Bracca
UNSC Won't Back Down
Commander Gretchen Schmidt despised cryo-sleep, hated the muck that came up her throat, and loathed the stiff, frozen feeling that filled her joints when she tried to stand. So saying she was already in a poor mood when Spartan 013 awoke her was a grave understatement.
"Spartan," she greeted coldly, once she was finished coughing up the mucus in her throat.
"Morning, commander," Kyle responded, offering a hand to her. She took it, relying on his firm grip to steady herself as she swung out of bed.
"Did we make it?" Gretchen asked.
"No ma'am; we've hit a few snags," Kyle answered. Commander Schmidt had worked with Spec-Ops in the past, the term "snag" being a familiar, unfriendly notice of problems.
"Is the captain awake?"
"Ma'am, this should wait until-"
"You know damn well bad news ages like milk; spit it out."
"Ma'am, Captain Duque Villa is dead," the news hung in the air for a long moment, Gretchen's eyes staring at the far wall of the cryo bay.
"Fuck."
"It gets worse."
"Covenant?"
"We're off course."
"By how much?"
"From what I've learned…a whole other galaxy."
"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!"
"I wish I were joking ma'am."
"How do you know this?"
"We're…currently stranded on a scrap planet, surrounded by hulks of ship designs we've never seen before, and we were boarded."
"Are we safe?"
"Yes ma'am, we are."
"Good; I'm going to get dressed, get coffee in me, then you can proceed to throw the rest of my world upside down," with that, Gretchen released her grip on Kyle's hand, which had steadily tightened with each piece of bad news, and walked as fast as she could to the nearest locker, noticing a scorch mark on the wall. "Who the hell shot up the cryo bay?!"
"Would you like me to tell you now or wait for coffee, ma'am?"
"Was it aliens?"
"Clones, ma'am."
"Forget I asked! Wake the bridge crew and ship officers!" Shaking his head, 013 proceeded to wake the rest of the ship's officers, dreading the debriefing he was going to inevitably give.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Cal Kestis awoke slowly, his body protesting any movement, muscles sore and tired. He opened his eyes, finding himself staring at a gray bulkhead, confused as to how he ended up there. Then the memories the Albedo Brave and the Won't Back Down flooded back in, and Cal sat bolt upright, legs whipping out of the bed he was in. In the process, he knocked BD-1 off, who had been perched on the edge.
"BD!" Cal cried as the droid squealed, hitting the ground with a loud CLANG! "Are you okay?"
"I think you just knocked my antenna out of place," BD answered, standing back up; his two back antenna slightly askew. Cal knelt to readjust the antenna, groaning as his sore legs burned.
"Good to see you awake, Padawan Kestis," came a deep, calming voice from Cal's right. He looked to find a Kel-Dor sitting in a small chair, Master Tapal's lightsaber in his four-fingered hands.
"Master Plo?"
"Indeed; how are you feeling, young one?" Plo asked. The tidal wave of memory and emotion threatened to overwhelm Cal, and he fought to keep control. "Cal," Cal looked up at Master Plo, "let it out."
The flood wall dropped, the wave came crashing down, and Cal just wept. Plo moved from the chair, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Cal, and allowed the teen to collapse onto his shoulder. Most Jedi Masters in this scenario would repeat "There is no emotion, there is peace" to a grieving apprentice, but Plo Koon was not most masters, and Cal was not simply grieving. His tears were for his master, Master Cordova, of frustration, betrayal, and pain. Plo Koon let Cal weep until his sobs were without tears.
"Deep breaths, Cal, deep breaths," Plo said, "in four seconds, hold for three, out four. In," Cal took in a shaky breath, "out," a long, relieved exhale followed. Plo had Cal doing this for several minutes until his breathing was steady once again. "Now, if you can, tell me what happened." He listened as Cal and BD-1 both told the tale of the Albedo Brave and the events that had transpired on board the Won't Back Down, which they were still aboard.
"What happened to the clones?" Cal asked as he concluded his tale.
"The ones who survived are presently confined to their shuttles, bond by scrap and metal," Plo answered, "though your Sergeant Burns is merely restrained by cuffs."
"Why him?"
"BD-1 had a hand in that," Plo said, nodding to the droid, "when Sergeant Burns attempted to flee with you, BD shocked him. Whatever was controlling him lost its grip, and it has not regained that control. I've kept him sequestered, away from the rest until I can determine what the control source is."
"How do you know it lost control?" Cal asked.
"He was weeping," Plo said, "and in his mind, I sensed a great regret for the unwilling hand he played." Cal was silent.
"So…what now?" He asked finally.
"Now, we return to Courscant and inform the Council of what occurred here. An investigation must be undertaken."
"And…what about me?" Plo was silent, his eyes never leaving Cal's face.
"We shall see." In truth, he already knew. The door opened and in came a pale, bald head with a young face, one that did not match the titanic bulk that followed it as Kyle 013 stepped inside.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, Cal turning, eyes widening, "but Commander Schmidt would like to see you both." His eyes found Cal's, noting the surprise. The two couldn't have been more than one, maybe two years apart, yet one had the nimble body of a Jedi padawan, and the other looked like he could flip a tank.
"Of course," Plo stood, Cal following suit, BD latching onto his shoulder. The pair followed Kyle as he led them through the ship, its corridors beginning to fill with crew and Marines. As they passed, many tensed up and stared at Plo Koon, some hands even gravitating towards weapons as they saw the alien. Plo didn't respond or look around, keeping his eyes forward, posture neutral. They arrived swiftly at a conference rooming, being ushered inside by 013 and a duo of soldiers with flaming skulls on their chest pieces. Inside sat Commander Schmidt and her staff, all of whom tensed upon seeing Plo Koon.
"So, you're this "Jedi Master" my Spartan tells me of?" Gretchen asked.
"Indeed I am; Jedi Master Plo Koon, member of the Jedi High Council, and general of the Grand Army of the Republic," Plo Koon introduced, bowing slightly, "this is Jedi Apprentice Cal Kestis, Commander in the GAR."
"Commander Gretchen Schmidt, acting captain of the UNSC Won't Back Down," Gretchen replied, "this is my XO, Lieutenant Commander Roland Eves," a dark skinned man nodded in response, "and this is our…intelligence liaison, Lieutenant Malachi Hoffman," an ivory skinned officer with thick glasses and a large nose nodded in greeting, "now, do you mind telling me where the hell my ship is?"
"Your vessel is on the planet of Bracca, a Mid-Rim scrapper world in the Galactic Republic."
"I take it you've never heard of the UNSC before?"
"Not until today, and I take it you've never heard of the Jedi or the Republic?"
"Not until an hour ago," Gretchen replied, rubbing her temples.
"If I may ask, Commander, do you know the circumstances by which you arrived here?" Plo asked.
"No; all data points to a prolonged Slipspace jump; something prevented us and the vessel we were traveling with from exiting at our destination. We exited after they did and landed here, thanks to the actions of our former captain," Gretchen explained.
"Was this vessel one like yours?" Plo asked, the reports of the nuclear devices filed by Obi-Wan and Anakin beginning to recirculate in his mind.
"UNSC, yes, but it was a cargo ship,"
"What did it carry?"
"That's classified."
"Could it possibly be twenty Fury-class nuclear warheads?" Silence enveloped the room as everyone, Cal and BD included, stared at Plo Koon.
"Out of respect for your assistance, I'm going to let you explain how you know that," Gretchen said through gritted teeth.
"On the world of Derylon, a renegade named Count Carcus Vork seized the planet and place its population into prison camps. When a Republic task force arrived, he detonated two Fury warheads under two camps. Our forces are retrieving the rest as we speak." Gretchen's eyes never left Plo's face, and she didn't speak for a long moment.
Then came one simple, yet oh-so expressive word: "Fuck."
"If I may, commander?" Asked Hoffman. Gretchen nodded, and the younger officer stood, "a proper introduction; Lieutenant Malachai Hoffman, liaison to the Office of Naval Intelligence. What can you tell me of the warheads; have they been modified in any way, tampered with?"
"Classified," Plo replied coolly.
"Ah, I see," Hoffman said, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses on his uniform, "and you say you only found twenty?"
"Only?" Hoffman replaced his glasses and smiled.
"Tit-for-tat, General."
"You play a dangerous game for someone stranded in a foreign galaxy," Plo Koon said, his tone low, "particularly when lives are at stake."
"Hoffman," Gretchen said firmly, and the ONI liaison sat back down, "there were a grand total of fifty."
"Why could you possibly need that many?" Cal asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Questions for another time," Plo said, placing a gentle hand on Cal's shoulder, "but I'm afraid I must ask you to accompany me to Courscant, the capitol of the Republic."
"To answer for the nukes?"
"To explain them; what are they, what are their capabilities, how can we track them, things of that nature," Plo explained, "and, if we're lucky, I can find aid for you, of what kind I don't yet know." Silence reigned once more in the room as the UNSC officers sat in contemplation.
"Thank you, Master Plo Koon, please give us some time," Gretchen said finally.
"Of course," Plo Koon pulled a comnlink from his belt and placed it on the table. "Should you need to get in contact with me, use this; it's keyed to mine," he tapped the wrist-mounted comnlink. He bowed, as did Cal, and they left the room, guided out by 013.
"What now?" Cal asked.
"Now…we get answers," Plo answered.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
They exited the Won't Back Down, departing via the aft cargo bay, and moved towards the three Nu assault-shuttles. Cal nervously wrung his hands as they approached, his steps seeming to falter on the scrap the closer they got to. Plo's steps were long and purposeful, delivering him towards potential answers. Two Jedi lay dead, a padawan was attacked and almost abducted by his own soldiers, and two Republic ships were missing, along with their guilty clone complements; justice demanded its due. Plo stopped just short of the rightmost shuttle.
"You don't have to come in with me," he said to Cal.
"I know," Cal replied, staring at the shuttle door, "but…I need to understand what happened."
"Then let me lead," and the Kel-Dor ascended the ramp, opening the door with a wave of his hand, Cal close behind. Sitting inside, hands cuffed behind his back, was Sergeant Burns. His eyes raised to meet Plo Koon's, but when they caught a hint of Cal, they immediately returned to the floor.
"CT 1-283-148, Clone Sergeant Burns," Plo Koon said, his tone once more low and grave, "I have questions for you."
"Ask," Burns said, eyes still on the floor. Plo sat down across from him, and Cal sat next to him, the eyes of the two Jedi and BD-1 fixed firmly on Burns.
"What happened aboard the Albedo Brave?" Plo questioned.
"You know what happened," Burns replied, eyes still glued to the floor.
"I know Cal's part of what happened, but what of yours?" Burns's eyes remained looked to the floor. "We can do this the easy way, or my way, Sergeant."
"We were prepping for hyperspace," Burns relented, "The generals and Cal were all in the training room when Commander Ironsides received a transmission, from who I don't know. After that, he activated Order…Order 66," he visibly winced in pain as he said the words, "with an exception; Cal." He finally looked up, his eyes meeting Cal's, allowing the padawan to see the pain. "Our orders were to take Cal alive, retrieve General Cordova's holocron, eliminate General Cordova and General Tapal, and upon mission completion, wait to hand-off the holocron." Burn took a deep breath before continuing.
"After Cal escaped the Brave, we handed off the holocron; four Death Watch members following a red and black tattooed Zabrak. Commander Ironsides was ordered to a set of coordinates, and dispatched us to capture Cal. We were supposed to follow after we had Cal in custody." Plo Koon nodded, processing the information.
"Why?" Cal asked. Burns winced again and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"I don't know," he replied finally, "it's…hazy; like I was on autopilot. There were moments where I thought about what was going on, but they were overridden by something else."
"Like programming," Plo observed. "If you are willing, Sergeant, I'd like to see if I can't determine the source."
"Of course, sir," Burns said. Plo lifted his right hand, placing it on Burns's forehead, bowed his head, and was silent. Burns sat motionless, Cal and BD watching, then he began to wince again in pain.
"It isn't psychological programming," Plo finally spoke, hand still on Burns, "but literal; I can feel a device implanted on the right side of his brain, very small."
"A what?!" Burns said, recoiling from Plo's hand.
"A device; what it is I do not know…but following Order 66 was not of your own volition," Plo explained, the mention of the order once again causing Burns to wince once more. "A more thorough investigation must be conducted, but for now we must report to the Council."
"And…what about me? What about my brothers?" Burns asked.
"To be determined," Plo said, standing. Cal and BD followed, leaving Burns inside, alone. Cal spared one glance back at Burns before leaving the shuttle, closing the door behind him.
"So…what now?" BD asked, sticking his head up from behind Cal's shoulder.
"The Council and the Chancellor must be informed; this device and Order 66 throw the validity of the clone army into question," Plo said, then looked up at the Won't Back Down, "and this…Master Kenobi spoke of a symbol similar to the one on this vessel, in a vision and on the nuclear devices on Derylon. This must also be brought to the Council's attention." On que, Lieutenant Commander Eves, accompanied by a quo of Marines, approached the Jedi.
"General," Eves greeted, "Captain Schmidt is preparing our ship for launch as we speak; we'll be complying with your request."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander; though I admit I'm surprised at how quickly you came to the decision."
"That's why the captain was the XO first; she knew how to bludgeon a crew into obedience if she had to. Besides, this is really the only choice available to us."
"Understandable; I'm assuming you'll need navigational data in order to make the jump?"
"No sir, if we can link with you navi-computer, we can execute the Slipspace jump with you."
"Slipspace?"
"You…don't use Slipspace?"
"Never heard of it; you've never heard of hyperspace?"
"No sir, never."
"Oh dear…let me make some calls."
