He hands the Jedi his weapon and they both share a short laugh over their mutual agreement that Anakin is never to know about this incident (or the few other times Kenobi has managed to lose his lightsaber). Cody watches the man ride his temporary mount directly up the cliff face and shakes his head. Though the remarkable has become somewhat commonplace with a Jedi around, his amazement at what the warriors can do with their mystical Force has yet to disappear. This sort of thing still astonishes him. Still makes him stop (foolishly) in the middle of a war zone and stare for just the briefest of moments.

Later, he decides that that brief moment had been far, far too brief.

The next thing he knows, he is staring at a fuzzy blue image of a wrinkly, hooded man that vaguely resembles someone that he thinks he's seen before, and the man cackles five words at him that seem to turn his entire world inside out: "Commander Cody, execute Order 66."

The manufactured, genetically coded part of him (a very large part of him), makes him respond almost (almost) instantaneously: "It will be done, my Lord."

Instinct turns his body to give the order while he silently complains that the timing truly couldn't have been worse (he should have kept the blasted lightsaber for 'safekeeping').

Cody the clone raises a plated arm and gestures towards his Jedi general who is swiftly climbing up sheer, vertical rock with relative ease. Blast him! The words are right there on the tip of his tongue.

But another word slips into his perfectly ordered, perfectly coded, glitch-free mind and introduces chaos with a subtle, but very firm question: Cody?

He's done this for months, his general. Spoken silent inquiries into his head from short distances. Easier to communicate that way. Easier to relay strategies. Easier to fire off orders without having to shout between the noises. Easier to tell him when to duck because a blaster bolt might just take his head off. Easier to tell him when to disengage and fall back because I've got this, Commander.

It's just easier. Easier to survive that way.

Blast him, blast him, BLAST HIM! Raw, ingrained, completely natural instinct screams at him, and he opens his mouth to relay the message, the order, but then he stops. Again.

BLAST HIM!

Why?

This is the small part of him that had hesitated ever so briefly between receiving Order 66 and responding to said order. This is the part of him that has slowly learned to trust Kenobi over his instincts. Because even though his instincts are sharp, they don't save him from blaster bolts to the back. Because even though his mind knows military strategy almost as well as his general's (and that's saying something), this mind that he has rarely tells him to retreat. Because even though he makes an excellent soldier and a brilliant commander, his training and his rank are useless when the enemy is full of Force-fueled rage and wielding crimson 'sabers that treat blasters like tuber-guns. Because even though he should have been dead a dozen times over, he isn't.

Because even though he is registered as CC-2224 and has never really minded, Kenobi calls him Cody (always a name never the… number).

Cody? Everything okay down there?

Execute Order 66. Do it, do it, do it, do it… no. Kenobi introduced chaos, and it spreads like a virus now. Only it doesn't kill him. His general would never kill him. Cody knows this Jedi, this man, this friend of his, and he knows him well.

"Commander Cody, execute Order 66."

The words echo in his mind, but they're hollow now. An empty gurgle from a wrinkly, darkly-hooded man that Cody doesn't know at all. A man that, oddly enough, would not look entirely out of sorts with a red lightsaber in hand. A man who speaks his name without having earned the permission to do so.

Cody?

The clone (oh but he is more than a clone) follows his own pointing hand and finds that Kenobi has stopped and is turned in his seat, attached to the rock face by the lizard's grip and nothing more.

He has never tried to send a message back, but he decides that this is a good enough time to try. I've got you covered, sir. Something within him clicks into place (or does it fall out of place?) when the Jedi doesn't even remotely hesitate (there is no almost there, only trust) before turning back around and urging the beast on.

See you soon, Commander.

Beneath his helmet, where no one can see, Cody smirks. In a short time, once they have finished their business here, he and General Kenobi will have a very long discussion about orders and numbers and clones and wrinkly-faced men. Right now, though, Cody lets his arm wave almost comically in the general direction of the general and opens his mouth once more.

"Cover him!" From what, exactly, Cody doesn't know (like anything can harm the man when he's armed and has space to maneuver). But Kenobi is still safely attached to his lizard, which is still safely scrabbling up the cliff, and he decides that he can issue a completely irrelevant order and risk the inevitable needling from his men if it means that the general lives to needle him about it as well.

In the end, there is no needling whatsoever. Somehow the order has reached some of the others, and half of the 212th turns on their general while the other half obediently follows Cody's orders.

In the end, he and Kenobi, along with only a handful of others, escape alive.

In the end, once they have heard the tragic news of what has happened, General Kenobi turns to look at him and attempts a half-smile (one of the ones that's half genuine and half lost). "You're a good man, Cody."

Cody doesn't smile, but he does nod. "Thank you, sir. Now what's the plan?" For the first time that Cody can recall, the Jedi doesn't seem to have one.

So he gives the man a hard look, nods again, and pulls out a datapad. With a few swipes, he opens up a structural layout of the Jedi Temple. "Here are our options from where I'm standing…"

"I'm standing right beside you, Cody."

An old joke, and a bad one, but this time it means something. None of them laugh, but suddenly things don't seem quite so hopeless. "Right." He nods. "Here are our options from where we're standing…"