"More Than Just A Clone"

Chapter 38

"Bly, over here."

The clone commander's body tightened up. The voice calling out to him was not Twi'lek.

Ordo.

The off-pitch variance told him the Null was injured even before he stormed up the ramp and saw Ordo lying in the cramped medbay.

"What happened?" he demanded, knowing without looking any further that Aayla was not on the ship. Bly stayed outwardly calm, not showing the turmoil of emotion swirling below the surface.

"Our mission objective was accomplished. We secured the bacta tanks," Ordo began, shifting slightly to get in a more comfortable position. His face was an unhealthy grey, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. A'den, stood protectively to one side of him, watching Bly warily his hand resting lightly on his blaster.

"Frak your mission objective. Where's Aayla?" Bly growled, losing his patience.

A'den folded his arms and moved around the other side of the bed between Bly and Ordo. Bly stepped closer, refusing to be intimated by the Nulls. A'den hissed and stepped forward, facing off against Bly chest-to-chest.

"A'den," Ordo scolded, reaching up and pulling his brother back. He shook his head sternly and put the Null back into his original spot. He turned back to Bly.

"All of our teams were in place as planned," the former clone captain continued. "During our egress, we encountered larger troop numbers than anticipated. Our intel failed to reveal a star destroyer was just dry-docked for repairs. It wasn't visible to our scanners. There were thousands of troops onboard, rather than a minimal crew. Once the reserve troops were rallied in place, we were overwhelmed by sheer numbers."

Bly took a slow deep breath, struggling to reign in his temper. He nodded crisply, like he did when receiving news from the front that everything had gone shebs bad. Like he'd done the day he'd been told Catcher was dead. "Aayla?" he asked, his voice coming out flat and normal, no hint of emotion.

Ordo glanced over at A'den as if trying to figure out which one of them would elaborate. There was a short pause in which no one spoke.

"Report," Bly demanded, the curt command tone slipping out automatically.

A'den straightened up and immediately responded. "Null-ARC 11 was injured. The General stayed behind to provide cover fire."

Bly took a moment to digest this information, his jaw working. "She ordered you out." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," A'den confirmed. "We would not have escaped, if not for the General."

Bly nodded, rubbing his thumb along his chin like he always did when he was lost in thought. He pivoted slightly as he heard movement behind him. Fi and Mereel hurried up the ramp with a stretcher. He moved aside as Ordo was slid onto the stretcher. The lead clone hissed with pain from the jarring movement.

"It's OK, Ordo," A'den said to his brother in a low soothing tone, "the doc'll get you fixed right up."

Bly turned away. It had been a long time since he'd had a brother as close to him as the Nulls. He'd stopped caring after he'd lost Catcher. It hurt too much. Bly turned and quietly left the ship.

He wandered away from the bastion. He hadn't been on his own at all since... he looked around the woods. No. Come to think of it. He'd never been alone before. He'd always been surrounded by others, ever since he was a vatling. Since Order 66, he'd been with Aayla.

His feet moved on their own, but he could tell he was following a well-worn path. The trail ended and he found himself down by a large lake. He sat down on a fallen log that looked as if it had been used for contemplation many a time before.

He tried to think of what this all meant. Aayla in the hands of the Empire. But, all he felt was numb. He wasn't angry. Somehow, he wasn't even surprised. Ever since she'd left, he'd had a feeling something would go wrong with the mission.

It was as if he'd lost the ability to feel.

"Bly."

He blinked, and turned slowly around. His response time was shot at the moment. Between lack of sleep and lack of food, his body was running on empty.

"Skirata," he said, simply, and turned back around, staring at the water again.

Without waiting for an invitation, the older man sat down next to him on the log. They sat in silence for several long moments. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

"I've never liked the Jedi," Skirata said, after the silence had stretched on.

Bly snorted. "Me neither." After another long moment, he added in, "they're not like clones." Feeling restless, he grabbed up a handful of rocks, skimming them along the water's surface.

"No, they're not," Skirata agreed, and opened up Bly's fist. Their eyes locked for a short moment. The clone commander allowed the older man to tug the rock out of his grasp.

"Try it with more of a spin on your wrist." Skirata flicked a rock across the surface and skimmed almost clean to the other side of the water.

"Impressive," Bly said.

"I have a lot of sons," Skirata said. "I've had practice." An aura of sadness and heaviness came over the older man. "I also had a daughter who was a Jedi."

Bly let the rocks clatter down to the ground. He turned his full attention to the Mandalorian.

"Every once in a great while there is a decent Jedi. Your Jedi General saved my sons' lives. Ordo..." Skirata stopped, his voice choked with emotion.

The two men sat in silence, watching small white birds skimming against the murky darkness of the lake.

"I'm going after her," Bly said quietly.

Skirata pointed to his injured arm. "You'll need to heal up first."

"I'll use the damn bacta tank. But, I'm getting her out."

"She could be dead already."

"She's not." He was sure of it. If she were, he would know.

Skirata studied the serious little birds as they went about their business. "Normally, I'd say this is suicide, but I believe in paying my debts. Walk with me." He inclined his head and indicated they should walk back to the bastion together.

# # #

Aayla was surrounded.

She'd bought as much time as she could for the injured Ordo. But, with typical clone efficiency, they'd gradually drawn the net around her tighter and tighter until she was completely trapped. She didn't want to actually hurt these men, so she'd been deflecting their bolts into walls and trying to stay hidden. As a last ditch effort, she opened up a steam pipe and reduced visibility to zero. The scalding steam forced everyone to temporarily retreat. Aayla crouched down even further to avoid getting burnt herself. It didn't take long before the pipe was shut off.

Aayla tossed her lightsaber forward.

"I don't wish to hurt you," Aayla said loudly, raising her hands in the air. "I'm giving myself up."

A number of troopers, more than she would have thought necessary, rushed forward to subdue her. She was thrown roughly to the ground, and a harsh boot stomped into her sensitive lekku. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to avoid crying out. Her arms were wrenched back so violently something tore in her shoulder joint.

"On your feet, Jedi scum!"

She struggled to get to her feet without falling. She didn't move fast enough, and was yanked harshly upwards by her injured limb. Aayla bit her lip to avoid crying out, and tasted blood. She looked out into the blank faces, wondering how something that was once so familiar was now so frightening and dark. Had her other Jedi tasted such fear in their final moments?

"I mean you no-" she tried again. She tasted blood again as she was sharply backhanded for her efforts to speak.

A command clone stepped forward and gripped her chin painfully in his hand, as if appraising her. "Lord Vader will be pleased." He stared down the low-cut tunic of her shirt, his eyes drinking their fill. "Mayhap we will sample your charms for ourselves first."

Aayla straightened her shoulders proudly. "No. You have no right-"

The commander backhanded her. "Silence! Rights? On the night of Order 66, my commander was sliced in half by his Jedi General! He was only carrying out his duty for the Chancellor!" The fury coming off the clone was so palpable he was shaking. "I slaughtered that Jedi filth myself. I blasted him again and again and again until there was nothing left of his carcass. I've been looking forward to taking more Jedi lives."

"My entire Order has been wiped out! Surely that is enough suffering. I have not harmed you-"

"Not all of you!" The commander struck her again, drawing blood. "Your kind are traitors! By edict of the Supreme Emperor himself! Take her away!"

Aayla was subjected to a humiliatingly thorough search, stripped of her belt, lightsaber, and boots and locked in a detention cell. She curled up on one corner of the bare mattress to await her fate.

Her only consoling thoughts was Bly was free and safe. He would live on. In the end, it had all been worth it because she'd saved the person who mattered more to her than any other.

Had she done the wrong thing in showing mercy to these clones? Would she live to regret her actions? Should she have fought to the death and joined the others in her order?

It was useless to spend time regretting past actions. Master Yoda said to look to the future.

Aayla sighed bitterly. Yoda was dead, along with the rest of the Jedi. Maybe it was time she stopped relying upon their ways and teachings.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and tried to meditate but all she could feel around her was darkness. It was as if all light and hope had fled the galaxy.

# # #

A/N: This chapter is for Delta808 who has been a constant supporter of this story and suggested the second half of the chapter from Aayla's POV.