Cody knelt on one knee, blaster in one hand, and ran his palm over the varactyl's vibrant head feathers. General Kenobi's mount was dead, her sad body sprawled half in the pool and half on the rocky ground. She'd managed to dodge a direct hit from the plasma blast, but she couldn't save herself or her rider from the fall. Cody stood, his chest feeling hollow. Kenobi was not with her. Did his body sink in the stagnant water?
"Commander," Waxer called, several feet away from the sinkhole, holding a soaked cloak.
Order incomplete, he thought numbly and checked the level on his blaster. He joined Waxer, sharp eyes surveying the area.
"There," he said.
A smear of blood, an imperfect handprint, on the canyon wall. He approached and dragged a gloved fingertip over it, the stain flaking. How injured was he, Cody wondered, looking around. Never enough to be an easy target.
"Hello?" a soft Coruscanti accent said.
Cody frowned and turned his blaster on that voice, its owner hidden in the shadow of a shallow cave, only several paces to his right.
"Come into the light," he said. "Slowly."
The man stepped forward, stumbled more like, brows furrowed and hands up. Blood caked around his temple. Cody tightened his grip on his weapon. What kind of ploy was this? Why reveal himself at all? Kenobi was smarter than that. He could feel and hear his brothers behind him, their blasters ready but waiting for Cody's orders.
"Commander?" Boil asked.
Cody ignored him and instead addressed Kenobi, "State your name and rank."
"I don't—we're both from the Republic aren't we?"
"Where is your weapon?"
"Uh," the man looked down at himself. "I must have lost it? When I fell?"
Hm. Cody lowered his blaster. His brothers didn't move for a moment then followed suit.
"You—you do know who I am don't you?" Kenobi asked helplessly.
Cody holstered his weapon. A jedi wasn't a jedi if they couldn't remember being one, right? And if Kenobi wasn't a jedi, he wasn't a traitor.
"Yes."
Order fulfilled.