Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OCs and possibly some percentage of the plot.

Notes: Imagine that 75% of the war is the same as in TCW, because I don't feel like doing a complete series rewrite. Also, once again, I'm not holding at all close to canon, just sort of wandering past it.


It was strange being out there at the front of a war. Also strange because Obi-Wan was soon asked to sit in on Jedi Council meetings in order to ensure troop movements were coordinated. Obi-Wan confessed that he'd wound up being included in a few discussions of Temple business wholly by accident, only getting out of it by reminding the others that he was not in fact a Jedi any longer. However, in one of those moves that made Obi-Wan grit his teeth to release his aggravation into the Force before it became any worse of an emotion, the Jedi High Council on Coruscant dismissed Obi-Wan's warning about the longstanding presence of a Sith on Coruscant.

The Corellian Jedi did not dismiss it, and although it was something that fell outside their purview of Corellian space, their Shadows were apparently ordered to quietly investigate in the hopes of finding some evidence. Quinlan, trusting his friend's sources, coordinated with Corellia in between his own missions.

The war was soon passing in a haze of battles, casualty reports and the confusion of those thousands of men with the same face but different details of haircuts, tattoos and scarring, and such similar natures in the Force, caused by having the same bodily template, training, upbringing, home planet and culture, and yet each one still distinct, like the same ornate frame over and over, each one containing a different painting.

Cara had thrown herself into her work as a dancer. It was who she was and what she did and she definitely didn't want anything to do with the war because she knew she was totally unsuited to all of it. And then one night she snapped awake, a sense of something horrible happening. It wasn't anything specific, just a seeping sense of a darkness concealing the sound of screaming.

For the next few days she felt something hanging over her, and then someone rang the doorbell. When she answered, there were two clones standing at her door, their armour marked with the colours of the battalion Obi-Wan had command of, both of them holding their helmets and looking somewhat awkward about it. There was only one reason for them to be there, and Cara demanded, "What happened to Obi-Wan?"

The clones exchanged glances. "He was killed in action on Jabiim," said the one with dyed-blond hair.

"What?" Cara gasped out, then closed her eyes, reaching down the stretched and distant bond between them. If he'd died she should have felt it, but instead it was . . . shrouded. She opened her eyes again, seeing the pair exchange nervous glances. "Anakin thinks he's dead, doesn't he?"

The dark-haired clone said, "Um . . . yes. Ma'am. He said the bond was broken and . . . um, I'm not totally sure, but he said that a Force thing told him so. Also, I'm not sure even a Jedi could have survived that."

Cara took a deep breath. "Right," she said. Now that she was looking, she could feel the way the dark side was shrouding the bond, using that way that Jedi and lightsiders avoided the dark to hide the connection. Obi-Wan wasn't dead because the bond wasn't actually broken. If he was being hidden by a darksider, that meant he was a prisoner. "Thank you for informing me," she said, already thinking ahead to how she was going to have to track Obi-Wan like she was playing Hot and Cold.

The two clones exchanged looks again, and then the blond said, "If you'll pardon my saying so, Ma'am, but you look a lot like General Kenobi when he's about to do something that'll give Commander Marshall Cody a headache."

"What is happening?" Shmi asked. "Who is this and why are they here?"

"They're here to tell me that Obi-Wan's dead," Cara said. "And - I'm sorry, I didn't ask your names - having done so they're going to go back to their battalion or their next stop to notify whoever else needs to be notified." She tried to turn and head into the house, she needed to get her stuff and pack and be very glad it was the ballet off-season because she had to find her boyfriend who'd been stupid enough to get himself captured.

Shmi had her by the arm. "Why do you believe that Obi-Wan is not dead?" demanded the older woman.

"Because the bond I have with him is still there, and if Anakin touched the dark side of the Force he'd know his is too. It's being concealed, but the trick is one that only works on lightsiders," Cara said. "And I have to go and find him."

"Ma'am," said the dark-haired clone, "If you have information on where our General is you should tell us and our Commander will send out a team to retrieve him."

Cara hissed. "I don't have information, soldier, I just know he's somewhere that way," her hand unerringly pointed up into the sky. "I'm going to have to track him like a karking dowsing rod and I don't have time for this."

She spun around, slammed the door shut in his face and went to pack. Cara snuck out the window to avoid facing any more questions, raced to her ship and felt herself sag as she saw the two troopers helmeted and just waiting for her. "Madam Skywalker told us you were going to show up here," said the one the Force told her was the blond.

"Fine. Whatever. I need to go get him so I can yell at him for making me do this," Cara grumped, stomped her way on board once the ramp was lowered and started her pre-flight checks, saying over her shoulder, "Make yourselves useful and do the pre-flight prep back there, would you?"

Once they had settled into a hyperlane going mostly the right direction, Cara set a bit of her mind to watching whether they were getting closer or not and headed into the back to see the two troopers playing Sabacc. "Okay. First, hi, I'm Cara Mabban and you should know that I hate everyone except Obi-Wan, Shmi and Anakin. So, don't take it personally, I don't like people. Second, what are your names? I can't keep calling you blond and not-blond."

They shared another speaking look with each other and the not-blond said, "I'm Longshot, that's Crys."

"Ask whatever you're gonna ask," Cara said. "I can't promise not to be offended, I think I have another round of anger counselling I'm missing, but I'm not going to hurt you."

"You said that if Commander Skywalker touched the dark, I'm guessing you mean the dark side of the Force, then he'd know General Kenobi is still alive. I thought the dark side is . . . well . . . bad," Crys said.

She squeezed her eyes shut, braced herself for going through the strain of memory again, then flopped down onto the bench seat with a graceless huff. "I used to be a darksider," she said. "Not a Sith, I didn't really think those existed anymore until Obi-Wan told me he killed one ten years ago, but that's how I learned to use the Force. I . . . it's not something that ever totally goes away. When you use the dark side it warps your personality. That's the part that's dangerous. Use the dark side and you start getting sadistic and angry and . . . it's bad. But there are things you can do with the dark side that you can't with the light. One of those things is hide stuff. It's impossible to explain without the Force, but because lightsiders avoid even touching the dark side, there are ways you can hide things with the dark side that take advantage of a lightsider's avoidance of touching it. Like . . . you know those parts of the 'fresher no one ever cleans?"

The pair looked enlightened. "Like hiding my stash back there," Longshot mused. "I know no one looks, so it's safe there."

"Exactly," Cara said. "But I can't let go of the dark side. Not completely. I'm . . . I suppose you could call it some combination of addiction and general corruption. It means that when the bond was blocked to trick Anakin and me into thinking Obi-Wan was dead, Anakin couldn't find it - which is a good thing because he shouldn't use the dark side - but I could still find it, and I can track through the concealment." She heaved a sigh. "I shouldn't be doing this. I don't . . . deal well with combat-type situations and less well with Obi-Wan being hurt, but I also know I'm the only one who could find him."

"Understood. What should we watch out for, Gen - Ma'am?" Crys asked.

Making a face because who likes being ma'amed? Cara then carefully considered the issue. "Most likely if I go over the edge it'll be one of two things. Either I get crazy vengeful and start trying to murder people instead of, say, escaping or helping Obi-Wan. Bloodlust, y'know. That or I might start using that dark Force healing technique. I promised him I wouldn't, but I don't . . . I'm not always rational about things like that."

"And how'll we know if you're using the Force healing osik?" Longshot asked. "I mean, going off on the enemy and killing indiscriminately's pretty easy to tell, but clones aren't Force-sensitive. We can't tell when someone's doing crazy Force stuff."

Cara felt the ping in her mind that said that the ship was now heading away from Obi-Wan. She stood, heading for the cockpit to check on and change their direction. "Basically I would be siphoning my own health into Obi-Wan," she said over her shoulder, raising her voice to be heard as she went. "Maybe someone else's, it depends if there's a 'valid' victim nearby. I don't think I'd do it to either of you, but if you start feeling unexpectedly weak and Obi-Wan's injured too it might be worth smacking me first to make me stop."

She dropped out of hyperspace and started tugging on the Force to get a feel for directions.

The two had followed her into the cockpit. "What are you doing? Why are we stopping?" Crys asked.

"I know the direction we need to go in, but it's so faint that I can't be sure how far we have to go," Cara said. "I'm literally trying to figure out which hyperlane to take, which uses and directions of hyperdrive to go with because I don't want to loop around only to discover we've overshot. It's kind of a balance and the only certain thing I can say is that he's this way," she ran a finger in a straight line along the star chart from their location moving outward.

Trying to use the dark side to maintain her grasp on the bond, only the light side to track the direction she needed to go in, running through the various hyperlanes she would need was trouble. When Longshot also pointed out the blockades they'd need to circumvent it was another line she had to concentrate on. She snapped at Anakin when he came on the line to ask her about it, leading to the clones playing go-between, talking to their Commander Cody who relayed to Anakin. Finally she had another course set. "Okay," Cara told the two and their commanding officer. "Here's the flight path for the moment, but I may have to drop out several times to be certain."

"Yes Ma'am," came the commander's voice over the comm. "Keep us apprised when you can."

"I'll leave that up to Longshot and Crys," Cara said. "I'm gonna be grouchier and probably irrational in the next two hours and the lack of sleep isn't going to help."

"Is that any different than usual?" Anakin asked from a distance away from the comm.

"I will take appropriate vengeance some way, Anakin, see if I don't. I know where you sleep."

"Are you planning on scaling 500 Republica to freak me and Padmé out first thing in the morning?"

Cara made a disgusted noise, and heard the Commander saying something to Anakin in tones of exasperation. "Voidwalker out," she said, slamming the off-switch for the comm.

"Lack of sleep?" asked Longshot.

She stood and stretched a moment, explaining, "I can't sleep while we're moving because I might lose the thread of the connection and the longer this goes on the heavier the cloaking gets. If I lose it I don't know how long it'll take me to re-establish, and if I'm asleep we could wind up overshooting. That means I'm going to have to lean on the Force and spend a lot of time meditating instead of sleeping." She went and dragged a mat and a few pillows into the cockpit, settling in for a longer haul. "Sorry I won't be good company, but I wouldn't be anyway."

Crys and Longshot passed the long hours by first playing Sabacc and whispering about the incredibly strange woman who was a not-a-Jedi, taking turns napping and watching the autopilot as well as Cara Mabban's meditation. That last was dull, but there was a sort of fascination with someone who could sit there that long without falling asleep, and not actually doing anything like standing watch.

She snapped out of it after a day and a half of regular shipboard time, dropping them out of hyperspace again. While she noodled around with her Force-osik and star maps, they commed The Negotiator to update their commander that nothing had happened yet and to send along their current location. Cara ate something, visited the 'fresher and then settled back into her meditation. They wound up heading into the Outer Rim, ducking around Separatist patrols until they were finally stopped by one. "Unidentified vessel, you are in Confederate space. If you cannot provide appropriate identification you will be boarded."

"I'm just a freighter captain," Cara said, bluffing. "I'm heading to pick up a load at-"

"Standby for boarding," snapped the all-too-organic voice on the other end of the comm.

Cara shut off her end and turned to the troopers. "I'm going to try another bluff when he gets on board," she told them. "I'm going to play darksider and see if I can't get him to think that I'm working for Dooku and that I'm controlling the two of you."

Crys and Longshot exchanged glances. "So, what should we do?" Crys asked.

"I hate to put it this way, but pretend to be the meat droids the media say you are, but call me mistress," Cara told them. "No emotions, just blanks, but be ready because it may not work. But I want to at least try to get out of this without any trouble."

The pair nodded sharply. "Understood ma'am," Longshot said.

"Helmets off if you can keep a straight face for this," she told them. "I need you both to look less threatening if you can."

By the time the doors were opened Crys and Longshot were both feeling apprehensive about the whole of it, including the fact that Cara suddenly seemed to be oozing that same creepy feeling they both got when they were around Ventress or Dooku. She had a lazy smile on her face and had managed a lightning-fast change into black clothing which was all leatheris, laces and a dramatic-looking cape. Neither clone was entirely certain about the boots she was wearing, but they were definitely intimidating, if impractical. She had also done something with her lightsabre.

The CIS was greeted at the door by a red glowing blade. "So, I do hope you have better reason to board my ship and harass my pets and myself than mere identification. Do you offer that sort of insolence to Ventress?" drawled Cara in a striking imitation of their General's Coruscanti accent as she held the tip of the blade to the officer's throat.

Eyes wide, the officer who looked far too young to be in charge of anything stammered, "You . . . you said you were a freighter captain, Ma'am."

"And sometimes I am," Cara's smile was perfectly friendly, and yet something about how she displayed her teeth made the two clones, who were staying as still and emotionless as they ever had when on display for the longnecks on Kamino, just as nervous as the CIS officer. "Right now I'm freighting these two out to Count Dooku. Isn't that right, pets?"

Recognising the cue, they chorused, "Yes, mistress."

"Oh. I . . . what should I log - who should I log for this . . . uh . . . stop?" the young man stuttered out.

Cara eased back. "Casta Fentan. My ship is the Black Cat. Is that enough for you?"

"Yes Ma'am!" the young man fled, his ship detaching with near-dangerous haste from Cara's freighter.

She was at the front and punching in coordinates the moment they were free. "One of you take copilot, I'm going to be doing some ship-skipping and a few other things. He's probably going to rethink the moment he's back on board, and if he doesn't he'll do it the moment his superiors ask him why he didn't get any real proof of identity other than a potentially stolen lightsabre." Then she saw the nebula on her path. "Oh, perfect."

The other ship was turning and already firing weapons when Cara slammed a hand down on the controls sending them spinning on a terrifying course that went right through the nebula, then went into hyperspace, came out, bounced into and out of the atmosphere of a planet that went by too fast for any impression other than 'yellow', back to hyperspace, an orange planet, a skate through the outer corona of a star and then a twist through a horrifyingly unstable-looking hyperspace lane that seemed to have significantly degraded in the centuries since its creation.

By the time the repeated heart attacks from near-death were finished, Crys was shaking, his hands on the co-pilot controls being the only part of him that was steady and Longshot had both his hands clenched tightly to the seat of his chair.

"Hey, we're closer to Obi-Wan," Cara told them brightly as they settled into realspace just long enough for her to put them into a stable hyperspace tunnel again.

"I thought you said you weren't good in combat," Longshot said weakly.

She turned to him. "I'm a Corellian freighter pilot by blood," Cara said. "That wasn't combat, that was just piloting." Her smile was a little too much like her toothy Sith grin. She vanished into the back to change clothes. "I'm gettin' out of these shoes."

The two clones just stared at each other. "Kriffin' Jedi," Crys said and they both just flopped onto the seats to stare blankly at the passing whirl of hyperspace.

It took several more rounds of stops and starts and Crys and Longshot both started to tiptoe around Cara as her moods became more volatile. Her sense of humour became vicious at their expense, though both clones agreed that she didn't once say anything about their origins as clones, instead making pointed and sometimes cruel observations about things like Crys' dye job or the paint on Longshot's armour, "Who did your dye job? Drunk porgs?". She apologised several times, but the more she did it, the less believable the apologies were. Still, they stuck it out. They'd both dealt with worse and the fact that she was seeing them as individuals and people made it fractionally more tolerable than that same abuse from the trainers on Kamino who saw the Vod'e as one person in a few million bodies.

"You must have the dexterity of a three-year-old to wind up with that paint pattern. Do your blasters ever actually hit anything?"

Fractionally more tolerable.

Finally they found the right planet, a podunk brownish lump of dirt that no one had ever heard of.

They landed, Cara pacing around anxiously as the two notified their commander where they were. They headed out and the closer they got the more confidence Cara showed in the direction they were travelling. They found a decrepit building being patrolled by droids. The two clones immediately moved to a position very familiar to them as they went to support Cara as she launched herself at the guards. She bounced and wove through them, but the pair shared confused glances as they realised how many guards she was leaving untouched. Also she had weird lightsabre-fan-things. The trio got through in the end, but it took much longer than it would have with either Kenobi or Skywalker. She'd passed up obvious openings and the two clones shot each other doubtful looks as they followed her further in. Suddenly she stiffened and broke into a run. "What the kriff?" Longshot hissed at Crys, who gave him a, the hell should I know? head shake.

A shout from a familiar voice - the voice of a clone - caught their attention. "Kark it," snapped Crys, but their mission was getting to Kenobi and that meant chasing after the crazy woman, who when they caught up to her was looking just a little out of her head, now had Sith-yellow eyes and was in a losing fight with Ventress. Hanging in chains to the side though, was a familiar-looking figure in Jedi robes with some sort of creepy mask on his face. The two clones shot their way past the gathering droids and pried their general loose, and got the mask off his face. He panted, shaking, as the mask came off and his legs buckled, the two clones catching him.

"Easy General," Longshot said.

Kenobi looked at them, dazed, and blinked a moment. "Crys and . . . Longshot?" he said slowly. "I . . . apologise if I am incorrect, I am a little . . . off at the moment."

"Got it the first time, General," Crys said. "But . . . uh . . . I think the crazy woman's gone a bit . . . uh . . . crazy."

Their General seemed to shake himself a moment, then abruptly focused as their guide on this trip into Sep space screamed in sudden pain. "Cara!" he gasped. Suddenly he was fluidly on his feet, a hand reaching out and using the Force to grab his lightsabre from across the room to where Cara had a hand out as she knelt to the floor, clutching her chest with the other, doing something with the Force to Ventress who clawed at the air a moment before launching the other woman away from her. "I rather think you're outnumbered, my dear," Kenobi said to the grey-skinned woman as he helped Cara to her feet.

"I'll see you later then, darling," sneered Ventress as she backed away from the wild-eyed Cara and the General. As she turned to go, Cara snarled and launched herself forward and only Kenobi's quick actions held her back from a near-suicidal rush at the Sith acolyte.

The moment Ventress was gone, Kenobi turned to Cara. "Pull back, Cara. Let me help you, love." He spoke over his shoulder to the troopers, "Alpha-17 is here as well. Get him out. I need to handle this."

While the troopers were getting Alpha-17 out, Obi-Wan reached out and dragged Cara into a shared meditation as she'd once forced him into one. Inside her mind was a clawing blackness that was seeping into her skin. She looked half-mad, desperate, serene, angry, terrified, ecstatic and sinking fast into the dark side of the Force. Desperate, Obi-Wan recalled the way that she'd taught him to use lighter emotions to practice her Force camouflage technique and pulled on those same emotions, feeding them into her, sliding them between the encroaching darkness and Cara's inner self. In spite of everything, Obi-Wan was relieved to see that she had still managed to shield the very inner core of her being, and it gave him something to work with as he slowly pulled her back from the edge of madness.

With a nearly audible snap, she let go of her conscious grasp on the dark side. "Obi-Wan?" Cara said. He could feel her trembling next to him. "I . . . I had to find you. You were being held by a Sith and I couldn't . . ." She trailed off. "She hurt you and-" darkness started to creep in again as her anger spiked.

"But you've found me and driven Ventress off," Obi-Wan told her. "You need to let it go, Cara." She shook her head.

"I don't know if I can, Obi-Wan. Under the dark she used to hide you I could feel how much you hurt. You're hurting now." She looked at him, and Obi-Wan could see her eyes were still yellow.

"What about dancing, Cara? Could you return to it in your current state? Or Anakin. I could not let you get close to Anakin as you are now. It would be too dangerous for him."

She shuddered, blinked and the yellow was gone, her eyes brown again. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just . . . I had to hurry."

"I am grateful you did," he told her.

She stood and helped him up, centred enough to be getting on with. "We'd better get to my ship and get you back to yours."

The three clones were deep in confabulation on the topic of Cara and that Crys and Longshot had no idea who or what she was, just that she had been able to lead them right to their General. The three watched the couple squabble the whole way back to the ship about whether to sleep, meditate, do something the clones didn't understand but assumed was some sort of Jedi osik and whether Obi-Wan needed to eat something and whether Alpha-17 and the General both needed healing.

Once they were on their way back to the Negotiator, Commander Cody having agreed to a midway point meetup, the couple vanished into the back, still arguing about sleeping, food, meditation and healing.

"This has been the weirdest karking mission ever," Longshot commented.

"I'm going to get some rest," Alpha said dourly, taking over a seat and dropping to sleep with the alacrity of a soldier who knows to get rest whenever he can.

Crys and Longshot were mostly left to their own devices for the bulk of the trip as they were somewhat beneath the normal notice of one of Jango's Alphas and the two Force-users were, when Cara wasn't committing acts of piloting that made their General pale and cling to whatever was closest, meditating.

They were nearly back to the Negotiator when their General reappeared, chivying Cara along in front of him. "Now, Cara," he said to her.

She closed her eyes a moment, then reopened them and said. "Crys, Longshot. I need to apologise. Properly. I was . . . cruel to you both. Unnecessarily, and I abused the fact that I warned you of my usual bad temper and used it as an excuse to say awful things to you both. I . . . I could say a lot of things about the dark side and how it warps someone, but I don't have any excuse for what I said, how I said it or the fact that we all know those apologies were completely insincere. I know it doesn't make up for anything, but I am sorry."

That was . . . a real apology. "Apology accepted?" Longshot said hesitantly.

"You do not have to accept it," Kenobi told them. "This is not about what either of you must do in response, it is about the fact that it is incumbent upon Cara to apologise for the exceedingly poor treatment she subjected you both to."

"And I did and now I can go hide and they can pretend they never met me and-"

"Why must you pretend to be less mature than Anakin?"

"Because it lets me get out of doing things mature people do like being responsible," Cara said. "Why do you have be more mature than everyone else?"

"Because it lets me have the authority to make everyone else do as I say," Obi-Wan replied with quite a bit of cheek. Then he sobered as he turned back to his men. "I reiterate, this is because you both deserve the apology, not because I expect you to in any way accept it if you do not wish to."

The clones exchanged looks and then Crys decided. "You did warn us, Ma'am, that you were difficult. You were worried about the General and I can't say that I wouldn't have been snappy if it were one of my squadmates or my riduur that was in danger."

She seemed to relax a little, a tension that they hadn't quite noticed easing away. "Well, then I can't really do much for you, but I can probably prevail on someone at the Royal Ballet on Naboo to give discount tickets and backstage tours for clone soldiers. I mean, assuming any of you were remotely interested."

Obi-Wan squinted at her. "Not that the Vod'e are incapable of intellectual appreciation of the fine arts, but it really doesn't seem like something any of them would be interested in."

Cara shot him a look weighted with deep significance. "Do they actually know anything about any arts other than propagandist drivel, pop and whatever culture has grown up around wherever the hell they're from?"

"Kamino," Longshot said.

She looked over at Obi-Wan. "You said some planet you'd never heard of. I didn't realise it was those morally bankrupt sons of a Hutt that make made-to-order babies for rich people who had miscarriages and made-to-order guards for people who want matching sets that are both pretty and functional."

"You've heard of Kamino?" Obi-Wan said, somewhat shocked.

A shrug. "They're fairly well-known in the circles of the very rich. It wouldn't have come up but my dear old teacher," she raised her eyebrows significantly in her boyfriend's direction and his lips quirked as he realised she was avoiding saying 'Moonslayer' because it would likely derail the whole conversation if they had to talk about that bit of melodrama, "Liked to mind trick his way into rich people parties."

"So, that's how you learnt all that table etiquette," Obi-Wan said. "Thank you for teaching it to Anakin."

"Eh, if he wants to talk to rich people he needs to talk like a rich person," Cara said. "That's just logic. But anyhow, did they teach you guys anything other than fighting, strategy, tactics, how to run an army and just enough about other cultural mores not to accidentally mortally offend people?"

Crys and Longshot blinked, thinking about it a moment. "Not officially, but you'd hear things and the Cuy'val Dar . . . well, we learned about Mandalore from them."

Cara turned to her boyfriend. "I know you've got too much on your plate, but you should see if someone can offer them general education courses, like literature and non-war-related history and experimental physics."

"And ballet?" Obi-Wan suggested with a smile.

"Obviously, as my personal art, job and vocation is the most important thing in the galaxy," Cara replied with an arch look.

While the two clones were aware in a general sort of way that ballet was some sort of performative dancing, they really didn't know much else. Cara was, despite her protestations, very much a teacher, Obi-Wan thought. By the time they made it to the Negotiator, Alpha 17 was hiding in the back from her endless lectures, Crys was soaking up every word and physical demonstration and had a list of books and holos to look into, and Longshot entertained himself by getting her distracted by side discussions about concurrent art movements, costume-making, the art of hidden armour on Naboo and Riva Jedi Princess. Obi-Wan watched her, well aware he was being sappy, but her skill at instruction was nothing short of excellent and the strange and esoteric knowledge base she had (wholly unfocused, unspecialised and adding up to countless pieces of trivia rather than concrete and thorough understanding of anything) was entertaining, educational and often impractical - which made it all the more entertaining in its way.

As soon as Cara's ship was safely settled in the shuttle bay, Alpha-17 threw himself out of the shuttle like a man seeking refuge from horrors. He approached Anakin. "If that woman was your first teacher," he said, "I am impressed you have not turned out nearly as . . . badly as you should have."

"Thank you?" Anakin said, perplexed. "Did she hit '17 with her purse?" he asked Obi-Wan.

Cara made a disgusted noise. "No, I haven't broken anything with my purse in years, Anakin."

"No, but I think she may have started a new craze for that ridiculous show," Obi-Wan said.

"You love it just as much as I do," Cara said. "I refuse to believe that you don't because you and Padmé have too much fun complaining about it."

Cody just sighed and sent them all to the medbay. He was glad his Jedi General was back, but nothing he'd heard gave him any assurance that the fallout of this wasn't going to be tremendously irritating.

One month later the entirety of the 212th was obsessed with Riva Jedi Princess and Cody was forced to privately admit that making fun of the show with General Kenobi was just as fun as Cara had said it was.

Neither officer admitted it to anyone, least of all Anakin and the captain of the command Anakin was given not long after the Jabiim-Rattatak mess.