Disclaimer: I still don't own anything 'cept for Dack, and he doesn't have any money. And I just realized that Serra is indeed from a video game, but she is not the video game character I mentioned. So really, it's two video game characters in one fic. Two-for-one!

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2. Chain of Command

Dack Meridian stood on the edge of an ancient temple and gazed out into a snowstorm.

His clones had called it quits for the night. Rather, he had called it quits for the night, commanding his men to stand down and get some rest. The temple was pitted with fissures, and wind and ice dropped in through holes in the roof more often than not, but it offered better shelter than the flimsy tents with which they were equipped. Dack had made a personal vow to his men to get them better winter supplies before the war was through.

The way things were going, he figured that gave him twenty years.

Even the mighty battledroids of CIS had realized the folly of trying to fight it out in this mess and retreated to their headquarters on the other side of the mountain. Dack supposed he was fortunate in that respect. Keeping his regiment of clone troopers happy was one thing - leading them into a fight was completely different. Rhen Var, a difficult planet to navigate by any standards, had granted the Republic forces enough time to ship in the unorthodox but highly effective Joclad Danva and let him deal with this fiasco.

Maybe the Force was still with them.

Maybe it was just luck.

Dack smiled into the foul weather, rubbing his upper arms through his insulated uniform. The blue and gray fatigues, while not as comfortable as his typical Jedi garb, kept him warm in the chill and prevented droplets of water from leaking down the front of his shirt. Enough of his troops had complained of ice melting into armor joints for him to move the entire regiment into another of the great halls. That had been a project.

He turned his back on the storm and made his way to a group of men. Logres and Maverick stood by the communications array, and Logres waved excitedly when he spotted Dack. "General Meridian, listen to this..."

General? It still seemed odd to hear the title attached to him - even if it was only for a few more hours.

Logres grinned broadly. "General Kenobi has defeated Grievous!"

Dack almost didn't believe it, but the grin that split his face was mirrored in the faces of the two men standing in front of him. Grievous gone! One more step in the war - just one more victory...

The temple must be in an uproar. And I'm missing it!

"Ale for everyone!" Dack exclaimed. The men began to cheer, only to weakly fade out when they realized there was no ale. He noted this, and pressed his hands together placatingly. "All right, boys, drinks are on the house when we get back. We might not even have to engage those bugs on the ridge."

And this war will finally be over.

And I can go home…

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"No, Bene, put your blade up, not like – Bene, now you're just messing around—"

Cin pinched the bridge of his nose lightly as the two young females in front of him sparred – or rather, pretended to spar. Serra, at least, wanted a bit of a fight; Bene was clearly not feeling particularly enthusiastic about the entire program and merely parried.

In Cin's opinion, there were few things worse than dueling a Dark Jedi. One of those few things was attempting to guide his padawan and her friend through their motions. Blast it, young women were terribly easy to distract when paired together.

Something nagged at the back of his mind; a vague warning he was not sure how to interpret. "Serra, your form isn't brilliant either. Pull your shoulder back."

"Joclad has his shoulder forward when he attacks," she protested, nonetheless adjusting her position. The two green blades in her hands spun menacingly toward Bene, who looked at them – and Serra – warily.

"Joclad is also—he does?" Don't give in, Cin, she's just trying to distract you. "Serra," he continued firmly, "when you're a Knight you can do whatever you like, but while I am in the room you will—" Cin cut off, lifting a hand to the throbbing pain that broke out across the back of his head. "I sense—pardon me—"

The Force rippled and slammed inward on itself, reverberating in a shocking manifestation of great power. Extraordinary power…

It crashed into him an instant later, reaching him through both the Force and the slightest rumbling beneath his feet. As though something large had exploded, or toppled…

His comlink buzzed, and then snapped into its receiving mode without further prompting. The voice that issued forth was female, clear and calm: "All Jedi Knights, I need your assistance! Jedi Knights, I need your assis—"

Shreezsh! The sound of a blade slicing through flesh, and the woman spoke no more.

Cin lifted his gaze to the broad ceiling, tracing along the massive columns that decorated the little sparring room. The sanctity of the temple – violated – and the shimmering power of the Jedi suddenly turned outward, facing a threat – some stain on their strength—

"We're being ambushed," he said. His pupils watched him silently, though he sensed Serra's jump in interest. "Something—something is—"

He touched the dark in an instant before his senses melted away, smothered as though a sopping wet towel had dropped on his head. He fumbled blindly through the Force, calling his lightsaber to his hand out of habit and clearing his thoughts of all distractions. He did not ignite his weapon, but opened his eyes and looked at the padawans in front of him.

"Do you feel that?"

"I can't feel anything," Bene said. But then, Bene's talents lay more along the lines of diplomacy than detection.

Serra twirled her lightsabers again. "I feel it – I feel like – like we're being jammed—Master--"

He had no idea what unholy thing had dropped upon them – or what entity in this universe beyond a Dark Lord of the Sith possessed enough power to do such a thing. But he nodded to his favorite student – the daughter of his heart – and indicated the doorway. "A final lesson, Serra, before we do our duty: look beyond the cloak and tell me what is in our home."

He watched her eyes drift shut, and felt the same twang as he always did whenever Serra called upon her considerable connection to the Force. She drifted up and out of her body, skimming the corridors of the Jedi Temple and feeding some of the imagery to him by default through their bond. "I see… I see the statue of Sunrider in pieces on the ground… the door… Master, who could—there's a figure there, dark, and – clones?"

Clones… armed clones…

Cin had never particularly fancied the idea of Jedi as soldiers, though he was relatively proud of his near-son's accomplishments on the battlefield. But now, through Serra's eyes, he saw little more than bloodshed awaiting them.

Clones… thousands of clones… they stretch down the stairway, through the city, and they are pouring in through the doors… someone has opened the doors….

And Mace, Kit, and Saesee gone to deal with the Chancellor…

I leave the temple in good hands, Mace had said in the moments before he left for the docking bay.

Cin switched on the glowing green blade, and smiled. "Bene, you know where Master Delay is?"

She nodded.

"Then go to her. Serra and I have work to do."

Serra all but hopped from one foot to the next. "We'll show them what happens to invaders, won't we, Master?"

"Indeed we will," Cin murmured, flinging the doors open and sliding into a quiet hallway. "Take us to the action, padawan mine – show me where we need to go."

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In her day, Rhen Var had been the site of great battles between Jedi and Sith. Various scientists declared her perpetual ice age as the result of a haphazard orbit coupled with a devastating atmospheric event thousands of years prior. Officially, the Jedi Order accepted this explanation.

Rumors, however, continued to swirl - particularly when CIS tried to lay claim to such a wasteland. There were those who believed Rhen Var's desolation was the result of something far more... unnatural.

Whenever Dack tried to sleep, he felt some sort of presence watching him – not necessarily a malicious one, but enough to keep him from sleeping as soundly as he'd like. The first thing he planned on doing when he got back to Coruscant was issuing an official memo to Master Nu in order to update Rhen Var's entry: Warning – this planet will upset your equilibrium.

Next, he'd send a detailed message to Stass describing his various victories on the battlefield. That would shut her up for a day or two.

You should wake up.

He wasn't sure what time it was, or how he'd fallen asleep leaning against the rough edges of a support pillar. His robe was pulled snugly around his fatigues, though the storm had long ago ended. So much for meditation. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the smoky darkness of a quiet Rhen Var, and the vaguest whisper of the Living Force.

It will be done, my lord.

He dropped a hand to his lightsaber, and turned around.

The red and blue paint smeared across the faceplates of the two helmets identified Logres and Maverick. The clones looked at him, facial expressions hidden behind their masks and registering no immediate presence in the Force. Dack inclined his head to them, not certain what to make of the tickling sensation in his spine. "News, boys? Why the helmets?"

"It will be done," Logres said. His features were imperceptible beneath his helmet, but Dack felt the tinge of regret from the man as he lifted his weapon. "I'm sorry, sir."

Dack blinked, and then nodded. "So am I."

His lightsaber blazed to life as the rifle went off, and Dack let the Force guide his arm in a series of up-and-down motions, sending the laser bolts flying harmlessly into a wall. He leaped upward, yanking off his cloak and letting it drop onto their heads. He paused as he landed behind them, but the Force murmured again, and guided his weapon.

The clones moved no more.

Dack stared down at his former compatriots and extinguished his blade, bewildered.

Thus ends my commission. I knew these clones were a bad idea. But why?

He had felt no anger from either of them. No regret, no concern, nothing at all. The clones weren't even following orders, they were just... just... there.

Dack pursed his lips. Why can't I understand?

He realized it hardly mattered. If Logres and Maverick h had tried something, the rest might be in on it as well. Dack clipped his lightsaber back to his belt and glanced down at his robe. He briefly contemplated snatching it to use against another storm, but in the end he strode off without it. The less identification he had, the better.

It served as a funeral shroud.