Soooo, my first Clone Wars fanfiction. Like ever. My sister and I have been watching the show, although we have only just reached the middle of the fifth season. I love it none the less. This fic is a little OC ridden. I happen to like OCs...nothing Sue-ish.

I hope whoever reads this, enjoys it. More is to come.

Chapter One

The Separatist ship had finally gotten an upper hand of the Republic Cruiser. The engines had finally been blasted to pieces and the whole bucket was going down for space scrap. Inside the Cruiser was havoc.

Clone troopers were evacuating in what little pods the ship had left while the fighters were taking off to hold out as long as they could against the vulture droids. The battle had been lost and the Republic had suffered great losses.

CT-1761 had been stationed at the bridge with Jedi General Gal Naratah when the thing had been blown apart. The two of them were at the moment running down the ship's hallway to the last evacuation pod.

With Naratah's blue lightsaber blade humming in his ear, CT-1761 ran for dear life. He had lost his blaster right after the bridge had been annihilated. He could hear the clankers gaining on them. He wasn't quite scared—only…no he was pretty darned scared.

"Well, just our luck, Brace!" Naratah shouted in his ear. The gray haired Jedi had a bad case of battlefield humor. The only time it showed.

"Yes sir," CT-1761, more commonly known as Brace, replied. "Sir, the, eh…Clankers are right behind us."

Naratah glanced behind and had to deflect laser bolts off of his lightsaber.

"We must hurry!" he shouted.

Don't need to tell me twice, Brace thought as he kicked up his speed. The two made it down a hallway only to both men's dismay as they ran into a group of battle droids.

The droids opened fire on them and Naratah leapt into a series of spins, ducks and graceful twirls as he deflected most of the laser bolts and managed to destroy the droids. Brace picked up one of the fallen droid's blasters and began to help with the defenses.

The droids fell one by one, each hitting the floor with varying clanks and clunks. The two picked up the pace once again as the ship was rocked with a violent spasm, likely caused by an explosion.

Momentarily off guard, Brace didn't have the chance to see the battle droid still crawling on the floor, pointing its blaster at him. Unfortunately the clone did, however notice as the laser bolt seared into him between his armor plates. The clone was helpless as he tumbled to the ground, too much in pain to breath.

Master Naratah slid to a halt and doubled back to assist the fallen man. Brace wanted so badly to tell him to go on as the ship rocked once again. Before he could complain, Narata hoisted him to his feet and began to lug him around the next corner to the emergency pods.

"Not much farther Brace," Naratah panted. Brace could see the pods now. The last one hadn't taken off yet and he could see a few of his fellow men in it.

One of the clones in the pod grabbed Brace from Naratah and another managed to cover for him.

"You'll be okay mate," the medic said as he peeled Brace's helmet off. "General, you need to hurry!"

Naratah nodded and almost stepped into the pod when a laser bolt whipped past his head. The Battle droids had unfortunately gained on them during the flight. A few more bolts flew past and managed to hit the control panel to the pod.

"Jackson, secure the wounded!" called the clone sergeant. He covered the outside with his blaster.

"The pod won't budge!" Naratah called. "The control panel has been fried."

The sergeant blasted a few more of the droids. "Any suggestions, General?"

Naratah sliced a few of the droids before answering. "I have to stay behind; I can manually launch it."

"What? That's insane, sir," the clone said. "We can think of something."

Naratah glanced about. "It's the only way. Shut the door."

The sergeant hesitated and Naratah shook his head impatiently.

Brace, despite his condition, could hear everything that was happening. "Sir, if you stay, we stay!" He groaned and clutched his side. Jackson helped him lay back down.

Naratah shook his head and gave one last look at Brace. "No, you are far more important. I'm ready to die. Now shut the door that is an order."

The sergeant gave one last look and shut the door, but not before something was thrown in and rolled with a clank at Brace's feet.

The pod began to move slowly with a scraping down, then all of the sudden it came free of the ship and flew to safety. The clones inside breathed in relief. They were silent as the ship they had been on began to combust. General Gal Naratah had not made it. His last gesture had been noble. They had made it out alive.

CT-1761 snapped awake in his bunk.

He glanced around the darkened barrack and listened to the soft breathing of his brothers. All quiet except for a loud snoring. That was Jackson.

Brace sat up in his bunk and swung his feet over the side. He ran a hand over his short dark hair. Ever since that pod had been launched off of the cruiser and the Jedi Naratah had been left behind, Brace had been having nightmares, reliving the experience. He had looked up to the crusty Jedi with admiration and confidence. He had met his end in a lowly and unfit way. It should have been he who had been left behind, or at least they could have figured a better way than to leave their commander behind.

His men were now stationed on Coruscant. Brace hadn't taken long to heal and he and the remainder of his squad had not yet been reassigned. Only Jackson—the medic—and sergeant Jory had made it of the ship alive.

Brace slid off his bunk and made it to his locker, where he kept his armor. He quietly donned the white armor, forgoing the helmet; instead he tucked it beneath his arm. Lastly he pulled aside a spare pouch and fished out the item that he had been the only one to notice as it was tossed into the escape pod, right before the door was shut.

It was Gal Naratah's lightsaber.

Brace had no idea why the general had tossed the thing. He knew it was against regulation to so much as touch a Jedi's lightsaber, let alone hide one. He couldn't part with the weapon. Even if he had wanted to, the thing stuck to him like glue.

Brace sighed and put the weapon back. He wouldn't worry about it now.


"Gal Naratah's death is a grievance to us all," so the words were. To Jedi knight Palla Tadé they seemed stiff and formal. Something her previous master had a problem with. Her previous Master Naratah, that is.

Palla sighed shook her head; the many braid clasps in her hair tinkled. Naratah had always said she should be rid of them: an enemy could hear them from anywhere.

The Jedi walked through the halls of the temple to her room. She slid the door open and closed it behind her. Privacy was the best thing she could think of. She slid to the floor and crossed her legs.

Palla began to meditate, hoping that would help quench the painful grief that was threatening to boil over. It didn't help much as the tears she had been holding back from the council began to spill over.

There was a knock on her door and she hurried to her feet. Palla wiped the tears from her eyes and set her features straight. She opened her door and looked down at the youngling who was serving as a messenger.

"You're wanted by Master Windu, Master Kenobi and…" the youngling trailed off. "You're just wanted in the communications room."

Palla couldn't help but smile at the awkwardness of the little youngling. "Run along and tell them that I'll be there."

The boy ran off, leaving Palla to make her way slowly to the communications room. She loathed going and having to face more sympathetic looks.

The communications room held plans for battles and strategies the Jedi were using to fight the separatists. Palla entered the room and glanced about. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was there, as with his former Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. Mace Windu and Master Yoda were also there. They seemed to be waiting for Palla.

Palla bowed respectfully and placed her hands within the folds of her cloak.

"Masters, Anakin," she said.

The sympathetic looks were cast and Palla had to hold her breath to keep from bursting with frustration.

"Palla, I trust you are well," Obi-Wan asked lightly.

"As well as can be expected Master Kenobi. I hear you needed me?" she prompted.

"We have a problem," said Anakin. The young Jedi never hesitated to delve straight to the point.

"A few hours ago we lost contact with a platoon of clones who were setting up a communication point on the planet of Sonyun. As you know, that planet had recently been liberated from the Separatists and we needed to establish the best possible station on it," he continued.

Mace Windu picked up. "We're going to send you, Anakin, and his Padawan to Sonyun to investigate the disappearance. Each of you is going to take a number of clones with you for the trip. If you encounter anything strange you need to be able to set up a temporary base to help us send in reinforcements," he said.

"With haste, this must be done," Yoda said.

Anakin and Palla bowed low before the Masters and both took their leave. Outside the room, Anakin was met with his apprentice, a young Togruta.

"What's the situation, Master?" she asked. Anakin filled her in on the situation. He turned behind him and caught Palla's eye.

"Ah, Snips, this is Palla Tadé," he said. Palla nodded.

"Hello young one," she replied.
"Palla, this is my apprentice, Ahsoka Tano," Anakin finished. Ahsoka smiled shyly.

"Hi," she extended her hand, which Palla took in her own light brown one.

"Anakin, I've not yet been assigned to a clone squad. I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that this is my first mission outside the temple," Palla said.

Anakin shrugged, "That should be easily taken care of. There is a barracks that we can pick up a squad from. No harm done."


"Brace! Jackson! To the deck immediately!"

Clone Trooper Jackson hung his head in despair and flung aside the tablet he was reading from. "I wonder what the old blowhard wants now."

Brace on his side of the barrack looked up. He set aside the blaster he was cleaning and jumped off his bunk.

"Whatever he wants, we should better get a move on. 'Else the sergeant will have a rancor," he grunted.

Jackson sniggered and plucked up his helmet. "Who knows, perhaps it'll be our promotions?"

"In your dreams."

The two made their way to the upper deck and found sergeant Jory. They stood at attention and gave a short salute.

"Sir!"

Jory surveyed the two and turned to the two Jedi behind him.

"Both present sir," he said. The one he knew to be the infamous Anakin Skywalker. The Jedi smiled at him and nodded.

"Right, and you haven't been assigned to a unit yet?"

The sergeant shook his head. "No sir. We're the last of Sarlacc squadron."

The older Jedi woman stepped forward. "I think they'll do, Anakin; I mean I don't really need a full squad? Do I?"

Both men looked at her funnily. Anakin replied slowly.

"I suppose not," he turned back to Jory. "Are your men up to it?"

"Ready as ever, sir," he said.

Brace from his point of view was astonished. Either the woman was overly confident in their abilities or she was plain over stupid. He looked at her again, sizing her up.

She had to be at least thirty, dark haired and skinned, not overly attractive. At least to him. She didn't look the warrior type, more like the peaceful book worm sort.

He wished fervently that she would prove her worth in something and that they wouldn't need to tag along under an incompetent General. He didn't need another Naratah.

The Jedi looked at him almost as if she knew he was thinking about her. Brace avoided her eyes. He got a sort of clammy cramped up feeling in his gut, and then it was gone. Whatever the feeling was, he didn't like it.