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Chapter Text

3 ABY, Ukk System, Outer Rim

Han Solo knew the mission was kriffed the moment they dropped out of hyperspace and all three Jedi uttered their kiss-of-death catchphrase, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Cal and Leia had delivered the pronouncement in the Falcon’s cockpit while Luke chimed in over the comm. Han sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands as Chewie groaned in the copilot seat.

“Great. Should we move on to the next stop?” Han turned to the pair seated behind him.

“Not sure.” Cal Kestis, Jedi Knight and ginger menace to Han’s peace of mind, peered down at the sensor screen as his droid, BD-1, whistled atop the console. Han wasn’t a fan of droids—it was a miracle that he hadn’t shoved Threepio out of an airlock yet—but BD was kind of cute, like a sassy little bird. “Can’t tell what’s wrong yet.”

Leia’s lips pressed in a thin line and Han winced. He hated that expression, because it was usually followed by a lecture on duty or responsibility, two subjects that Han had shitty history with. Hey, he was doing the right thing now, shouldn’t that count for something?

“Do a quick flyover,” Leia said. “Enough for a sensor sweep. We’ll give the data to Alliance Intelligence when we get back and let them investigate further.”

“Aye, aye, your Worship.” Han turned the Falcon toward the planet and smirked, sensing Leia’s scowl focused on the back of his head like the dot of a targeting laser.

BD whistled an admonishment for everyone to play nice, and Luke chuckled over the comm.

“You get all that, kid?” Han asked.

“Copy that, Han. Wedge and I will fly escort while you scan. We were kind of hoping we’d get to land on this one, though. Stretch our legs.”

“Sorry, boys,” Han said. “The next stop on the list is only a few hours away.”

“Says the guy with access to a bunk and a ’fresher,” Wedge drawled.

“Hey, the next planet is supposed to have beaches,” Han said. “That’s nice, right?”

“Trust me, Solo,” Wedge said, “You’ll never win over a Tatooine flyboy with promises of sand.”

Han snickered as Chewie and Cal laughed. “Oh, yeah?” Han asked. “How’d you do it then?”

“A pair of power couplings and a bottle of Corellian brandy.”

Even Leia laughed at Luke’s embarrassed squawk. “My brother, the hopeless romantic,” she teased. 

“Hey, sand is preferable to the stop after that,” Han said. “It’s some ice cube called Hoth. Luke’s a delicate desert flower who won’t last five minutes on that glacier.”

Chewie elbowed Han and barked for everyone to focus as the ship broke atmo. Normally a scout team took care of this kind of mission. For over two years the Alliance had been in search of a new home base. Oh, they had dozens of small bases scattered throughout the Outer and Mid Rim, but nothing like the grand, centralized setup they’d had at Yavin IV. Han swore he’d never hauled so much legit cargo on the Falcon as he had when they’d evacuated that place.

They’d scored this scouting task after a nasty encounter with bounty hunters when their last mission on Ord Mantell left Luke and Han in bacta tanks for two days. The six of them made an unstoppable team for the Alliance, but when they traveled together they were a bounty hunter’s dream score.

Wedge was worth the least amount—just the standard reward for a known rebel plus the one for deserters from the Imperial Navy. Han and Chewie had bounties on their heads before joining the rebellion and had only added to that total since. Leia’s bounties came from a combination of her position with the Alliance, being a high-profile Alderaanian citizen and former Imperial senator, and a Jedi apprentice. As a Jedi Knight, Cal had been collecting bounties since the day the Empire was formed, and by all rights he ought to have the highest total, but no. Luke Skywalker, the bright-eyed farmboy Han met in a Mos Eisley cantina, had a kriffing one million credit price on his head.

“Looks like one big swamp,” Cal said.

“And that’s different from jungle?” Luke asked.

“Probably?” Wedge was a spacer like Han, who’d spent most of his life on stations and ships instead of living dirtside.

“Swamps have more water,” Leia said.

“That’s good, right?” Luke said.

Han snorted—Luke had even more water hangups than a ship rat. “Not for building. Ground’s too unstable. If we landed here you two would do more sinking than stretching.”

BD-1 beeped a complaint and Cal nodded. “Agreed, buddy. It looks like there’s drier land in the northern hemisphere.”

“Let’s check it out, Chewie,” Han said. The Wookiee barked an agreement and added a comment about how humidity curled his hair.

“Mine, too.” Leia patted Chewie’s shoulder. “That’s why I keep it braided. I could plait yours, if you’d like.”

Han expected an offended growl, but instead his copilot tilted his head and pondered the princess’s offer. The moment was broken when the long-range sensors shrieked a warning.

“An imperial ship just jumped into the system.” Cal cursed. “It’s the Executor.”

The temperature seemed to plummet in the cockpit as the casual mood evaporated—that was Vader’s ship. The armored asshole had held a grudge against them since the Falcon covered Luke when he fired the shot that destroyed the Death Star.

“Artoo, we need new jump coordinates,” Luke said, and his astromech whistled in reply.

“Luke, Wedge, I’ve got point,” Han said. “We’re gonna make a run for it.”

“Head for the nebula,” Wedge said. “It’ll screw with their sensors.”

“Copy that.” Han grimaced as he kicked the engine into overdrive, shunted everything he could to increase their speed, and sent the Falcon screaming out of the atmosphere. The nebula would screw with their sensors, too, but things should be fine as long as everyone stayed within visual range.

“Two incoming TIE squadrons,” Cal announced. “One fighter and one interceptor.”

“I’ll take the eyeballs,” Wedge joked. “Luke’s got the squints.”

“Negative, kids,” Han said. “Stick close. Pour everything into your engines. This is gonna be close.”

Kriffing Jedi and their bad feelings. The three ships zoomed towards the nebula and Han hoped their luck would hold out.

The first of the TIE Interceptors nipped at their tails as the ships dove into the nebula.

“Cal, Leia, get to the gun turrets,” Han ordered.

Leia flinched beside Cal—not because she was scared, Cal was proud of his student’s unshakable calm—but because when Solo used her given name they all knew that the osik had hit the fan.

“Beedee, stay here,” Cal said. The droid whistled an anxious affirmative and Cal patted his little buddy’s head.

Cal jogged after Leia as they hurried toward the Falcon’s guns. She climbed up to the dorsal turret and he slid down the ladder to the belly gun. Vader’s all-too-familiar presence oozed malevolence as the Executor lumbered through the system behind them, and phantom pain lanced through Cal’s side at the memory of the Sith Lord’s lightsaber cleaving his flesh.

Cal strapped in and pulled his headset on. “Line them up, Captain.”

“You got it, Red.”

The Jedi breathed in, reached for the Force, and released his anxiety and fear on the exhale. At the edge of his thoughts Cal felt Luke and Leia through their training bonds. Further out, something nudged at his mind. Not Vader—whatever it was, it was filled with Light and strong, like a beacon in the Force.

 “Cal?” Luke asked over the comm. “What is that?”

“It feels…warm?” Leia said.

“We don’t have time for space wizard shit.” Solo barked a Huttese curse as the ship rocked.

“We do if it saves our skins,” Cal replied. “Everyone turn to point-three-five. There should be a power signature on the sensors, head straight for it.”

“Since when are you in charge?” Solo asked.

“Age before beauty, Captain.” Cal grinned—Solo had called Cal “kid” a few times until he’d pointed out that he was older than Han.

“Well when you put it that way, Red. Chewie, punch it.”

The trio of ships looped and charged toward the new heading. Cal and Leia finished off the last of the Interceptors just before they reached the energy source, and everything around them suddenly stopped as they were enveloped by a sea of Light.

Silence. Serenity. Peace enveloped Cal, the sensation stronger than he had felt in years. Not since he’d been a youngling at the Temple learning to meditate in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Vergeance, whispered through his thoughts. Nexus—like the Force nexus beneath the Temple, but this energy ached, filled with loss and sorrow. So much pain…

Memories flashed, each moment a glimpse like surfing channels on the Holonet.

“Execute Order 66.”

Commander Ferro turns to Master Tapal, blaster raised—

Chewbacca and Chieftain Tarful watch in shock as General Yoda leaps away from danger and cuts down the clone troopers who had been his trusted allies moments before—

Cal sobs in agony in the escape pod as his training bond with his Master is wrenched from his mind. The bonds with his crèchemates snap like broken strings on a hallikset. It feels like the Force is screaming—

A small Han Solo shakes and shrinks back from the pirate who murdered his parents. “It’s like this, kid. You work, you live. You piss me off, I sell you to the Hutts—”

Chewbacca and his family howl in mourning as Stormtroopers round them up at blaster-point and clamp slave collars around their necks—

A small Leia Organa, imprisoned in the Fortress Inquisitorius, strapped to the torture apparatus that had broken so many Jedi. The Third Sister looks on—

A small Luke Skywalker shakes with terror as the Third Sister cuts down his aunt and uncle before advancing toward his hiding place—

A teenage Wedge Antilles is conscripted by the Imperial Navy. He receives notice that his family was killed in Rebel bombing, but he knows it’s a lie. Propaganda. Soon after, Wedge defects with the aid of an undercover Rebel agent—

Trilla, her eyes locked with Cal’s, as the shadow of the Sith Lord looms behind her and raises a crimson blade. “Avenge us.”

On and on. So much suffering. Cal watches the Mantis explode, his found family murdered by the Empire during a failed mission for the Alliance. Leia watches the destruction of Alderaan. Luke stands in the hangar bay of the Death Star and watches as his mentor is cut down by a monster in black armor. Wedge listens over the comm as Red Squadron is picked apart until only he and Luke remain, each agonized death hits him like a blade in the gut—

The Force surges like a star gone nova.

“Avenge us.”

The ships shot out of the nebula and Cal gasped for breath as though surfacing from deep water. Shaking his head, he squinted down at the targeting display as alarms shrieked a chorus of new warnings. What should have been empty space was now filled with two clashing navies—a badly damaged Venator-class Star Destroyer was being pummeled by a heavy dreadnought as squadrons of fighters clashed between them. Cal knew that the rebellion relied on old, decommissioned ships, but none of the ships were broadcasting Alliance or Imperial IDs.

“Pull up!” Luke’s X-wing zoomed past Cal’s turret. “S-foils in attack position.”

“Who the kriff are we attacking?” Solo asked, and Chewbacca howled in agreement.

Cal centered himself and then jolted in his chair as he sensed something he hadn’t in years—Jedi. There was a Jedi Master aboard the Venator. He reached into the Force and marveled at the thousands of lights that dotted it. The Force was so light—he hadn’t felt so much light since…

“Attack the droid fighters,” Cal ordered. “Beedee, send Luke and Wedge IFF targeting data from the Falcon’s computer.”

He swallowed the urge to comment on the fact that the ship’s targeting computer was karking ancient enough that it contained Clone Wars era data, and instead thanked their good fortune that it did. Somehow they entered the nebula being chased by the Galactic Empire, and left it to find themselves in the middle of a battle between the Grand Army of the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

Cal grinned. “I have an idea.”

Jedi High General Obi-Wan Kenobi frowned at the holo display and stroked his beard. They were losing—badly, due to a combination of damage remaining from their previous battle and the fact that Count Dooku had gotten the drop on them. But the Resolute was on its way, so the Negotiator just had to hold out long enough for help to arrive.

“Sir, three ships just emerged from the nebula. A light freighter and two one-man fighters of an unidentified make.”

Obi-Wan reached toward the newcomers to assess the threat in the Force, and he gasped as power punched through him. A vision overtook him in a tidal wave of disjointed voices and blurred images.

The Temple, silent as a mausoleum, the halls littered with the corpses of Jedi too young or too ancient to fight in the war. Younglings cut down by blaster fire and a lightsaber blade—

“You were my brother, Anakin!”

Volcanic heat, the stench of burning flesh, a pair of rage-filled, Sith-yellow eyes. “I hate you!”

“I will take the girl.”

“Then my friend is truly dead.”

Obi-Wan held his hand out to the tow-headed child cowering among the rocks. “It’s all right, Luke. You’re safe. I’m going to look after you now.”

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can ever imagine.”

“Ben!”

“Sir!”

Obi-Wan groaned as his skull throbbed with a splitting headache, and he blinked as Cody’s face swam into view. “I’m fine.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re not fine. You collapsed.”

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan turned and confirmed that he was, indeed, sprawled on the deck of the Negotiator’s bridge. “It’s nothing. Just a small vision. You were saying?”

Cody helped him to his feet and Obi-Wan winced and dusted himself off, fairly certain that he heard the bridge crew muttering something about “karking Jetii osik.”

“Three unidentified ships flew out of the nebula,” Cody reminded.

“Civilians? Separatists?”

“Neither, sir. They’re attacking the Seppie ships, and it looks like they’re making a run at the Malevolence.”

“They’re what?”

Han cursed at Cal over the comm—that was nothing new, because Cal’s plans were usually too creative (or crazy) for Han’s tastes. Luke sighed and muted the channel.

“Artoo, get us a private channel with Cal.”

“Luke?”

“Explain your plan.” Luke jerked his ship to the side and blasted a Vulture droid that had gotten too close to Wedge.

“I used to break these ships on Bracca,” Cal said. “I know all their weak spots—things we never even figured out during the war. If we get under the dreadnaught’s shields there’s a critical sensor node with shit for armor on their belly. Hit it and it’ll cause a cascade failure that blinds the whole ship. I’ll have Beedee send the specs to Artoo.”

“Got it,” Luke said. Artoo chirped as the data came through and he shared it with Wedge’s astromech.

“Beedee’s trying to get a line open to the clone pilots, see if we can work together, but it’s not likely unless we can prove we’re friendly. I don’t remember any of the Jedi command codes and Master Cordova wasn’t part of the GAR, so Beedee never learned any.”

“Right. Keep us updated. Wedge?”

“Copy that. I’ve got your back.”

Luke grinned. “Never doubted that.”

The sensor cluster popped on the targeting computer and Luke changed course. “Easier than the Death Star run, that’s for sure.”

“Please don’t curse us,” Wedge replied. “I want to live long enough to find out why the hell we’re suddenly in the middle of the kriffing Clone Wars.”

“Because I take you to all the best places, handsome.” Luke grinned as Wedge’s laugh chuffed through the comm.

The two X-wings burned a path through the droid forces as they zipped toward the dreadnought. Luke unmuted Han when the Falcon sailed past them.

“I’m going to wring your Jedi necks,” Han ranted. “I barely want to fight our war. I didn’t sign up for this one.”

“You were probably too young,” Cal said. “Though I was twelve when I became a commander in the GAR.”

“Luke and I weren’t born yet,” Leia pointed out.

“I was,” Wedge said. “Depending on what year it is. And, you know, that this isn’t some giant hallucination.”

Chewie barked at them to cut the chatter and focus.

The sensor cluster exploded and Wedge whooped. “Know any other weak spots, Cal?”

“Sure do. Let’s knock out their comms next.”

Chapter Text

3 BBY, Dantooine, Rebel Base

“They loved you, you know.”

Cal looked up from the broken shield generator he’d been tinkering with and met Captain Rex’s gaze—he silently congratulated himself for not flinching. Rex was the first freed clone Cal had encountered since the war, and no matter how that made him feel, they both fought for the rebellion.

“The vodë, I mean.” Rex eased down onto the cargo crate across from Cal. Beedee looked from Cal to the clone and back again, his tiny droid feet tapping an anxious rhythm atop the metal workbench. “They—we all loved the command’ikë.”

Little Commanders. The clones’ slang for the padawans who joined the war effort and received their training in the field. Cal and his friends had thought it a grand adventure, but the truth was that they were child soldiers. Jedi younglings who learned how to wage war instead of how to keep the peace. Most of them had been killed in the first wave of the Purge, and only Cal, Caleb (no, Kanan), and Ahsoka were left, though she continued to swear that she wasn’t a Jedi.

The war had only been a short period of his life, but it was strange how many things stuck with him—the Mando’a that the older clones taught him, the combat sign language, even their battle strategies. He’d wanted to hate them during those five years he’d spent as a scrapper on Bracca—to blame the clones for killing his master and slaughtering the Jedi. But hate wasn’t the Jedi way, and giving in to that anger would be one more victory for the Sith.

“I know.” Cal shrugged and looked down at the scorched circuit board in his hands. “I loved them too. They were my ori’vodë. We were all Palpatine’s victims.”

Rex muttered a string of curses in Mando’a, and this time Cal flinched slightly. The clones’ advanced aging had taken a toll on Rex and he no longer looked like the clones Cal remembered, but his voice… That voice still haunted Cal’s nightmares.

Cal dropped the circuit board and sat back, stretching stiff muscles. He’d lost track of time, lulled into a moving meditation by the familiar work.

“They’re not gone, they’re just—”

“—marching far ahead,” Rex finished. “Yeah.”

“Drink?” Cal nodded in the direction of the base’s makeshift lounge.

“Kark, yes.”

That night they shared stories of the brothers they’d lost, raised glasses of rotgut moonshine and toasted the fallen of the 501st legion and the 13th battalion.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.

20 BBY, GAR Open Circle Fleet flagship Negotiator

Cal Kestis stood at the bottom of the Millennium Falcon’s boarding ramp and stared at the ghosts of his past. Not that he’d ever been aboard the Negotiator, but every Venator-class destroyer had the same layout, the same smells—ozone, engine grease, carbon scoring—and the same sounds—the metallic grind of mechanics making repairs, the chatter of clone voices. The 212th’s armor was painted with sunset orange markings, a little too close to the 13th battalion’s mustard yellow chevrons for his comfort. The memory of blaring klaxons, blaster fire, and explosions sent a shiver down Cal’s spine, and he released his fear and anxiety into the Force and focused.

He’d have to run herd on Luke, because Luke was easily starstruck and this development was every war story Luke had heard from General Kenobi, Fulcrum, and Captain Rex come to life. Leia, at least, could be trusted to keep calm. As if on cue she padded down the ramp to stand beside him and she surveyed the busy landing bay. He sent reassurance through their training bond—to her, the sea of white armor must feel like being surrounded by stormtroopers.

To Cal, the clones were ticking bombs, and one word would detonate them. They needed to be careful to prevent Sidious from giving the order early. Count Dooku had to have felt the disturbance in the Force caused by their arrival, though it was doubtful that “time travel” was the first conclusion he would jump to as the source. Three Jedi appearing on the battlefield wouldn’t seem strange to Dooku—though their numbers were in sharp decline, there were thousands of Jedi left.

“The Force feels different here.” Leia’s brow furrowed. “It’s not as…”

“Dark.” Cal nodded in understanding. “It’s closing in. It gets worse every day of the war. The Jedi were the only thing holding the darkness at bay.”

Until they were gone, she sent, and he nodded.

Solo and Chewbacca clomped down the ramp and nudged them out of the way. Han secured the ship and folded his arms. “Lovebirds still fussing over their ships?”

Chewie chortled his amusement as Leia rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “Should I go get them?”

Cal shook his head and reached out to Luke. Leave the droids to keep watch and get your shebsë over here.

Artoo wants to come with, Luke replied.

No, we need him here. I don’t want anyone touching our tech.

Cal felt Luke’s sigh through the bond. Fine, but you get to deal with him sulking later.

Deal. BD would protect him if R2 tried to zap Cal with his arc welder again.

Luke and Wedge were easy to spot—two orange flightsuits in a sea of white armor—as they approached the Falcon. Leia immediately tried to fix Luke’s helmet hair upon his arrival.

“Quit it!” Luke ducked behind Wedge to escape his sister’s attention.

“You need a haircut,” Leia said.

“Wedge likes my hair.”

“It’s true, I do.” Wedge nodded mock-solemnly.

Cal sighed and exchanged an exasperated look with Chewbacca, who shrugged as if to say, “they’re your cubs, you deal with it.” It was far from the first time they’d shared that sentiment. Cal and Chewie were kindred spirits.

The clones working nearest the ship suddenly straightened and snapped to attention as their commanding officer approached. Cal bowed in greeting—his Jedi manners were rusty.

“Marshall Commander Cody,” Cal said. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Luke perk up, recognizing the name.

“Thank you for your assistance with the battle, Knight…?”

“It would be best if we spoke somewhere more secure.” Cal added a subtle “not here” sign. Thanks to Rex and the other surviving clones, GAR sign language had made a comeback and was used throughout the Alliance.

“Somewhere more secure with a ’fresher,” Luke added with a cheeky grin. “We’ve been stuck in our fighters for almost ten hours.”

“Noted. This way, please.”

Somewhere secure with a private refresher ended up being the general’s ready room. Cal was flooded with memories of being summoned to Master Tapal’s ready room aboard the Albedo Brave, and he nearly missed Commander Cody speaking.

“General Kenobi will meet with you soon.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Cal said. “It will be simplest to confirm our identities with a scanner that can analyze DNA.”

“I will see that one is provided.”

Cal bowed, and the commander left. Han opened his mouth to speak and Cal shook his head. Eyes and ears, he signed.

Han nodded. How many?

Six. Cal knew exactly where they were, too, thanks to his time as a scrapper. He turned to Luke and Wedge. “The ’fresher’s behind that door.”

“Age before beauty?” Wedge joked—he was two years older than Luke.

“I think you’re gorgeous, old man.” Luke grinned. “Go ahead.”

“Sit. We’ll meditate while we wait,” Cal said, and Luke groaned. Like Cal, Luke did best with moving meditation—they both focused more easily when up to their elbows in engine parts, but that wasn’t possible at the moment. Unless they tore apart the general’s data terminal, which…no. Just, no.

Cal sat and folded his legs, and BD hopped down from his shoulder. The droid pattered over to Chewbacca and peered up at him like a tooka looking for a lap to settle in. The Wookiee chortled and lifted the droid up to cling to his bandolier’s shoulder like he did with Cal’s harness. Solo slumped into one of the chairs in front of the desk and appeared immediately asleep.

Leia gracefully settled across from Cal as Luke flopped beside her with a dramatic sigh. She immediately shoved him over.

“Hey!”

“You stink,” she informed her twin. “Move.”

“Children, behave,” Cal admonished. “Focus.”

“How do you want to handle this?” Cal asked Leia. He was her teacher in Force-related matters, but she outranked him as one of the leaders of the Alliance.

“We do everything we can to save the Jedi and stop the Emperor,” she replied. “We can’t tell them about Palpatine. Maybe General Kenobi for now, but no one else. Not yet.”

“Agreed,” Cal said. “I’ll tell General Kenobi in private and see how he wants to proceed.”

“We’re going to tell them about the slave chips, right?” Luke asked.

“Right,” Cal said. “That’s the simplest place to start. We can get their medics working on the 212th and the 501st.”

“I can show them how to remove the chips,” Luke said. “I used to sit with Aunt Beru when she’d remove the chips for clones on the Freedom Trail. I know how to locate them, and how to adapt scanners to detect them.”

“Good.” Cal sighed. “We need to gather as much evidence on Palpatine as we can. We can’t kill a sitting chancellor without reason.”

“He should stand trial,” Leia said.

“Not with how corrupt this government is. Plus we can’t risk him escaping.”

“Can we kill him?” Luke asked. “Ben said the emperor killed half the high council when they confronted him. If they weren’t strong enough then, can they do it now?”

“Now we have an advantage,” Cal said. “The trick will be ensuring that he doesn’t find out who we are and why we’re here. Keep your shields locked tight.”

Luke snorted. “That’s SOP.”

“The Force is with us,” Leia said.

Cal prayed that she was right—this was their chance to save thousands of Jedi and millions of clones. They couldn’t kark this up.

“How are our guests faring?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin looked up from his datapad.

“Whoever they are, they’re well trained.” Anakin shrugged. “They haven’t said a single thing to hint at their identities. The only thing I can say for sure is that three of them are Jedi, but…”

“Yes?”

“These two are my age.” Anakin tilted the screen and gestured toward the blond pilot and the brunette with her hair plaited in intricate Alderaanian braids. “They should’ve been studying at the Temple at the same time as me, but I don’t know them.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “They seem familiar.”

They were an intriguing group. The two fighter pilots wore bright orange flightsuits bearing symbols that Obi-Wan didn’t recognize but were reminiscent of the Jedi blade and wings. The young woman wore nondescript civilian clothing—a simple jacket, tunic, and pants in shades of gray. It was difficult to determine a Wookiee’s exact age, but this one’s fur lacked the silver streaks of an elder. The brunet human asleep in front of the desk appeared to be a civilian to the casual observer, but Obi-Wan recognized the yellow piping down the side of his trousers as a Corellian Bloodstripe—a mark of military honor.

The knight was something of an enigma. If not for the lightsaber and his Force presence, one might have taken him for a repair technician—his red hair was cropped short enough not to snag while crawling through maintenance tubes, his synth-leather boots were well worn, and his beige, multi-pocketed coverall was patched and stained. He wore a curious shoulder holster that appeared to have been modified to support the man’s droid. The only marks of military service were the blue and white plastoid vambrace on his right forearm and the scars that crossed the man’s face—the horizontal slashes across his nose, cheek and throat were likely blaster burns.

“The redhead looks like you,” Anakin said. “Long-lost brother?”

“Perhaps. The only thing I know about my birth family is that I’m from Stewjon.” He smirked. “But don’t fret, dear one. You’ll always be my favorite brother.”

Anakin blushed and cleared his throat. “Thanks, old man.”

“I believe the master is most likely a Shadow. It would explain why he asked for a DNA scanner. It’s the most expedient and secure way to prove his identity if he’s been undercover for some time. As for the other two…” Obi-Wan trailed off with a frown. “The woman is likely his padawan, and the young man may be in the Explorer Corps, considering his skill as a pilot. You wouldn’t have met him if he aged out to the service corps.”

“Good point. Do you want me with you when you meet them?”

“No, you and Cody keep watch for now. I don’t sense any danger, but something is certainly off about this group. Best to be cautious.”

Anakin nodded, and Cody handed the DNA scanner to Obi-Wan.

He paused outside the ready room door and reached out in the Force. Left to their own devices for nearly an hour, the three Jedi meditated nearly the entire time. The other two humans and the Wookiee seemed to be asleep, and it reminded Obi-Wan of his troops’ ability to fall asleep anywhere between battles. Curious.

Obi-Wan entered and the three Jedi rose from their meditation.

“Master Kenobi.” The redhead stepped forward with a proper Temple-trained bow. The young woman executed a perfect bow worthy of a royal court, and the blond pilot stared at him, wide-eyed, until the redhead elbowed him and prompted a quick bow.

“Hello there. I’m afraid you have me at a loss.”

The Wookiee tilted his head. “<He’s younger than I thought he’d be, considering.>”

Obi-Wan frowned—he was fluent in Shyriiwook but he wondered if he had misheard that.

The young blond shrugged at the Wookiee. “Twenty years in the desert.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My apologies,” the knight said. “We’ve had a very long day. You may as well ask General Skywalker to join us.”

Obi-Wan nodded and summoned Anakin through his bond with his former padawan. Anakin entered, followed by Commander Cody.

The knight eyed them with a thoughtful, almost anxious expression. “Is Captain Rex aboard?”

“Yes, he flew over with me,” Anakin said.

“Might as well ask him to join us, too, before we continue.”

Obi-Wan nodded his assent. Anakin made the call and then turned to peer at the droid perched on the Wookiee’s shoulder.

“I’ve never seen a BD unit before. Personal assistant droid, right?”

“He was,” the red headed master said. “He’s got quite a few specialized modifications.”

The droid whistled and the blond pilot chuckled. “You can make friends with him, Beedee. He likes droids.”

Anakin grinned. “Long as they’re not battle droids, yeah.” The little droid climbed down and approached Anakin, who knelt for a better look. “You’re not an assassin droid in disguise, are you?”

BD-1 hopped in back and trilled in surprise, and the group laughed.

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s small but fierce.” The redhead grinned. “Beedee’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

Rex arrived and Anakin returned to his spot at Obi-Wan’s side. The redhead peered at Rex for a long moment and then gestured to the device in Obi-Wan’s hand. “We can proceed with scanning if you’ll allow us to secure the room, first.”

“I can assure you, this room is perfectly secure.”

He shook his head. Security breach, he signed. Not safe.

The Force seemed to chime in agreement, and Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped. Here? How could the Separatists have managed such a thing?

The redhead extended his hand and took the scanner. “Beedee, I need you to catch the results before they’re reported back to the Temple.”

“Is the Temple compromised?” Obi-Wan asked, alarmed.

“Yes.”

The three unidentified Jedi each used the scanner. The redhead held it until the results displayed, and then he nodded. “Start the jammer, Beedee.” The little droid whistled in reply and then beeped to confirm that the room was secure.

He moved to return the scanner but paused when the young woman touched his arm.

“Wait.” She studied Obi-Wan and his companions and then folded her hands. “The fate of both the Republic and the Jedi Order rests on the safety of the information you’re about to receive. I cannot stress this enough. Tell no one until we clear them. Not your friends or batchmates, not the Jedi council, not the Senate, and absolutely not the Chancellor. Not even your wife, General Skywalker.”

“My—what?” Anakin yelped the question.

Commander Cody muttered, “Kark it.”

“I’ll collect my winnings later,” Captain Rex replied in kind.

Obi-Wan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose—he knew the pair were romantically involved. It was one of the worst-kept secrets of the GAR. “Anakin. You married and didn’t invite me to the ceremony? I’m hurt.”

“You knew?”

“Dear one, everyone knows you’re with Padmé. You have all the subtlety of a stampeding bantha.” He patted his padawan’s shoulder and nodded at the young woman. “Your point has been made.”

“Good.” She smiled. “This is Knight Cal Kestis. In the chairs are Captain Han Solo and his co-pilot, Chewbacca.” She gestured to the dark-haired pilot. “Lieutenant Wedge Antilles, Commander Luke Skywalker, and my name is Leia Organa.”

Kestis handed the scanner to a startled Anakin. “Congratulations, General. You have twins.”

Anakin was so distracted by hearing the name Skywalker attributed to the Jedi pilot that he almost didn’t hear the knight. He frowned down at the scanner in his hands and his mind struggled to process what he was seeing. Three data entries. First, a DNA match with Padawan Cal Kestis, Commander in the GAR, serving under his Master Jaro Tapal on the Albedo Brave, 12 years old. The second and third entries showed no matches with a known Jedi, but positive paternity matches with Knight Anakin Skywalker. His jaw dropped and he stared at the Jedi as Obi-Wan pulled the scanner out of his numb fingers.

Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut and stole the air from his lungs—echoes of himself and Padmé, even of his mother, in the faces of the two Jedi.

“Osik,” Rex murmured. “Who had money on kids?”

“Waxer, I think,” Cody replied.

“How…” Obi-Wan trailed off. “There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake. Just time travel.” Kestis smiled dryly. “All things are possible with the Force. I think we flew through a Cosmic Force nexus, and it brought us over twenty years into our past.”

Both clones muttered, “Karking Force osik.”

“I know, right?” Captain Solo snickered. “I take one simple job to transport some crazy old wizard named Kenobi and this Skywalker kid and nothing’s gone right since.”

“Old?” Obi-Wan sounded affronted.

“Twenty years in the desert,” Luke said. “It’s hard on the complexion.”

“Desert? What desert?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Tatooine,” Luke said.

“You’re from Tatooine?” Anakin’s stomach dropped as the names clicked. Ekkreth’s children—Lukka, the sandstorm, and Leia, the great Krayt dragon. “Not Naboo? Or the Temple?” He turned to Leia. “And why are you an Organa? I don’t understand.”

“We were separated at birth, to protect us from the—from Darth Sidious,” Leia said. “I was adopted by Bail and Breha Organa. Luke was brought to Tatooine to live with his aunt and uncle.”

“Your step-brother, Owen Lars,” Luke said. “And his wife, Beru.”

“You didn’t…” A creeping sense of horror settled into his bones. “Where was Padmé? Where was I?”

“There’s something you need to see,” Kestis said. “Beedee, show them the recall signal warning.”

The droid projected an image of Obi-Wan, his face lined with grief and exhaustion.

"This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret...but be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always."

“Guess that means we didn’t win the war,” Rex said.

“No.” Cal grimaced. “Sidious did.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan reached for the Force, desperate to find comfort and confirmation that this was all some sort of elaborate hoax, but instead every word the strangers spoke rang with terrible truth. He swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. The Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen… The damning words—spoken in his own karking voice—echoed in his ears. They lost the war. They lost everything.

“You died in the first wave of the Purge,” Luke said to Anakin. “Defending the Temple, I think. Ben didn’t like to talk about it. He—you,” he turned to Obi-Wan, “were on Utapau when it happened. You made your way back to the Temple to record and send the warning. I think that’s where you found this.”

Luke unhooked the lightsaber at his belt and held it out, and Anakin made a choked noise. Anakin unhooked his saber with a shaking hand and held it next to Luke’s—the design was an identical match, but the time traveler’s hilt showed more signs of wear and age.

“Ben kept it for me.” Luke returned the saber to his belt. “He gave it to me when he took me in. An Inquisitor killed my aunt and uncle.”

“Inquisitor?” Obi-Wan asked.

“The Inquisitors were Fallen Jedi who served the Empire,” Cal explained. “They hunted survivors and Force sensitives.”

“I didn’t inherit a lightsaber,” Leia said. “I had to settle for half of Cal’s.” She patted the hilt at her waist.

“You’re welcome, Padawan,” Cal deadpanned in reply. “You were lucky that the crystal likes you.”

“You couldn’t—” Anakin coughed and swallowed hard. “You couldn’t go to Ilum for your own crystal?”

Cal shook his head. “The Empire stripped it of kyber. Jedha, too, before they destroyed it. I was probably the last Jedi to find a crystal on Ilum after the Purge.”

“The Purge?” Obi-Wan asked.

“The Jedi were declared traitors,” Cal said. “Accused of attempting a coup against the chancellor. The bulk of the Order was executed in the first wave, and those who survived were hunted down by Darth Vader and his Inquisitors. There are perhaps a dozen Jedi left in the galaxy in our time.”

“Probably less,” Leia said softly. “Luke and I were fortunate. General Kenobi helped our mother escape from Coruscant, but she was injured and went into early labor. We lived, but she didn’t. If she had given birth on Coruscant, we would have been killed, or taken. The Empire takes Force-sensitive children and they’re never seen again.”

Anakin made a wounded noise and suddenly reached out and grabbed Luke in a tight hug. Luke squeaked in surprise and then buried his face against his father’s chest. Leia eyed them for a moment before allowing herself to be drawn into the embrace.

Their father…Obi-Wan’s traumatized mind latched on to that thought and he drew himself up. “Anakin Skywalker! What were you thinking? Getting Padmé pregnant in the middle of a war!”

Anakin’s jaw dropped. “I—but we—Master, we’re married.”

“Padmé is in constant danger.” Obi-Wan folded his arms and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “Your own padawan saved her from an assassination attempt. That you are married is irrelevant to the fact that I know you are well aware of how to properly use contraceptives. I gave you the Temple-approved sex education lecture.”

“Three times.” Luke stepped back and both Jedi Generals turned to gape at him.

“How the kriff do you know that?” Anakin asked, clearly horrified.

Luke held up a hand and launched into a perfect mimic of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s crisp Coruscanti accent. “Luke Skywalker! I gave your father the Temple-approved sex education lecture three times and yet here you stand to prove just how well he did not listen. Force help me, if you get a girl into trouble I shall take this lightsaber and—”

“Wait,” Wedge interrupted. “You? A girl?”

Luke shrugged. “I tried to tell him.”

Obi-Wan straightened, offended on his future counterpart’s behalf. “There are plenty of dualsex near-human and humanoid species who identify as male and are capable of—”

“Master, please stop.” Anakin hid his face in his hands, and Leia patted his shoulder.

Luke turned. “Wedge, is there something you want to tell me?”

“Nope.” The other pilot raised his hands in surrender. “I’m one-hundred percent standard human. The Empire checked when I was conscripted.”

Knight Kestis sighed and shrugged as he leveled a sympathetic look at Obi-Wan. “Just think, you only have one Skywalker to deal with. I have two of them. Every gray hair on my head is named Luke or Leia.”

“You poor dear,” Obi-Wan replied. “I understand completely. You must need a strong drink.”

“It’s a constant struggle,” Cal said. “Right, Chewie?”

The Wookiee nodded. “<I had to build a still in the Falcon’s engine room.>”

“Hey,” Luke exclaimed, appearing offended.

Captain Solo rose. “All right, everyone simmer down. Now, you’re all going to want to find a room with more chairs to talk space wizard politics. Me and Chewie don’t have a pod in that race, so I vote that he and I go back to the Falcon to start on repairs. Wedge, you’re welcome to join us. We can always use an extra set of hands.”

“Sure thing, Han,” Wedge said, and then turned to Luke. “Unless you want me to stay.”

“Take me with you,” Luke said. “I don’t want to talk space wizard politics, either.”

Leia leaned over and cuffed her brother on the arm. “I’m not doing your homework, laser brain. You’re staying.”

“Do we need to be involved in the space wizard politics discussion?” Rex asked. “Because this has been…a lot.”

“Yes,” Cody said. “We do.”

“Yeah, you really do,” Knight Kestis said grimly. “Who’s your chief medical officer?”

“Helix,” Luke said.

“Kid, how can you possibly know that?” Solo asked.

“Ten years in the desert,” Luke said. “Just me, Ben, and a ton of war stories. And stories of all the kriffed up things my father did when he was a padawan.”

“Hey!” Anakin scowled.

“Like the time you disassembled Master Windu’s speeder bike and re-assembled it in his quarters,” Luke said.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about that.” Anakin grinned. 

“Clearly I did not.” Obi-Wan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. Kark, he was definitely getting a migraine.

“We need to agree on aliases,” Knight Kestis said. “Beedee will build identities for us in the Temple database, and the three of us need different surnames.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “ExplorCorps, most likely. It would explain your sudden appearance from the nebula if you were mapping it. The others can be civilian contractors.”

“Agreed.” Kestis nodded and scratched the back of his head.

Luke smirked and Obi-Wan braced at the familiar expression—he truly was Anakin’s child.

“How about Luke Antilles and Leia Solo?” Luke suggested.

“Corps members are allowed to marry,” Obi-Wan mused.

“Wait, there are Jedi who are allowed to marry? Since when?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan fixed his former padawan with an unamused expression, and in his periphery he saw Luke wince and slink out of the line of fire, pulling his partner with him.

“Padawan, did you pay any attention during your history lessons?”

“Umm…yes?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Assuming that you were ill during that particular module on Jedi history, yes, members of the Jedi Service Corps retained that right when the Ruusan Reformation changed the Order’s structure, because corps members do not take the Knight vows. And the Knight vows place loyalty to the Order above any other oaths.”

Rex murmured to his vod. “Are you taking notes?”

“Shut up, di’kut,” Cody replied.

“So, if you don’t take the Knight vows, we’re golden,” Lieutenant Antilles said. He grinned at Luke until he noticed Anakin scowling at both him and Captain Solo. “Oh no. We’re getting the shovel talk from the Hero with No Fear, aren’t we?”

“That’s not fair,” Solo said. “I already got that talk from Luke, Cal, Chewie, General Dodonna, Mon Mothma—” He ticked names off on his fingers. “Even Artoo threatened to suck the oxygen out of the Falcon’s cockpit if I kriffed up.”

“Artoo?” Anakin echoed.

“Luke’s astromech.” Solo waved a dismissive hand. “That droid is a menace.”

“R2-D2?” Anakin asked.

“Yes,” Luke said. “He’s with my ship. Why?”

“He’s my astromech, too. He flew with me during the Trade Federation’s blockade of Naboo.” Anakin grinned. “He’s with Ahsoka and the 104th right now. We’re rendezvousing with them in 36 hours to pick her up.” 

“Oh no,” Solo groaned. “Now there’s two of him? Don’t tell me there are two Goldenrods, too?”

Anakin’s brow furrowed. “Threepio?”

Solo winced. “Now I need a drink. He’s on the Falcon. Kept driving us crazy so we powered him down.”

“And on that note, Captain Solo, Chewbacca, and Lieutenant Antilles are free to return to your ship,” Obi-Wan said. “Please let the deck officer know if you need any parts or assistance from our repair technicians.”

“Thanks, General.” Captain Solo nodded and his Wookiee companion added his appreciation as well.

“The rest of you will accompany us to the main conference room,” Obi-Wan said. “Knight Kestis, did you have a preference for your surname?”

“Not really.”

“Perhaps I could suggest Naasade, then?” Obi-Wan smiled dryly.

“Like your cover name when you were on Mandalore?” Luke asked. Obi-Wan blinked at him in surprise, and then he glimpsed a vision of his future self’s heartache at caring for a golden-haired child who looked so much like his father, and telling him stories of a Jedi Order that the boy would never know.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard but managed a smile. “Indeed.”

“Cal Naasade?” He snorted. “Sure, works for me. I’ve been Nobody for years.”

“Very well. Commander Cody, if you would be so kind as to ask Helix to join us?”

“Of course, General.”

“Maybe we should have some food brought up,” Anakin said. “I’m starving.”

“You’ll want to wait on that,” Cal said. “Drinks maybe, but this information is guaranteed to make you lose your appetite.”

“The clones have slave chips,” General Skywalker’s son, Luke, announced once everyone was settled. “All of them. Tubies, cadets, every batch except for maybe the nulls and Alphas. We were never able to be sure about them.”

“How?” General Kenobi asked.

“Why?” General Skywalker asked at the same time. 

The vodë in attendance were stunned silent. Cody’s stomach twisted as a wave of nauseous horror rolled through him. Rex grabbed Cody’s shoulder and held on as though the deck had buckled beneath them. Maybe it had—it sure felt like they were under attack.

Chips. It wasn’t as though the “slave” part was a new development, because the long necks constantly reminded the vodë that they were products—units to be bought, sold, and decommissioned on a whim. Slavery might be illegal in the republic, but the senate refused to give the clones even the most basic sentient rights. Meat droids, the media called them. Little gods, could they be right? What the kriff did these chips do?

Luke looked to Knight Kestis, who nodded for him to continue. “We’ve pieced together most of this from stories told by surviving Jedi and clones. The army might have been Master Sifo-Dyas’s idea, but he was dead before the Kaminoans claimed he ordered its creation. The cloners have always answered to one client—the Sith.”

“That’s not—” Cody sputtered. “We were made for the Jedi!”

“You were,” Luke said. “You were made to destroy the Jedi.”

“We would never,” Cody exclaimed. That was impossible—his brothers would never harm their Jedi. The Jedi were the only ones who treated the vodë with care and respect. Well, most of them did, anyway. Not all Jedi were created equal, and not all of them doted on their men like his general.

Cody would rather die than harm his general.

General Kenobi raised a hand for calm. “Please continue.”

“You’re right,” Luke said. “You wouldn’t. That’s the pure evil of these chips. They’re not standard slave chips with trackers or explosives. These are in your brain.” He tapped his own head. “They’re control chips, designed to overwrite your free will. All Sidious has to do is give a specific order, and every clone will immediately follow it, no questions asked. Good soldiers follow orders.” His lips twisted as though he’d swallowed something sour.

“Meat droids,” Cody whispered. “The Prime used to call us meat droids. That’s why…”

“Why he never claimed the vodë as his aliit.” Rex snarled as his hands clenched into fists. “That dar’manda shabuir. He knew.”

General Kenobi stroked his beard. “I suppose it does answer the question of why the Kaminoans chose Jango Fett as your template. He was infamous for killing several Jedi with his bare hands at the Battle of Galidraan. When I met Jango, he said he was hired by someone called Tyranus.”

“Darth Tyranus,” Kestis said. “Better known as Count Dooku.”

“Dooku? Why would he commission a clone army when he was building a droid army?” Rex asked.

“I studied the war extensively. Alderaan had a tendency to collect teachers with ‘heretical’ beliefs about the Empire.”  Leia smiled sadly. “Nothing in this war followed the typical path of a struggle for independence. The Separatists never focused on shoring up their defenses on the systems who declared allegiance to the Confederacy. Instead, they attacked Republic and neutral targets with no Separatist leanings or strategic value. The Republic is the aggressor here, yet it spent much of the war on the defensive. The GAR could have crushed the Separatists through numbers alone if the Senate called for a draft to supplement the clone military with conscripts, but it never did. Why?”

“Clone troopers are more efficient,” Cody said.

“Clone troopers are more expensive,” she countered. “For the cost of one clone trooper, the Republic would train and equip a battalion of conscripts. I know, because the Alliance often functions on little to no funding.”

“The war is a lie,” General Kenobi said slowly. “The Sith created two armies that they deemed disposable—droids and clones—and chose targets that would have the strongest impact on public opinion and create the most outrage. All to undermine the perception of the Jedi and the Republic.”

“They kill two mynocks with one blast,” Kestis said. “The public views Jedi as warmongers, and many of the knights and masters who could have stood against him die during the war. Plus it sets the stage for Sidious’s grand finale—the Galactic Empire. A new Sith Empire built on the ashes of the Republic. The war crippled systems who could have stood against it.”

“We have to be very, very careful how we proceed with the chips,” Luke said. “Consider everyone compromised, no comm chatter at all. In our timeline, the chip was activated early in a 501st trooper named Tup, and it caused him to kill Jedi Master Tiplar. The Kaminoans tried to explain Tup’s action as being due to a brain tumor, but when ARC Trooper Fives investigated further he found the chip. The Kaminoans then tried to explain it away as being an inhibitor chip meant to decrease the clones’ aggression so they wouldn’t be as violent as Jango Fett. But Fives kept digging, and he was killed to cover up what he found.”

“The chips allowed Sidious to destroy the bulk of the Order in a matter of minutes.” Knight Kestis paused and cleared his throat. “I was thirteen, a padawan commander, when the Purge happened. One moment Master Tapal and I were training, and the next every clone on the Albedo Brave was trying to kill us. They hunted us through the ship—that’s how I got this.” He tapped the blaster scar on his face and neck. “When we finally made it to the escape pods, my master sacrificed himself to save me.”

General Skywalker gasped. “Ahsoka…”

“She survived,” Leia said. “Rex was with her. She realized something was wrong with him and located his chip, and then she had a med droid remove it.”

Luke nodded, his expression grim. “Captain Rex and the other clones I’ve spoken with said it felt like a dissociative episode—being outside of their bodies, with no control of their thoughts or actions. Ben said it was like the vodë all vanished from his senses.”

“You’re bright in the Force,” General Kenobi said. “Unique.”

“The clones weren’t aware that something was wrong with them until the chip was removed,” Luke said. “When they regained control…a lot of them couldn’t live with what they’d done.”

Cody’s throat worked as he struggled to breathe past the lump that threatened to choke him. General Kenobi lived. He lived and saved Luke and Leia. He lived and trained Luke. Cody and the 212th didn’t kill him—but had they hunted him? Had they chased Obi-Wan through the Negotiator like the Iron Battalion had stalked a 13-year-old Cal Kestis? Had Obi-Wan been forced to kill vodë to protect himself? Had he killed Cody?

Bile rose in his throat as Obi-Wan gently touched his arm, and Cody flinched.

“I want it out,” Cody said. “Now.”

“Me too,” Rex said.

“I can show you how to remove them,” Luke said to Helix. “My aunt used to remove chips for clones on the Freedom Trail. But we need to do this quietly.”

“The fact that we’re here now has already affected the timeline,” Leia said. “In our timeline, the Purge didn’t happen for another year, but Sidious is clever. He has contingencies for his contingencies, and the Sith have been planning this for a very long time.”

“Don’t send anything over comms,” Kestis said. “Not even channels you think are safe, or to people you trust. It’s far enough into the war that Sidious won’t hesitate to enact the Purge.”

Helix nodded. “Understood. I can start formulating a plan for removing the chips after I’ve seen the procedure.”

Knight Kestis nodded to Luke. “Go.”

Luke rose, but he paused beside his father and murmured something in a language Cody didn’t recognize. General Skywalker flinched and his eyes widened, but then he nodded after Luke touched his shoulder.

“I’ll go with them,” General Skywalker said.

Leia rose. “I should check on Han. Make sure he hasn’t set your hangar bay on fire.”

“Drink?” General Kenobi turned to Knight Kestis.

“Kark, yes.”

“We should sing for them,” Luke murmured to Anakin. He almost missed it, because it had been so long since he had heard anyone speak the language of his birth. Not Huttese or basic, but Amatakka, the language of the unfree. It belonged squarely in the “Before the Jedi” period of his life, not here on the Negotiator, and not spoken by his freeborn son.

Don’t look back, his mother had said. Anakin had tried so hard to follow that advice, to throw himself into his new life at the Jedi temple and forget his life as a slave. It had sort of worked, until suddenly it didn’t. His emotions roiled with grief and rage at the thought of his mother’s murder, and struggled to shove the feelings into the Force. There had been no time to mourn her with the start of the war so closely following her death, and life had continued full throttle ever since.

Luke laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, and his touch quenched the flames of Anakin’s anger. Luke, a breaker of chains who had helped the newly unfettered along their journey to safety. Anakin had dreamed of returning to Tatooine to free the slaves, and his son had realized that dream.

Anakin nodded and followed. He would sing for Rex, his friend who was his brother-in-arms. The vodë deserved to know the songs, the stories.

Force, they were slaves. How had he been so blind? Why hadn’t he recognized the same lies that masters told about their slaves? The chancellor had always reassured him that the clones’ situation was only temporary. After the war, the clones would have rights. After the war, the clones would be paid. After the war…but there was never going to be an after for the vodë. Depur had finally invented the perfect chains by implanting a chip that could change a person’s very thoughts.

He was going to be sick. Good thing they were entering the med bay. He darted for the nearest ’fresher and vomited the rations he’d eaten for midmeal. When he emerged Luke was waiting with a solemn expression and a bottle of water. Anakin was momentarily distracted by the stray thought of, “he has my eyes, but that wisdom is all Padmé—no, Shmi.” Luke had a connection with his grandmother through his step-brother’s wife. (And wasn’t that wild? He’d completely forgotten about Owen Lars. Shmi must have loved him like a son, too.)

Anakin stood back while Luke explained the process of finding and removing the chips—how to tweak the med bay’s scanners to recognize the chips, and the secrets of removing them without causing damage. Cody would go first, a decision that Rex argued with until Cody shut him down with “it’s my ori’vod’s prerogative.” Luke sat with Cody, and Rex and Anakin were shuffled into another room to wait his turn.

“Rex, will you let me tell you a story?” Anakin asked.

His brow furrowed, but then he nodded. “Yes, General.”

“This is a very old story. It begins in the way all such stories do. One day, Ekkreth was going along…”

General Kenobi handed Cal a tea cup filled with Corellian brandy, and Cal laughed at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

“I had a poster of you and General Skywalker on my wall when I was an initiate. Which was, oh, probably two months ago for the me of this timeline.”

“I’m flattered.” He chuckled and took the seat at his desk.

“My best friend Caleb and I would run around the crèche pretending to be The Team. I was always you, because of the hair.” Cal ran a hand through his short red hair. “This is the first time we’ve met, in any timeline. I just missed meeting you before…”

“Before I died?”

Cal nodded. “Sacrificed yourself to save Luke and Leia. Many masters died that way.” He turned and peered at the familiar streaks of hyperspace rushing past the viewports. “I knew we’d time traveled as soon as we arrived because I could feel the Jedi. I’ve lived more than half of my life in a galaxy without Jedi. Our time feels cold. Empty. It’s all the twins have ever known.” He downed a gulp of brandy.

“I’d say I can’t imagine what that must be like, but the Force has grown more clouded with each passing year.” Obi-Wan sipped his brandy. “We’ve already lost so many Jedi to the war.”

“The Order has to change.” Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that 12-year-old me will get to continue training with Master Tapal and have all the opportunities I didn’t, but…Sidious did a lot of the work to destroy the Order, but it’s not all on him. The Jedi had dozens—kark, maybe even hundreds—of opportunities to see what the Sith were up to, and each time we chose to ignore the signs because we were so damn confident that we’d destroyed the Sith. That we were infallible. The Order was dying around us for generations and we just let it happen.”

Obi-Wan’s head tilted. “What would you change?”

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for that. I’ve been fighting, hiding or running since I was 13 years old, and I’m tired.” Cal slumped in his chair. “Exhausted, really. All I know is that the twins and I don’t have a place in the Order as it is. Master Yoda will take one look at them and declare them too old to train, and that’s bantha shit. Leia has only been training over the past few years, but Luke’s just about ready for knighthood. Plus I have—had—a riduur. Might still have? Not sure how that works with time travel.” He traced the edge of his vambrace and frowned at it.

“There is no ‘until death do us part’ included in the riduurok, so I suppose that depends on your partner’s feelings on the matter. And their current age.”

“Age has always been an odd subject with the vodë.” Cal smiled dryly. “The Kaminoans never stopped the clones’ rapid aging. We’re about the same age, but my riduur looks as though he’s about 70 standard years old. We knew we wouldn’t have many years together, but…” He tossed back the rest of the brandy.

“I noticed that you’ve all been very careful not to name Sidious, though it’s clear you know who he is,” Obi-Wan said, changing the subject.

“Palpatine.”

Obi-Wan flinched, startled. “Chancellor Palpatine?”

“Emperor Palpatine,” Cal corrected. 

“Oh, kark it all,” Obi-Wan said. “The Count told me on Geonosis that the Sith Lord was in the Senate and I didn’t believe him.”

“There’s more.”

“I’m not certain I can handle more. Everything you’ve spoken of is horrifying.”

BD-1 whistled in disagreement, and Cal nodded. “Right, buddy. It’s not all terrible. There are good days, too. It helps being around the twins. Luke’s like a walking ray of sunshine, and the two of them together, they’re pure Light… This is something I’ve never told anyone else. It’s about Sidious’s apprentice, Darth Vader.” Cal swirled the liquid in his cup. “Beedee, can you show him a holo of Vader?”

The droid projected a life-size image of a towering monster in black armor wielding a red lightsaber.

“He nearly killed me a few times. I have the scars to prove it.”

“I thought Count Dooku is Sidious’s apprentice.”

“He was—is,” Cal corrected. “But Sidious has been grooming Dooku’s replacement for years, over a decade. No one knows who Vader is beneath the mask. I thought Vader was a Jedi who Sidious kidnapped and kept tucked away, trained out of sight like Maul was. Someone who’d aged out and was sent to the corps, or maybe a Force-sensitive kid sold as a slave in the Outer Rim. But I was wrong.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you get visions? I was told that Stewjoni Jedi have strong ties to the Unifying Force.”

“Not as often as I did when I was young.” Obi-Wan frowned at his drink. “My master was strong with the Living Force. He always stressed the importance of focusing on the here and now, and he…discouraged listening to visions. I suppose I let my connection atrophy, and considering how clouded the Force has become it’s difficult to see anything.”

“Master Tapal taught me to always trust the Force, so when it has something to show me, I pay attention.” He set the empty cup down and flexed his gloved hands. “I have psychometry. I have a lot of terrible things rattling around my head because of it, but this…I really wish I could un-know this.”

“You can tell me.”

“I think I might be best if I show you.”

Cal reached out to share a vision through the Force, and Obi-Wan allowed him through his mental shields and fell into the memory. It began with an accident—an unguarded moment of lightsaber training with the twins. Cal had removed his both gloves for some reason or other, and his hand brushed the hilt of Luke’s lightsaber.

Anakin’s lightsaber.

And then Obi-Wan watched in paralyzed horror as the echo displayed the last days of the Jedi Order as Anakin Skywalker fell to the Dark Side, pledged himself to Darth Sidious, and rose as a Lord of the Sith.