Definitely one of the shortest chapters in the story, but also one of my favorites. Mainly because of the dark scene with the Skakoan, I miss being terrifying. Big shout out to Panthera Arven on Insta for this INSANE cover art!
TW: Horror elements, canon-typical violence, swearing, death
"Ready for this?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
By the time we arrived, the massive space battle had already commenced and was in the later stages. Which worked as the perfect destruction for us to slip in undetected and reach the Citadel with relative ease. Tech was flying, Wrecker sat shotgun, and Crosshair manned the rear turret.
Hunter, meanwhile, was helping me with my new armor.
I'd only worn it on a few missions so far and didn't really have the hang of getting it on or off. But the Batchers were more than happy to help. Of course, Crosshair's version of helping me get it on was to snicker as I stuck my arm through the wrong hole but what could you do? That was Crosshair.
Of course, this time he wasn't really in the mood to joke around. Even if he had helped save Echo in the Bad Timeline, he was not pleased with this rescue mission.
Speaking of the Bad Timeline.
"It is funny," I admitted as Hunter moved on to my shoulder pads and gauntlets.
The sergeant looked up, brow raised. "Savin' him?"
"No. My step into the Clone Wars initially was with Echo and Domino." I adjusted the gauntlets and flexed my arm. "Then my step back into the clone wars when I was older also dealt with Echo."
"Good for the reg," Crosshair grumbled from the rear turret.
"Y'all are still my favorites though, Charlie," I assured him, tail twitching at his tone.
Yeah, definitely still mad. But he was allowed to be angry; I wasn't the Jedi Council after all, telling him to repress and ignore all negative emotions. As long as he didn't attack me personally, I'd accepted it was just a sore spot for him that wouldn't likely get resolved any time soon. In return, Crosshair no longer made me feel like I was walking on eggshells when discussing Regs. We just agreed to disagree, which was harder than some would think. But we managed.
That was all that mattered.
"How touchin'," Crosshair snorted.
"ETA ten minutes," Tech called from the front, doing a barrel roll under one of the seppie ships. "Is Shadow ready?"
"Not quite." Hunter slipped on the final piece. "Alright. Now they are."
"Give 'em hell, Squeak!" Wrecker cheered from up beside Tech.
"Always, Scruff!" I laughed, grabbing my sabers and attaching them to my belt. "Time to go save me a Reg."
-ooooooooooooo-
Never before had such an opportunity presented itself! The clone's lower body, primarily its legs, was damaged beyond organic repair but the Skakoan scientist hardly cared about that. The brain was intact, that's all that mattered. This could turn the tide of the war against the wretched Republic.
Not just a clone, not just an ARC, but an ARC from the 501st legion. Anakin Skywalker's command. The "Hero of the Republic" continued to thwart Separatist war efforts left and right, leaving a trail of ruined droids in his wake. But, with one of his personal ARC troopers in Sepratist hands, and the Jedi none the wiser of this fact, he could be brought to his knees.
Emerging into the landing platform, wreckage of the Jedi's shuttle still strewn about, the scientist smiled beneath his mask.
Today is a great day for the Sepratist Alliance.
And he was a part of it. He would spearhead the project, ripping secrets from the clone's head and feeding it directly to the top command. Maybe, even, catching the attention of those high in the alliance. He could certainly use more funding; bioweapon research was not cheap.
"Go, tell Aunt Rhody."
The Skakoan stopped. Singing? From where? The Jedi and their clones had all fled!
"Go, tell Aunt Rhody."
He looked wildly around for the source, the low tune sending a shiver down his spine as it mingled with the distant bubbling of lava and hiss of steam vents.
"Go, tell Aunt Rhody."
It sounded as if someone was talking through a helmet, the voice slightly distorted. It only added to the chilling quality, reminiscent of an old speaker playing in the background during a holo-movie. The barren, apocalyptic landscape only added to the disturbing quality.
"That every-body's dead."
Where?! Where was this sound coming from-?
There! Atop their transport!
An unknown lifeform sat above the door, an arm propped on their knee as their other leg hung off the edge. Dressed in black katarn armor with streaks of red here and there, the Skakoan scientist instantly knew that they couldn't be one of the Republic's soldiers. A furry tail and feline lower legs proved that, as did the modified ears on the helmet. Unless the Republic had started to mix animal DNA into their creations, this was something else entirely. A more likely possibility was a bounty hunter of some sort who'd stolen clone armor. Then again, the armor looked modified to fit them specifically. He did note the two red 9s standing out against the bone white predator skull painted on the helmet, but he had no idea what they referred to.
Tail slowly swishing side to side as they swung their leg back and forth, they continued to slowly sing that eerie tune. Their voice sent more shivers down his spine as it carried over the barren landing pad
"I was raised in a deep and dark hole. A prisoner with no parole. They locked me up and took my soul. 'Shamed of what they'd made."
The scientist stopped. "Who are you?" he demanded as his droid escort trained their weapons on the individual.
Ignoring him, they continued to sing. "Go, tell Aunt Rhody. Go, tell Aunt Rhody. Go, tell Aunt Rhody. That every-body's..." Their head snapped towards him. "Dead."
He swallowed hard, nerves worsening. There weren't supposed to be any bounty hunters out here! There wasn't supposed to be anyone aside from the workers within the Citadel and the now deceased warden. What if they were something worse? An assassin? But the Republic would never use such methods! They were too concerned with being the good guys to even think about doing what it took to really win a war. They wouldn't dare use an assassin!
The unknown lifeform jumped down, landing in a crouch. Slowly straightening, tail whisking side to side, they chuckled. "Reckon I'll take that trooper off your hands."
They knew of the clone in the pod? How?!
He eyed the lightsabers on their belt, the hilts glinting in the volcanic light, and immediately relaxed. So that's what they were. And here he was worried they would harm him!
"I think not! You Jedi," he said, spitting the word like poison. "Cannot attack us. We have corporate neutrality."
They laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Jedi? Is that what you think I am?" Opening their palms, the sabers flew up and, with a sharp hiss, ignited.
Red.
Their blades were red.
A chill, cold as the grip of death itself, seized him. This was no Jedi. Nor was it anyone on the side of the Republic. And, unfortunately, he had a sickening feeling that this fighter was not one of Dooku's either.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm no Jedi. Or Sith," they growled, confirming his fears. "I'm something far, far worse."
"Who... Who are you?!" he gasped.
Spinning the blades into a reverse grip as they shifted into a back stance, the fighter spoke only two words. "Your killer."
Heart pounding against his ribs as bile rose in his throat, the scientist quickly backed away. He had to call in backup! "Blast them!"
"Let's dance!" the assassin cackled, racing towards the small patrol with a battlecry.
Diving to the ground and avoiding the assailant, the scientist abandoned the stasis pod and fled into the ship. He gasped in horror at the slain pilot slumped in his seat with a burning hole in his chest. The horrible smell of charred flesh made him gag even with his oxygen filters and he scrambled to open a comm channel as the sharp sounds of blaster fire and mechanical screams rapidly dwindled. A weak connection established, or at least he hoped so. He couldn't hear anyone on the other end, but this was his only shot.
"Calling reinforcements!" he gasped. "I am in need of urgent assistance!"
An eruption from behind shook the transport, and he turned in horror to see molten rock burst from the ground and decimate the remaining droids. They could command lava?! This was no assassin; this was a demon!
"There's a monster here!" he cried, urgency sending tears to his eyes. "They can-"
"Go, tell Aunt Rhody."
No.
"Go, tell Aunt Rhody."
No!
The scientist whipped around, blood freezing in his veins.
The demon stalked into the ship, dragging a crimson blade along the wall and leaving a deep, smoldering gouge. Hazel markings glimmered on areas of exposed fur, casting a soft glow on their armor that mingled with the harsh light of their saber. Cleaved wires sparked and crackled, stray bolts arcing across the cockpit and igniting small fires as the ramp slowly closed and sealed him in with the advancing monster.
"Go, tell Aunt Rhody."
"Stay back!" he screamed.
"That every-body's..." They jerked the saber off the wall and leveled the tip at his face. "Dead."
Staggering back against the console, the scientist lifted his hands. "What do you want?!"
"I already told you," they replied. "Do try to remember. I hate repeating myself."
The stasis pod!
"Take it!" He pushed himself back further against the console. "It's yours! No payment is worth death!"
"You expect mercy after you were going to turn him into a data mine? After you planned to take away his freedom, his humanity?" Their tail lashed and the scientist swore he saw blue cat-like eyes glowing from within the darkened visor. "Y'all make me sick."
"I-"
A terrifying chuckle cut him off. "Besides." They spun their saber into a reverse hold. "You know what they say."
"W-What?"
"Dead men." Their grip tightened. "Tell no tales."