White Armored Splendor
By Kudzu
"Sometimes, the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many"
Captain James T. Kirk, The Search for Spock
"Clearly, the situation has spiraled out of our control," said Senator Ask Aak deliberately.
Young Mon Mothma of Chandrila disagreed. "Negotiations cannot be abandoned now," she insisted. "We shouldn't wish for another battle when so many are already at war."
"Sichi Ravinn brought himself into the war when he aligned himself with Count Dooku," Orn Free Ta of Ryloth cut in, siding, as he usually did, with Ask Aak. "The time is now. A military assault must be staged."
"Senators," Mothma pleaded, "are you now so quick as to leave diplomacy behind when it can accomplish the same things as war without the bloodshed?"
"Are you so quick as to abandon democracy?" Ereal Pang, the Senator from Quermia, said. "You appear to be outnumbered in your ideals."
"Diplomacy is a sluggish and distrustful thing," Orn Free Ta said slowly.
"Especially so when the second party has cut off all communications and has assumed martial law over his colony," Ask Aak, the three-eyed Gran, agreed.
Mon Mothma moved her floating Senate pod closer to Ask Aak and Ereal Pang's two conveyances. She caught the eye of dashing Bail Organa of Alderaan. He had remained conspicuously silent during the discussion and his face betrayed no emotion.
Her eyes tracked down to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, flanked by ghostly Sly Moore and imposing Mas Amedda, down on his majestically sized pod. He was as inscrutable as Bail, and of course Sly Moore and Mas Amedda, as always, betrayed no emotion that she could detect.
She looked quickly back up at the Malastarian and Quermian delegates, keenly aware that she had been noticeably hesitant to respond to their statements. "The Senate has overcome such obstacles before," she said swiftly, trying to make up for her lost ground.
"And it has always taken days, or weeks, or even months to deliberate over it," Bail Organa said suddenly. His comment drew scowls from both Mothma and her opponents, and murmurs rose from the other Senators in their own pods. The Wookiee delegate howled briefly, and in the hushed silence that followed, the Chandrilan could make out the indistinct voice of a protocol droid admonishing the hairy sentient.
Into the tense and still air, Mon Mothma ventured, "Surely the matter can wait that long." She winced inwardly at her tone, which suggested the declaration as a tentative question and not a resolute statement.
Ask Aak pounced. "No, Senator Mothma, I'm afraid it cannot. The world of Perelia lies near the important Rimma Trade Route, and on top of that, it is a world rich in ferrous ore."
"That resource has of yet been untapped," Ereal Pang put in. "But with the Separatists now officially in control of the colony there…" He let the words hang ominously in the air.
"If that world was bled dry, it could provide the raw material for over eleven trillion battle droid chasses," Senator Ammilanka Graw of Coachelle Prime said, furry green ears flopping comically. It was a very rude contrast against such a grim statement.
"Confirm the information," Mon Mothma challenged.
"Actually, Senator Graw's statement is correct," the voice of Palpatine came from his hovering pod. It rose higher into the air, the better for commanding all Senators' undivided attention. "In fact," he added seriously, "the estimation is of the barest minimum of droids that might be produced." He clasped his hands together, pale fingers entwining, face grave and drawn. "Carry on, Senators."
Mon Mothma glanced again at Bail Organa, who had remained silent since his somewhat inappropriate outburst earlier. He did not come to her defense or offer anything on his face to indicate that he agreed or disagreed with her viewpoint. He betrayed nothing.
Not for the first time, the young Chandrilan woman wished that Senator Amidala were here. Jar Jar Binks was hardly an adequate substitute. She fervently hoped that he wouldn't come to her aid.
Of course, the flop-eared Gungan did. "Mesa is believin' wit Senator Mothma, delegates." At least he managed to avoid messing that word up again, Mon Mothma thought.
"In furdamore," Representative Binks continued blithely, "mesa bein' of dey opinion dat dey Sep - Separ -" He paused briefly, visibly struggling with the word.
"Separatists," Palpatine supplied helpfully, trading what looked like a surreptitious wink with Ereal Pang, though it might just have simply been Mon Mothma's imagination.
"Tank you, Chancelluh," Binks said. He went on, carefully avoiding making another attempt to pronounce the difficult word. "Dat dey cannot be producin' dese droids witout other compononents." Mon Mothma winced again.
"Thank you, Representative," Palpatine said, again looking almost slightly amused. Though Mon Mothma had no real appreciation for the Gungan representative either, she couldn't help but scowl at Palpatine's somewhat blatant patronization of him. "I believe that the Confederacy's members have more than enough inner workings to fill these chasses, Representative, though I may be mistaken." He chuckled self-deprecatingly, and Mon Mothma saw Orn Free Ta and Ask Aak exchange glances. "Do we have any other comments, or shall we begin the vote?"
Commander Sichi Ravinn looked around his spacious office. Leader of the small colony on the mineral-rich world of Perelia - population approximately 15,000 - and ally of Count Dooku, leader of the Separatist Confederacy, he couldn't be too disappointed with his conditions. He was no General Grievous or San Hill, certainly. His importance was little and he was only lord of a comparative few. The Confederacy of Independent Systems would have to lose 15,000 people maybe one hundred times over before it'd even cause them to blink, unless there was some political maneuvering to be gotten out of it otherwise.
Still, the promise of total control of a populace, however diminutive, had still been precisely what it had taken to attract Ravinn's sudden interest in joining Dooku's cause. He suspected that the charismatic Separatist leader was interested in some of Perelia's metal ore, no doubt for the purpose of constructing more of his legions of battle droids, but the state of his world was honestly of little concern to him. If Sichi Ravinn could be in charge of at least something, he could be kept happy. A few good monetary donations also helped with his happiness.
Most importantly though, Sichi Ravinn felt free, not like the ore miner that he had been. Even the "prestigious" job of overseer afforded him little but a chance to watch sweaty colonial miners shake the dust off their protective suits as they came up from the mining level below them. He had been attracted by Count Dooku's pledges to liberate the oppressed, and when he contacted Dooku, the man had been impressed by his ambition and his diligence. A few good campaign contributions and the unfortunate deaths of a few of his more prominent rivals for the job of Colony President had won him the job. Immediately afterwards, he had cancelled all democratic elections for the next five hundred years and declared himself a military officer, rank of Commander.
Life was good. It could have been better, but Commander Ravinn had no room to complain. Dooku had provided, and he was asking little in return for the moment.
If the Separatist leader should want to strip-mine his planet, so be it! Sichi Ravinn was more important than this planet, or a thousand other planets. It was all him right now.
Life was good.
The primary problem with Sichi Ravinn's blocking of transmissions was that he was completely deaf and blind to whatever was happening that he couldn't see from his colony or that wasn't directly reported to him. A set of hidden microphones to pick up audio for about forty kilometers surrounding colony perimeters in all directions helped to alleviate the problem, but it was still there. A ninety-or-so-kilometer diameter only within which the ruler of an entire medium-sized world knew what was going on wasn't exactly an ideal configuration, but any longer-wave transmissions could be intercepted or cut in upon, and as the many anti-orbital cannons and point-defense blaster turrets studding the colony area rather obviously pointed out, he wasn't interested in being talked to by anyone but ambassadors from Count Dooku.
It was thus easy for the Galactic Republic Acclamator-class assault ship Vandar and its twin Nebulon-B frigate escorts, Crimson Folly and Mad Dash, to exploit the security weakness as they dropped out of hyperspace into the Perelia system like a trio of Corellian sand panthers onto tethered riding banthas.
Orbital resistance on this side of the planet consisted of a small docking station playing host to a squadron of Belbullab-22 starfighters. Without communications to and from the colony and thus Commander Ravinn, a starfighter would have to physically fly down and land at the Perelian colony to alert Ravinn and his forces to the danger.
It was almost depressingly easy for the Y-wings and V-wings stationed on the two frigates, launched from a starfighter rack slung beneath the long steam connecting bridge to engines, to wipe all twelve of the Confederacy fighters out before that could happen, and as one volunteer starfighter pilot commed back to the Crimson Folly, "It was like shooting nerfs in a barrel with the nerfs half-asleep."
The planetary shields only covered the continent upon which the colony was perched, because it was a sparse few people who lived elsewhere, and they were all doing time in penal settlements anyway (most for no crime other than mentioning something to the effect of that Ravinn's hairstyle made it look like he had a Scampilian-carved sculpture on his head). In fact, few people lived outside the colony at all.
The huge gray harbinger easily swooped beneath the shielding when it was encountered and almost immediately landed, for the continent was not a large one and it wouldn't be wise to alert the colony's array of anti-orbital turbolasers to their presence before the troopship was on the ground.
The ramp extended, and out came Doom.
Silence in the early morning. The only sounds were the chirping of Perelian birds and the faint plopping of discarded waena beetle shells onto the ground outside as they shed them at sunrise of each day.
These natural sounds mingled with the steady tapping of Commander Ravinn's finger on the plasteel desk at which he sat. His silver-lacquered protocol droid, TC-25, stood hesitantly nearby as always, next to the large window that looked out across the humble colony and across Perelia, giving Ravinn an excellent view of the woods that sparkled with morning dew. It was just another morning, one which might start off just another day. There were entire days where Ravinn did simply go without speaking, with no need for it. The colony was mostly quiet, and the B-2 model super battle droids, generously donated by Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray, a close affiliate of Dooku's, had replaced the apathetic mine overseers. Since their installation, trouble down below the ground had been very, very minimal.
Yet Ravinn couldn't shake the feeling that this morning would be different, somehow. He could always sense trouble brewing, but he didn't have the slightest idea what kind of trouble it was.
As he tried to relax and listen quietly to the peaceful soft sounds of the Perelian morning that came through the microphones that he had scattered around the colony region, those sounds were joined by words that at first were faint and indistinct, but then grew louder. TC-25 cocked his head. The words - a chorus of them, all deep and rich, and all in song; furthermore, all in remarkable unison - swelled to a point where Ravinn could make them out, even though he didn't understand them.
"Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an
Bal kote, darasuum kote
Jorso'ran kando a tome
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an
Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an
Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cunn hett su dralshy'a.
Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r."
The protocol droid emitted an excited hum as he exclaimed, "Master Ravinn, I believe I understand what they are singing!"
Ravinn nodded for the droid to go on and swallowed, throat bobbing nervously.
"It is in the language of Ancient Mandalorian, which has been an extinct dialect for almost two thousand years! I believe they are singing the following."
"Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.
Our vengeance burns brighter still.
Every last traitorous soul shall kneel."
Ravinn's eyes widened in shock. Invaders, here? Mandalorian raiders - the Night Watch, perhaps? Whoever they were, they didn't seem to be particularly friendly. Then the song repeated itself.
"One indomitable heart, Brothers all.
We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all."
The blood in the colony leader's veins seemed to freeze, and his heart managed to skip a few beats before it got itself back on track. "Stars' end," he swore, voice barely more than a whisper. The wrath of Coruscant…
It could only be clone troopers.
Ravinn had heard about them, certainly: heard the rumors and the legends and the personal accounts. Nothing, not even his alliance with the Separatist movement, had prepared him to have them on his planet.
Clone troopers.
Feared throughout the galaxy, all copies of the late bounty hunter Jango Fett, hidden behind identical white helmets, clone troopers were whispered among many to be the finest combat troops the galaxy had yet seen. Disciplined and unquestioningly loyal, they were in many regards similar to the Confederacy's battle droids, with one important difference.
They could think.
They could think, and they could think independently. They were flesh-and-blood, sentient men. They weren't as aggressively independent as most men were, but nor were they the dumb walking cans with blaster rifles that were the battle droids, both B-1 and B-2 series.
And they were here.
He should have known it was a bad idea to ally himself with Dooku now, during the war! Granted, he had reason to do it, and he wasn't particularly enamored of Palpatine. He was once a friend, yes, but after that…
Well, it must have just been a wee dabbling on Palpatine's part, considering the man's current position, but it had been enough for Ravinn to break off contact with him, though he hadn't told anybody yet.
And, of course, reflections on what could have been didn't change the fact that he had clone troopers on his planet, and they were certainly not there for his health.
"Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cunn hett su dralshy'a.
Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r.
Motir ca'tra nau tracinya."
On the second line of the repeated refrain, a new voice, identical to those coming in over the communication channel, entered into the song from a position to the left and rear of Commander Ravinn, joining with the other thousands of bass voices in perfect harmony.
"Gra'tua cunn hett su dralshy'a."
Our vengeance burns brighter still. Ravinn stood up and whirled to face the new singer as the chair that the colony leader had been sitting in clattered to the floor behind him, but it was too late. The unarmored clone trooper that had been standing in Ravinn's own doorway fired two shots from his misappropriated E-5 blaster rifle, voice still raised in song. The two bolts caught Sichi Ravinn, throwing him back across the chair. He died in agony as the trooper echoed in clone bass tones the somehow mournful-sounding refrain's final words.
"Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r."
Every last traitorous soul shall kneel.
"Remind me to congratulate the Chancellor on the effectiveness of his Clone Intelligence agents," Obi-Wan Kenobi commented, watching the clones march through the panicking colony, still singing their Mandalorian war chant in perfect harmony as they blasted Ravinn's security droids. "We took the entire colony by surprise."
Ki-Adi-Mundi slowly shook his conical head. "I feel a disturbance. I'm not entirely sure that the infiltrator was simply employing measures to merely incapacitate Ravinn."
Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan's former Padawan, looked over at the Cerean Jedi Master in surprise. "You think that Chancellor Palpatine would have given his clones orders to assassinate?" he asked incredulously. Obi-Wan shot him a warning look, but Anakin seemed to pay it no heed. He opened his mouth, probably to issue another righteous tirade about the hard work that the Chancellor did and how his intentions were good, he was a good man, etc. etc. Anakin seemed full of admiration for the Chancellor these days, even as the Jedi Council's opinion of him plummeted.
Fortunately, Ki-Adi-Mundi cut him off. "Young Skywalker," he said sternly, "in times of war, people who do not understand fully the preciousness of life, as Jedi do, may be assumed to think little of wasting it. If assassination -"
Obi-Wan was shocked to hear Anakin rudely cut him off. "If assassination was the only way of disrupting Ravinn's command structure, like the mission instructed, then assassination is perfectly acceptable in my eyes."
"And that is why you are a Knight, not a Master," Ki-Adi-Mundi said in a stiff tone of voice that made quite clear the indication that the Cerean was very irritated with Obi-Wan's former Padawan.
Anakin opened his mouth to deliver an angry retort, but snapped his jaw shut as he evidently decided to think before speaking, probably for the first time in some days.
"Now," Ki-Adi-Mundi continued, "we should direct our attention to calming the colonists. We don't want any more killings on our hands." Obi-Wan couldn't be sure, but he thought that the Master shot a reproving look towards Anakin before turning back to face him.
"I agree," Obi-Wan said, a little too late. He was freshly reminded that he and Ki-Adi-Mundi were equals now, and slightly embarrassed, though he turned his face ever so slightly as so to hide that from Anakin. Obi-Wan had been quite used to simply taking the Ki-Adi-Mundi's orders before his own elevation to the rank of Master and his placement on the Jedi Council, things that seemed so recent. He stood up on tip-toe to look at Commander Cody, in charge on the entire operation. The clone was, of course, still there, evidently engaged in a discussion over the battlefield comm within the solitude of his yellow-marked helmet.
Anakin moved aside to allow Obi-Wan to get to the clone commander; Obi-Wan nodded a quick thanks, then positioned himself directly in front of the clone. "Commander Cody?"
Cody immediately responded, the genetically programmed need to answer to a Jedi taking priority over the current conversation that Obi-Wan surmised had been taking place. "Yes, sir?"
"Tell all of your clones to execute Order Seven at once, as well as they can manage while continuing their present actions."
"As you wish." The war chant suddenly stopped as Cody relayed the Order 7 directive.
Obi-Wan inclined his head in a very slight bow and stepped back. "This is almost a depressingly ordinary battle," he remarked.
"Second mission from the Vandar," Anakin noted. "I hope Master Windu transfers us soon." Again, Obi-Wan thought he detected a flicker of expression between Anakin and Ki-Adi-Mundi. His friend had never really taken to the Cerean Jedi.
"It's standard fare," Obi-Wan lamented with a sigh. "I thought there would be more varied missions now with General Grievous using his new tactics against us."
"I think the trip to Vjun spoiled us, Master," Anakin said somberly.
Ki-Adi-Mundi just looked up distantly at the tweeting birds in flight, completely excluded from the discussion. Obi-Wan would have tried to bring him into it, but Commander Cody let out a shout.
"Generals!"
All three of the Jedi rushed to the clone's side. "What is it?" Obi-Wan asked pensively.
"A starship has just dropped out of hyperspace in planetary space," Cody said tersely. "According to reports from the Mad Dash, it's a Munificent-class cruiser with Confederacy markings. It's deploying droid starfighters."
"How many?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Where to?" Anakin asked.
"Approximately eighty fighters and counting; about a third of them are moving to engage the frigates and their starfighters in orbit, and the others are coming down to the planet," the clone reported.
Anakin groaned, but Obi-Wan pressed for more information. "Is the planetary shield still intact over this continent?"
"The generators were disabled and destroyed about twenty minutes ago, General."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said quickly. He turned and glanced at Ki-Adi-Mundi, then Anakin. "Time for some fancy work," he told them.
Fighting in the streets was not major. Clones carrying out Order 7 - the code phrase for the use of propaganda tactics - were herding terrified civilians to safety and hunkering down in the anticipation of the coming aerial assault, occasionally expending a few shots to take down battle droids and Ravinn's men who tried to interfere. The blood didn't run thick in this fight, but there was confusion and turmoil, as there was in any urban combat situation. The clone troopers were just trying to do their best to keep the innocent civilians safe.
Through the packed streets ran Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ki-Adi-Mundi.
"Head for an unoccupied gun turret," Obi-Wan was shouting over the chaotic sounds of the panicking crowds. "Point towards the sky and stretch out with your senses!"
"Ravinn's goons are still controlling most of them!" Anakin replied, voice raised to match Obi-Wan's. "They're trying to take down the troopers with them!"
Obi-Wan's response was to ignite his lightsaber, instantly clearing quite the wide path for them. He thrust it towards the controller of one of the blaster turrets, who quailed in terror and immediately leapt up and ran faster than he ever had before in his life in the other direction.
Obi-Wan quickly strapped into the gunner's seat and experimentally moved around the long-barreled blaster weapon with the small control stick on the panel, then fired a shot into the ground. Satisfied that it was operational, he aimed it up towards the pale blue sky and switched on his headset comm.
"Commander Cody, this is General Kenobi. Do you read me?"
"Yes, sir," the clone's voice came back, tinny through the headset's small earpiece. "Loud and clear."
"What's the status of those droid starfighters?"
A pause.
"Sir, they'll be in strafing position above the colony within two minutes at the maximum."
"Thank you, Commander."
He shut off the mouthpiece section of the headset comm and shouted out, "Ninety seconds! You've got ninety seconds before the droid starfighters arrive!"
Yet more screaming and shouting broke out, and the white-armored clone troopers thrust themselves back into the task of getting the civilians off the streets with gusto.
Obi-Wan, wincing, surveyed the area. Anakin had deposited himself in a gun turret just down the street. He caught the young man's eye; Anakin put on a cocky grin and waved. Obi-Wan, amused despite himself, returned the wave, but thought to himself despairingly, What will it take to deflate his ego?
A presence entered his mind and he knew it was a thought he would have to save for another day. He flipped the comm mouthpiece back on to "transmit". "Commander, this is General Kenobi. I believe the droid starfighters are here."
As if to confirm the statement, two laser bolts pounded into the street very nearby. Civilians screamed and fled in all directions away from the site of the attack, but soon more laser bolts were flashing through the air. A dome-shaped colonial house exploded in a ball of fire, and Obi-Wan began to sense the death of sentient beings through the Force.
He turned the turret in desperation, trying to blindly return the shots. The starfighters were flying too high and too fast for his eyes to track. Feel, don't think, an old, familiar voice came back to him from thirteen years before. Use your instincts.
Yes, Qui-Gon, came Obi-Wan's reflexive thought. He closed his eyes and allowed a wave of calmness to flow through him. Serene, like the peko peko in flight. Calm and at peace, like Yoda taught. He squeezed down on the trigger.
Blaster bolts issued from the turret weapon, aimed by a man who chose now to be physically blind, eyes calmly shut, an expression on his face that suggested that he could just be sleeping. Blaster bolts struck flying metal droid. Yellow and orange explosions blossomed in the air, but Obi-Wan could not see them. Feel, don't think.
Yes, Qui-Gon.
CT-4/100 stared in disbelief at the Jedi General Kenobi, perched in the turret seat, eyes closed and expression peaceful, shooting down starfighter after starfighter in a steady stream like the most veteran of interceptor pilots. He still continued to usher civilians to safety as air-raid sirens blared around him, but he stole admiring glances at the serene Jedi Master from time to time. General Kenobi could have been sleeping if not for the methodical barrage of blasterfire coming from his turret that was quickly thinning the air of attackers.
One droid fighter came in low, sweeping across the colony with its fuel slug-powered engines roaring. The Jedi's methodical shots intercepted it, and the fighter blew to bits in the air just a few hundred meters above them. Hot shrapnel rained down from the blast, but General Kenobi, calm as a Kaminoan cloner, didn't even seem to notice. He had found his inner calm. He trusted the Force if nothing else. Which was all well and good for a Jedi; the mystical energy field of which the Jedi so often spoke was completely inaccessible to clone troopers.
CT-4/100 looked up and around in sudden consternation as a loud noise tore the air behind him, just in time to see a droid starfighter roaring above them. Acting quickly, he sprinted forward and threw out his arms to shove four of the civilians on the street down into a ditch. Laser bolts destroyed the exact spot where the colonists had been standing.
One of the civilians, a young human female, looked at him, eyes wide. "You saved us," she said in a disbelieving tone.
"Just doing my duty," CT-4/100 said. "Good guys wear white, ma'am." This phrase was simply the clone repeating an old mantra that had been drilled into him by the Kaminoans since he was a toddler. How the Kaminoans knew that the clones would be used for good or why they cared was beyond him, and it wasn't his business to wonder about it. It didn't matter to him. He was just carrying out Order 7, issuing a standard clone trooper phrase often found as a slogan in Republic propaganda, to obviously awed civilians.
Of course, they didn't know that. "Momma, I want to be a fighter pilot when I grow up and wear white like that guy!" a small boy, probably about eight or nine, said excitedly. CT-4/100 thought ruefully that the little boy was chronologically not much younger than he was. But he was who he had to be. Growth acceleration was a necessary thing to quickly create a clone army, the Kaminoans had explained. Further wondering about it led to a durasteel wall. It wasn't his business.
The other woman of the five looked fondly at her son, then back into CT-4/100's T-shaped visor. "Yes, child," she murmured, seemingly half to herself. "You're free to dream, now."
To an educated observer, it would seem highly ironic that clone troopers themselves weren't afforded that kind of freedom.
"That was some fantastic shooting, Master," Anakin said for the third time today. "You really were a hero back there."
"The victory is not mine," Obi-Wan murmured, half to himself. It belongs to Qui-Gon more than me.
Anakin chuckled at what he interpreted to be Obi-Wan's famous and sometimes irritating (or so he had heard) modesty kicking in. "You keep telling yourself that, Master." He stepped through the doorway into the building where Sichi Ravinn had ruled over Perelia.
"Still looks remarkably intact," Ki-Adi-Mundi commented.
"The droid fighter controllers probably gave them instructions not to attack this building," Obi-Wan surmised. It seemed rather obvious to him. "They wouldn't want to kill the only person on their side who could take charge here."
Ki-Adi-Mundi didn't reply.
They were met mere seconds later by the Clone Intelligence agent - a Null-class ARC trooper, Obi-Wan knew; a remarkable assignment for such a highly valued type of clone - who had infiltrated Ravinn's staff. The officer was dressed now in a set of clone trooper armor that he had evidently looted off the corpse of a fallen trooper grunt; a blast mark surrounding a characteristic blaster bolt-created hole could be seen on the lower left side of his otherwise white chestplate.
"Officer," Obi-Wan greeted him cordially. He noticed that Ravinn, sullen and cuffed, did not accompany the agent. Where was he then? Had Ki-Adi-Mundi been right?
"General Kenobi," the Clone Intelligence agent replied. "And Generals Ki-Adi-Mundi and Skywalker. I'm Agent Null-7."
"We appreciate your incapacitation of the leadership here, Agent Seven," Ki-Adi-Mundi said neutrally.
The clone seemed to stiffen. "Ah - yes. About that -"
"Agent, is Sichi Ravinn dead or alive?" Obi-Wan asked bluntly.
"Dead, sir," came N-7's instant reply.
"How?" Ki-Adi-Mundi queried.
Anakin just stood there silently. Obi-Wan gave him a sidelong look, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. That girl again, he thought ruefully. He'd have to give Anakin another lecture to warn him against attachment. He doubted that his friend would listen. Knowing Anakin, it was probably too late anyway.
Obi-Wan hadn't even noticed the hesitation before the Null-ARC's reply, and the got a flash of sense that the clone was speaking with someone via his helmet comm, but it went away just as quickly as it came. It did give Obi-Wan some pause though. The only person who could command more attention from a clone than a Jedi Master was the Supreme Chancellor. Palpatine.
"Generals, Ravinn put up a struggle when I tried to stun him. He got a hold of one of my holdout pistols and knocked away my stun baton, and I was forced to kill him."
Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded in acceptance, a disappointed look on his face nevertheless. "You did what you could, Agent. You're dismissed; please return to the Vandar for further instructions."
The clone saluted. "Yes, General." As he stepped towards the general direction of the entryway, he looked back at the Jedi. "By your leave, General Kenobi, General Skywalker?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "You're dismissed, Agent."
"Yeah," Anakin agreed. Ki-Adi-Mundi shot him another reproving glare. Anakin ignored it. Obi-Wan sighed quietly.
Together, the three Jedi entered the turbolift and traveled up to the top floor, where Ravinn had kept his office. They walked into the spacious room in silence. Blood flecked the floor and overturned chair behind the desk, and several datapads were strewn about the place. The wreckage of a silver protocol droid lay next to a large window.
Obi-Wan crossed the room to look out that window. He stared across over columns of clones, all returning to the Vandar from a job well done. All the clones, white-armored splendor. He sighed and thought gloomily, and not for the first time, about just how poorly cut-out Jedi were for the job of leading these huge and unnatural armies. We are keepers of the peace, not soldiers.
The mission to Perelia was not a particularly vibrant one, but it was one that Obi-Wan, many years later, would come to look back on.
Halfway across the galaxy, Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, smiled as he erased all records of his most recent communication: one to a planet called Perelia, no longer of any significance to him now. The danger had passed.
He stood there for a moment, silently marveling at the holoscreen that showed his clone troopers - those invaluable, ever-important clone troopers - filing onto yet another mighty assault ship. They marched all as one as they strode up the ramp and aboard the transport in all their white-armored splendor.