's comm crackled to life.
"Appo," his Jedi said, the poor connection making his voice sound distorted. "I need you."
"I'm with you, sir, always," Appo said. "Just tell me what to do."
Appo's Jedi's laugh sounded like a sob.
"I think," he said, and Appo had never heard him sound like that, "that I want to ask you something."