11/25/2021 - Hi... So, while I was rereading this and reading what I wrote for chapter 4 (yes, I've done some of that), I decided that I need to change things. I moved chapter 3 and 4 at about 60 mph, but I've decided that I want to move at about 10 mph. So basically I'm slowing all information reveals WAY down. It should make the ending more satisfying. If you're reading this story for the first time, don't worry about it. If you've read this before, you should probably read this before reading chapter 4 (when it comes).
Anakin trudged into the latest captured base, grousing in his head. Umbara was the worst. Everything about the area was creepy; the lighting was all wrong, the plants glowed in a very evil way and were occasionally alive, the ground was squishy in the worst possible way, and any shadow could actually be an Umbaran about to pounce and kill you. Umbara was rapidly climbing high on his list of Planets I Never Want to Go to Again. Only Tatooine and Geonosis had it beat at this point, and Geonosis probably wouldn't stay ahead for long, not at the rate Umbara got steadily worse.
And the planet affected everyone on it. Ahsoka had grown quiet, her usual gaiety and irrepressible joy dimmed. She'd fought in way too many battles for her age, but this campaign was the worst by far. She had already been too mature for her age, although she usually hid it. Now it was obvious. Her words, while almost the same amount, sounded different.
Obi-Wan and Cody were cut from the same cloth; you never knew when they were hurting or bothered. His invariably selfless master had been like that as long as he could recall and not even Umbara could change that. Obi-Wan's commander acted the same way. He took everything that a galaxy could throw at a soldier without rights and kept moving. His focus was entirely on protecting his vode and Anakin suspected that at least three Jedi and a senator fell into that category.
Anakin himself could feel darkness calling. Not the Dark Side, just darkness. The urge to shut others out, to refuse to be hurt anymore. So many men had died on this campaign and so many had died just out of reach. It would be so easy to not let any more happiness come to only be snatched away. But he'd fought this off before many times and he certainly wouldn't let this time be different because of some planet, even if it was the galaxy's creepiest.
And Fives… There was something different about Fives, but not in a Umbara-is-slowly-draining-my-life kind of way. Fives had interacted more with the men of the 304th, so Anakin came to him at one point, to ask his opinion of that legion and its commander. But he hadn't gotten the expected explosion of righteous fury. Fives, the ever emotional and heedless Fives, had mumbled something about 'jumping to conclusions' and 'look for more proof' before dashing off to ostensibly help Tup with something.
His mind on the 304th, Anakin glanced over to where they had gathered after the march finished. General Krell stood off to the side by a decent margin, with even the Nameless Commander hanging back slightly. Every single man there had been marching all day and had to be exhausted, yet not a single one of them had removed their helmet.
The 501st and 212th men began to chatter, moaning about the trek. It was more subdued than normal, but it was close enough.
"WHAT WAS THAT, CLONE?" Krell's bellow brought every other conversation to a halt.
Anakin looked over and saw the Besalisk Jedi towering above one of the 304th clones, who was clearly cowering.
"Did I give you permission to speak in my presence?"
"N-n-no, sir. S-s-sorry, sorry, sir," the clone stammered.
"You shall be punished for this disobedience!"
Krell raised one of his large hands, about to hit the clone, when a clone voice spoke from behind him.
"Sir!"
Krell paused, scowling. A single clone pushed his way through the 304th, the others seeming reluctant to let him through. The helmet clutched in his left hand revealed him to be the Nameless Commander, but Anakin barely noticed. His attention, like Krell's, was fixated on the commander's exposed head. Or rather, his hair. The commander had the same face as any other clone, though more scarred than most. His hair was regulation length and cut, but it stood out, its blond color contrasting sharply against his brown skin. At a jerk from his head, the other clone scurried away and disappeared in a sea of white plastoid.
"Sir, the reports are ready for your review," was all the commander said, yet Krell's scowl deepened.
"Commander, what have I said about disobeying me?" His voice was low and harsh, menace pouring out of it. Anakin had never heard a Jedi speak that way.
The commander flinched and his helmet rattled slightly against his leg. "Sir?"
"Don't talk back to me, clone!" Krell snarled.
The clone's mouth worked, but no noise came out.
"CT-7567, report to my office immediately."