A quick author's note:

Sorry for the somewhat small chapter, guys. I had intended for the conversations to be longer, but due to some technical problems I lost quite a lot of the chapter and I couldn't get myself to write it all over again. So the conversations will be a bit less drawn out, but hopefully still enjoyable.

Also, I'd like to announce that I've finally achieved the 100,000 words mark! This story has 159 favs and 210 follows at the moment, and I can't thank you all enough for it! Though I do have some bad news. Due to my tight schedule, I won't be always able to write and therefore it'll sometimes take quite a while before the next chapter is done just like this one. Adding to that, I'm also going to spend some attention to Star Wars: Halo At War, for those who don't know it is the Star Wars/Halo crossover that I've been writing for quite some time now.

Anyways, see you guys until the next update.

Miranda slowly sipped her tea, savoring the refreshing taste of her drink, while reading her datapad's contents with a critical eye. More inquiries about the republic and separatist representatives from the Illusive Man, reports about Cerberus operations, a detailed maintenance report on the Normandy, and the list went on. Miranda had been working for a while now. Normally she did this inside her own cabin where she could work undisturbed, but for now she was sitting in the mess hall. The tables and chairs had luckily already been replaced. The Cerberus operative had not been amused by the damage that the three troublemakers responsible had caused.

She put her cup down as her eyes skimmed over a rather unimportant part of another report. Miranda often wondered if she could place some of the work on Shepard's shoulders, but the commander himself was always busy taking care of the crew and the missions, plus she was far better at the administrative work, so in the end the task was hers to fulfil. At least she had already done the requisition orders. Those weren't too hard. Cerberus had enough funding to get everything done, which meant that she only looked for anything harmful or compromising. The Illusive Man wasted no money when it came to the Normandy and its crew.

Miranda craned back her neck, feeling and hearing the satisfying 'pop', as the tension left her. It was getting late and she should probably go to sleep soon. Most of the crew were already laying in their bunks, fast asleep while only a small amount kept watch. Since they were still docked on Illium they didn't need to maintain the Normandy, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't try breaking in. Illium was simply a less dirty Omega after all.

A small yawn escaped Miranda's lips, another sign that she was tired. She let out a small sigh and turned off her datapad. It was time to go to bed. The Cerberus woman picked up her cup again and took another sip, enjoying the hot liquid that went down her throat, soothing any nerves she had at the moment.

Her moment of peace was suddenly interrupted by the telltale sound of footsteps. Miranda looked up, spotting one of the clones entering the mess hall, a datapad in his own hands. It took only a second or two for her to recognize the man as Cody, one of the two clone officers. He wasn't wearing his armor for once. Instead, he was wearing what she figured had to be the black bodysuit that all clones wore beneath their armor. It was quite plain except for the symbol on his chest, which was probably the symbol of his government. Miranda only recognized him because of the scar on his head, finding it easier to discern the clones by their armor.

"Good evening, commander." She greeted him once he arrived at her table, her voice measured and collected.

Cody nodded, "Miss Lawson. May I sit here?"

Miranda wondered why he would be here at this hour. She was also curious about his datapad, having seen the device before. The Cerberus operative shrugged and gestured for him to sit across her, having no qualms with him sitting there.

"Go ahead." She replied.

The clone commander sat down on the chair, placing his datapad on the table. Miranda took the time to inspect him more closely. Her eyes observed his tanked skin, dark military-cut hair and his deep brown eyes. Being an artificially created person herself, she found herself developing an interest in the clones. They were perfect specimens of soldiers, being physically better than a standard human and after having watched them fight, she knew they were excellent in battle.

"So, commander Cody, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Miranda asked him once he had seated himself.

"I was hoping to learn more about Cerberus." Cody responded formally, sounding professional as he did so. "The information you gave us on your organization was a bit too flimsy to my taste."

The black-haired operative leaned back in her seat, "And what would you like to know then? I'll try to answer to the best of my capability, though I will warn you now that I won't disclose any confidential information."

"Sounds reasonable. I'm aware that Cerberus' goal is the advancement of humanity, and its continued existence. You've said that Cerberus is a protector. However, I've heard from Garrus and commander Shepard that you've done horrible things to your own people, in order to 'advance' humanity's development. Why?" Cody asked, intertwining his hands on the table as he calmly regarded her.

Miranda frowned slightly upon hearing the accusations, annoyance flaring up as once again someone looked down on Cerberus. She was used to it, but after some time it was starting to bug her. Everyone saw Cerberus as terrorists. Miranda thought otherwise about the organization she worked for, even if their methods were extreme at times. However, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her of Overlord. Of the horrors that doctor Archer had inflicted on his own brother, all because the Illusive Man had insisted on results.

Those thoughts were banished to the darkest corners of her mind. Archer had been a fool, and he did not speak for all of Cerberus.

"First of, I will say that those cells went rogue, they did not follow orders from the Illusive Man. It's a good thing that Shepard took care of them. However, their actions do not reflect on Cerberus itself. We do not experiment on our own people so carelessly. We may resort to more violent solutions than others would approve of, but sometimes it is necessary to get results. We are fighting for the survival of humanity after all." Miranda explained, maintaining eye contact with Cody.

The clone nodded slowly, his movements calm and calculated. Miranda knew he was analyzing her as she was doing with him.

"I agree that diplomacy doesn't work all of the time." He agreed wholeheartedly, before frowning heavily. "But I don't agree with your methods. I've been reading on Cerberus' activities, as I'm sure you've noticed. That droid inside the ship obviously monitors everything."

Surprised by his response, Miranda crossed her arms defensively over her chest. He was speaking the truth. EDI was tasked with monitoring everything and everyone, which included extranet access. Therefore Miranda was indeed aware of his search results, many of them linking to news articles on Cerberus operations, at least the ones known to the public.

"True." She confirmed. "I am well aware."

Cody leaned in closer, "Then you're also aware of what those articles were about. 2165, an attack on a cruiser in order to steal antimatter. Numerous people dead as a result. 2170, the Eldfell-Ashland accident above the planet Yandoa. A freighter that was transporting dust-form element zero somehow got destroyed, exposing the colonists on the planet to the element zero it carried, which caused an increase of biotically gifted children. However, it also caused many birth defects which resulted in many babies dying during birth. Two other similar accidents happened over the preceding four months in two other colonies. It doesn't take a genius to see that Cerberus wanted more biotics, and went as far as to act like a bunch of terrorist to get them. These are just a few operations that I know of, through only news articles alone."

Miranda clenched her jaw. Clearly the commander had done his homework. Yet she didn't lash out, nor did she raise her voice at him. She was as calm as ever, but her voice became a few degrees colder as she responded to him.

"As I've said, sometimes drastic measures are needed. The birth defects were uncommon, which was something we couldn't have accounted for, while the biotic children vastly outnumbered the deaths. It was regrettable that so many of them lost their lives. However, it did advance research in biotics while also giving humanity some prime biotics of its own." Miranda argued, her drink long forgotten.

Cody frowned in return. She knew that her response was seemingly uncaring when it came to the dead children, but she was honest when she said she found those deaths a waste. Yet the gains outweighed the losses. There was still much to be learned about biotics and those children had given plenty of results.

But Cody seemed to be thinking otherwise, "That's your opinion. We don't bomb our own freighters and don't experiment on republic civilians."

And there was the opportunity for Miranda to turn the tables. The way he talked about the republic, the very fact that clones were fighting a war, it gave her enough ammunition to fight.

"But the republic does use clones." Miranda argued, giving the 212th commander a pointed look. "Instead of training its own soldiers, the republic uses clones who are simply bred to kill and die. Tell me, commander, did any of you ever get the chance to choose? Or were you simply given a rifle before thrown into battle? Doesn't seem very ethical to me."

She resisted the urge to smile smugly when she saw his gaze harden. Miranda was no hypocrite, she knew that many of Cerberus' actions were far from being justified ethically, but that didn't mean she would let this man point fingers while his own government was no better. Not that it was much for the sake of being right. If Cerberus could create clones as good as him in such large numbers, then the Illusive Man wouldn't hesitate spending his pennies on the cloning process.

Her argument seemed to have an effect, as Cody simply stared at her. They kept looking at each other with neither one backing down. Cody was the first to break eye contact, letting out a deep sigh, before shrugging.

"Things are as they are. I don't think the republic is in the wrong here, and I won't be saying that if that's what you want." He said, not budging an inch.

Miranda could live with that, "I don't. Was there anything else?"

"Not really." Cody said, stoically to the bitter end. "The question I asked was more to see your stance on Cerberus, I know enough from what I've gathered. Your organization might have noble goals according to you, and it might have been founded on that principle, but it's not as you believe it to be. Cerberus is backed by anti-alien, racist and power-hungry people. Your reply also doesn't inspire any confidence. If those cells went rogue like you say they did, then you clearly don't have a good grip on what happens, and you allow maniacs to run wild while giving them the tools to do so. On the other hand, if those cells didn't go rogue at all and instead followed orders, then you're being lied to. Neither options are favorable."

"Then we won't see eye to eye on this matter." Miranda replied in an equally stoic tone, but far more aggressive.

The clone nodded, "Indeed."

An awkward silence hung between the two. They were clearly at odds when it came to Cerberus, but neither were going to walk away. Miranda merely gazed upon the clone commander. She respected him for his by-the-book behavior, but she was still agitated by his comments about the very organization she worked for. However, the silence was getting to her. She felt like saying something, anything but the uncomfortable quiet that reigned in the mess hall.

Eventually it was Cody who sighed, "Look, I didn't mean to offend. I'm just concerned that since we're associating ourselves with a terrorist organization, and let's just say in the public eye, the republic might get backlash because of it. The last thing we need is another war. Enough brothers of mine are dying because of it."

Miranda didn't speak for a while, not finding the right words to use for once. She hadn't expected him to apologize. Her own pride would never allow herself to do the same. The words didn't want to come out, and so she remained silent for a few more moments. In the end she let out a small sigh as well, finding it quite difficult to admit her own fault.

"I may have been a bit too… rash, myself." Miranda replied reluctantly. "Maybe we started off the wrong foot."

Cody nodded, "Agreed. Perhaps we should talk about something else."

The woman across the table gestured for him to continue, "Be my guest."

"Well, I've heard you are 'perfect', in the sense that you're genetically engineered to be that way. Care to elaborate?" Cody inquired, changing the subject.

Miranda wondered where he had heard of this, though it was probably Shepard or Jacob. Of course, she herself often reminded others of this. She didn't see what was wrong by stating simple facts. Physically she was indeed better than the standard human.

"I suppose it starts with my father." Miranda began, shifting in her chair to get in a more comfortable position. "He is a very influential man, having money and power, but also very controlling. You see, he wanted something more than a daughter. He wanted a dynasty. So, he decided to create me. Of course that came with all the perks. Physically, I'm superior in many different ways. I will likely live half again as long as the standard human, while also possessing a better healing factor. For a human, my biotic abilities are also very advanced. Add to that the best education money can buy and, well, it's pretty impressive, really." She finished with a slight smirk gracing her plump lips.

She had long since managed not to sound all too bitter about her father, having come to realize that she should make the best of it. None of what she had just said was a lie. She was indeed genetically better than other humans, as well as having a high intellect, which served her well.

"You don't seem to lack in confidence." Cody remarked dryly.

Miranda shrugged indifferently, "Just stating facts. Besides, don't tell me you didn't get any genetic modifications."

"That's classified." The clone commander immediately replied, crossing his arms protectively while scowling heavily.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Miranda shook her head disbelievingly. If he thought that she didn't know anything then he was sorely mistaken. She had seen the footage of the clones fighting, as well as their behavior both on the battlefield and off it. No, the commander was simply looking out for his republic again. She could at least respect that.

"Commander, I thought we were going to remain civilized." Miranda spoke in a placating manner. "I'm simply stating facts, again. It's only logical that you would have been designed to be the perfect soldier. A simple glance tells me you're physically superior to the standard human as well, you seem to have a better reaction time when in the field than even the standard Alliance marine, your hearing appears to have been augmented as well. Do I need to continue? Surely you can tell me something that isn't classified."

She observed Cody as he seemed to ponder on her words. His steely gaze remained locked onto her, trying to spot something, perhaps deceit. However, she returned his look and made an effort to be open to him. Her words weren't as cold anymore, and she refrained of scowling.

"Fine." He said at last, his voice losing some of the edge it had previously held as well. "What you said is right. Us clones have been carefully designed by the Kaminoans, our creators, to be excellent soldiers. Aside from our modifications, we endure constant training and participate in many classes. The training is hard and difficult, but it produces fine troopers that are loyal to the republic."

"See, we don't have to be unresponsive." Miranda said amicably. "I'm willing to tell you about Cerberus, commander, but it would help if you in return told me about the republic. Cerberus has no intentions of causing harm to your government. As I've said, the advancement of humanity is our only goal."

Cody grunted, "It's the length to which you go to achieve that goal, that concerns me."

Understanding his worries, Miranda made an effort not to inquire too much. Instead, she and Cody began talking about their lives, as well as their exploits. She told him about her activities, her achievements, her abilities and anything else that came to mind. Cody told her about his own achievements, the battles he had fought in, his service record for the GAR and sometimes even mentioned something about one of his brothers.

Miranda paid close attention, mentally making notes about the information that he was willing to divulge. However, she focused more on the rare moments when Cody spoke of his brothers. While she was indeed genetically modified and artificially created, the Cerberus operative was unable to fathom what it was like to have people who were just like you, same face and same purpose, as family. There was a kinship between the clone troopers that seemed to hint at more than just cloned replicas of genetic material.

The man in front of her didn't came into this world the natural way, just like her. He was created for a purpose that he himself hadn't chosen. He was ultimately a tool for the republic. But unlike her, he had a whole family of brothers to support him. And as he fondly recalled a memory about one of his brothers, Miranda felt a pang of regret. How would she have turned out if she had stayed together with her sister?

Her tea had been long forgotten during the remainder of the conversation.

Hawk whistled as the Normandy was released from the docking clamps, allowing the vessel to slowly hover away from the Nos Astra docking bay. He was sat in the co-pilot's seat, assisting Joker in the departure proceedings. The clone pilot once again marveled at the way his fellow pilot handled the spacecraft.

The controls were vastly different from any other vessel he had ever flown. There was no solid steering handle for them to use, only an interface that Joker worked with. Hawk glanced at the man's hands that were effortlessly gliding over it, steering the Normandy away from the spaceport, as it began to ascend. It was a strange way to fly a ship with. However, Hawk was getting the hang of it. Flying the shuttle that they had stored away in the cargo bay required knowing how it worked. And if there was something that Hawk was good at, then it was flying.

Even now he was at Joker's side, using his own interface to assist the sassy helmsman as they made their way off of Illium. Hawk hadn't been much on the planet unlike the others. The only times he had exited the Normandy was when he had decided to take a look at the different ships on the planet, along with one other occasion. He had practically been dragged off of the ship by Hardcase and Jesse. Even in a different galaxy his brothers pulled him away from his spaceships, with the intent to have him drink at their side.

The Normandy shook as it flew, Illium's wind blowing against its sleek frame. Their ascent went rather smoothly though. Hawk had to admit that there was an elegance to how the ship flew. Other crafts such as the standard republic corvette weren't as smooth as the Normandy, experiencing much more turbulence. Hawk wasn't much of a fan of them. He rather flew a LAAT gunship, a Z-95 headhunter or an ARC-170 starfighter.

"We are now entering Illium's orbit." EDI announced, her blue hologram present on the bridge.

"Copy that, EDI." Joker replied casually. "Heading for the relay now."

Hawk shook his head, "I still find it strange you need to use something like a relay to travel through the galaxy. You're telling me you can use FTL without it, but not to the point that you can travel longer distances?"

"Hey, don't underestimate my baby!" Joker replied, shooting Hawk a cocky grin. "The Normandy might not be able to travel like your ships do, but it's way more faster in combat than those tanks of yours. While your cruiser is trying to get in position, I'll fly by while sipping a fresh cocktail with a mini umbrella in it, and put a few javelin torpedoes right up your bridge."

Another thing that caused Hawk to remain aboard the Normandy was Joker. Hawk had figured that if he was going to be flying the shuttle and aiding the Normandy's pilot, then he would have to get to know the helmsman better. All clone pilots were like this. When they were out there, flying their starfighters while being swarmed by droids, they needed to know if they could rely on their fellow pilots. There had to be a certain amount of trust. That's why Hawk wanted to get to know the pilot with a brittle bone disease better.

Besides, the guy seemed to have a sense of humor.

"Yeah, but at least our Venator cruisers have decent firepower. I've been reading up on those ships of yours, and I think ours would win pretty easily." Hawk grinned back, having taken off his helmet.

"Oh, no you didn't! That's only because you've got plasma-based weaponry. Besides, I bet a Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought would be able to do some serious damage. Your ships are basically carriers with some strong guns on it. Our dreadnoughts on the other hand are made to utterly wreck shit." Joker argued in that smug attitude he seemingly possessed all the time.

Both he and Hawk hadn't just bonded, they had talked about their respective navies. Of course, that brought up certain discussions such as the one they had at the moment. The two pilots discussed pros and cons about the spaceships of their respective sides, while trading jabs while they were at it.

"Maybe, but the Venator is more than just a carrier. It has eight heavy turbolaser turrets, all of them capable of 'wrecking shit' as you put it, while also sporting two medium dual turbolaser cannons, fifty-two point-defense laser canons and four heavy proton torpedo tubes. Add that to the approximately 400 hundred starfighters it can carry, and we have a ship that would be able to take on your dreadnought." Hawk pointed out, knowing full well that the Alliance capital ship lacked a sufficient enough starfighter corps that would defend it against republic starfighters.

However, Joker protested, "That doesn't mean shit! A dreadnought has a massive MAC cannon that would be able to fire before you even think of deploying your starfighters. It also has the best GARDIAN defense network that the Alliance has, which means your fighters would be torn to shreds if they came in close. And the Kilimanjaro-class does have a fighter complement."

"While that might be true," EDI interrupted, hologram flashing as she spoke calmly, "the kinetic barriers of the Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought wouldn't be able to stop the plasma-based weapons of the Venator. As a result, the Venator has a substantial advantage over the Kilimanjaro. I believe the Venator would, as you eloquently said so, wreck the Kilimanjaro."

Joker groaned loudly, muttering something about a mute button, while Hawk chuckled loudly. Some of the crew back in the CIC heard him laugh and wondered what was so funny, but ultimately left the two pilots alone. Hawk's laughter subsided, allowing him to shoot Joker a smug grin of his own.

"See? The droid agrees with me." He jabbed amicably.

"The correct classification to call me would be AI. A droid does not have the same technological capabilities as-"

Joker waved her off, "We get it, EDI. You're smart, a droid is dumb."

That was something Hawk had also discovered about the man. Apparently, Joker wasn't much of a fan of EDI. He himself had no qualms with a droid occupying a ship's systems, but AI were not the same for some reason. No one had really explained it to him, yet from what he heard it wasn't a great idea to allow an AI on board, confusing him as to why EDI was here at all. The AI hadn't caused any trouble for him and seemed to be a big help, so he had no hard feelings about her.

"So, Joker, how did the Alliance actually allow you to be a pilot with your disease?" The clone pilot at the man's side inquired.

"Because I'm not good, not even great, but the best helmsman the Alliance ever had." Joker boasted, not out of arrogance but rather well-placed confidence. "I worked my ass off to get to where I am. Back during training, everyone would always comment on how I never smiled. You know why? Because at graduation day, they all had their asses kicked by the sickly kid with the creaky little legs. That's when I smiled so much my face nearly split in half. But yeah, that's also how I got the nickname Joker."

"Well, that scratches another question off my list." Hawk chuckled, swiping a holographic screen away in order to watch the next one.

Joker hummed inquisitively, "So how about you?"

"Me?" Hawk replied, frowning in confusion as he did not understand what the snarky pilot meant.

"No, I was talking to the other clone in my imaginary co-pilot seat." Joker rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, you. How did you get your nickname."

Understanding what he was getting at, Hawk nodded slowly. He had the sudden reflex to point out that it was his actual name, but refrained from doing so. How could he expect someone who wasn't a clone to understand that they were not given names at birth. Instead, they were given numbers to identify with. Their nicknames weren't just any names, they were what made them actual persons, different from droids and soulless machines that many saw them for.

"Because of my eyesight, captain obvious." The clone snarked back, showing off a deadpan look. "Aside from being the best pilot in the 501st, if not counting the general, there are no other clones with eyesight like mine. Except for the ones who were modified, of course. Like the snipers or commandos. Our Kaminoan overlords called it a 'fortunate mutation'. That combined with my reflexes and you've got one hell of a pilot."

Joker snorted as he adjusted the course of the Normandy. The relay was getting closer and closer, but they still had some distance to go. However, he was already making sure everything was in order for when they would arrive. Shepard had already given them their newest destination; the Krogan DMZ. Apparently they were going to visit Wrex. Joker wasn't sure if he was ready to see that maniac of a Krogan again, he pretty much preferred keeping his bones intact, thank you very much.

"Kaminoan overlords?" Joker asked, eyebrows raised.

Hawk chuckled, "Our creators. Long necks, completely white, and as dull as the rain on Kamino. They're all about science and rules."

"Sounds like a bunch of stuck-up giraffes." The former Alliance pilot smirked.

His comment caused Hawk to stare at him in confusion, not knowing what giraffes were. Seeing as Joker wasn't about to elaborate, he looked over the man's shoulder at EDI. Luckily the sentient AI took pity on the clueless clone pilot.

"They are animals native to the African continent on earth, humanity's homeworld. Their most noticeable trait is their long neck which they use to eat the leaves on trees." EDI explained, speaking slowly and clearly to make sure she got the information across.

Hawk gave her a silent nod of gratitude. The pair of pilots continued their conversation, either talking about ships or bickering about certain topics, all the while EDI occasionally joined in. Hawk would shake his head in exasperation every time the Normandy's helmsman made a joke at EDI's expense. They were funny, he was willing to admit that, but he didn't see the need for Joker to do so. Apparently Joker was quite defensive when it came to the Normandy, and an AI was clearly not something he wanted inside his 'baby' as he liked to call it.

Joker's obsession was partially understood. Hawk knew, being a pilot himself, that it wasn't strange to get attached to a ship. The Resolute would always be Hawk's favorite Venator, because he had been serving on it ever since the battle of Christophsis. Some of his fondest memories with his brothers came from that ship. Beside the Venator, he also never allowed anyone else to fly his LAAT. All republic pilots made sure to mark their vessels. Starfighters were usually painted with the mark of the squadron that they belonged to. That meant they could receive some stripes, some sort of symbol, even words that had either a specific meaning or were just the names of the squadrons. As for the LAATs, it wasn't strange to see one that had been painted on the nose. If anything, it would be uncommon to see one without it. The veteran pilots were even allowed to fully paint their gunships from the nose to the wings of the transports.

"We are approaching the relay." EDI suddenly announced, her voice echoing throughout the whole CIC. "Standby for FTL jump."

Hawk braced himself as a blue tendril of light seemed to wrap itself around the Normandy, allowing the human-made spaceship to prepare itself for its launch. The moment was short-lived as they soon entered FTL. Outside of the cockpit's viewports, the normal inky darkness of space was replaced by a dazzling blue vortex that wasn't exactly unlike hyperspace. It still baffled Hawk how such a thing could be so beautiful.

"And another success." Joker grinned, leaning back in his comfortable chair as they travelled towards the Krogan DMZ.

Hawk chuckled, "You've got to teach me how to do that."

And soon enough the pair resumed their pilot talk, completely unware of everything that was going on around them, except for the mesmerizing light of FTL.

The blue light of FTL travel was quite soothing, even though it wasn't hyperspace. The observation deck was illuminated by its light, casting its glow over the furnished room, for once not occupied by a certain master thief. No matter how many times he watched it, it calmed him down. There were no worries plaguing his mind. Quite often did he watch the hyperspace vortex when he was feeling restless after another nightmare, standing behind one of the viewports aboard the Resolute.

If there was one thing that calmed down Anakin Skywalker, then it was space.

Even when he had been just a little boy he had dreamed of travelling amongst the stars. He would be completely free, his own master, and would visit many different places that weren't just dustballs of sand. Planets that were beyond the reach of the Hutts. Anakin closed his eyes as distant memories passed through his mind. They were not pleasant, but some were at the very least bittersweet. Tatooine was a place he hated, but for multiple reasons. He remembered how a certain person had kept him going, caring for him, bathing him, teaching him, feeding him, filling his life with a bright light amongst an oppressive void of pure darkness.

Shmi Skywalker. His mother. His brilliant star.

No words could ever describe his longing to be held in her arms one more time. To watch her kind smile, lifting his troubled spirits. When he was just a little boy, she would always soothe him after a particularly nasty nightmare. She would stroke his blonde hair and whisper sweet words of love in his sun-kissed ears. It made a life of slavery tolerable. No matter how bad it got, she would be there for him and pick him up from where he had fallen. Shmi had been the glue that had pieced him together.

And then she had died.

Anakin opened his eyes, his gaze once again meeting the vibrant glow of FTL travel. There was still sadness within him, alongside the smoldering embers of his hatred towards the Sand People. He pushed those thoughts away. He didn't come here to remember his pain. It was better to just keep those at bay, far away from him, so he could have a moment of peace. Lately that was a luxury he didn't have.

"You seem troubled." A croaky voice said, calm and observant.

Anakin looked in surprise at the figure standing next to him, shocked that he hadn't heard or sensed the man coming, a feat that was impressive to say the least. The man had a lizard-like appearance, with green and yellow scales acting as skin. There was no body hair to speak of and while he was mostly humanoid, the intruder had large black eyes. Anakin had difficulty with spotting his pupils. The man had his arms crossed behind his back, gazing out of the viewport as well.

"I don't think we have met." Anakin replied cautiously, wary of the new arrival.

The man nodded slowly, "Of course, you are right. Please forgive me for my poor manners. My name is Thane Krios, I was recently recruited by commander Shepard to join him on his mission." Thane then reached out his hand. "May I know your name?"

"Anakin." The Jedi knight answered, taking the Drell's hand in his own before shaking it. "Anakin Skywalker."

"Ah, one of the otherworldly visitors that I've heard of." Thane smiled politely. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I recently met your friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, an interesting man."

Anakin chuckled, "You could say that."

The pair fell silent as they opted to look at the blue vortex outside. It was a comfortable silence, and Anakin didn't really mind Thane's presence. The Drell's calm and polite demeanor was infectious. Anakin's shoulders relaxed, releasing some pent-up tension, while letting out a deep breath. Meditation wasn't his forte, but it proved to be much easier when he could watch something like this. Obi-Wan could attest to that. Back during his days as a youngling he had often skipped meditation altogether.

"You seem to be stressed." Thane said in a matter-of-fact manner.

The Jedi at his side shrugged slightly. Anakin's face was somewhat set in stone, as if he was keeping up his guard at all times. It caused the assassin to start wondering.

"With everything that's going on, the war and now all of this, it's difficult to not feel some stress." The general of the 501st remarked, sounding a bit tired as he did so.

This did not go unnoticed either by Thane. The Drell picked up on the subtle signs, concealed yet still there. He could see the faint bags under Anakin's eyes, the way he spoke, how he stood there with his shoulders sagging and his eyes unfocused. But there was more. Thane sensed something else from him.

Thane spoke softly, "Life is a difficult hardship. We often forget ourselves as we try to make the best of it, and let our troubles get to us. The responsibilities that we have towards others causes us to worry. If I may ask, when was the last time you slept?"

His question prompted the Jedi to look at him with mild confusion, mixed with some surprise, as his eyebrows furrowed. Thane ignored the skepticism that was thrown his way and merely waited for any response. A few seconds passed before Anakin looked away, his gaze returning to the soothing light outside, and took a deep breath.

"A short while ago." He confessed, not really caring that he was telling a stranger this. "I don't sleep that well, and I recently woke up as a result. Apparently I'm not that great at it."

"Perhaps it is your soul that needs peace." Thane remarked.

Anakin didn't know how to respond to that. He hardly knew the guy, yet Thane was already talking with him about such topics. He couldn't help but feel wary about it. He was too tired for any of this, though he didn't want to offend the assassin. For all intent and purposes, Thane seemed to be genuinely interested in helping him.

"What do you mean with that?" He asked dumbfounded.

The Drell didn't answer immediately. Instead, he seemed to regard Anakin for a little longer. The Jedi had no clue about what was going through the assassin's mind, nor did he know where this was going. He found the concept of his soul needing peace ridiculous, but a small part of him was acknowledging what the man was implying. Thane hummed lowly, his croaky voice speaking up.

"You have a troubled soul." Thane revealed, his tone calm and contemplative. "There is much conflict in you. I can see the signs, though they are well-hidden. Your lack of sleep comes from nightmares that keep you awake at night, haunting your soul, while plaguing your body."

Anakin shot him a skeptical look, "And how would you know that?"

"I don't." Thane seemed to smirk slightly, and stared into the Jedi's eyes. There was understanding in those black orbs of his own. "But I have faced similar things when I was younger. You are aware that I am an assassin? Trained to kill at a moment's notice."

"I've heard about it." Anakin nodded.

The Drell let his arms drop at his side, took in a deep breath and exhaled softly. He could feel his sickness creeping up on him. As time passed on, it would develop to the point he wouldn't be able to breathe anymore. However, that time was not now. There was still life left in him. There was still enough time for him to rectify his biggest mistake, though he'd have to speak to the commander about it on a later date. At the moment he was busy with helping another.

Thane put his hands together as if he was praying, choosing to avert his gaze.

"I was trained to become an assassin for the Hanar Primacy. My training began at the age of six, and they made sure I would become a lethal weapon. Over time I learned about hand to hand combat, firearms, and even perfected the use of my biotics. It was a grueling period of trial and error. Many people such as the humans would call it creating child soldiers, but they do not understand that us Drell have a debt to repay to the Hanar for saving us." Thane explained, noticing that he gained Anakin's full attention.

He also noticed how the Jedi's hands had begun to clench. Anakin was frowning heavily, obviously in distaste for what he had just heard. But for what? Thane saw how the man's eyes flashed with something. Recognition perhaps?

Anakin shook his head, "So you were a slave to them." He said with pure venom in his voice as he said the word 'slave'.

"Maybe, maybe not." Thane shrugged. "At the time, I cared little, nor do I now. It was not my choice to make, but the Hanar did care for me while giving me a purpose in life. They gifted me the skills to both take and protect life."

"That doesn't make it any better." Anakin retorted angrily.

He couldn't understand how Thane was at peace with himself. How could he, when he had been a slave himself to a master that he hadn't chosen. All he could remember of his first days of life were the small house he lived in with his mother, the dirty workshop of his slave master, the scum of Tatooine and those burning twin suns that made the scorching sand unbearable. Anakin was no longer a slave, yet the experience that he grew up with kept following him. Just another inner demon of his to deal with.

Thane regarded the troubled Jedi with a kind gaze, softly gazing upon the young man. He didn't know what had scarred him. However, he did know that it was a wound that would always remain with him.

"Perhaps, but I do not let it define me. My past is no stranger to me, and I will carry it with me until I take my last breath." The Drell assassin stated. He sounded as calm as one could be, completely at peace with what he had done and experienced. "We all have made mistakes. We all have our regrets. Fears, grudges, it does not matter who it is. In the end, we are but living souls in living bodies, trying our best to find our own path. Your path is your own, Anakin Skywalker. Do not let the darkness in your heart define you."

Anakin sighed loudly, "That sounds all good and well, but it's not really helping."

How was he supposed to do that? How could he ignore his nightmares? The mere thought of Padme dying…

"Then search for help." Thane said, settling his gaze back on the Jedi, but now with an intensity that hadn't been there before. "Find peace in the light of others. There are always people who care for you, you just need to find them."

That last statement left Anakin without any response, and his mind in turmoil. He began pondering on Thane's words. For as far as he had known, he had always suffered hardships and loss. His loved ones were the dilemma here. He could stomach the thought of losing Padme, his wife and love. Nor could he lose Obi-Wan, his mentor and brother. And neither was losing Ahsoka an option, the padawan he hadn't wanted at first, but had come to care for and love like a little sister.

He was afraid of losing them. Ever since he was young, he had had little of his own. Only his mother had been truly there for him. And Qui-Gon was like the father figure he had never had, showing him a bright and vibrant galaxy, only for him to lose the man. No, he didn't want to involve them in this. His inner demons were his to fight.

"I…I can't do that." He eventually said hesitantly.

Thane merely nodded in understanding. The Drell hadn't expected him to do so, but perhaps this was the first step on a journey to inner peace.

"I understand." Thane said, showing no offense or disappointment, which Anakin was thankful for.

The pair once more stood in silence at the viewport, their thoughts in a different place. Minutes passed by as they pondered. Anakin was conflicted, while Thane was at peace. The blue light from outside was the only thing that kept Anakin from pacing like often did. Was he wrong to want to keep his nightmares hidden? It wasn't as if he didn't want to tell Obi-Wan, but how was he going to explain them when they were about his forbidden wife. It was at times like these that he cursed the Jedi code.

Thane noticed his inner turmoil, and decided that it was time for the troubled Jedi to alleviate his concerns.

"Would you perhaps care for some conversation. I'm afraid that I'm quite rusty at it, but I do hope I make a good conversation partner. Talking with another often soothes the soul." Thane asked kindly, showing a small smile on his green scaly lips.

Anakin showed some slight hesitation. His shoulders tensed and his eyes flashed at the Drell, but he quickly calmed down again. There was no need for him to remain on guard at the moment. The alien assassin was not here to kill him after all. Otherwise he wouldn't have had the previous conversation with him. Besides, he was confident enough in his own abilities.

"I would like that." Anakin smiled back.

Palpatine was not happy with current events. His face was set in a deep scowl as he looked out of his office's window, his mind already hard at work. Things were not going well, and even though he could usually call upon the dark side of the Force for help, it gave him no answers.

No one truly knew what had happened to Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, along with their forces. Neither were there any detail about Grievous' disappearance. It was as if they all vanished from the face of the galaxy. Palpatine tried sensing the young Chosen One, but his attempts were all in vain. No one could sense the missing Jedi and it frustrated him.

Anakin was supposed to be his future apprentice. If his vision of a galactic empire was to come true, then he'd need a powerful apprentice to be his enforcer. Dooku was skilled, and his connection to the dark side was strong, but the man was old and did not fit in his grand scheme. No, he needed the Chosen One. His strength and Force affinity was something that hadn't been encountered in a thousand years. Skywalker would make an excellent Sith lord one day that would without a doubt overthrow him, as was the way of the Sith.

But that plan would be ruined if Skywalker was truly gone!

Palpatine took a deep breath and calmed himself. Getting furious would not serve him now, only calm and cold logic. If Skywalker had perished then he would have sensed it, even if the young Jedi died light years away, he would know. Something else had happened. If there was one thing he was certain of, then it was that the ancient Rakata artifact was responsible. That much was certain.

His cold eyes tracked the thousands of speeders outside, all of them of various design and owned by a multitude of species. Coruscant truly was a gem of civilization. Palpatine couldn't wait until he could declare it as the heart of his empire, one led by the Sith. His troops would march the streets, keeping order and making sure that the populace would be under his complete control.

The problem didn't stop with Anakin.

Grievous was also important to his grand plan, and the loss of the powerful Jedi killer was a hard blow. No one eliminated Jedi as well as Grievous did. Palpatine knew of many bounty hunters capable of such feats, like Cad Bane and Durge, but the latter had perished during the starting months of the war while Bane was locked up in prison. That wouldn't do. If his plans were to succeed and his empire to manifest, he'd need to get rid of the Jedi. Order 66 would see to that, but for now, he needed to kill off as many as he could. That's where Grievous came into the picture.

However, the general wasn't just meant to kill Jedi, he was the best option for him have as the leader of the CIS military. Dooku was a brilliant politician and kept the systems under its banner in check. Even the corporate leaders that had pledged their allegiance, such as Gunray, were all reeled in by the count of Serenno. But Dooku wasn't a general. They needed someone to fill the void of supreme commander, a second-in-command so to speak, who would bring the fight to the republic. Only Grievous was qualified for that position. The general inspired fear into the hearts of his enemies and had a cunningly brilliant mind. His losses couldn't be overlooked, but his victories certainly proved his worth.

"How troublesome." Sidious grumbled to himself, allowing his true personality to seep through.

Without Skywalker and Grievous, the war had changed in multiple ways. The 501st legion and the 212th didn't see as much combat as they used to. Due to the situation, they were being kept on the less important fronts for now by the GAR leadership. There was talk about new Jedi generals taking over, but Sidious made sure that wouldn't happen. The 501st legion were the best of the best. If order 66 came to be, then his apprentice would need the best clone troopers.

But the loss of Grievous was probably the biggest impact on the war. Without the general, a whole fleet that had been supposed to invade multiple worlds was now dormant, hovering over the CIS homeworlds until it could be used. Dooku couldn't trust the fleet to a droid commander and the organic officers of the separatist faction were occupied with the other fronts. Besides, only Grievous had the combination of tactics and aggression that was needed for this particular operation. Admiral Trench was a viable option, but he wasn't cleared for combat yet.

Sidious rubbed his forehead exasperatedly.

The Sith lord was getting a headache from all of this. His plan had been going brilliantly, albeit with a few bumps on the road, but in the end it was going well. Now he had to fall back on some of his contingency plans, and stall for time until they found the missing key figures of this war. It had been only just over a week since their disappearance after all. There was a good chance they were just stranded somewhere in the Unknown Regions, waiting for a rescue team to pick them up.

All he had to do was wait. In the end, he would win regardless of what would happen.