Chapter Text
"Activating hyperspeed now, Commander," the pilot flying the Rho-class transport shuttle reported to his superior officer, CC-5052, nicknamed Bly, who sat in the copilot seat above, watching the white-spotted stars in the black abyss of space turn to the swirling white and blue of hyperspace.
"We'll be at the targeted destination in approximately thirteen hundred hours," the pilot, Scuff, added. "As per your instructions, commlinks have been restricted to accept only transmissions within the perimeter of range you specified. Offworld transmissions will only be allowed once you or the General gives the order. Assuming, of course, that General Secura is still alive."
That last remark made the Commander pause briefly before he responded, but his tone was sharper than usual. "She's alive, Scuff. You and I both know she is." Another pause followed, this one feeling as if it could cut through durasteel. "I'll be down below with the rest of the team. Keep the ship heading toward our target destination without delay. Am I understood?"
"Sir, yes sir," Scuff acknowledged, this time without commenting on the General they were going to rescue. The pilot knew, like the rest of the team, how the Commander felt about the Twi'lek Jedi who'd commanded them since the First Battle of Geonosis.
Without another word, Bly left the rear copilot seat, returning to the shuttle's barracks where he was met by his main squad from the 327th Star Corps, which he commanded as first officer after General Aayla Secura.
Six of the eight troops weren't wearing their helmets, revealing the different hairstyles and facial markings they'd given themselves to distinguish themselves from the millions of other clone brothers who made up the Grand Army of the Republic. The two who wore helmets differentiated themselves with unique paint jobs. One possessed the Republic military symbol in the yellow of the 327th Star Corps, while the other had two claw-resembling handprints on opposite sides of the helmet's face.
After removing his helmet in the barracks, Bly revealed his unique features: a shaved head and matching yellow strips on both cheeks.
Before the Commander could speak, all his men stood and saluted their high-ranking officer. Bly nodded to his brothers. "At ease, boys."
The troops did as told but remained standing, waiting for Bly's usual pre-battle speech, which many other clone officers had grown accustomed to.
"Alright, boys, from this moment on, we're entering uncharted territory. Our destination is a Separatist base deep within a dangerous forest. Our priority is rescuing General Aayla Secura; our secondary is securing the intel she was sent to retrieve. We will first head to the source of the signal from the General's last transmission before going dark. Afterwards, we'll head to the base, which will also be our extraction point after the mission is complete. Time is limited. So, we must be in and out as quickly as possible. Anyone who falls behind is left behind. Am I understood?"
"Sir, yes sir!" the troops said in unison, none showing even the slightest hint of hesitation or fear. Unsurprising, given that the Kaminoans who'd created the clone army had engineered them to carry out orders without question, regardless of the risk to their lives. The squad members were especially motivated, determined to rescue their General, who meant a great deal to them, especially to the Commander, who held the General in a special place in his heart.
"Jumping out of hyperspace in thirteen hundred hours. Once we arrive, we'll be on the move. So prepare yourselves in advance. Check all your weapons. Review the intel we have on the mission location. Eat up and rest. We need to be at our peak for this mission," Bly continued. "Dismissed."
The clones then went about the barracks, doing what their Commander had instructed. All except for one. One clone remained facing the Commander, arms crossed and a stern expression on his face, the only one without a unique haircut or even any facial markings. Simply put, he looked like the standard clone the Kaminoans sought to create. His behaviour matched this: he focused on the mission at hand and refused to disobey orders, no matter what; though he did question his superiors when he felt that they weren't thinking clearly.
"Lieutenant Galle," Bly acknowledged his clone brother.
"Permission to speak freely, Commander?" Galle asked.
"Granted," Bly nodded.
"Sir, with all due respect, General Secura was sent to this enemy base to gather key intelligence on the potential location of a high-ranking Separatist leader who has been backing the enemy military since the start of the war. Shouldn't our primary focus be on retrieving this intelligence rather than rescuing the general?"
Bly wasn't surprised by Galle's question. Instead of starting a full-on battle with his Lieutenant, the Commander offered a swift counterargument, hoping to end the conversation before it grew heated. "The rescue order came from Grand Master Yoda himself. His authority exceeds my own. As Commander of this mission, I intend to carry out my orders. And I expect the same from you, Lieutenant. Am I understood?"
Galle didn't respond, so Bly asked the Lieutenant again. "Am… I… understood?"
Reluctantly, Galle replied. "Sir, yes sir." He said, then rudely shoved past his Commander and headed toward the shuttle's refresher. But after a few steps, he stopped and spoke again. "The Jedi forbid attachments because they risk clouding their judgment. You should consider following that sort of rule, sir."
As the Lieutenant walked away, Bly couldn't help but wonder if his brother was right. This mission felt far more personal than any other he'd been on. Part of him noticed his emotions boiling whenever someone said anything he felt might put Aayla's safety at risk.
The Commander had been close with the General since the war began. When they first met aboard that gunship, Aayla gave him one of the most important things any clone could ever want.
Three years earlier…
The battle inside the Geonosian arena would be remembered as the Jedi Blood Bath, for the nearly two hundred Jedi who had died in the arena in a desperate attempt to save two of their own and a Republic senator. Casualties would've been far higher if Grand Master Yoda hadn't arrived with the Republic's newly formed clone army.
Aayla Secura was one of the many Jedi in the arena. Like the rest, she'd fought with all her might just to survive. Like the other Jedi survivors, the female Twi'lek was grateful for Master Yoda's arrival and the clone soldiers who rode in the gunships that brought the Grand Master to the arena, set up a defensive perimeter, and extracted the survivors.
Aayla even received further assistance in the form of a hand offered by one of the clones, which she graciously accepted before being helped onto one of the gunships. Upon entering the aircraft, Aayla saw that the clone who'd assisted her stood out from the other solid white armoured clones by simple yet distinctive yellow strips on both his shoulder plates and helmet.
"Thank you… What is your name?" she asked.
"CC-5052," the clone politely replied.
His response puzzled the Jedi. "No. I asked for your name, not your designation," Aayla corrected. But this appeared to confuse the clone who called himself CC-5052.
"CC-5052 is my name, ma'am. The Kaminoans gave me the number at birth using a calculated algorithm that was used to designate all clones. The two Cs were awarded after I completed officer training and was promoted to Commander."
Aayla looked at CC-5052, still trying to comprehend the idea of a living person being called by a number. "But what are you called other than your number? Don't you have an actual name? Has anyone at any point called you by anything else besides your number at least once?"
The Commander thought carefully before revealing something he'd never told anyone, not even his brothers in arms. "Once during my younger years as a cadet, one of the Mandalorians in charge of my elite training referred to me as Bly after I cheered upon passing a field test. Never knew what he meant by that."
Aayla smiled. "It means someone happy. Like how you are making me feel right now, something I haven't felt since before I arrived on this miserable sandpit. And as a reward for the feeling you've given me, I shall officially dub you Commander Bly, of the Grand Army of the Republic."
The Commander appeared frozen as his mind struggled to grasp what had just happened. But after a few brief moments, the newly named Bly regained himself and gave the Jedi a proud salute. "Thank you, ma'am. I shall carry my new name with honour for as long as I still breathe."
The Jedi returned the salute. "You may call me Aayla. Aayla Secura at your service."