Fallout
Chapter 6
The Republic's wartime beaurocratic machinations could easily try even Jedi patience; which is why Anakin nobly volunteered to personally oversee the requisitions and transport arrangements. Allowing Master Obi Wan to handle the inevitable entanglements with the Grand Army commissioning officers, the Senate Defense Committee, and the military finance people would only result in headaches all around: a headache for the Jedi master in question, a worse headache for all the officials who would have been victims of both his subtle manipulations and subtler wit, and the worst headache of all for Anakin, who would have had to endure another scathing and articulate lecture on the follies and foibles of politicians past, present, and future.
He decided to do his duty as a Jedi and reduce the overall amount of suffering in the galaxy by sparing his former master the odious task altogether. Besides, he didn't find the unwarranted multiplication of rules, regulations and rigamarole problematic in the least. Most Jedi looked upon their newfound military roles with mingled suspicion and hesitance. The Grand Army was technically under the supervision of the Republic, not the Order; and yet the Army was in some degree at the disposal of the Council; the Order was technically independent of the Senate, but still sworn to uphold its ideals and mandates…and that seemed now to extend to warmongering. It was a difficult position for any traditional Jedi. This tangled knot of interdependence, in which there was no clear ultimate authority and no clear delineation of ultimate principle, was as far as possible from Temple culture as could be imagined. In that way of life, the Jedi way, certain things were determined rigidly in a millenia-old hierarchy of discipline and submission, while the sum remainder was expected to be handled with complete independence and responsibility by the Order's individual members. It was a near-impossible balancing act of freedom and authority, but it was not messy or unclear. The expectations and the stakes were spelled out with alarming lucidity, and one simply walked this perilous path without looking down, so to speak. After all, there is only do or do not, no try.
Anakin, by contrast to his peers and elders – most of whom found military life and the complexities of political interference distasteful, suffered no such offense to his ingrained sensibilities. Though he had been a Jedi for over a decade now, nothing could obliterate the lessons of early childhood as a slave on a Hutt-controlled backworld. On a Hutt world you didn't worry much about things like beaurocracy or teasing out the personal ramifications of conscience and obligation. You just figured out who to bribe or intimidate in order to get what you needed, and got on with your business. Anakin had a feeling he would do just fine as a General and wartime hero, and not just because he was the best pilot in the entire Republic fleet. He knew how to get results. And the Supreme Chancellor was his own personal friend.
In this case the results he obtained were far in excess of expectations. The specified squadron of clones grew in number to a full division, replete with all the radiation and survival equipment deemed necessary to survive an extended reconnaissance on the hostile world's surface, as well as a light frigate large enough to transport crew, cargo, and two Delta-class Jedi starfighters in its spacious hold.
Obi Wan's only remark as he ascended the boarding ramp of their fully-equipped vessel had been, "I see you've overdone it once again, Anakin."
"Whatever you say, master," the young Jedi muttered to himself now – almost a whole day into their lengthy hyperspace jaunt – as he lay in an awkward, cramped position beneath the open stabilizer array of his Delta. He called a microspanner into his hand with the Force and made another adjustment strictly discouraged by the manufacturer's manual. He had to do these sorts of things when nobody was looking, and of course he had ordered Artoo to delete the relevant sections from the shipboard database copy, just in case.
He tweaked the components to his own exacting standards and then scooted across the decks until he had taken up a similar position beneath Obi Wan's assigned fighter. The red-domed astromech nestled in its droid socket snapped out of stand-by mode and burbled something at him in consternation.
"Relax, I'm just giving her a little tune up," he assured the dubious navigator.
Artoo – smugly ensconced in his own place aboard Anakin's fighter - whistled some sarcastic nonsense about the last time his overenthusiastic master had made unsolicited alterations to Obi Wan's ship.
"That wasn't my fault," the young Jedi grumbled, tinkering diligently away at the second fighter's stabilizers. "He took it off the docking pad before I was finished."
The other astromech bleeped in dismay while Artoo made a sound disturbingly similar to a humanoid raspberry.
"You two –" Anakin tugged at the last recalcitrant bit of circuitry – "are gonna have to" – he yanked the safety override out of its moorings – "trust me." He slammed the access panel shut.
He slid out from beneath the Delta's starboard wing and flipped back onto his feet. He'd meant to do that long before now, during their brief few days of respite at the Temple, but he'd been preoccupied with the design and manufacture of battle armor.
Speaking of armor, two clones assigned to hangar duty were watching the proceedings from the opposite end of the deck, hanging back out of the way, trying to appear nonchalant behind their faceless helmets. But Anakin could easily sense their fascination and tumbling curiosity in the Force. He ddin't recognize either one of them, and the brand-spanking-new sheen of their kit marked them as "shinies", members of a recent-issue batch straight from Kamino, assigned to this regiment as their first tour of duty. He decided to take the initiative.
"At ease," he barked out as he strode across the hold, causing the pair of identical troopers to jolt into ram-rod perfect salutes.
Their posture relaxed marginally, and they removed their helmets in unison, revealing one shaven and one close-cropped head, two pair of identical eyes, two identical noses, two identical mouths and two identical expressions of surprise. Anakin's first absurd thought was, they're twins!
"General Skywalker," the bald soldier addressed him, not quite daring to make eye contact. "CT 140404, sir. It's an honor to serve under you, sir."
Anakin wondered if the phrase had been genetically programmed in with all the other clone character traits. He didn't want adulation that was hard-wired into somebody's chromosomes…but maybe that was more of a behavioral conditioning thing? In either case, he preferred dealing with other people, not numbers. "You have a nickname?"
CT 140404 cast a startled glance at his twin and then cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, General. My brothers call me Oafer. Uh…not 'cause I'm a slacker, sir, see, it's Oh-Four-Oh-Four, and ah…"
"I get it, trooper."
"Sir yes sir." Oafer covered his confusion with another smart salute.
"How 'bout you?" Anakin turned his attention to the other clone.
The poor fellow blanched visibly beneath his olive skin. "Uh, with respect sir, they call me Gripes, but –"
"Not cause you're a whiner?"
The rookie froze in place, so appalled at this turn of conversation that he seemed glued to the spot. Anakin made a circuitous appraisal of the two clones. They kept their eyes forward, only a twitching vein here and there and a flutter of distinct apprehension in the Force betraying their mixed emotions about the silent inspection. Their discomfort might have been greatly alleviated by the knowledge that it was not their persons, but their armor, that accounted for their commanding officer's acute scrutiny.
"Right," the Jedi said after pacing around them a few times. "I need an honest answer here. Is all that plating comfortable? I mean, down here – below the belt?"
The poor clones appeared to simultaneously choke on their next swallow. When he had recovered his breath, Oafer saluted yet again, face fixed in martial impassivity. "With respect, sir, protection in a combat situation is the first priority. Our gear was based on Mandalorian prototypes in consultation with the great Jango Fett himself."
Mando, huh? He'd forgotten that bit of trivia. Idly, Anakin wondered whether that would count as a pro or a con in his former master's estimation. Should he point out to Obi Wan that even fearsome Mandalorian commandos decked themselves out in full armor…or would that fact weigh against him? He wasn't really sure how Obi Wan felt about Mandos in general. He always changed the subject when the infamous planetary system was mentioned in conversation. The young Jedi wavered between the two perspectives for a long moment.
Then Gripes spoke up again, visibly warming to the young Jedi, and emboldened by Oafer's response. "That's right, General," he put in. "Besides, as our drill sergeant back on Kamino always said, Better smashed than thrashed, if you know what I mean, sir."
Anakin released a sigh. That settled it beyond a shadow of a doubt. There was no way Obi Wan would ever agree to don full-body armor. And in light of Gripes' frank revelation, he really couldn't bring himself to disagree. The compromise plan was the only way.
"Thank you. That's useful to know," he replied blandly.
"Ah..sir?" Gripes dared to stretch the bounds of protocol. "If you don't mind, sir, we were just wondering."
"Yes?" Anakin folded his hands behind him, rocked back on his heels a little.
The clones exchanged a swift glance, and then Oafer ploughed onward. "We know mission details are classified, sir, but we couldn't help noticing all the radiation equipment. "
"Our destination is registered as a level three exposure hazard environment," the young Jedi informed them coolly. "Best to be prepared."
"Yes sir. Oafer'n me've never been deployed before, sir," Gripes continued, still beating around the edges of his true meaning.
Anakin got his drift. "I don't leave men behind, and I don't' consider anyone expendable," he told them, a fierce note in his voice.
They saluted, silent but grateful.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd pass that on to the other men."
"We will, General Skywalker. Thank you."
He exited the hangar bay, feeling very pleased with the exchange of information and advice, and went to find Obi Wan.
Obi Wan shut down the compact datareader just as Anakin entered the frigate's small work-station deck, the only place currently unoccupied by its ubiquitous clone crewmembers. His perusal of high-clearance files on Sen Sen Xerxes had left him with more questions than ever; the deeper he delved, the more inexplicable this mission became. And he was the one in charge. Wryly, he wondered whether this were his first significant lesson in military command: the higher up in the ranks, the less anyone really knew. That was an old soldiering aphorism, was it not? And in light of that common wisdom, shouldn't he – and the Jedi Order as a whole – be perturbed by their instant elevation to the exalted status of Generals?
It was worth brooding upon.
"You've got that imminent lecture look again," Anakin quipped, perching on the edge of a workbench built into the bulkheads.
"I shan't inflict my wisdom on you. Pearls before rhugga-swine, and all that." He shoved the reader back into its belt pouch. "Besides, the more I discover about Master Xerxes, the less insight I have to offer."
"I thought you'd trawled through all that stuff three times already?" Anakin frowned.
Obi Wan smoothed his beard. "I managed to upload some restricted access files from the Archives before we departed."
Anakin's spine straightened visibly. "How'd you manage that? Don't tell me you pulled a mind trick on Madame Nu!"
Some harrowing experiences were rendered humorous by passing time. He smiled. "Believe me, Anakin. I tried that once – when I was much younger – and I can safely promise you never to attempt such utter folly again."
The younger Jedi grinned impertinently. "How I'd love to hear that story."
"I'm sure you would," Obi Wan agreed, offering no further details.
"You still haven't answered my question, master. How'd you get access to Council-only records?"
"Master Yoda authorized an exception due to unusual circumstances."
He crossed his arms and watched the predictable procession of emotions flash across his former Padawan's face: shock, outrage, envy, suspicion, grudging acceptance. Anakin would do well to remember that he was not the only one with friends in high places. Obi Wan only wished that the Council would find the boy (young man) worthy of the same trust; or perhaps he wished that his Padawan (former) would prove himself worthy of that trust. Resentment and ambition sometimes coalesced into an armor about Anakin's heart, a dark shielding that obscured his inborn light. Obi Wan feared that it would someday harden until it stood between them, an impassable wall. He swept the pang of worry away with a small effort.
"You're brooding again," Anakin scolded him.
"From your point of view, Master Skywalker. Some of us simply prefer to think before rushing headlong into the unknown."
"You just admitted that wasn't doing you any good, but suit yourself," Anakin shrugged. "So what did you find out about Sen Sen Xerxes that's got you so strung out?"
Some forms of impudence were best ignored. "The Council at that time gave him permission to pursue some rather…outre…research projects," he said, cautiously. "He was quite the eccentric scholar."
"Weird interests, huh? Like what?"
Aware that the files he had read were restricted, Obi Wan trod a thin line between evasion and indiscretion. He waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, end-of-the-age prophecies, ancient doctrines of immortality, that sort of thing."
Anakin quickly lost interest. "So he was a kooky old barve. What's that got to do with Rhellis Massa?"
"Well. Do you remember the name of the last transport to leave Rhellis Massa before space transit was cut off and the civil war escalated into disaster? The last evacuation ship?"
The young Jedi puzzled over this for a moment, ransacking memory as though he were once again a green Padawan assigned a difficult exercise in fact analysis. "Uh…the Orbitron?…Loop-de-Loo?… no, wait a minute. The Elliptic. That's it."
Obi Wan nodded, frowning. "The ship Sen Sen Xerxes took from Coruscant to Wild Space when he last departed the Temple was the very same. Of course, there were 23 standard years intervening, but I checked over all the mission transport records during that time and the Elliptic was never reassigned or returned to dry dock for maintenance."
"Proves nothing," Ankin snorted.
"I agree."
But they both knew that logic aside, this fact was significant. Instinct told them so.
Ankin stood impatiently. "So there might be some connection. I stil don't know what good picking through a bunch of nuked rubble more than a century later is gonna accomplish."
"Nor do I. But it seems to be the will of the Force." He didn't meet the young Jedi's worried gaze. He did not wish Anakin to see the doubt sending up its first seedling shoots in his own mind.
A moment later, both their heads turned toward the bridge.
"It looks as though we've arrived."
The deck lurched gently beneath them as the frigate reverted from hyperspace, a minute after the Force's warning. The passed through to the bridge, where Commander Cody and a small contingent of clones manned the helm and nav stations.
"We've just entered the inner system boundary, Generals," Cody informed the Jedi. "We're running proximity scanners now."
"There's an unidentified vessel standing off the third planet's moon, sir," the clone at the scanner station reported.
"Separatists," Anakin growled.
"I can't pick up any transponder beacon or identifying marks at this range, sir," the trooper responded.
"It's Dooku's ship," the young Jedi insisted. "I can feel it."
Cody glanced at the senior Jedi for confirmation and received a terse nod of the head in reply.
"Keep the star between that ship and ours," Obi Wan ordered. "Hopefully they weren't running active scanners when we arrived."
The drives thrummed beneath them as the frigate changed position, edging along Rhellis Massa's orbital path on sublights until they stood well opposite the unknown vessel, and still a safe distance away.
The clone pilot leaned back. "I'll keep her in position, General, so long as they stay put."
"Good. Anakin. We're going to have to make a reconnaissance run in the fighters. Anything bigger or slower will attract too much attention.."
"Fine by me," the cocky young Knight smirked. "You like stealth and I like fast. We'll both be happy. Last one to the hangar is an old maid."