The gentle clinks of crystal glasses and the soft conversation rumbling throughout the apartment filled Padme's ears. The wide windows revealed the sinking skyline of Coruscant's sun, bathing the high-rise apartment and the four dozen inhabitants in a comfortable orange glow. Every seat in the room was filled, and clusters of three or four senators stood scattered throughout, whispering or chatting amicably.

Truthfully, these were all too common at parties. The real purpose of a Coruscant upper-class party was truthfully to exchange information, make connections, and secure alliances. Padme doubted any more than about half actually came because they cared about Nerissa's return from captivity. Nerissa was, after all, a more peaceful politician than most, making her unpopular in the Senate.

Scanning the room once again showed the half-dozen shock troopers on the edges of Nerissa's apartment, obediently keeping watch over the whole thing. It didn't take long for people to figure out the connection between the Hutt's demise and the words she had said from the pulpit immediately after being returned to Coruscant. All of a sudden Nerissa had become a dangerous and volatile target. Padme's heart ached for her.

Three soft tinkles rang through the apartment, making everyone stop and turn in the direction of their host, Senator Chi Eekway Papanoida. The Pantoran senator's voice was soft, but everyone paid close attention.

"I'd like to thank you all for attending this lovely gathering today," Eekway sweetly said. "And showing your support for Senator Bolkrin is very much appreciated. As a recent victim of kidnapping myself, believe me when I say that the life of a senator is one drought with peril. And Senator Bolkrin has faced this peril and come out on top. Senator Bolkrin."

Nerissa stepped forward to address the four dozen high-profile people, who applauded politely. Nerissa was in a gorgeous black floor-length dress that shone with sequins and swished with every movement. Her hair was adorned in a tight bun, and her face was smoothed and rougued. It was a far cry from her viral pictures on the holonet from right after her rescue.

"I'm… grateful, to be honored this day," she said when the clapping had died down. "And humbled. Once you see the conditions most of the rest of the galaxy lives in, you start to become more self-conscious. So forgive me if I seem somewhat subdued from my experience.

"Many things are on my mind. The officers I've lost on the mission. The Jedi master, who died while protecting me. The rescue efforts… and my return to normalcy." Nerissa reached for a glass of wine from a whirring droid waiter, sipping it briefly and keeping it in her slim hand. "I was never much for combat. Nor was I an advocate for war. But I do acknowledge that were it not for my aggressive rescuer's actions, I would be still trapped, along with the men I held responsibility for. For that, I am thankful."

"If I may, ma'am?" Ask Aak spoke up, and a small path opened up, revealing the three-eyed Gran. "The holonet says it was a clone commando unit that rescued you. Could you tell us more about them?"

"I… do not wish to discuss the details of my rescue at this time," Nerissa carefully stated, swishing her glass. "The important thing is that I'm here now."

A ripple of murmurs rippled through the room, and Padme could feel her heart sink. The official story, of course, was barely to be believed, but it would simply be in bad taste for anyone to press her on it so publicly. She needed to get one on one with Nerissa as soon as possible.

Nerissa cleared her throat. "Er, please. Enjoy the rest of the party, everyone. This is a happy occasion. Even in the midst of chaos, there's light and life to be found."

The Bith band started back up again with a soothing Classical piece, and Padme began expertly maneuvering around the party members to Nerissa's position. Even over the chatter, she could sense that one of the Neimodians she saw slithering beside Nerissa was trying to squeeze information out of her. And sure enough, once she came within earshot...

"Surely, Senator, there is more beneath the surface," he was oozing out. "More that must come out sooner rather than later. The longer you wait, the more you will… suffer."

Nerissa was busy looking like someone had put roadkill under her nose. Padme hurried behind both of them as they turned around, but not so quickly as to arouse suspicion. She then intentionally bumped into Nerissa's back.

"Oh!" Nerissa cried, spilling a good part of her drink and spinning around. "Goodnes, what– Oh, Padme!"

"Nerissa!" Padme cried, then began bowing hurriedly and reaching for the wine on her skin. "I am so sorry, Senator, let me help clean you up. I was nudged aside and bumped into you, I'm so–"

"No, it's fine. You're all right," Nerissa insisted, breaking away from the Neimodian with almost unreal speed. "It's a big crowd."

"Here, let's head to the fresher," Padme offered, a hand on her back. "We'll be back before you know it, okay?"

The two women swiftly left the room, busying over Nerissa's wine-soaked arm. Once they passed the red-armored sentinels by the door and went a little bit down the much quieter carpeted hallway, Padme finally figured it was safe.

"Bad time?" Padme whispered.

Nerissa made a small noise of consternation. She was still awkwardly holding her wine glass. "Padme, you're my savior. Holy smoke, that was…"

Padme couldn't help but giggle. "Comes with the job, right?"

"The parties, the speeches, the wrangling. All of it," Nerissa agreed. "Honestly, I was hoping for a genuine excuse to leave, and you provided one for me. And… Come to think of it, I think it was intentional."

Padme nodded.

Nerissa sighed as they reached the foyer chairs and settled down. "I suppose I should be mad at you for spilling the drink."

"What are you waiting for, then?" Padme rhetorically asked, adjusting in her seat and observing the senator.

"I don't know. Myself, I guess. I wasn't one for anger. Or outbursts. Even if I wasn't a politician, I couldn't imagine myself getting so angry I had to scream in the woods."

"I know that for men it's a bit different. I've… come to understand them," Padme admitted, trying to keep her relationship with Anakin as vague as possible. "Aggression can be an incredible motivator. It just needs to be channeled."

"You weren't one for aggressive negotiations," Nerissa said, making air quotes around the term. "At least, not before the war. You've been forced into it more often than you'd like, though, I imagine."

"And now you know the experience too." Padme swished a hand on the thigh of her navy blue dress. "I know it… must be tough. Having people ask about it even though you already told what you wanted to. Reliving your experience over again, it's…"

"No, I see, I understand," Nerissa admitted, waving a hand. "You've gone through quite a few things yourself. Like right before the Clone War started, or the invasion of Naboo. I suppose if there's anyone here who gets it, it's you."

"It's only been a few days," Padme noted. "What's been the hardest thing about coming back?"

Nerissa looked down at her glass. She swirled the red liquid, sipped it, and set it on the exquisite table between their seats. "The opulence. The decadence. The feel of the food, the softness of the carpet. It's only been a few weeks, but it felt like a few months."

"Really opens your eyes, huh?" Padme quietly said. "The things we take for granted. Running water, electricity, heating. The lives we're close to. After my captivity on Geonosis, I felt guilty sleeping back in my bed again. Like I hadn't gotten the whole experience I'd needed just yet."

"Exactly!" Nerissa softly exclaimed, patting Padme's arm. "You've had enough of captivity and prison for one lifetime, yet at the same time, it doesn't feel earned when you get back out again. Like somehow you aren't productive if you aren't out there suffering somehow."

"Even pointlessly?"

"Well, suffering is rarely pointless. Isn't it? You always have a choice in what you take away from your experiences."

"One man may read a Jedi holocron and think it's interesting trivia. Another might read the label on a box of Death Sticks, and unlock the mysteries of the Force," Padme uttered. Truthfully, it was a quote from Mace Windu Anakin had ranted to her about some time ago, and she had remembered that little saying, finding wisdom in it.

Nerissa, meanwhile, made a sound of acquiescence. "I see. Er, tell me, Padme, how much do you know about the Force?"

Padme took a few moments before indicating something and sighing. "It exists. It's helped me and the Jedi I've worked with get out of tricky spots. I'm not one for metaphysics, I'm afraid."

"Neither am I. And yet, there's something… otherworldly, transcendent, out there. That both complements and transcends the Force…" Nerissa trailed off, a troubled look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just… had made a promise. That's all."

"I don't remember this about you before your disappearance," Padme said.

"I was a different person then," Nerissa hastily answered. "Same as how everyone's a slightly different person than they always were. We're still the same person, Padme, but we grow to our challenges. Or we fall from them."

It was Padme's turn to make a small sound. "And… you had met the challenge on Florrum?"

"Not alone," Nerissa was quick to amend. "My officers were loyal and fierce as we escaped. And…"

"...And what?"

"I shouldn't," Nerissa whispered. "I had promised to stay silent about him."

"...The Huttslayer?"

Nerissa mutely nodded.

Padme allowed her some moments of silence before quietly resuming. "The Jedi are looking for him, Nerissa."

"Figures," Nerissa quietly acknowledged.

"And you're one of the best leads we have on him."

"I had promised to keep silent about him," Nerissa weakly repeated.

"And I'm happy you're willing to preserve his honor," Padme earnestly and honestly said. "If he's to be preserved instead of killed or arrested, we need to know what we're working with. Otherwise, he could kill the Jedi we're working with."

Nerissa gave Padme a dull look. And she laughed humorlessly.

"He won't kill Jedi," Nerissa admitted. "The Jedi sent to accompany us on the mission, Golyon Chi… the Slayer saved him too. But he didn't make it out alive. The Slayer buried him and has his lightsaber now– and it was given to him, by the way. Not like how General Grievous handles it."

"So the Slayer's not a Jedi."

"But it would be hard to tell. His skill in combat was astounding. He was using firearms I had never seen before, including slugthrowers of all things, and he was athletic and strong. And the Slayer's got some kind of armor. Like beskar. All the blaster bolts and fire and rockets the pirates had couldn't penetrate it. Even if the Jedi wanted to kill him, I doubt they could. Perhaps that's the only reason I'm telling you this now."

"What did he look like?" Padme asked.

Nerissa, realizing the cat was out of the bag now, sighed and reluctantly continued. "He's at least over six feet. He was taller than Oltrain, the tallest officer. And his suit's deep green, with this large visor in his helmet. He couldn't be seen through it, but I suspect he was… human. There were tendencies about him which no other species could imitate. And…"

Padme patiently waited for Nerissa to continue.

"...He truly does care," Nerissa said. "He wasn't originally in the base for us. He had made a deal with Hondo Ohnaka to retrieve something. But when he saw us, he went out of his way to accompany us home."

Padme inclined her head and hummed. That was surprising. "And he dropped you off in that battle?"

Nerissa nodded. "He didn't have a ship. I don't know what he was doing on that ball of poodoo, Florrum. Maybe he crashed. He didn't say anything the entire way there."

"Not a single word?"

"I started to think he was actually mute. And it wouldn't surprise me if he was. But he had a droid who spoke for him. That droid, though… I never actually saw the body. It must have simply been an intelligence program, though."

Padme nodded gently. "Is there… anything else we should know about the Slayer?"

Nerissa gnawed on something in her mouth for a little bit. "I… don't believe so. I don't know his backstory. His powers, his full weaponry, any of that. But I do know this. He can be trusted. It would be best to work alongside him, rather than against him. That's why I kept quiet about this. The majority of the Senate would probably screw it up if I revealed it to them. I'm trusting the Jedi will be able to reach better terms than usual."

"I… sure hope so too," Padme agreed without much hope.

After some more minutes of respectful silence, Nerissa arose. "Were we still planning on a trip to the fresher? I still feel sticky on my arm."

Jedi shuttle 634 rotated to face backwards and landed gently on the floor deck of the Venator-class Guralara, hissing as it sank on the blessed shore. A landing crew hurriedly began inspecting the outside frame for damage and refueling.

Captain Rex stood at parade rest with his helmet off, watching the crew idly. He was far more concerned about the shuttle's inhabitants. Three of the most important non-clone individuals in this war, to him.

The ramp of the bulbous Jedi shuttle lowered and extended till it hit the floor. And side by side, out walked the three public heroes of the Republic.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, brown-bearded and trim, the ideal Jedi knight in every conceivable category– gazing wistfully at the docking bay floor, evidently deep in thought. His downcast gray-blue eyes and bowed head betrayed something deeper going on in his mind. Rex wasn't sure what it was, but if it could shake the stoicism of the fabled Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rex wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

Anakin Skywalker, The Hero With No Fear, General of the prolific 501st Battalion, had his hand on Obi-Wan's back, grinning at him. Of course; Anakin had a face which was as accustomed to joviality as it was to a snarl of determination. And Anakin was usually grinning. Yet this grin seemed awfully forced, artificial. Captain Rex's sharp eyes, which could spot a sniper barrel at 75 yards, could spot minute differences in sincerity in new recruit's faces. His General was preoccupied with something. Might be the same as Kenobi's thoughts.

And, of course, commander Ahsoka Tano. The orange Togruta seemed more subdued since Rex had seen her last. It was also the first time he was seeing her in something that wasn't a tube top and miniskirt. She had worn it ever since Christophsis, about a year ago, and this change in wardrobe to a thin sleeveless turtleneck with a hole over her cleavage seemed to mark a change within her. It made her seem more grown up than before, though she was still no more than a child. The paternal instinct inside Rex wanted to keep her off the battlefield entirely. Yet Ahsoka had proven over time, and after some major failures, to be more of an asset than a liability.

Captain Rex saluted earnestly once they were off the shuttle's boarding ramp. "Good to be here, Generals. Commander. You, er, mentioned something about being off our scopes for more than a moment?"

Anakin nodded. "Yeah, it's… hard to explain, Rex. Jedi stuff."

"Ah." Rex knew Anakin didn't want to talk about it, but it lingered in the back of his mind. "And the distress beacon?"

"What?" Ahsoka asked, looking at Anakin and Obi-Wan. "Oh, right, the Jedi distress beacon. Well, ah…"

"It was a satellite," Obi-Wan smoothly answered, making a 'settle down' motion with his hand to Ahsoka. "Old Republic design. A passing asteroid or detritus must have activated its alarm systems. Our shuttle collided with it and turned it into scrap, unfortunately, and the collision took us off your scopes."

Rex hummed. Perfectly plausible. And Obi-Wan could be trusted, at least. "I understand, sir. Then there's no Separatist trap?"

"None at all," Anakin confirmed, stepping forward and tapping his pauldron.

"Well then. I suppose the boys will be disappointed they won't be able to scrap more clankers. And the extra help I called in won't be happy either."

"Extra help?" Kenobi mildly asked.

Rex just pointed his head to the side. "Follow me. Let's get you acquainted."

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka glanced at each other briefly. Then, almost resignedly and tiredly, they began to follow Rex. Rex couldn't tell how they were so drained, but he had already tried to extract information from them and they had been avoidant. So he respectfully kept his mouth still.

The spacious interior of the Guarlara had been fully outfitted and put on standby, in the event of a Separatist attack. Ahsoka passed by one loaded and armed ARC-170 after another, patiently waiting in the bays. They always seemed so much bigger up close. On her starfighter's screens, they were just green blips.

It was easy to forget the personality of the forces under her command. But they had gotten more firmly entrenched in her mind, making it harder and harder to put her men out of her mind.

Ahsoka stepped deliberately over a fueling line and stepped aside to allow a whirring R2 unit to pass by. She exhaled heavily and drew instinctively closer to Anakin.

"Snips," Anakin murmured. "I mean, Ahsoka. You holding up well?"

Ahsoka looked up in bafflement. "You can call me Snips if you want."

"You said you hated that name," Anakin pointed out.

Ahsoka creased her face in confusion. "When?"

"On Mortis," Anakin revealed. "You… didn't remember it."

"Why? Did something happen?"

Anakin looked extremely uncomfortable. "Uh, nothing that hasn't been fixed."

"Anakin, what does that mean?"

Anakin's discomfort turned to a determined hardness. "It's nothing," he declared with finality.

Ahsoka knew better than to pressure him when he was like this. If it had been resolved and knowing the truth would hurt her, then what was the point? And yet still, it gnawed at her mind like a worm.

Rex led them into the drab grey hallways of the Venator and through a maze of identical blast doors. Ahsoka's eyes rolled as she looked up to the ceiling boredly. She had always hated that aspect of their warships. The clones personalized everything they owned. Why not the most boring parts of their ship?

Finally, though, Rex came to an innocuous door, banged three times, and called through the thin metal. "The generals are here!"

Seven seconds later, the door squealed to the side, and Ahsoka found herself face to face with a clone commando. Ahsoka sharply inhaled and looked up into his glowing blue T-visor. He was decorated in orange highlights and stripes, and he was silent as he regarded the four of them.

They were legends throughout the Grand Army of the Republic. Their efficiency, speed, prowess, and reliability required them for only the best of the best missions. It was said that if the clones were in trouble, the ARC troopers were called in. When the ARC troopers were in trouble, they called in the Jedi. And when the Jedi were in trouble, the Republic Commandos were called in.

"Boss," Rex addressed. "May we come in?"

The Commando, Boss, just jerked his head inside after a moment. Rex entered, and the rest of the Jedi followed, somewhat apprehensively.

The Commando's private quarters were personalized, but not to the extent of it being their permanent residence. They had clearly been taken along for this mission specifically. Three more Commandos, in green, yellow, and blood-red maroon highlights, were lounging about.

The yellow one was on his bed, tinkering with a mess of wires, springs, and fuel cells. The green one was at the lone table, poring over a datapad. And the one in maroon had disassembled his rifle and was inspecting it while secluding himself in the corner. All three began examining the Jedi as they came in.

"Why are they here?" the green one finally demanded once the door had slid behind them. "It's not right for the Jedi generals to mix with us."

"Heck, it's the first time I've seen these ones," the yellow one commented, scooting his bits and pieces on his bed to the side. He slid down to the ground with a firm stamp. "Helps to actually see who you're taking orders from, Fixer. Generals," he addressed lazily. "Welcome to Delta Squad. I'm Scorch. The green one's Fixer, and that hellcat in the corner's called Sev. We're all pleased to meet you, right?" He cleared his throat loudly. "Right?"

"What's the news?" Sev grumbled, adjusting the stock in his hands. "Are we dealing with Seppies or what?"

"Unfortunately, no," Obi-Wan reported, bowing his head. "As it turns out, this mission was a wild bantha chase."

"Fierfek," Sev cursed, setting his part down a bit harder than normal. "Here I was, hoping for Geos to start their filthy business again. Coulda been adding more numbers to the casualty roster."

Ahsoka glanced at Anakin, and Anakin inclined his head with some surprise. "You were on Geonosis?"

"Both times," Fixer clarified. "Hate that stinker of a planet. We've been involved in undercover ops saving the galaxy since the start of the war."

"Saving lives, destroying the enemy, committing war crimes," Scorch listed casually. He leaned against the wall. "Same as you Jedi. But better."

"War crimes? I don't know about that," Anakin uneasily muttered, giving Scorch a side-eye. "If it's against an enemy droid, no harm, no foul."

Fixer began to scroll furiously on his datapad, pulling up a few articles. "Except for the sentient commanders. Skywalker, you pulled off a fantastic false surrender to Mar Tuuk over Ryloth. And you, Kenobi, did a great one to Whorm Loathsome on Christophsis."

It struck Ahsoka then how common their tactic of false surrender to stall was. She wasn't sure if it was actually listed as a war crime, or if it was just a common misconception.

"And what about your war crimes? Did you really commit them on Geonosis?" Obi-Wan innocently asked.

Sev made a dismissive sound and leaned back further into his corner. "Well, that's a bit of a loaded question. Did we, perhaps, rip and tear and blowtorch more bugs more violently than was strictly necessary to achieve victory for the Republic? Of course we did. Was it intentional?" Sev weighed something invisible in his hands. "I would never say that it wasn't. Does it count as a war crime? They were Geonosians, so no."

Obi-Wan indicated something invisible. "So it was a, ah, slight atrocity–"

"You can call it what you like. Some filthy bug nests were erased from existence. Others were spared. It depended on how we felt at the moment. We could have easily slaughtered them all, and they certainly deserved it, but the Republic chose to take them prisoners instead." The blood-red handprint on Sev's helmet suddenly seemed to sharpen in quality the more Ahsoka focused on it, becoming more fearsome in her vision. "For what purpose, I still don't know. Hopefully to gather them all together in one place. A good thermal detonator or two in the right crowded cell, and…"

Ahsoka hissed and glanced at Boss, the obvious leader of the squad. Boss had made no discernible movements discouraging or encouraging Sev's prejudices. And all of them still had their helmets on, despite none of the Generals giving orders to keep them on. The combination of factors seemed to make these clones more hardened and impersonal than Ahsoka's 501st Battalion friends.

"He has a goal," Fixer spoke up unprompted, gesturing at Sev. "To kill 4,982 Geonosians by the end of the war. To match the number of clones killed on Geonosis. The first invasion, mind you, not even counting the second."

"Needless waste," Sev muttered. "It's what happens when you take peacekeepers and put them in charge of troops."

Ahsoka grimaced. That had been something weighing on her mind too. For her entire tenure as a youngling, she had grown up learning things like diplomacy, languages, art appreciation, and history. Now all that needed to be wrenched into the context of a war, and deadly though Ahsoka may be, she was only a child. The state of the galaxy wasn't her preferred one at all.

"I see," Obi-Wan was saying, stroking his beard. "You care deeply for the Republic and your brothers."

"Republic," Fixer bitterly said, scrolling on the datapad more. "What else would we fight for? Why else were we bred?"

"...It seems like our interests align, then," Obi-Wan conceded. "Thank you for your service, Delta Force. If you don't mind, we must be leaving. Anakin, Ahsoka." Obi-Wan jerked his head at the doorway.

"Wait," Ahsoka blurted out. "Masters, there's something I want to… discuss with these men."

Anakin and Obi-Wan had a brief mental conversation. After the silent moments passed, Anakin nodded. "Very well, Ahsoka. We'll be on the bridge."

As Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Rex left the room and the door hissed shut, Ahsoka suddenly felt overwhelmed. It was new, being alone with these four unsung legends of the Galactic Republic.

After a few more silent moments, Scorch grandiosely bowed. "Your highness, we await your word."

Ahsoka's dry mouth managed to swallow, and the words tumbled out afterward. "How do you four deal with it?"

All four clones remained silent, awaiting elaboration.

Ahsoka took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. "The war. The stress, the memories. The things the Republic will never see, the secrets you have to keep. How do you manage it?"

It was Fixer, the green one, who looked up and spoke first. "I have no problem with what we do in the line of service. Good soldiers follow orders. So I feel no guilt or shame in my actions. That's how I live a life without regret, and I only require handbook-approved recreation."

"Dork," Scorch commented, waving a hand. "It's gotta be doing something you're genuinely interested in. Something related to an integral part of yourself. Like blowing things up, or… I dunno, that's how I envision it. I just like to blow things up. Are Jedi even allowed to have interests or hobbies?"

Ahsoka took a little bit to answer. "I… believe so."

"Then find something about yourself that you genuinely enjoy, and do that. Not because you're trying to relieve stress or anything, but do it because you find it fun. Because you chose to do it, it's intentional. It has meaning. You find purpose there which replaces the bad stuff you've done."

Scorch's words hit a little deeper than she was expecting. Or wanted to admit.

"I'd hate to agree with Scorch–" Sev started, snapping his rifle back together.

"Hey!" Scorch exclaimed.

"-So I won't."

"...Thank you?" Scorch hesitantly got out, slowly shrugging.

Sev shook his head. "I know you Jedi've done some questionable things in the war effort. Cause it's war. Hard for anyone to deal with that, 'specially for a child. 'Specially a Jedi. But trying to distract yourself from it will just result in it biting you in the butt later on." Sev finished snapping the rifle pieces together and leaned it against the wall he was himself leaning on. "Don't let those things ambush you. Face the problem head-on, and destroy it face to face. Master your pain, and don't let it master you."

Once Sev was finished with his opinion, Boss finally tramped beside Ahsoka and laid a heavy gauntlet on her shoulder. Ahsoka looked up at his orange helmet with trepidation. And Boss spoke the first words she had heard from him.

"You can't outrun it," Boss gravely said. "You're part of a squad for a reason. Call on them for support. Vode an."

"Vode an," the rest of the commandos repeated. Brothers all.

And it was true; Ahsoka had many people to call on for support that understood her circumstance. Captain Rex and the other 501st clones, Master Kenobi, and of course, Anakin. Ahsoka had recently been so determined to grow up in a demanding war that she had sometimes ignored the fact that they were there to help with her trauma.

Ahsoka gave a genuine smile. Perhaps the commandos weren't as intimidating as she had first assumed. "Thank you all."

"No prob, commander," Scorch accepted. "Least we could do. Since there aren't any enemies to blast, killing inner demons is the next best thing."

"Besides killing boredom," Fixer muttered.

Scorch clapped his hands in recognition and came to the table, settling down. "Speaking of which, in the meantime, for the road home, let's just play some sabacc. Want to join, Commander Tano?"

"I don't have sabacc," Sev grunted, still in his corner. "Never learned how to play."

Scorch planted his hands on the table, glaring at Sev through their helmets. "Every clone plays sabacc, laserbrain. It came free with your ferricking barracks."

Sev bothered to look up. "Not with mine, and I'm one of the oldest clones known to the Republic."

"Yes it did! I found a deck in the barracks on day one, you kriffing skug."

"Yeah, of course you woul-"

"YOU HAVE SABACC, YOU FERRICKING CLANKER." Scorch wasn't exactly yelling, but it was as close to yelling as he could get.

"I don't have it, you ferrick-"

"YOU HAVE SABACC!" And now Scorch really was yelling, but it sounded like he was smiling at the same time. Fixer, sensing the argument, hurriedly scooted away from the table.

Sev shot up, his tone also amused and angry at the same time. "I don't kriffing have sabacc, you Gamorrean!"

"THEN HEAD INTO THE BARRACKS AND BORROW ONE FOR FREE! YOU'RE A FERRICKING COMMANDO, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO THE REGS!"

Sev was talking over Scorch. "I don't have tabacc, vabacc, wabacc, yabacc, za-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW A POODOO THING!" Scorch exclaimed, indicating Sev with flat hands. "IT'S A CARD GAME, AND IT'S FREE, YOU FERRICKING-"

Boss banged a fist on the wall twice, and the two arguing clones instantly shut up, turning to him. Boss then looked Sev dead in the eyes, held his gaze, and nodded once.

Sev groaned with consternation. Then he reached into his supply belt, withdrew a sabacc deck, and tossed it on the table.

Scorch's expression couldn't be seen through his T-visor, but Ahsoka wouldn't be surprised if it were as hot as a lightsaber blade.

The bridge of the Guarlara was as busy as ever, but the officers and clones there unconsciously moved out of the way as Obi-Wan and Anakin strode beside each other to the front windowpanes.

"So," Anakin quietly said; it had been a while since he had spoken a word. "Back to Coruscant?"

"Seems like it," Obi-Wan soberly said in return. "We need to fill out a report on the subject. A highly classified document on our experience on Mortis."

"...I'm still not sure how well it'll fly over," Anakin admitted, stopping just in front of the permaglass panels. He could see his own reflection more than the outside of space in the windows. "All my life in the temple, I've never heard of these Force entities. I doubt even Master Yoda's informed enough. And something tells me Master Windu still won't believe I'm the Chosen One."

"The Father did say so," Obi-Wan admitted.

"You think he was deceived, though?" Anakin asked, turning to Obi-Wan. "He was deceived before."

"If there's one thing the Father knows, it's the Force," Obi-Wan affirmed. "Or, knew. All three of them, gone. I… still don't know, Anakin, if that was all just an enormous metaphor on an opera stage, or if they were representatives or even embodiments of the Force itself. Perhaps by destroying all three of them, the Force will one day cease to exist."

"That would require all life in the galaxy to die."

"Which could very well happen. Eventually. Do you remember, Anakin, when you were first a Padawan, and we took a diplomatic trip that ended up with us at a dying star?"

Anakin remembered all too well. It had stuck with him more deeply than he cared to admit. "All things die. In the end, even stars burn out," he quoted his teacher perfectly.

Profound silence reigned for a few moments.

"Should we tell Ahsoka?" Anakin quietly asked. The thought of her knowing about her experience under the Son's control was enough to humble his tone.

Obi-Wan seemed to know exactly what Anakin was talking about. "When she's ready. Perhaps now is not the most sensitive time."

"Mmm." Anakin nodded.

A few seconds later, a clone approached them from behind and snapped to attention. "Sirs! A message is coming through for you two on the bridge holoprojector. It's from Senator Amidala."

Anakin turned and grinned. "Thank you, trooper. We'll be right over."

It didn't take long for the two Jedi to make their way to the projector and patch in the call. A blue hologram half their height of Senator Padme Amidala– though it was actually Senator Padme Skywalker, Anakin bitterly thought, but no one knew that yet– materialized, flickering slightly.

"I've talked with Senator Bolkrin about the Huttslayer," Padme announced without preamble. "The contents of the file I'm sending now should contain his information."

"Great job, Padme," Obi-Wan warmly congratulated. "You've done the Republic a great service."

"Yeah," Padme said, glancing at the ground. "I suppose so."

"...What's wrong? You seem off," Anakin noted. The time he and her had spent together had made Anakin receptive to her nonverbal cues.

Padme, for her part, sighed. "Even if this is helping with Republic intelligence efforts, this all left a bad taste in my mouth. I felt like I was taking advantage of a friend."

"Senator Bolkrin needed someone she could confide in," Obi-Wan patiently reiterated. "You did a noble and admirable thing, Padme, even if neither of you feel like it at the moment."

Padme nodded, but remained silent.

"We'll get this information to Quinlan Vos as soon as possible. Thank you again, Padme."

Padme nodded again at Obi-Wan, then turned to Anakin. Anakin could see there were so many things his wife wanted to say, but she settled with, "May the Force be with you, gentlemen."

And her image fizzled out.

Obi-Wan reviewed the file Padme had sent before contacting Quinlan Vos. It only took two rings before Quinlan's fuzzy image came into view.

"Terribly sorry, General Kenobi," Quinlan spoke before Obi-Wan could say anything. "But I was just about to call you myself. How goes your mission?"

"It's already over. Long story short, it was a wild bantha chase. We do have the information you need, however. We're sending the file now."

"Good," Quinlan said. He reached for something out of the frame; he was sitting down, most likely at his starship. "I'd hate to ask this of you, but we need your help elsewhere. We've tracked the movements of the Huttslayer, and we're about to intercept him."

"That's good news," Anakin spoke up truthfully. "When you find him, could you tell him thank you, on behalf of the galaxy?"

"You don't understand," Quinlan snapped, not even looking at Anakin. "Obi-Wan, the Slayer's hacked a Separatist fleet. He's taken a small detachment of battleships to Mandalore."

"Hacked a fleet?" Anakin repeated in disbelief.

"Mandalore?" Obi-Wan repeated in concern.

"Yeah, the Slayer's got some kind of hyper-advanced algorithm that can slice any computer in the galaxy," Quinlan said, as if he were ordering from a menu. "And he's on his way to go wipe out Death Watch."

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. "If Mandalore sees Separatist ships in their system, they'll take hasty action and join the war. And when they find out it wasn't the Separatists at all, they'll… fall into chaos!"

"Which is why we need you, Obi-Wan," Quinlan finished. "You're on good terms with them. Take your ship to Concordia, explain the situation, and await the Slayer's arrival. I'm nearly there already. He may suspect I'll be there, but not you."

"What will you do when he arrives?" Obi-Wan asked.

Quinlan smiled. "Introduce myself."

And the hologram fizzled out.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan. "Sounds good to me. I'd like to have a little chat with him myself."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan absently remarked. He leaned on the holoprojector. "Seems like Delta Squad might get what they came for after all."

A/N: OUT OF YOUR FRIENDS, WHICH ARE YOU?

Fixer: Truck freak

Scorch: Crazy ass

Sev: друг

Boss: The fighter