His lightsabre ignited and was up in a battle stance a moment after the signal. Mace Windu's distinctive purple lightsabre was a cue for two hundred and twelve Jedi Knights to ignite sabres and ready themselves for battle. Two hundred and twelve of them. Such an assembly was impressive to consider, awesome to behold.
Pointless.
Because the Jedi knew, that two hundred and twelve was nowhere near enough.
When it started, he ran with the main charge, green lightsabre flashing as blaster bolt after blaster bolt was blocked.
He spun his sabre around, and found himself facing two droids. Cut them down, and two more came up, backed by one of those bigger ones. Nasty looking, but he was Jedi – he would be able to fight it. He spun his sabre to block the bolts, and stepped closer and closer, until he was embedding his sabre in the thing's central processor.
He turned around, and blocked the hail of bolts from the destroyer droid that had snuck up on him. This was going to be considerably trickier, but he felt that this was not his time to die. Not today.
He blocked more bolts from the thing, while all around his fellow Jedi fought and died. He closed himself off from the pain of the slaughter, instead channelling his righteous combat fury – such as it was – into the battle with this droideka. He used the Force the throw bits of droid at the thing, all the while blocking any incoming bolts. Then, at a subtle nudge from the Force, he jumped, landing right behind the thing. He moved and stepped inside its shields before it had the chance to move and cut it in two.
"Right, then," he said. "Back to work."
He blocked yet more bolts, but he could see that the battle was turning on the Jedi. The retreat had begun, and more and more Jedi fell to the droids blasters.
Soon, the entire Jedi contingent had retreated into a circle, blocking bolts over and over again as the droids closed in. The Jedi could recognise a hopeless situation when he saw one, yet continued to block bolts. Surrender didn't seem to be an option.
So he was surprised when the droids stopped shooting. He looked up at the box where Dooku was, and the traitor had a hand raised.
"Master Windu!" he called, his voice the very model of nobility and honour (which just went to show, the Jedi mused, that voices don't tell you anything at all). ""You have fought gallantly, worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order. Now, it is finished. Surrender, and your lives will be spared."
The Jedi threw a look at Mace Windu, who had responded immediately; "we will not be hostages for you to use as barter, Dooku!"
The Jedi considered the words for the moment between the moment they left Mace's lips and the moment Dooku replied – and he found he approved. He threw the droids a savage grin, and resigned himself to death.
"Then, I'm sorry old friend," Dooku called, without sounding sorry at all.
You aren't dying today.
The Jedi spun his sabre, ready to die.
"Look!" a female voice called out. The Jedi looked up, and he blinked; this was impossible.
Gunships.
With Yoda in one.
The Jedi grinned, and blocked the laser bolts that came at him with renewed vigour. Yeah; this was gonna be good. The droids were about to receive a lesson in how to get scrapped.
It wasn't good of course, and when he'd think back on that day, he would only think of how awful it had been. Of how there could have been something that could have prevented it from happening. Should have been something to prevent it from happening.
But there wasn't.
The Clone Wars had happened.
Every moment of them struck him with the force of a ten ton brick as he meditated – slaughter and battle and death beyond count, beyond hope, beyond reason. Clones. Good men. His Commander, a man he trusted with his life.
A man who had tried to end his life.
"Commander," he called over to Clone Commander Deuce (actually named after the word Produce, which was an ironic statement on the Clone's part since, to those who had created him, that was all he was). "What do you reckon to that?"
The Clone walked over to the Jedi and took the Macrobinoculars, looking out at the city.
"OK," he said, "there appear to be a handful of very important objectives – the tank factory, the Power Station, and there – the bridge to the main city. Got a coupla hundred droids to take care of but, overall, looks pretty easy."
"We wish," the Jedi smiled. The LAAT they were in began to descend, as well as the other LAAT's nearby.
"Ok men," Deuce said to his troops. "We want this nice and quck. Take out the droids, win the day, get the girl." A Clone wolf whistled. "Well, maybe not the last part," the Commander added, and the various dramatic cries of "aw" made the Jedi smile. Good men these clones. Brave.
The LAAT landed at the tank factory as per Deuce's orders, disgorging its contents; over two dozen Clone troopers, some in Phase II armour, some still in Phase I.
"Alright," the Jedi said, turning to a captain. "I want you to take a squad, and take over the Power Station."
"Yes sir," the unnamed captain replied, snapping to attention then calling his squad to begin the assault. He turned to his men, and they moved, heading deeper into the city. The remaining troopers began following Deuce and the Jedi down a deserted, somewhat rubble strewn street.
"We sure about this, sir?" Deuce asked the Jedi as they walked. "Only I'm getting a bad feeling about this."
"I don't sense anything," the Jedi reassured the Commander. They walked in silence for a moment, before the Jedi stopped. "Ok, now I do."
The Clones took cover at a signal from Deuce, and after a moment, they saw what the Jedi General had sensed.
Super Battle Droids. There were only a dozen or so, but against regular men that could still cripple them as a fighting force. The Jedi watched as two of his men were gunned down as the droids spotted them, and he leaped forward, ignited his sabre, and but one in half.
"Charge!" he yelled. The Clones did so, advancing and firing upon the droids.
In retrospect, the Jedi thought, the full frontal assault was not always the best way to go about things. Clones fell all around him, and while the Supers were taking casualties, they were being backed up by regular B1's.
"Right," he said. "I count fifteen droids firing from a turret on the balcony, another twenty on the ground. Easy," he added, smiling. "Let's go."
Deuce nodded, and grabbed a rocket launcher from a fallen Clone. He turned and aimed at the balcony. Just as the droids there realised he was there, he fired, and the entire balcony exploded in flames. The Jedi smiled and spun his blade, blocking the bolts that came his way with practiced ease.
"Target the Jedi!" one of the droids yelled, right before Deuce rolled up to it and blasted it point blank in the face. Various droids and Clones got into hand-to-hand scraps, some Clones punching the droids (and breaking their hands for their trouble), and the droids responding by grabbing the clones by the throat and throttling them. The droids were at the advantage due, to their numbers. Seeing that the clones were wavering, the Jedi jumped straight into a mass of droids, swinging his sabre back and forth, smashing and slicing dozens down. The Clones cheered, and charged, shooting down the remaining droids.
"We seem to have driven them off for the moment," Deuce said to the Jedi as he finished off one of the last droids with his lightsabre.
"Yes," the Jedi agreed. He looked around; he was surrounded by allies, and yet somehow, he felt that there was something wrong, something off. Deuce removed his helmet, and smiled. A moment later, the Clone Commander received a call on his holographic communicator, a holographic projection of – it sounded like Chancellor Palpatine, but the Jedi couldn't be sure.
"Commander," the projection said, "execute Order 66."
The Jedi looked at Deuce. Deuce looked at the Jedi.
"What's order 66?" the Jedi asked. "Some kind of contingency plan?"
Deuce nodded, silently, grimly. Then he lashed out, knocking the Jedi over, his lightsabre rolling away from him. The Jedi was quick to get to his feet, calling his lightsabre to him.
"Stand down," he said immediately.
"I'm sorry about this, General," Deuce said. "Orders are orders. Kill the Jedi!"
The Clones snapped to action, and the Jedi cursed the fact that he was surrounded by the buggers. He ignited his sabre and blocked their bolts, but they were a lot cleverer than droids and it was all he could do not to be hit. He sighed and jumped up, trying not to be shot while he leapt, and landed on the balcony.
"Take down that building!" he heard a Clone – probably Deuce – yell. He swore, and ran to the adjacent building, blaster bolts landing all around him. He grabbed his comlink.
"Stop shooting, damn you!" he yelled. No reply. He swore again, and jumped out of the building – landing in the middle of an army of droids.
"Blast the Jedi," a droid ordered, and he ran back towards where the Clone were. If he could set them off against one another, then he might be able to –
He was cut of by an explosion, which threw him into a wall and stunned him. When he landed, he was also reasonably certain that he'd broken a rib or two, and was probably concussed. He was also unable to get the Force to heal him, meaning his concentration was low. Definitely concussed.
He didn't know how long he lay there, injured, but eventually, a familiar face was above him. Deuce, definitely.
"Hello," he managed weakly. "Sorry about the run."
"Sorry you had to," the Clone replied. Then he raised his blaster, aiming it directly at the Jedi's head, and fired.
He heard one word before complete blankness took him.
"Kal."
He opened his eyes.
Good men had been forced to do bad things. Jedi had been slaughtered. And here he was, being offered the chance to be the head of an Army of Jedi Knights, just ready to strike back at those who had destroyed the Order. To restore the justice to the galaxy once again.
He blinked, and sensed the two Kaminoans enter the room behind him.
"Have you come to a decision yet, Master Jedi?" Ja Nei asked.
The Jedi looked at the two Kaminoans, who were looking at him expectantly.
"Yes," he said. "I have. I'll help you."