Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.


40. "Innocents of Ryloth" (pt. 1)

Ryloth, Outer Rim Territories

The transport ship rocked and shuddered as it entered the planet's atmosphere. Elara rocked forward on her toes to keep her balance, and her hand tightened on the rung she'd grasped hold of overhead. Anakin and Ahsoka had succeeded in their breach of the blockade. It had, somehow, ended with Anakin in an escape pod––which she'd question him on later––but their plan had worked. She and the 442nd's Contigo Squadron, and Obi-Wan and the 212th's Ghost Company, were going to engage their ground assault. They didn't know what awaited them, but then again, they rarely did. They needed to take things one step at a time, ease themselves into the situation. And the first thing on the agenda was to land, and then march on the city of Nabat, which once liberated, would pave the way for the rest of the invasion.

"I know many of you were present for the Battle of Christophsis," Elara said, addressing her troops. A faint red glow from the red lights stuck in the walls created an eerie, foreboding glow to the carrier's interior. "And it's from that we should draw our strategies. Our goal is to aid and free the Twi'leks, with minimal damage to their homes and their planet. This is a war, and collateral damage is unavoidable; but let's try and keep that minimized."

Helmeted heads started to bob, quietly acknowledging the order. Ack-Ack stepped forward and pat the blaster on his hip.

"We're leaving the heavy artillery at home, lads. Blasters and droid poppers are what we're relying on. Look before you shoot; we don't want to be hitting any civilians. Am I clear?" Ack-Ack asked.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. Now, let's get this done, lads!"

The troopers all started to smack one another on the shoulder blade, as had now become customary. Ack-Ack reached out and slapped his hand against Elara's, and with a smile, she returned the gesture.

And then all the good-hearted comradery was disrupted by the distant booms and pops of heavy gunfire. The ship rattled and all the troops bent their knees and clung to the rungs in a bid to keep their balance. Elara's head whipped around to peer through one of the slatted windows, expression growing tense. She watched as small clouds of black smoke burst into being in the air, bringing with them concussive pops that she could feel in her chest, even from a distance. Elara's lips screwed into a grimace. Of course things had to get more complicated.

"Kark, we've got ack-ack," she muttered.

"And that's why we'll get through it!" Blinker chuckled.

Elara shot the jokester half a smirk. That was, afterall, how Ack-Ack had chosen his name; he'd guided his men safely through a mess of ack-ack on Geonosis, 'like he was the ack-ack himself.' Unfortunately, he wasn't piloting.

A hologram of Mace Windu appeared in the center of the ship, erupting to life from the holo-transmitter installed in the floor. "Kenobi, Skywalker, we can't risk landing the larger transports until you take out those guns!"

"Pull back, we'll take care of it!" Obi-Wan's voice crackled through the comms.

"Leave it to us, General," Elara agreed.

"We're falling back now. Send us a blip when the guns have been taken out," Windu ordered. And with that, the hologram disappeared.

"Alright, men!" Elara's command was cut off as their transport sharply veered to the left, peeling to the side. It shuddered dangerously, metal panels and bolts rattling as they narrowly avoided a round of anti-aircraft fire. "Change of plans! We're gonna land, coordinate with Ghost Company, and then we're taking out those guns!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"It's not gonna be easy, but I have faith in you all!"

There was another thunderous explosion as the ship beside theirs was struck. It erupted in a burst of flame, torn to pieces which were whisked through the air at dangerous speeds. Their ship rocked sideways again––this time to the right––and was quick to begin their initial descent. Inside her chest, Elara's heart was pounding. Of all the aspects of war that could frighten her the most, this was one of them. The helplessness of being stuck inside a ship while being fired on. There was little they could do––little she could do, even as a Jedi––except cling to the rungs and have faith that their pilot would get them safely to the ground. Now if it were her piloting the ship, she'd be able to do more. The Force would aid her in getting them to safety. But here, in the back with her men, she felt painfully helpless… just as she was sure they did, too.

There was a hissing as the walls of the ship disengaged, shifted, and pulled open. They were some thirty feet above the ground, now, and descending quickly. Hot, humid air swept over them all in a rush of wind, and it whipped Elara's ever lengthening hair around her face. The smell of explosive residue came in on the breeze, acrid and stinging. It appeared that they were going to land in a clearing of sorts, which was surrounded by twisting, thin branched trees. The sky was overcast, made hazier by the onslaught of anti-aircraft fire. When they were not but five feet off the ground, troopers started jumping out, and Elara was quick to join them. They beelined for a thicket of trees; they wouldn't provide much cover, but it would be enough. It would work.

Once Elara's feet were on the ground, she was running. Her arms pumped at her side, her boots dug into the soil she sprinted across. And as she started to weave through the trees, she noticed something––she was only surrounded by members of the 442nd. All she saw was white armor streaked with green, none with orange. The 212th was nowhere in sight. She lifted a hand and curled it into a fist, signalling her men to stop. She dropped into a crouch, back pressed up against the twisting, gnarled trunk of a tree. Ack-Ack had stopped at a tree adjacent to hers, mimicking her hand-signal. All around them, members of Contigo Squadron all halted, hunkering down behind trees.

Still breathing hard, Elara brought her vambrace up to her mouth and activated her comm.

"Obi-Wan, do you copy?" she breathed.

After a moment, the other end crackled to life.

"I copy."

Elara's eyes slammed shut in relief, her head falling back against the tree trunk. "I'm afraid I don't see you. We had to do some fancy foot-work to avoid getting hit, so I think we veered a little off course."

"We've landed just south of Nabat. We can see the wall," Obi-Wan informed. He, too, was breathing hard, and speaking lowly.

"That explains it." She squinted up at the sky to gather the approximate location of the sun, which glowed dully in the grey sky. Simultaneously, she wracked her brain for information on Ryloth's sun cycles. After a moment, she gave a little sigh. "It appears that we've made our landing just west of you. Or, at least, I hope we have."

"If you start steadily working your way north-east, you'll hit the wall we're looking at now. Shall we rendezvous on the other side?"

"Are you planning on having all the fun without us?"

"I can almost guarantee you'll have your own fun on the way there."

The quick, witty repartee was a welcomed comfort. This kind of exchange was the kind of thing that she'd not allowed herself to indulge or engage in as often as she used to. Not since that night they'd played Moulee-rah Moocha, and even less since Florrum. But it was good to hear Obi-Wan's warm tenor lilting into something faintly amused; it assured her he was okay. It had Elara smiling despite herself, eyes flicking open again.

"Let's rendezvous beyond the wall, then."

"It's a plan, then."

"See you there."

Elara deactivated her comm and quickly darted to the tree that Ack-Ack had pressed himself against. She huddled herself as close to him as she could get, their knees knocking and arms brushing. There was no such thing as getting 'too close' to your comrades in war. If saving someone else's life, or your own, depended on piling on top of one another, you'd do it.

"What's our move?" Ack-Ack asked, voice quiet even as it hissed through his modulator.

Elara jerked her head in a pointed direction. "Obi-Wan and Ghost Company landed south of Nabat; they're close enough to see the village's partimeter wall. We landed just west of them, so the goal is to move north-east and meet them at or beyond the wall."

Ack-Ack bobbed his head. "Right." He ducked out from behind the tree, still in a low crouch, and stood in a spot where a decent chunk of the men could see him. He whirled a finger through the air and then pointed north-east. Helmets bobbed, and the order was silently relayed back through the ranks.

They started to cautiously weave their way between the trees, correcting their course any time they strayed off of it. Eventually they hit a cliff face, which seemed to curve in meander in the very direction they were trying to go. Which, Elara supposed, only made sense. Old recon reports said that the village of Nabat was nestled in a ravine, walled off by an ancient structure at the mouth. So they started to use the towering cliffs as a very helpful, natural guide. In the distance, very faintly, the sound of blaster fire echoed. That was likely Obi-Wan and Ghost Company; that meant they were going in the right direction, they were getting closer.

Sweat had started to bead at Elara's hairline. It gathered along her spine and across her chest. Humidity was never welcomed in a battle scenario. It caused dehydration rates to sky-rocket, and when water was limited, that was a killer. It left soldiers––Jedi and clone troopers alike––with dizziness and stomach cramps. Ryloth was uncomfortably humid, so much so that the natural reaction was to want to move slower. But that wasn't something they could afford to do. So the pace was kept up-tempo, and it was causing sweat to accumulate fast. The back of Elara's battle tunic was already stuck to her skin, and she could feel moisture building up particularly fast under the parts of her body covered in armor. She flinched to think how all of the men were feeling, what with being covered head-to-toe in plastoid-alloy.

They'd been walking for something close to fifteen minutes, now, weaving between trees that were wrapped in vines, and they were making good time. The terrain was mostly flat, but the occasional rise or hill wasn't strange to trod over. Whatever 'fun' Obi-Wan had predicted they might find on their way there was nowhere in sight. Elara had kept a wary eye trained on the top of the cliffs, which seemed to be the area of most potential concern. A surprise attack from above would leave them reeling. Her lightsaber hilt was clasped in her hand, just as all the troopers had their blasters at the ready. It was always better to be ready than caught unawares. And just because they'd yet to run into anything didn't mean they wouldn't. It would be poor form to think they'd gotten lucky on this one.

No such thing as luck, the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi snipped in her head.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth for a fleeting second. It was a flicker of a smile, barely lifting her lips before it was dissipating again. This was partially due to the seriousness of the situation; but it was also in part to the fact that she could perfectly hear his voice in her head. The way his voice would lilt or rise or drop on a particular syllable or consonant. The intonation on the word 'luck,' spoken like it was as distasteful as Hutt wine. Obi-Wan's presence in her life was so vivid that even the memory of his voice was accurate to life. Even the distance she'd been inching between them hadn't been able to dampen it. She wasn't sure it ever would dampen. Elara would be hearing that voice in her head for the rest of her life, just as she'd always have Anakin's there. But having Obi-Wan's warm tenor in her head sometimes drove her to––

A wicked twinge quickly twisted in Elara's gut, and her eyes flew wide.

––distraction.

Elara threw her arm out and back into Ack-Ack's chest as she threw herself backwards. Her fingers curled into the edge of his breastplate, right where it curved to make room for his armpit. They went toppling backwards and onto the ground as dirt kicked up at where their feet had been, red bolts of blaster fire biting into the ground. Their backs hit the ground as the men of Contigo Squadron started to shout.

"Where did that come from!?" Ack-Ack half-grunted, half-cried, sprawled across the ground.

The buzzing wheeze of the gunfire whipped overhead, and Elara grimaced at how hard she'd hit the deck. "I don't know!"

She watched the bolts whiz overhead, snapping through the air with wheezing crackles. It was all red. There was no return fire. Which could only mean that something wasn't right; that she and Ack-Ack were justified in their confusions. With a huff, Elara rolled herself onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her forearms slightly. She half dragged, half crawled towards a nearby tree, which seemed to be out of the line of fire. Once there, she pulled her feet under herself, leaned up against the trunk, and pushed herself up into a crouch. She covered her head as wood rained down on her, a stray bolt striking her hiding spot. With one hand braced against the tree, and splinters in her hair, she took a moment to survey the situation.

There was fire coming from three different angles. But Elara couldn't spot any droids. The landscape was distinctly unpopulated save for the trees, herself, and her troopers. Her eyebrows furrowed, confusion rife, as her eyes tried to figure out where the disarray of fire was coming from. And then, with a focused breath, she allowed the Force to guide her eyes––and they snapped right to a lump in the ground not but thirty feet ahead of them. It looked like a hill. But it wasn't a hill; it was a bunker. It was disguised to look like one, covered in hard-packed dirt to hide it from view. There was a narrow, horizontal eyelet in the front of each bunker––a blaster port. They must've been defenses the Twi'leks had created, and that the Separatists had commandeered.

Elara's head swung around to find Ack-Ack, who had taken cover behind a tree just ahead of her.

"We've got bunkers!" she called. "Three of them!" She pointed out each one: one dead ahead––the one that had almost taken them out––one set to the right on an angle, and a similarly placed one on the left.

"We can circle around to get the flanks!" Ack-Ack flinched aside as a chunk of the tree he was hiding behind was torn out. He darted to the next available tree, swearing as he moved. "But that front one––that one's gonna be real tricky!"

Elara craned her head around to critically eye the middle bunker. It was strategically placed to be a problem. The blaster port would allow whoever––or whatever––was inside to fire both to the right and left. It was also set further back than the other two, creating a triangular formation. With it still in commission, whoever––or whatever––could fire on anyone going for the bunkers on the flanks; and anyone going for the middle bunker was subject to fire from all of them. But if none of them were firing, even for a short while… if they could get those droid poppers in the flanking bunkers…

Elara ignited her lightsaber and rose to her feet, back sliding up the tree trunk. "Get those poppers ready! Follow my advance and then wait; I'm gonna give you an opening! When you get it, get those poppers in the flanking bunkers, understand?"

Ack-Ack dug a couple of the spherical devices out of a pouch on his hip and nodded. "Yes, sir! You heard the Genny, men! Droid poppers!"

Elara blew out a breath, allowing a sense of familiar calm wash over her. A heightened connection with the Force always did a Jedi well in battle. So as she felt that awareness settle over her, she leapt out from behind the tree, lightsaber swinging and twirling. It arked in flashes of blue, deflecting red bolts in a flurry of motion. The bolts would instead strike trees, or return towards its origin, striking the dirt-covered bunkers. She pushed forward, deflecting what she could to give her men a chance to advance. When it became obvious they needed a little more wiggle room, Elara ducked behind a tree and focused on a spray of blaster fire headed in her direction. She thrust a hand forward and, using the Force, sharply redirected those bolts through the thick trunk of one fairly large tree. With a groan, it toppled, allowing the troopers a place to take cover. The maneuver was repeated for the lads on the right. It gave them all an opportunity to take cover and fire off some shots at the narrow eyelets. Most of their bolts only struck the walls of the bunker.

Breathing hard, Elara gulped down a deep breath and momentarily shut her eyes. She'd never done something like she was about to attempt. It would, potentially, take a lot out of her because of that. But it was a risk she needed to take if any of them were going to get out of this forest alive. Her thumb drifted over the button on the hilt of her lightsaber, and then pressed down on it. It deactivated with its telltale whooshing zap. Elara hooked it back onto her belt, rolled her shoulders back, and let out a steeling breath. Before she could second guess herself, second guess the pull of the Force in her gut, she stepped out from behind the tree.

"Sir! What're you doin'!?" cried Strafer.

He received no response.

Instead, Elara was sprinting forward––straight into the hail of blaster fire.

She leapt forward and upwards, hands outstretched to grab hold of the lowest hanging branch of the next tree, just as her legs swung forward, streaks of red cut through where she'd been a moment before. Elara used the Force to propel herself around the branch, gloves scraping across its bark, and then dropped back to the ground when the burst of firing stopped. When it started again, it was aimed higher, so she dropped out of her run, falling to her knees. She slid across the slightly muddy ground on her knees and calves, body dropping back. And once there was another break in the firing, Elara pitched forward into a front-roll that brought her to her feet. Panting heavily, Elara found herself in the partial clearing that housed the bunkers.

The sound of multiple firing guns pierced the air––and Elara threw her hands up, jaw tensed in pure concentration. She gathered all her willpower, found the burning presences of those blaster bolts in the energy-field of the Force, and gripped on them as tightly as she could. And, just like that, a dozen or so blazing red bolts of enemy fire froze in the air. The flickered and trembled, still humming with energy, but they were frozen. She'd stopped them.

"Go!" she cried, facial muscles twinging.

"Go, men! Go, go, go!"

Elara's hands were shaking. Fingers spread, each one trembled from the effort of seizing the movement of so many presences in the Force. She could feel them. The heat of each bolt, buzzing lethally. Feel the way the Force erratically zapped around them, a sign of something dark and killer. But those weren't the only things that she'd frozen; she'd halted the droids firing them too. Beads of sweat started to trickle down across her temples, along her nose, curving down over her chin. Elara's heart hammered against her ribcage, and her breathing was getting quick and shallow. This wasn't something she could hold long and she knew it––but it was working.

Half-a-dozen men sprinted forth, shouting through the sudden, eerie quiet caused by the forcible ceasefire. Three of them went for the left bunker, three for the right. They all threw droid poppers into the blaster ports and ducked to the side as they went off. Shocks of electricity illuminated the dark, narrow ports, and Elara felt several presences in the Force disappear. Four droids had been taken out. Without so much as thinking about it, her knees bent, dropping her to the ground. She released her hold on the Force, which sent a dozen bolts of blaster fire zipping over her head as she fell. They all converged on the same area, but because she was no longer standing there, the bolts simply cut into a handful of trees.

The gasp of air that ripped into Elara's lungs as she laid there sounded like a gasp of pain. Her limbs felt numb, almost, weak from the effort it had taken to forcibly arrest the movement of so many things at once. Her head was spinning, a dizziness causing her eyelids to flutter. When they were in training as padawans, they were taught how to use the Force to move and stop objects, but never anything to this degree. She'd been right––it had drained her. And before she could contemplate finding enough energy to move, two hands pushed under her shoulders, and then a set of arms hooked under her armpits. Elara found herself being dragged off to the side as Ack-Ack rushed past them.

"Don't worry, Genny, we've got it," reassured Fang. He was one of Contigo's medics, the one that could render a mouthy patient silent with one look. The medic you'd be loath to disappoint because of the look he'd level at you.

"Thanks, Fang…" Elara breathed shakily.

Fang dragged her over to the left bunker, which he then propped her up against. Elara braced her hands on the ground and got herself a little more comfortable. When she lifted those same hands to swipe at the sweat on her forehead, they were still shaking. The squeal of gunfire stopped abruptly, accompanied by the sound of crackling electricity. They'd managed to take out the last bunker. With a sigh of relief, Elara dropped her head forward. Beside her, the medic reached for the canteen attached to his belt. He pulled it off, unscrewed the cap and offered it to her.

"Here ya go," he said. Elara bobbed her head, thankful, and brought it up to her lips. She gulped down a mouthful before she went to pass it back. It was best not to waste it all on her, just in case. There were other men down, after all, and they probably needed it more than her. When Elara tried to pass it back, however, Fang pushed her hand away. "More. Can't lead us if you're half-dead, now, can you?"

The corner of her mouth lifted and she brought the canteen back to her lips.

"That was mighty impressive what you did there," he commented as his fingers found the pulse point under her jaw. Elara hummed, head thumping back against the now inactive bunker. "Saved us a lot of pain."

Elara's eyes drifted to the trees that they'd been trapped in. Intermittently, the corpse of a soldier was splayed across the ground. "Not all of it though…" She looked down at her lap, screwed the cap of the canteen on, and passed it back.

For a moment, Fang just stared at her. Or, at least, she presumed he was. Elara could just picture the tight-lipped expression hiding behind that helmet of his. He then pulled his hand away from her neck and snatched the canteen up. "You did what you could, and they knew that. We know that. Don't be too hard on yourself."

The thing about medics, Elara had come to realize, was that they did so much more than tend to the wounded. They were the emotional support of a company or a squadron. They offered reassurance, the shoulder to lean on, the voice of reason when everyone else's was frazzled with pain and grief. They were there when you needed them, even if you hadn't cried for their presence yet. They just knew. They were, perhaps, the strongest members of this army. Because it was far too often they held their dying comrades, dying brothers in their arms… and then had to move on to the next one.

"Thank you, Fang," Elara said softly.

"Don't mention it. Now you stay down for a couple minutes; don't need you passin' out when you stand up…"

A chuckle rumbled in Elara's chest as she watched him jog back into the trees to check on the fallen men. See if there were any wounded, or if they were all dead. To the very depths of her being, Elara hoped that the majority of them were only wounded.

"You alright, sir?" Ack-Ack asked, appearing around from the side of the bunker. He'd pulled his helmet off, and was scrubbing a gloved hand over his sweaty face. Both his eyebrows had pulled together in concern.

Elara offered a little laugh and lifted her hands to press them against her eyes.

"Never done that before…" She jerked her head towards the trees that had taken the bolts that would've hit her. "Sure glad it worked…"

"So are we. Gave us a right good scare back there, sir, turning off your lightsaber. We thought you'd gone crazy," Ack-Ack chuckled. He arched his eyebrows pointedly, which had Elara laughing again, tiredly. She'd started to regain the feeling in her arms again, and her fingers weren't trembling as badly anymore.

"Well, let's not dismiss that," she teased. She dropped her head back against the bunker again and just… listened for a moment. "I don't hear blaster fire in the distance anymore."

Ack-Ack looked up at the sky and listened for a moment, too. "You're right. General Kenobi must've broken through the wall."

"I think it's time we finally get to that rendezvous, don't you?" Elara started to get to her feet, and Ack-Ack swooped down to take her arm and assist her. She thanked him quietly and then took stock of the state of her clothing. Smears of dirt scraped across her legs, boots freshly scuffed, sleeves dappled with dust. She clucked her tongue. "I look a fright, don't I?"

"Better a fright than dead."

Elara looked back into the trees, and watched as their medics moved from body to body, positioning their dead in dignified resting poses. Hands over their stomachs or chests, blasters reverently placed beneath them. She watched them gently place a hand on their fallen brothers' shoulder before moving on to the next. A frown twisted at the corners of Elara's mouth, and her heart sank just a little lower.

"Yeah. You're right."

OOOO

Obi-Wan observed the abandoned Twi'lek village with a look of melancholy twisting at his features. The buildings had been carved in the face of the cliffs on either side of the ravine. Elaborately decorated tan swaths of fabric served as shaded overhangs, beneath which some of his men were taking respite. Large pots, once filled with grains and fruits, had toppled over and shattered, spilling their contents over the narrow street. Roofs and walls had been damaged, leaving hunks of rubble strewn across the place. Their siege of the wall had been relatively quick, but not without its losses. And once they'd passed into the village, it was dreadfully clear that the situation was more dire than initially thought. Unlike Christophsis, where its peoples had taken cover in their homes, the Twi'leks simply… weren't there. It would be easy to presume that they'd fled, gone to take shelter somewhere safer… but a twinge in the Jedi Master's gut told him that something else was afoot. Boil, Waxer, and two other troopers were out on recon to see if they could glean what it was the droids had in store for them. They'd been forced to go into this situation even blinder than anticipated. Obi-Wan didn't want to deal with more surprises than were absolutely necessary.

With eyes darting down to his vambrace, Obi-Wan eyed the small panel that was his comm system. There was a deep, unignorable urge to activate it and check in on Contigo Squadron again. To check on Elara again. There had been a period of five or some minutes where, in the distance, they'd heard the distant wheezing of blaster fire. Rapid and destructive, pinging off the walls of the cliff face. It would start and stop, then start again. And it was all anyone in Ghost Company, Obi-Wan included, could do to listen to it and try to discern if that was Contigo under fire, or Contigo laying fire. The inevitable conclusion was that, at this distance, it was impossible to tell. So they'd gone about setting up a temporary base camp, heads perking every time the firing would stop, wondering if it was all over. When it did finally cease for good, they waited, with bated breath, for their brother battalion to radio in. And when they did, some measure of tension dissipated.

The relief that Obi-Wan had felt upon hearing Elara's voice crackle through the comms was immense. It wasn't that he'd doubted her ability to maneuver her way through trouble; she was a remarkable Jedi and an equally capable commanding officer. It was the not knowing that got him. The idea that Elara––and her men, of course––could've been struck down and he'd not know until it was too late was disheartening. So much so that the very thought of it caused his heart to physically ache. Had him gritting his teeth because it physically ached. The care that he felt for her was so strong that he was moved to physical discomfort at the thought of her pain, suffering, or ultimate demise. Ultimate demise. Despite himself, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. He prefered not to think of that. He knew that they were at war, and that no one was untouchable––stars did he know that no one was untouchable… but he wished that some people were. That the galaxy would leave them be, allow them a chance to experience something other than infinite pain and sadness. There was a short list of people he'd like to spare from such things.

"Sir!"

Obi-Wan's eyes flicked open to see a trooper approaching rapidly. "Yes?"

"Contigo Squadron's been spotted. They should be passing through the wall any minute now," he informed.

Another spike of relief flashed through Obi-Wan's body. His shoulders dropped to a more relaxed stature; he hadn't even realized they'd tensed up that much. He rolled them back and inclined his head. "Thank you, trooper."

"Of course, sir."

He stepped out of the abandoned, partially destroyed meeting hall they'd secured as a temporary headquarters, and started to make his way to the village wall. Troopers jogged past him, armor clacking, as they ran to greet their brothers. Something deep in Obi-Wan's gut wanted him to run, too; but he was their General. A Jedi Master. He had to be the steadfast, level-headed presence he was expected to be… no matter how much some part of him wanted to break into a sprint. So his feet carried him at a steady, moderate pace around a curve in the ravine. Around that curve, the wall became visible. It was remarkably tall, an ancient, impressive feat. Painted elaborately at its top, it would've once been quite a sight to behold. But the Separatists had very obviously plowed their way through it, leaving a gaping v-shape hole in its center, and rubble sprayed across the ground. Though, even in its state of partial ruin, it was still a beautiful piece of architecture.

It was through that jagged gap in the wall that Contigo Squadron appeared. They appeared unscathed for the most part, though there was scuffed armor to be seen on every other trooper, the white and green plastoid-alloy interrupted by splotches of dirt. It was when Obi-Wan's eyes landed on the woman leading the squadron that he froze in place. Elara looked more harried than the rest of them. More battle worn.

It looked like she'd taken some kind of tumble. For from the knee down, her pants and boots were smeared with damp earth. Particularly at the knees, the fabric moving with an almost caked stiffness. Her tunic was spattered in swaths of dirt, dashed across its hem, and even more of it slicked up her arms, streaking across white plastoid-alloy and the visible portions of her sleeves. Then there was her head, her face. Her hair, usually neatly tucked back in that silver clip, had mostly fallen free, leaving locks of hair swaying around her face in gentle waves. It had started to curl up even more in the humidity. There was an almost artfully placed brush of dirt across her left cheekbone, and another––which looked like the swipe of fingertips––across the curve of the right side of her jawbone. Cheeks pink, forehead dappled with sweat, and lips gently parted, it was clear that they'd gone through some type of hell. And there was an alertness, bordering on a wildness, in her lively blue eyes that spoke of the after affects of battle.

And Obi-Wan thought she looked beautiful.

"Alright, men!" she called and turned to face her squadron. With her back now facing him, Obi-Wan could see that it, too, was splotched with dirt. "Good work out there. Until we have further orders, I'd say some respite is in order. You can fall out."

The men of Contigo Squadron split off to go greet their brothers in Ghost, clasping forearms, exchanging quick hugs, pulling off helmets to wipe at sweaty faces. And when Elara turned back around, her eyes immediately found his. He arched his eyebrows and pointedly eyed her muddy knees.

"I told you that you'd run into some fun," he reminded.

With a snort, Elara rolled her eyes and made her way over to him, Ack-Ack at her side. "It wasn't the kind of fun I'd like to have again anytime soon. There were bunkers, three of them, manned by some droids just west of here."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows fell again, this time further dropping into a furrow. His eyes jumped from her dirtied uniform to Ack-Ack and his less than pristine armor. His greaves were smeared in dirt, as were his poleyns. And there was a smear of it over one of his shoulders, which surely meant that his back, too, was all dirtied up.

"I take it they caught you by surprise?"

"Yes, we were." Elara reached up and passed a hand through her mostly loose hair, uncaring of how dirtied her gloves were. "We lost ten men in the onslaught."

"Would've lost more if it weren't for General Skywalker," Ack-Ack praised proudly. He stood a little taller, helmet tilted to consider his general kindly. "Froze all that blaster fire long enough for us to get droid poppers into the bunkers."

Obi-Wan blinked first at the Captain, and then over at Elara. The smile that appeared on her face was small, humble. Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, and a breath of a laugh passed between her lips. "It was nothing, really. The least that I could do."

It wasn't unheard of to freeze blaster bolts. It had been done before, many times in fact, in the heat of battle. But in the times that Obi-Wan had seen it, done it––it had been to stop a single bolt, several at most. But to stop a hail of blaster fire from a bunker? Three bunkers? He'd never seen it done, never heard of it being done. When Elara met his gaze, it wasn't just humble, it was sheepish, almost. This was one of those moments where Obi-Wan was reminded––just as she probably was––of how powerful she was. The effort and prowess it would take to do what she had done… that was something not even Obi-Wan would be able to do for long, let alone a significant enough period of time to succeed in such a risky maneuver. These were the things Elara preferred to remain particularly humble about, a direct juxtaposition to how her brother often preened at them. This incident, this story was something that Obi-Wan would have to ask one of her troopers for if he wanted to know the whole of it. For this was something she'd likely recount once to the Council in her verbal report, and then not speak of again.

"So, what did we miss?" Elara continued.

After one last moment of quiet thoughtfulness, Obi-Wan cleared his throat. He gestured for her and the Captain to follow him.

"We were able to disable the droids' defenses of the wall, though we, too, suffered our own losses. The entirety of this village is abandoned, and I fear not by the choice of the Twi'leks. A reconnaissance team has been sent out to gather any helpful information. I'd like to proceed without any more surprises, preferably," Obi-Wan explained.

Elara bobbed her head, side-stepping a particularly large hunk of stone that had once been part of a wall. She frowned over at the house it had come from, inside of which was still furnished, like its occupants had just stepped out for a walk. "And you've not seen any sign of the Twi'leks?"

"None. Did you?"

"No." Her voice had gone quieter in concern, and she'd started to rub her hands together. Dirt came loose from the fabric and fell away with each pass of hand-against-hand. "And the guns?"

Obi-Wan lifted a hand to stroke at his chin. "I have developed a plan that I believe will work in our favor, particularly now that you and Contigo Squadron have arrived. We've set up a temporary headquarters just here."

He swept a hand towards a nearby building, what had likely once been a communal gathering space. It was missing a substantial chunk of its roof, and there was no need to use the door; a hunk of the wall was missing, too. It looked like a projectile of some kind had cut through the building from above. Obi-Wan stepped aside to allow Elara and Ack-Ack through first. He followed, using some of the rubble like a set of stairs. Inside, Elara had flopped down in one of the benches, a tired pull of breath leaving her mouth. She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose a moment, and when her fingers dropped away, they left behind another streak of dirt. Obi-Wan wondered if or when he should mention the sweeps of it across her face. Instinct drove him to swipe it away with careful passes of his thumb, but he clenched his fingers into fists, as though it might squash the thought.

It was then that Elara started to whack her palms across her knees, trying to brush––or peel––away the dirt caked against her pant legs. Obi-Wan watched wordlessly, one arm wrapped over his chest, and the other lifted to keep a hand poised at his mouth. His eyes wandered over the smears of dirt more critically now, now knowing what had transpired to cause them. How she'd risked her life for her men, pulled a maneuver that could have easily failed and resulted in her death. A grizzly, painful death. Again, the thought of Elara's untimely demise caused something hot to burn in his chest. A reminder that no one was invincible, not even her with all the strength and power she possessed. And something a little uglier burned there too. A kind of quiet… anger, almost she'd done something so reckless. It was something Obi-Wan would've expected Anakin to do, not her. Elara would do anything for the good of her men, this he knew… and yet… that tiny spark remained. Because if that plan had failed, if her strength had not prevailed… she would've been dead.

And that was something that Obi-Wan simply would not be able to accept.


Afterword: Say 'hi' to badass Elara, 'cause she's back baybeee! Also, if anyone's interested, I listened to Sebastian Böhn's arrangement 'Blue Monday' on repeat while writing Contigo's action sequence. AND if you should like a visual inspiration, if you watch the Peleliu bunker fight in Episode Seven of The Pacific, that was a huge influence on this chapter!

Review Replies!

Nerdette92: We'll get more of Acks' pov going forward! With the way that things are about to go down… he's gonna be one of the frontline observers, and he's gonna have thoughts. I will absolutely guarantee you that Blinker is running a betting pool about when Elara and Obi-Wan are gonna give in to each other. He's got, like… a running space-Excel sheet with names and numbers. Padmé definitely knows something is up… and, knowing her, she's gonna do some digging. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Shadow Wolf 15846: Ahh thank you so much! I'm really happy you're enjoying it. And I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too! Thanks again!

09sasha: I'll be comin' round to clip that ticket soon… keep it handy. And you can absolutely planning on there being a future Acks pov where he starts connecting the dots. I'm really excited to write his reaction to realizing something's up. And, oh, yeah, Elara's reaction to realizing Ani and Padmé are together? And that they either waited to tell her/didn't tell her and she figured it out for herself? Big oof. Big, big oof. And I hope you enjoyed Obi's pov in this chapter, however brief it may have been! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

bambam411: I like to imagine that Elara and Padmé have wine nights whenever they're both on Coruscant and neither of them are otherwise engaged. They deserve the downtime. And Padmé maybe knowing that there's something going on between Obi and Elara? Of course she does, she's got the eyes of a hawk. And when I watched "Jedi Crash" the first time I was like 'ohh, Elara's gonna have a convo with Ahsoka about this, she's gotta.' And I also think she was a good person to have that talk with Ahsoka… if only Elara believed the same. I'm glad you're ready for the seas of emotional turmoil, 'cause the storm is on the horizon; and I approve of Pintel and Rgetti-ing yourself to the mast to weather the storm! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

LoveFiction2021: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

RemiSparklez: I'm so glad you like Acks' pov! It was a fun first foray into it. And I, too, am excited to reveal more about the bounty… very excited. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

MalirBly: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter, too!

ObiWanWinchester: Ahh, oh my god, thank you! It's legitimately one of the biggest compliments you could give me to say that the 442nd feels like they'd be part of the Clone Wars. They're still a relatively new development for this story, and I've taken such joy in building them. I hope you enjoyed some Contigo Squadron action! Thanks again!

lolistarkiller: Dooku sitting in that cell had the internal monologue of Scar from the Lion King––"why am I surrounded by idiots?" Padmé knows how to make the subtlest moves to try and ease out the information she wants. She's a politician. And Elara's her friend, so she knows that affairs of the heart need to be dealt with gently with her. We're gonna dive a little deeper into Palps' plan (with some… Palps pov, perhaps…) for the Skywalkers. 'Cause he's got one… but he's also got a multitude of contingencies. And I hope you liked Fang! I very much drew inspiration from some WWII medics that I've read about/seen portrayed. He's going to be a very fun addition to Contigo to write! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

WaywardandWanderlust: Ugh, yes––after watching the whole of the Clone Wars, I went and watched a spliced-together version of Ep. III and the last couple episodes of the CWs… and it was… heart rending. 'Cause, god, you watch these commanders and captains and troopers grow so close to their generals. And when you really think about it, think of all the things they likely did together when not in battle… oh, it just hurts so much. Order 66 is gon hurt when we get to it. I had so much fun writing Hondo! And I'm really looking forward to writing him again, 'cause he's just a joy. An insufferable, flirty, hilarious joy. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Isabelnecessaryonabicycle: I'm glad you're ready! 'Cause we're entering some reaaaaal fun territory. I'm beyond excited for all the arcs that you mentioned! Especially for the Mortis arc, ooooohh, I have such plans! It's been so fun getting to jump back and watch episodes to plan them out, too. And the Obi-Lara content is about to come atcha real fast. And then when Ep. III comes around… the pain's gonna come real fast. I'm still working on what's gonna happen post-III, but I'm steadily formulating ideas. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Eomy: For ch. 38: I'm really glad you remember Anakin seeing Obi-Wan and Elara hug for the first time and him being like 'hey, no…. No, no, no, don't like that.' 'Cause imagine what Anakin would do if he discovered everything that's gonna happen? He'd have a Michael Scott level reaction. For ch. 39: I imagine that Padmé's got a remarkable awareness. Where Anakin sees Obi-Wan and Elara share a look and is like 'ahh, they're just close,' Padmé's like '... huh… interesting.' And I hope to address Anakin and Padmé's feelings about not telling Elara about the wedding soon. I've kinda touched on it a little, but more depth will be given to it. And Ack-Ack is certainly getting more familiar and friendly with Elara––half a year at war'll do that to ya. So maybe he'll start loosening up… a little. This chapter is but a mere prelude to the next one… ohh, keep buckled in. It's gonna be a ride. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

RJNorth: Ack-Ack is definitely still stuck in that spot of being professional and recognizing Elara as his friend. For as much as Dick Winters is an inspiration for Elara's command style, Ack-Ack's got his struggle of trying to figure out how to straddle the line between 'friend and comrade.' And they're definitely gonna get the chance to have some downtime together; I've got it planned out. 'Cause, uh… yeah, I've just gotta build up all the nice relationships as Order 66 looms over everyone in the distance. And, oh, Padmé would definitely drag Elara into the city as 'protection' to go have a girls' day at a spa of some kind. 'Cause if there are two ladies on Coruscant that deserve one good day off––it's them. I… don't think Elara's really ever had a day or a time where she just went out and let herself be pampered. She needs it. I also love the 'Gentle General' title. It's so fitting. Because, as you say, she may be an excellent strategist and incredibly lethal––but she'd really much rather find a non-violent, peaceable solution to any given situation. And she very much wants to do whatever she can to make sure her men stay safe. That they'll make it out of this war––and that's the Major Dick Winters in her. I love your memes. So much. The one about Hondo and Elara… OH, it's gonna have to go up on my page, 'cause it delights me! And the other one will make it on there, too, when the time is right. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again, and may the Force be with you!

MotherAiya: That rubber band description… that's perfectly apt for the tension that's happening. Get ready for the snap back! It's about to hit them both in the face… real hard! And Elara probably does see some of herself in Ahsoka; and it's probably one of the reasons that she's more than willing to lend her a helping hand whenever she can. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

the7horcrux: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!

Next up we'll conclude Innocents of Ryloth… and start off on a whole other kind of adventure. I hope y'all are ready! And for anyone interested, I'm gonna be posting my 'battle' playlist for this story up on my tumblr page later; it's chock full of arrangements that have inspired many a fight sequence in this story.

See y'all next time! ;)

~Mary