A/N: I want to throw a content warning up here. This chapter includes potentially triggering discussions and allusions to torture, sexual abuse, and self-harm. It is only in the flashback section, so feel free to skip to the present day story if you need to.
One Year Ago
The festivities would span weeks.
Obi-Wan did not know if he would last that long. There was no respite from Zygerria's poison – but for the sound of Siri's voice, tinny over the comm and quite displeased with his insistence on handling the mission alone.
"It was my mission first, you know," she told him.
He crouched on the ziggurat ramparts, looking out over the city. The sky was nearly black toward the horizon, the city glowing with lights. Obi-Wan knew it was irrational, but he felt somehow there were fewer stars out here. It was no fewer than the rest of the Outer Rim, he knew, and it wasn't like Corelight was even visible on most Republic worlds. Yet everything felt dimmer, darker.
The streets crisscrossing the city were not the flowing rivers of Coruscant, nearly molten in appearance. They instead looked quaint, picked out with unevenly spaced lights that glowed over stonework houses. But screams echoed across the distance, reaching even to the palace. Obi-Wan had given up on repressing his reaction; he found it deadening on its own.
"You ceded it to me," Obi-Wan said by rote. "But I believe fully you will have a part to play. What of Kadavo?"
Ominously, Anakin's gift had never been delivered to Zygerria. Obi-Wan had expected a rousing parade, to see the slaves led through the streets, ceremonially handed over to Scintel by Anakin himself. But had not happened and there was no official word as to why. Obi-Wan had expected a proclamation about the matter, at the very least.
Jeros had been helpful there, cunning smile on his mouth as he wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan. He acted as a teacher, explaining Zygerria's proud history, its fallen slave empire. Its plans for the future.
"Kadavo is uninhabited according to the reports from Republic Intelligence," Siri said. The signal was poor on his commlink, cutting in and out. He held it closer, intent on Siri's voice as the lifeline that it was. "But my sensors show a number of lifeforms down there – and growing."
"And the processing facility?" Obi-Wan asked, words tasting of ash. It was a cold and terrible euphemism.
He heard several clicks and beeps from Siri's end as she checked her ship's computer. Another voice – Ferus – made a quiet comment.
"Functional," Siri concluded after a long moment. "But not yet complete."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly. Jeros alluded to what the facility's full capabilities would eventually be and it was not merely capacity that worried Obi-Wan. Sheer cruelty, built into its design on every level.
"Wouldn't it seem this is part of Skywalker's plan, Masters?" Ferus put in.
"Ferus is right, Obi-Wan," Siri said. She thought she was comforting him, as if this had not already occurred to Obi-Wan. "It's a reckless plan, but all Anakin is doing is positioning his people where he wants them before Zygerria truly becomes a force to be reckoned with. He's won a lot of battles to get this far."
Obi-Wan pressed his mouth shut, shaking his head only to himself. They were not here, could not feel the insidious pressure of this planet. Yes, he understood the driving need Anakin felt to combat this society – all too well, in fact. There was more at stake here than Anakin's physical well being, or even the lives of his crew members.
He allowed Ferus and Siri discuss the various virtues and pitfalls of Anakin's plan for a long moment before telling them pointedly, "You assume matters will go to plan. That has rarely been my experience."
Ferus snorted and said something under his breath.
Siri's tone was sharp when she replied, "I am aware, Obi-Wan. I'm hardly a fresh faced Padawan and I was prepared for this mission."
"I doubt that," Obi-Wan said and, before he could come to regret his coldness, he turned the commlink off.
He stood on the rampant, turning finally from his vantage on the city, and angled a look upward at the palace itself. Lights remained on in many parts, no doubt to help slaves manage their duties, but those in Scintel's private rooms had dimmed only to flicker. Obi-Wan had learned during unpleasant observation that the queen preferred firelight in the evenings. She had likely fallen asleep by now.
Feeling the Force flow through him, Obi-Wan ran lightly along the top of the wall, jumping up to scale the side of the palace itself. He swung himself over the banister and onto the very same balcony that Anakin had been introduced on, and then skulked quietly through silk valences to the main corridor. A guard fell silent in his grasp. Obi-Wan lowered the man carefully to the floor, contemplating his armor before dismissing the impulse. He'd hardly pass for a Zygerrian and, at any rate, did not think approaching Anakin as anyone other than himself would benefit his cause.
He held his hand above the key console next to the door to Scintel's chambers, waiting for guidance from the Force. Eyes closed, he punched in a combination, and the doors hissed open. Perfumed smoke blew into the hall and Obi-Wan pressed the draping fabric of his poncho over his mouth in response.
Obi-Wan walked softly on the stone floors, skirting around the walls. The bedroom had no door, only sheer curtains. He peeked in carefully, watching Scintel stretch in her sleep, bedding notably rucked up and disturbed.
"You're not as subtle as you think," Anakin said flatly from behind him.
Obi-Wan whipped around, wishing for the life of him that he hadn't actually been caught off guard. Anakin stood in front of another door, what seemed to be a dressing room visible in the firelight. He was shirtless and barefoot, arms limp at his side.
Anakin watched him with eyes that did not catch the light, face entirely expressionless as he added, "And you could probably work on your situational awareness."
Obi-Wan inclined his head.
"You make a fair point," he replied, taking the admonishment as much in stride as he could. He'D said those very same words to Anakin many times. He did not want to deflect with irony or anger, he would not let the barb get to him. Perhaps it could be a connection. "As always, a Master learns from his Padawan."
Anakin's anger was as sudden as it was overwhelming, pulsing in the Force with earthshaking power. Obi-Wan reached out to stabilize himself, looking away from Anakin just to confirm that he was not actually shaking the palace down on them.
"Don't," Anakin hissed out.
He turned on his heel and stalked back into the dressing room. Obi-Wan did not hesitate to follow him; the room felt strongly of Anakin, grooves worn into the Force, paths not to walk. Obi-Wan shivered as he stepped to the side, despite the gravity pulling at him. In the past days, Anakin had been in this room often, psychic pain bleeding out to stain the Force. Obi-Wan couldn't even imagine what Scintel's bedroom must feel like.
Anakin passed from the dressing room through another door and Obi-Wan couldn't make out where that led to. Frowning, he flung out a hand, simultaneously closing the dressing room door and turning on the light.
Ah, simply the fresher then. Obi-Wan followed the boy in, finding him leaning heavily on the ornate sink. His back was scored and bloody – Obi-Wan had a feeling that several of the marks had come from something other than Scintel's talons. He pressed his lips together as he took in the deep bruising on Anakin's arms, around his wrists. He could just make out a line around his throat as well, though it was half hidden by his hair.
Anakin's hands flexed on the edge of the basin. The tap running untouched as Anakin stared down at it. It was not like Anakin to waste water.
"Siri is at Kadavo," Obi-Wan began. His voice echoed on the tile of the fresher. "She will render any aid she can to your people. I assume you have a pre-arranged signal with them?"
"A beacon," Anakin said.
Obi-Wan stepped closer. The room was certainly large enough – to accommodate them both. Scintel certainly had a spa somewhere else, but her fresher was lavish in its own right.
"To tell them when to disable their collars," Obi-Wan concluded. For all the varied methods slavers came up with to keep their slaves in bondage, Anakin had a ready answer. In many ways, Obi-Wan reflected, a collar was certainly easier than an implanted bomb. Anakin didn't acknowledge the point, but Obi-Wan could sense he was correct and that was confirmation enough. "If you could share the transmitter frequency with us, that would be helpful."
"Fine."
"That is the plan, isn't it?" Obi-Wan pressed.
Anakin shuddered, bringing one hand up to pass over his face before dropping it again, knuckles against the glass basin.
"Yes, Obi-Wan, this is the plan. This is what I was trying for," Anakin snapped and Obi-Wan couldn't say he wasn't relieved to hear emotion back in his voice. Haltingly, Anakin added, "I just thought –"
"That Zygerrians consummated after the wedding?"
Anakin turned around, leveling a vicious glare at Obi-Wan.
"I thought it would be easier. I've trained half my life for this, after all."
Obi-Wan felt his stomach drop.
When Anakin first came to the Temple, even before he was tested by the Council, he was taken to the Halls of Healing for a thorough physical. The Healers had been surprised and relieved that there was no permanent damage to the youngling. Yes, signs of physical abuse. A few broken bones, but they had healed correctly long ago. He was not malnourished and his growth was not stunted. Very careful questioning from the Healers allayed worries about other kinds of abuse.
"No..." he whispered.
Anakin rolled his eyes.
"It doesn't matter what happens to us," Anakin said with emphasis. "Slaves, Jedi. Bodies are just tools. 'Luminous beings.'"
He left the quote unfinished. Obi-Wan had never before wanted to strike him. He was rationalizing. It was grotesque to listen to, horrible to contemplate anyone at all honestly believing such a twisted version of Jedi philosophy – let alone Anakin.
And he does not, Obi-Wan reminded himself.
"He could have gotten me some practice and then I wouldn't..." Anakin looked away from Obi-Wan, eyes unfocused. It wasn't clear if he was finished, or had simply forgotten he'd started talking. His face contorted, eyes bright, as he continued, "I wish he hadn't died. Before I got there."
"Who?" Obi-Wan asked, though he had a disturbing feeling he knew. There weren't many beings that Anakin wished he had killed but hadn't had a chance to eliminate, after all – and most of the rest were still on the list.
Anakin frowned, as if it had been obvious.
"Watto."
"Ah," Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. "The death of a sentient is always to be mourned."
To his surprise, Anakin nodded. His eyes slid to the floor.
"And, really, Watto wasn't a bad master. Not really. He gambled our food away sometimes and he beat us, but it could have been worse." Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan, eyes suddenly fierce. "It could have been a lot worse."
A horrible kind of understanding dawned on Obi-Wan. At the Temple, Anakin's experience made him unique, the one child they didn't know how to help. In his fleet, he was one of hundreds, thousands, singled out only because he had suffered less than most of the others.
"He got offers, you know," Anakin said.
"Anakin..."
"And you know what he said?" Anakin continued, heedless of the hand Obi-Wan had held up. His voice was flat, when it should have been laced with emotion. Obi-Wan always thought he couldn't talk to Anakin about this, that if he did, it would shake the Temple down with the force of Anakin's anger and pain. This yawning void of feeling was worse. "He said he didn't want his best tool broken. He saved me. Because I was useful."
"Anakin, you must stop this," Obi-Wan said.
Anakin's confusion flickered across his face.
"I'm not giving up..."
Obi-Wan cut him off.
"Fight your war! That is not – Anakin, I have seen Zygerria and its rot, its sickness. I cannot say the Republic is right to ignore this. Fight them. Go ahead. Raze Kadavo to the ground. I will be happy to help you.
"But the rest of this... it must stop. You need to come back to the Temple, to begin to heal."
"And my fleet? Everyone on Kadavo right now, under the whip?" Anakin's voice was itself a lash. Obi-Wan tried not to wince, but he couldn't help looking toward where Scintel still slept.
"These things you are doing to yourself..." Obi-Wan said. He passed his hand over his face, pulling at the skin. "You will sacrifice your soul."
"Maybe it's worth it."
"Anakin, it's not possible. Nothing is worth that! And when you lose yourself, you lose everything. Everything you have fought for will be destroyed by this!"
Anakin snorted.
"I'll get you the frequency. Just get the hell out of here."
Now
Padme did not sleep well at all. She regretted not seeking out the quarters Taun We had apportioned for her, eventually getting up in the middle of the night to sleep on the Arcardia - only to realize Anakin had stolen her ship. And Artoo.
Again.
Arms crossed as she stared at the rain spattering against the landing pad, Padme cursed aloud. She didn't have a single change of clothes with her. It would serve Anakin entirely right if she showed up in Luminara's clothes - or better, Obi-Wan's - and struck him dead of a heart attack before he could even land on Nal Hutta.
Grousing to herself, arm aching once more, Padme made her way back to the medbay.
And did not sleep, did not dream.
So, in the morning, over what was perhaps the most awkward meal she'd had in some time, Padme did not manage to restrain her ire as Luminara finally let Dooku expound on his theory. Nor did she go without complaint as Luminara decided that, of course, she needed to give the facility another look, this time with Dooku's perspective in mind.
"It is hardly necessary that you accompany us, my lady," Barriss said politely.
Padme gritted her teeth.
"It is, actually."
Luminara's sympathy looked as condescending as Obi-Wan's.
"We understand if this has all been a bit much for you. Not everyone has the constitution of a Jedi."
Padme narrowed her eyes at the woman, wishing her mind didn't feel quite so muzzy from lack of sleep. She'd have something quite cutting to say otherwise. Eventually Luminara let the matter drop with a shrug, and the group departed the white dining room for the blaster scorched halls.
Dooku merrily guided Luminara and Barriss down the broken corridors of Tipoca City. It was plain that he could give the tour as easily as Taun We or Lama Su. A disturbing thought.
Padme and Obi-Wan paced them, unwilling to let either Dooku or the other Jedi out of their sight again. She had never been an impatient woman, nor an intemperate one. Such traits did not befit a Queen of Naboo and ill suited a Senator. Yet now, with Anakin lightyears away, heading foolishly into danger, she could barely stand to be in her own skin. And Dooku simply would not stop talking.
"And my findings led me here," Dooku explained. He gestured grandly to the training floor below. It had become a triage area as the Kaminoans sorted through the dozens of injuries. Luminara peered down at them languidly, expression placid as she observed the goings on. "Only a high ranking member of the government would be able to funnel money to an operation as extensive as this."
"Not necessarily," Luminara said, but she declined to elaborate.
"If you are correct, Master Dooku," Barriss asked. Her delicate features were pinched with thought. "Then why did you go to Skywalker first? Clearly you can see that an army would be of great temptation to him, even if he did not approve of how it was created."
Dooku affected innocence.
"Why, for that very reason. I had thought the boy incorruptible. I'm afraid that I do not trust the Senate – and with that in mind, I could not trust the Jedi Order either. Skywalker cut his ties to the Jedi long ago." His eyes drifted toward Obi-Wan. "He would believe the army is evidence enough and likely free them, thus undercutting any Sith plan to use them against the Jedi."
"A rare thing," Luminara murmured. Dooku looked at her curiously, and she added, "Such naivete, in a Jedi Master."
Dooku drew his cloak around him, offense clear on his face.
"Former Master," Luminara corrected. She tilted her head to the side, weighing the idea, and appeared to decide that was explanation enough.
Padme blinked rapidly. For all the enmity between the Order and the Senate, she was rapidly coming to learn that many Jedi themselves would fit among the most cutting and dry witted political factions. Certainly they made better conversation than the likes of Nute Gunray.
"Yet you appear to have already turned against Anakin," Obi-Wan said. He rubbed his hand over his beard before splaying his fingers out, miming shock as his eyes went wide. "Hm, it's as if it is difficult to trust one whose loyalties change so swiftly."
"The boy is not what I thought," Dooku intoned sadly.
Obi-Wan glared at him; Padme balled her fists at her side.
"Really?" Barriss asked. She blinked languidly. "I had always thought Anakin was quite easy to read. He conceals nothing, on his face or in the Force."
The needling was clearly getting to Dooku, much to Obi-Wan's obvious delight. Padme couldn't say she disagreed with the sentiment.
"I do not believe a single one of you could have predicted that he would defend this city, only to leave its unwilling army in the tender care of its creators," Dooku snapped. He looked down his nose at Obi-Wan and then Padme, each in turn. "Nor that he would react quite so to your – dalliance or what have you. I expect you would have acted quite differently, otherwise."
Luminara shared a look with Barriss.
"I feel we are quite far afield from our original point."
"Because you are allowing yourself to be led," Padme cut in. She stepped forward, meeting Luminara's vivid blue eyes directly. "Master Jedi, Dooku's reasons for leading us here are irrelevant right now. We have more important issues at hand. Why did the Trade Federation attack us when you had already been dispatched here on their ships?"
"I thought you had already arrived at an answer, Senator. He wishes to undermine your mission and spark a war – though, if I may, the next time you present such a stirring argument, perhaps you should include a supposition as to why. It is hard to see the benefit to him."
Padme bristled.
"Because he's afraid of Anakin. Half the Senate is! Even Jedi must be able to 'sense' that much."
Luminara and Barriss looked taken aback. Padme supposed their abilities were rarely questioned - motives, yes, for the Senate saw politics and deceit in everything. That their powers remained mysterious and unquestioned was a benefit of the cloister that was the Jedi Temple, the secrets they kept even from the Senate. They fulfilled missions with no explanation beyond "The Force" and any failure remained personal, a matter of personality or strategy. Padme was coming to see how untrue that was. Or rather, how connected the Force was to every facet of personality, every strategy the Jedi enacted.
And Padme's time with Obi-Wan and Anakin had already done much to jaundice her perspective of that practice.
"She is right, you know," Obi-Wan said. "The Senate is full of craven cowards who care more about their pocketbooks than the state of the Republic. They make their fortunes on the backs of the poor and downtrodden – we all know that most of their funds are funneled into the Republic from Outer Rim operations they keep off the books. Anakin is a threat to their finances and there is nothing a Senator fears more than that."
Of course, since Padme was a Senator herself, that wasn't the stirring and heartfelt defense she might have wished for.
"Regardless, you are playing into his hands. Surely you must realize that setting a trap for Anakin will only result in war. He will fight you and become an enemy of the Republic itself!"
Luminara's gaze was incisive, raking over Padme. She did not need to even ask why Padme cared so much.
"Our trap is intended to prevent a war. And, perhaps you do not realize, a genocide. I cannot say I care for most Hutts, but what Skywalker plans cannot be permitted."
Padme shook her head.
"You can't blame him for what he is planning when you set it up to begin with. It's entrapment, pure and simple, but for you it's all the proof you need that he can't be saved."
"My lady," Barriss said softly, "what we intend is to save him."
Padme could barely speak for the anger she felt, staring back at two perfectly calm, completely righteous Jedi fools. They would get Anakin killed and destroy the Republic in the process.
"What was it you said? About naïve Jedi?"
She spun on her heel, stalking away from them without another word.
It did not take much for Obi-Wan to catch up with her, though she was startled that he bothered. They walked swiftly down the blackened corridor in an angry silence for far longer than she cared to think of. Eventually, she noticed that Obi-Wan had been guiding her subtly to the landing bays the ships – Star Destroyers, she thought she'd heard – had been returned to after the battle.
That particular door was still intact, unlike all the others blown open. Padme hesitated before bringing her hand up to key it open, looking over to Obi-Wan.
"He shall need our aid," he explained simply. "I thought... we were of one mind."
Padme didn't quite know how he had leaped to that conclusion, given the scene he'd made the day before about her relationship with Anakin – nor given his not so ringing endorsement of Senators, herself undoubtedly included. But he was right, nonetheless. They had the same priority, if nothing else, and it was to save Anakin.
But she knew the moral line she would be crossing, felt cold at the choice before her. She looked up at Obi-Wan, anger masking her own fear and guilt.
"We can't just steal them, Obi-Wan. They're people – sentient beings!"
"Ah. I can't say I had intended to do otherwise, but you make a fair point. Anakin certainly will not accept help if he knows the clones do not offer it willingly." He appeared to think for a moment. "I suppose it is good fortune that we have a talented orator at our disposal."
Padme glared at him.
"I've gotten death threats that sounded sweeter than that," she told him.
"And surely more sincere," he said cheekily.
"It's good to see that the presence of other Jedi has only sharpened your sense of poorly timed humor," she replied. He dipped his head and paused, waiting for her. There was no other choice before them. Padme turned from him, clapping her hand to the key panel in irritation. "You may want to work on that, because when I'm finished orating, I will have an entire army of clones under my direct command."
"I shall endeavor to find a new target."
The door opened to the same staging bay and columns of men in white armor. Padme felt a moment of disorientation. Only hours had passed since she first saw the clones, greeted them on the training floor before leading a force against Trade Federation droids, and here she was again. The men were conducting drills with their weapons, captains like Rex pacing the lines, shouting and correcting the movements. She wondered at their stamina, if they'd given themselves time to rest since the first attack had ended. Surely they had. Even clones needed sleep.
That they continued their training now was ominous - and Padme couldn't say if it was because they were so sure another attack would come, or because they had no other interests.
A clone noticed the door opening and jogged over to them. Obi-Wan seemed to recognize the man, greeting him with a warm clasp of the arm.
"How are they, Cody?" he asked.
Cody fell in step beside them, leading them down the rows of men as Rex continued to work them, barking orders to the men. Other captains worked the clones further down. Padme gazed down the long landing bay but could hardly make out an end to the room, to the rows of men. To her left, behind the last of the men, the room opened to the gray light of Kamino. Rain dripped down the sides of the Star Destroyers as tech clones pored over flimsiplasts and the ships themselves.
"Good, sir. Ready for when those Fed bastards make their move."
Obi-Wan nodded rather than dispute the point. Padme wasn't at all sure that, Jedi presence or no, Nute Gunray wouldn't try to claim Kamino for himself. It was too bad, she reflected, that she wouldn't have time to personally pay him a visit while he was in system.
"I would like you to know, Cody, you and the other commanders, that I have personally spoken with Lama Su," Obi-Wan stated.
Padme raised her eyebrows in surprise. She hadn't been aware he had done so. He produced a datachip from his belt and handed it to Cody, who turned it over in his hands like he didn't at all know why Obi-Wan had bothered to give it to him. After a moment, Obi-Wan managed to signal a tech with a datapad and then to display the information.
"As you can see, I have taken responsibility for your clone army, in the name of the Jedi Order."
"Very good, sir," Cody said.
"You are under my direct command," Obi-Wan said, as if the matter were unclear. He looked at Cody, words slow and deliberate as he added, "Myself, above all other Jedi."
Cody looked down at the datapad and nodded, as if it were logical enough.
"Of course, sir."
"And I would like you all to treat Senator Amidala as if she were a Jedi – with authority equivalent to my own. Gather the men closer, she has something she'd like to say to them."
Cody saluted and jogged over to Rex who called down the line, each commander bringing their men together until Padme stood before a sea of men. There were many she could barely see, a flood of humanity in the bay that grew indistinct with distance. She wished for some kind of platform, some kind of vocal amplifier as they all turned, as one, to stare at her.
She squared her shoulders, holding her injured arm to her side as she surveyed them. What little murmuring there was quieted as Cody relayed to the men the new authority that Obi-Wan had assumed and that which he had given to her. She could see it as respect lit in the clones' eyes – and something more. She repressed a shiver at the sight, realizing that loyalty was entirely unearned.
"You have fought bravely today," she began. "And I am honored by it, by the sacrifices you and your brothers made to defend me and my friends. This planet is your home and I fear that we brought trouble to your doorstep. I am sincerely grieved that we have done so."
Among the clones, a few closed their eyes, lips moving. Padme watched in curiosity. Perhaps it was a prayer for fallen brothers, for the ones not yet born.
"Our other friend, Anakin Skywalker, has already left Kamino, but in his place I extend his thanks to you. I know that he values what you have done – he understands it more even than I or Master Kenobi, because like you he is a warrior. He is out in the galaxy now, continuing his fight. Soon Master Kenobi and I will join him. And I ask –"
She cut herself off, voice trembling as she looked over to Obi-Wan. She didn't even know if they would understand what she was doing.
Obi-Wan stepped forward, his voice loud and echoing.
"I remind you that the Senator is my equal. You are to listen to her as you would to me."
Padme fought the urge to scowl at him. That sounded quite nice, but for the part where it laid the responsibility for freeing the clones entirely on her. It was absolutely the right thing to do. She could not command them to die for her simply because she loved Anakin. But her mouth had gone dry, throat constricted with fear around the words.
What if they wouldn't follow her after this? What were they programmed to do, if anything? What if Anakin died on Nal Hutta because she was too righteous to save him?
"I ask you to come with us, because I refuse to command you," Padme finally said. Her voice rang against the silence of the docking bay. The clones shifted on their feet, several looking rather annoyed by her pronouncement. "You are free beings, as all are, so I cannot do more than ask. Anakin fights for the most just cause and he is in grave danger. I will die to save him, if I must. I will die by his side if I can't save him.
"I realize you do not know him. He was barely on this world, but, please, join me to help him."
Her voice trailed off and she felt a flush on her cheeks as she cast her gaze downward. It was hardly the speech of an experienced stateswoman.
"I, too, entreat you to extend your help," Obi-Wan put in. He stepped closer and Padme felt warmed by his presence, strengthened to have him back as an ally. He pronounced clearly, definitively, "You are free to make your own choice here. I shall not command it."
Embolden by his support, Padme stepped forward.
"In fact, none shall command you again," she said. Few of the clones reacted. It was a nonsensical declaration. "We are disbanding this army."
Cody stepped forward aggressively.
"Sir? What does she mean by that?"
Obi-Wan's gray eyes were steady as he met Cody's eyes.
"It means you are free. Completely. If you wish to stay together, you can. If you wish to leave Kamino, you can. If you and your brothers disagree, you can each follow your own paths." Obi-Wan gestured to Padme. "Our path leads back to Anakin. I would sincerely like for you to join us, but it is up to you."
Cody hefted his blaster.
"Works for me."
Padme attempted a smile, but it faded quickly as all the men before her mimed the gesture.
They're not all alike, she told herself. Rex and Cody were different, and those were the only two she could name. They were all different. But they were making the same choice because they didn't know what else to do. What else to be.
"Excellent," Obi-Wan said. "We will need to move quickly. Prime the hyperdrives on the Destroyers, we are jumping out of system as soon as possible."
Tipoca City was indeed in a dire state.
Dooku cursed the fool Neimoidians for hitting at the core of the cloning facility. He had always preferred to take a more direct hand and this truly proved his point. Sidious was content merely to set actors in motion, presuming that it would eventually benefit him, but Dooku was well aware of the price inherent to that methodology. Time was the most obvious cost. Sidious's plans took ages to bear fruit and while Dooku considered himself a patient man, he did not intend to wait another ten years for victory. The other cost was in control. Sidious would deny it, of course, but it was plain enough to Dooku that, with so many plots in motion, the man responded to eventualities rather than seizing control to guide them.
It was a strangely Jedi-like philosophy and among those that had led Dooku to disdain the Order. He was quite through with simply allowing the will of the Force to happen to him.
Lama Su was cagey about the damage as he led them through the remains of the training area, but it was plain they had suffered a serious set back.
"Our production will not halt," Lama Su assured Luminara. "Kamino is well prepared to continue the terms of our contract with the Order and shall be for the indefinite future. "
"How fortunate."
"Although some additional security for your investment would not go amiss," he added after a long beat.
She made a non-committal noise and Lama Su blinked his starry eyes, displeased but too prideful to beg. The cloners were terrified of the forces that had been unleashed on them, that much was clear. To their benefit, Dooku thought. They relied too much on their locations, did not secure their facilities at all well. The galaxy was already reshaping itself and they would be among the first to join that stronger future.
Luminara picked up her robes, stepping over the shattered glass still scattered across the floor, as she glanced at the broken cloning cylinders above. The must have numbered in the hundreds, and while production would not stop, it was clear the order would have a distinct shortfall in numbers.
Small bodies lay under tarps, often grouped together with many under one. They would be cataloged – not as people, Dooku was aware. As damaged merchandise. The Kaminoans would need to inspect each individual to decide how far along its development had been before death, where production would be lacking. From the little Dooku had seen, many had been near completion. Some had even come from the training areas, fully formed but not yet grown to adulthood. The youngest, least developed still rotated above, gestating quietly above the slow, undignified funeral rites of their brothers.
Sidious undoubtedly considered that a trifle. Skywalker's own forces would likely make up for the shortfall in clone forces. Dooku saw it in a different light: it was sheer carelessness, a waste of resources. He had never counted on getting Skywalker more than the initial order to begin with, but it served their plans well to have a reserve ready for the Republic. Relying on Trade Federation forces was foolhardy at best.
It was something of a relief, however, that so many of the older clones had survived. Had only the untrained children survived, he was sure the Jedi would have a much easier time disbanding the army and ending production. Dooku didn't quite think their pension system was equipped to handle a flood of adults, nor were their stomachs hardy enough to simply liquidate the clones themselves.
The situation would do, though it wasn't ideal, he concluded. And now that the Order's true representatives were present, he had the opportunity to influence matters in his own favor.
Thus far, Luminara was nearly as guarded as Lama Su himself, reserving judgment only for herself. Dooku could sense little in the Force from her. She wrapped it tightly around herself, yet did not make it into a wall. It was as impenetrable as her long, dark robes, flowing freely about her while concealing everything.
He did not yet know if she, or the girl, had the moral wherewithal to make the right choices about the clones. To make any choices at all, truly, without running back to the Council for instructions.
But despite their demeanors, Dooku was confident that he would sway them. The Jedi of today's Order were weak and easily led, in his experience.
Luminara and the girl continued their investigation of the clones, pausing every so often to ask trite questions of Lama Su - even Dooku was sure they already knew the answers. If they were worth their salt at all, they had already sliced the city computers.
Dooku was perfectly content to let them work for the moment. Luminara had not been particularly receptive to his explanations about the Senate and Darth Sidious. As always, he allowed himself to enjoy the dark humor of that. Kenobi's quick embrace of the idea that there was a Sith plot underway, surmising Dooku's own involvement, had greatly impressed Dooku. It was not surprising that other Jedi were less insightful.
Stepping away from Luminara and her apprentice, Dooku stretched out to feel Kenobi's progress. It was indeed a poor reflection on Kamino's other Jedi guests that they had not guessed what Kenobi and the Senator were up to, though convenient for Dooku's purposes. It seemed that Kenobi was nearly ready: there was a distinct sense of anticipation in the Force coming from that quarter of the city. At a guess, Dooku would say that the clones were mere minutes out from taking off.
Excellent. Of course, as soon as Kenobi was in the sky, Dooku would need to alert Luminara, make sure she knew he was well prepared to aid her in her pursuit of the abducted fleet, all the way to Nal Hutta if matters worked in his favor.
Dooku's comm trilled an alert, pausing the group. The Jedi eyed him warily as he brought the commlink slowly to his mouth, thumbing it on theatrically.
"You have impeccable timing, my friend," he said.
That timing was largely due to the message Dooku had sent to Jango, recalling him to Kamino. Nonetheless, had he managed to come back during the battle, that would have been less than ideal. No doubt Jango's ship was currently circling the city, taking in the damage done to his erstwhile home, cursing Dooku for preventing him from its defense.
"Wouldn't say that," Jango replied. Lama Su's long neck twisted as he turned to look quizzically at Dooku. His voice was gruff with anger. He had not been apprised of the contact between Jango and Dooku since, cagey or not, he could not at all be trusted with that information when his funding was on the line. "Missed all the action."
"I daresay they fought valiantly without you."
"And died. How many?"
Dooku's eyes slid idly toward Luminara. She watched with the calm interest typical of a Jedi. The Force stirred around her, stretching out toward Dooku, aiding her as she passed judgment upon him.
"Too many," Dooku said. He let his remorse bleed into the Force, twisting in his own heart as if it were real. "They destroyed much of the creche – and the cloning tubes themselves."
A younger, higher voice swore viciously. Boba truly had deplorable manners.
"Who?" Boba asked. "We'll get 'em, won't we, Dad?"
"You will have a difficult time with that," Dooku said sternly. He had never had any patience for Jango's indulgence of the boy. "They have already departed the system. Land and we will discuss this further."
He closed the link down, feeling Luminara's gaze on him.
But it was Lama Su who spoke, "How interesting, that you are a friend of our template."
"Not terribly. It is how I knew to come here and defend you," Dooku told him. He lifted his chin, meeting Luminara's cool gaze. "You are seeking answers and Jango has many of them. If you will join me, Master Jedi, you will find his company quite illuminating."
She gave him a faint smile.
"You do well to invite us. I had no plans but to follow you, regardless."
In the Force, there was the sense of strength, unwavering as durasteel, just beneath her amusement. She assumed there was no way he could have stopped her. Dooku considered her and her apprentice as they followed him up to the landing pads. The girl was nothing special, unfortunately. She had none of Kenobi's keen edge nor the power that drew Sidious to Skywalker. Luminara was a different story.
Had he the will, Dooku was not certain he could stop her.
Of course, it was immaterial.
Jango met them, his brat at his side, in the hall just beyond the landing pad. The weather had turned once more outside and the skies were all but black with the ferocity of the storm. Lightning crashed into the roiling sea, the aiwhas cresting on the waves.
Luminara and her apprentice bowed to Jango. He tucked his hands into his weapons belt, helmet under one arm. His armor was slick with rain, his expression tight with anger. Boba's curly hair had been slicked down in the rain, though it seemed his father had otherwise shielded him as best he could. He shifted from one foot to the other, arms crossed and a pout on his small face.
"You'll explain this," Jango snapped at Dooku once the formalities finished.
"It seems that there was a miscommunication among our friends in the Trade Federation," Dooku said smoothly. "They came to believe that Kamino was in the employ of Skywalker. We have since disabused them of this notion."
"Trade Federation! But they're in orbit right now!" Boba exclaimed, he looked to his father. "They wouldn't expect us."
"Indeed they would not, child," Luminara put in. She had hidden her hands in her robes as she watched them, Jedi calm implacable. "But the course of revenge is rarely desirable. Especially when pursued light of information."
"I am curious. You are the template of the clones?" Barris asked softly.
Jango nodded shortly.
"Then you had every expectation they would die in battle. It is what they were bred for. And yet you are angered by the Trade Federation's attack?"
"They weren't bred to die," Jango said gruffly. "They're bred to fight. There's a difference."
Barriss looked contemplative, opening her mouth to say more before Luminara hushed her with a gesture. Her eyes were set on the window outside, calm fading to annoyance. Dooku turned to follow her gaze, tamping down his amusement as best he could. Against the dark sky, a dozen wedge shaped ships lifted into high orbit.
"Rash as ever, Obi-Wan," Luminara said, but the tightness of her mouth belied any fondness Dooku might have suspected in her words.
"Master?" Barriss asked. "What will we do?"
"Pursue."
Jango stepped in front of them, as if they were ready to charge out the door right then and steal his own ship. He spread his arms to block the door.
"I wouldn't do that," Boba said snottily.
Jango threw a quelling look down at the boy who looked only the smallest bit remorseful
"If you're facing my clones, you'll need more than your Jedi abilities. And since I'd rather not see them die for nothing..." Jango pulled out a compact, burner datapad – hardwired and one use only. He tossed it toward the Jedi and Barriss held up a hand, catching it with the Force. It rotated gently in the air as she drew it toward her, head tilted to read it before it was even in her hands. "It's all I could get from them."
"From the Kaminoans, you mean," Luminara said.
At the same time, Barriss exclaimed in disappointment, "It's encrypted."
"Just so, little one. They don't give away their secrets cheap – and some, not at all." He jerked his head toward the datapad in her fine boned hands. "That's all the programming they put into the clones. Maybe you can do something with it, keep 'em from being misused."
Barriss bowed deeply to Jango.
"Thank you. I will endeavor to do my best."
Dooku did not bother to hide his smile.