Chapter Text
Almost dying was the best thing that ever happened to Cody, though he didn’t realize it until six months after the fact.
The circumstances around the injury were lucky. If the shrapnel had lodged in his skull a millimetre deeper, he’d have had irreparable brain damage. If he’d been stationed further from the med tent, he wouldn’t have made it into surgery in time.
If he’d been a regular clone trooper – not the High Marshal and the interim leader of the 212th whilst General Kenobi was out on mission for the Jedi Council – his team wouldn’t have had the authorization to commit one of three med droids to brain surgery while still in an active combat zone. If he was nearly anyone else, it would’ve been impossible to justify the use of a scarce resource on a high risk op.
If, if, if.
A single change and Cody would be dead.
He knew this intellectually, and he counted his lucky stars, but recovering from brain surgery was a painful task at the best of times. Unfortunately for Cody, recovering from brain surgery while orchestrating an attack on a Seppie base from the battlefield was far from the best of times. Still, staggering around the command tent, fighting down nausea from the pain and pushing his tired and aching body to think and plan and command was far preferrable to being one of thousands of identical brothers left to rot in the mud, forgotten by the entire galaxy but never by each other. No contest. Cody would take the pain every time, and that was before he knew his near-death actually saved his life.
He didn’t learn about the chip until the campaign had finished and they were back aboard Negotiator, when Bones finally dragged him to the med-ward for a follow up.
“Considering you flagrantly ignored all medical advice and resumed routine activity within hours of invasive brain surgery you’re doing remarkably well,” Bones said.
Cody ignored the chastisement. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to skip the required convalescence period. There hadn’t been any other choice. Besides, Bones made it sound worse than it was – he'd kept to the command tent after surgery, staying far from the front lines and all activity that required even a modicum of physical effort, battered as he was.
“Am I cleared for reg duty then?” he asked, squinting up at Bones. Who’s bright idea had it been to install such bright fluoro lights in a med-ward?
Bones snorted. “Absolutely not. You’re staying on light duty. Come back in three days. There’s still swelling in the brain tissue and even a small knock to the head could be deadly. You need to rest to recover properly.”
Cody knew this already. He’d been raised with the foundational knowledge that his body was his life. Clones were created for war, and their physical strength was a key component. Caring for his body, keeping it functioning to high operational standards, was imperative. Resting to promote recovery was necessary.
But, unfortunately, Kenobi was still gone. There were some things that only Cody could do, as the highest- ranking officer on board willing to actually work – unlike the useless nat-born GAR high ups. Recovery had to take a back seat to duty, and if that meant sacrificing his long-term capabilities for short term efficiency, well. They were in the middle of a war. Some sacrifice couldn’t be avoided.
“Anything else?” Cody asked, still tired and in pain and wanting nothing more than to go back to the command office and finish his paperwork with the lights on quarter power to stave off his never-ending headache. The glare from the fluorescents overhead felt like a knife to the temple. He was intimately familiar with the feeling but that didn’t mean he liked it.
Bones covertly scouted the area around them, eyes moving sharp and quick. They weren’t alone – the med-ward wouldn’t settle for at least a week after such a long and bloody campaign – but the brothers around them weren’t paying them any attention. Bone shifted forward and said quietly, “The droid removed your aggression-inhibiting chip. It was right next to the shrapnel and leaving it in would have impeded your chances of recovering. The chip’s been destroyed. According to SOP I’ve written the notations on your brain surgery with most attention to the majour trauma so the note on the chip is in the fine print.”
It was an offer. Cody and Bones’ eyes met, eyes intense but faces blank.
Cody knew why he wouldn’t want anyone to know his chip had been removed – he’d be sent back to Kamino to have a new one installed if command learned about it. Not only did he not have the time for that, but he also didn’t particularly like the idea that an aggression-inhibiting chip was necessary, as if he and his brothers were angry dogs made human by the muzzle of implanted tech alone, as if the dehumanizing attitude of prejudiced nat-borns in GAR command was in any way justified. He wasn’t a good and loyal soldier because he’d been bred that way or because of a chip in his head; he was a good and loyal soldier because he’s Cody, and he believed in his men and their Jedi and in what they were fighting for.
He didn’t know why Bones was offering to keep this quiet, and he wasn’t going to ask. He’d learned early on in the war that it was better not to know some things.
Cody stood and clapped Bones on the shoulder, giving a steady nod to show his gratitude. He wouldn’t take the offer – he’d forward the paperwork to his commanding officer, Kenobi, as was required – but he appreciated it all the same.
“I’d better not have to chase you down for your follow up!” Bones shouted to his retreating back. “Three days!”
Cody forgot about the chip shortly after that. He’d been mildly worried for a few weeks that he would become unstable and aggressive without it, much as he hoped the tech was only an overreach by the paranoid long-necks determined to control everything about the clones. With no change to his thoughts or behaviours he put those worries to rest, feeling a bit self-righteous that he’d proved assumptions about uncontrollable clone aggression wrong, even if only to himself.
Regardless, he had intended to tell Kenobi about the chip when he returned, in the debrief where he updated Kenobi on all that had transpired during his absence. While he was willing to bend regulations when necessary, he was still committed to army hierarchy and protocols.
Cody rationalized – hoped – that Kenobi wouldn’t do anything with the information. The man kept his political opinions close to the chest, but Cody could tell he didn’t approve of the way the Republic treated the clones, and the two of them had an excellent working relationship besides. Kenobi was a good general. He cared about his men. Cody trusted him – when he was around to be trusted, anyway.
The fact was, Kenobi needed Cody. No one else knew how to run the damned army like the two of them – High General and Marshall Commander – and since Kenobi was getting requisitioned for Jedi business with increased frequency over the last half year, the brunt of the leadership burden fell to Cody alone.
If Kenobi sent Cody back to Kamino to get a new chip and then got called away, the 7th Sky Corp would fall to pieces.
Despite Cody’s honest intentions, Kenobi didn’t return from his mission until the 212th was three hours away from launching an assault that promised to involve long weeks of messy ground warfare on an occupied planet. By then Cody had more important things on his mind than a useless chip destroyed weeks ago, so he failed to bring it up.
Cody forgot all about the chip. Until after.
Cody had never wavered in his commitment to the Republic. He’d been unmoved by Slick’s attempts to convince him the clones were slaves, convinced that the Republic was doing right by them and would continue to do so, after the war. He’d refused to question his allegiance, loyal to the bones to his Republic, to the Jedi that served it, and to his brothers.
Cody never wavered in his commitment to the Republic until a glowing blue holocron revealed that the Republic no longer existed.
They were on Utapau. Kenobi was racing away, light saber in hand, leaving in his wake a feeling of jubilation in Cody’s chest, reflected in the joyful hollering of his brothers at the news of Grevious’ defeat. The war was ending, keening its last death knell, and Cody felt the weight of three years’ worth of struggle and death lifting from his shoulders. The lightness felt foreign. Was this hope? He felt almost dizzy.
He was preparing to move to the upper levels of the city with his men when he received the encrypted transmission.
"Commander Cody, the time has come. Execute Order 66."
He stared at the message in confusion – was that Chancellor Palpatine? Why the hood? – and was about to ask for clarification regarding the directive when his men interrupted him. “Yes, my lord,” they said in unison.
He looked up at his team, startled. Distantly he heard the message begin to loop, still beaming out of his chrono, but he ignored it. His team wasn’t acting like his team anymore. Moments ago, Ghost Company had surrounded him, celebrating Grevious’ death in various stages of battle fatigue – stances casual but ready to engage at any moment, always alert. Now, they stood at military attention facing Cody, hands raised in salute.
“What?” he asked, too taken aback to articulate his confusion better. “What are you doing?” They remained silent, standing at attention until he closed the transmission, Palpatine's hooded form disappearing from view.
They dropped their salutes but stood at second position, formal in a way they never were when it was just their crew. Boil asked, “What are our orders, sir?”
“What the kark is Order 66?” he asked, unease creeping over him. His stomach was tied into a tight knot, a stark contrast to the joy he’d felt mere moments ago.
“The Jedi are traitors to the Galactic Empire and must be executed,” Boil answered, expressionless.
“What,” Cody breathed out. “Boil, that’s insane, the Jedi aren’t – the Galactic Empire?”
“The Jedi are traitors to the Galactic Empire and must be executed,” Waxer repeated, voice just as flat as Boil’s.
“No, they aren’t,” Cody said, desperate now, moving toward Waxer and putting a hand on his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?”
“A good soldier follows orders,” Waxer said. “The traitor Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi is escaping, Commander. What are our orders?”
Cody shook Waxer, softly at first and then hard. Waxer’s position didn’t soften at all. Something was very, very wrong, but didn’t know what. He didn’t know how to fix it. The knot in his stomach tightened with a growing fear that he wouldn’t be able to.
Boil raised his rifle at Kenobi’s retreating back, eyes focused down the scope. He fired.
“No!” Cody said, lunging at Boil.
But Boil was too far, and Cody was too late. He reached him in time to feel the kickback of Boil’s shot, the expended energy knocking Boil’s shoulder back into Cody and knocking the breath from Cody’s lungs as he watched the blast race toward Kenobi, dread turning him cold.
But Kenobi was too far. The blast missed. Cody grabbed Boil’s rifle, scuffling with him for a moment before twisting sharply to pry it out of Boil’s hands “What are you doing?” he demanded, starting to feel insane himself.
“A good soldier follows orders.”
“That’s not –"
“AT-TE, fire on Kenobi at will,” Waxer said into his comm as Cody was distracted by Boil.
“NO!” Cody screamed, but it was too late. The AT-TE was already in position. He could do nothing but watch the blast hit Kenobi, knocking him and the boga he was riding off the cliff, tumbling into the deep.
“Target down,” Waxer said, emotionless.
“Confirmed. The traitor Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi has been eliminated,” Boil said.
He gaped in horror, his usually lightning-quick brain stuttering to a halt. He stared after Kenobi for several long moments before turning back to his men. They stood motionless and stiff, as if they hadn’t just murdered a man they all respected, a man they owed their lives to. What the fuck!
Cody’s mind was crawling through mud, but he forced himself to think. Kenobi might still be alive. He’d escaped some tough scrapes before. It was possible. His mind was reeling, but instinct kicked in. He needed to control the situation.
“Await my orders, troops,” Cody said, before changing the dial on his radio to contact medical. “Cody – medical. I have troopers here suffering a mental disturbance. I need directive,” he said.
“Cody!” a voice shouted over the radio, sounding frazzled and desperate. “Thank fuck, I’m glad it didn’t get you.”
“Bones, is that you? What the hell is happening?”
“Everyone’s fucking snapped! All of my team, they just – we got this announcement over the radio and they stopped, like – like they were droids and they’d been deactivated or something, and then they started back up but – but they aren’t them! All of them, Cody, and I called Command and everyone there was all wrong too. Commander, I don’t – I scanned all of them and Knives is in an MRI now and it looks like there’s nothing medically wrong but they’re – they just –”
“Breathe, Bones,” Cody said, trying to take his own advice as his already high heart rate ratcheted up another notch. Sweat trickled down his back and the knot in his stomach beginning to twist, as if he’d swallowed a fist full of snakes.
He walked a few steps away from his men so they couldn’t hear him. They remained at attention and didn’t look at him as he moved. Eerie.
“The problem’s even bigger than that, Bones. My crew – I’m with Ghost Command, they all went the same as your team, but they keep saying that the Jedi – they said something about a fucking Empire and that the Jedi are traitors, that we need to execute them all and then they –” he forced himself to breathe. He grasped his panic with an iron fist and shoved it down. “They shot the General. AT-TE blast. Off a cliff. He fell. Likely dead.”
Bones swore. And kept swearing.
“Bones, I need you to assess the situation. I’m going after the General to see if he’s – to check. You need to see how far this spreads, if it’s everyone, if there’s anyone other than you and me still – still ourselves. Call me on my direct line in my bucket in 30 minutes. Let’s stay off radio until we sort this.”
Bones breathed deeply, shakily, the sound crackling over the radio, but when he spoke his voice was firm. “30 minutes. Bones out.”
Cody turned back to his team, fear trying to undue his composure. He didn’t know what to do to help them, didn’t know how to fix this. He did the only thing he could: stall for time. He ordered them to the upper levels to stabilize the situation – Kenobi’s last orders, not that he mentioned that – telling them he would retrieve Kenobi’s body himself.
They left without speaking, snapping a salute and marching off. His heart twisted viciously in his chest as he watched them leave, feeling relieved – and guilty for it – to put some distance between himself and the men he loved who seemed ghosts of themselves.
Cody crept toward the front lines, confusion making him paranoid about avoiding detection. It took longer than he’d like but eventually he found a functional speeder with the engine still idling, the droid riding it slumped dead over the handles. Cody threw the droid off and turned the bike around, heading back for the cliff Kenobi fell from.
It was going to be difficult to get the speeder down to ground level safely. Cody’s mind latched onto the challenge, grateful for something to focus on that wasn’t his brothers’ madness and Kenobi getting shot off a fucking cliff. Speeders of this model function best when altitude changes no more than ten degrees, and Cody had to descend 300 feet in a narrow space. This would require finesse.
As he eased into the task, guiding the speeder downward in a descending serpentine pattern, he regulated his breathing and tried to think methodically. Order 66 seemed to be a code word that activated the change in his brothers. How? Turn left. Palpatine’s message instigated this change. Why? Turn right. They called him my lord. Why? Left again.
His radio crackled to life, interrupting his thoughts and stalling his movement. “Attention 212th battalion. This is Imperial General Kahdah. Today we have witnessed the glorious birth of the Galactic Empire. The Empire has risen from the ashes of the corrupt Republic, escaping the grasping claws of the Jedi traitors trying to bring ruin to us all.”
What?
The radio crackled and spit, interrupting Kahdah’s speech. “–-- troops to secure the city before reporting for inspection. The lax standards of the traitor Jedi leadership will be ameliorated --- will be silent and disciplined. You will wear --- white armour. You will serve your Empire well. All hail Emperor Palpatine.”
Cody stayed still for a moment to make sure the message was over before easing the speeder forward. Aside from the fact that it was stupid for Kahdah to make an irrelevant, rambling speech over radio while they are still in active combat – that kind of distraction could get troopers killed – the contents of the message defied understanding.
Empire? Emperor? This could not be real.
What the actual fuck.
Cody reached the bottom 17 minutes after he’d first set out for the speeder. He flew in the direction he suspected Kenobi had landed and saw the carcass of the boga immediately. Well, part of it. It looked like the AT-TE blast hit the creature side-on and the result was messy. He parked next to it and looked around, trying to be steady, methodical, but fear and tension made him skittish and made his thoughts slow.
There was no sign of Kenobi. He started walking in a spiral pattern outward from the Boga. No tracks, so Kenobi must have fallen off mid-air, or jumped off before the hit. Cody’s eyes swept the area, expecting to find a crumpled pile of robes and blood and bones. Kenobi was good, and Cody had seen him pull off a lot of insane shit before, but he wouldn’t have been expecting friendly fire and this was a long drop down.
He spotted a disturbance in the thin covering of dirt and pebbles that made up the terrain here. It looked like an impact site. There was blood on the ground – gravel tearing skin? His heart was in his throat.
Empire. Emperor. His brother’s standing at attention, saying “my lord.” It didn’t make any sense.
He followed the trail with his eyes, feet hurrying after until he reached the wall of the cliff and saw a brown and cream lump. Kenobi. Thank fuck. He hurried over, calling his name quietly. Kenobi didn’t twitch. Fuck. Was he dead?
As he got closer an awful sound reached his ears: a steady, low moan of intense pain. Kriff. Kenobi must be injured badly and Cody had no supplies, hadn’t thought to take anything with him, hadn’t thought. He dropped to his knees, assessing Kenobi with a clinical gaze.
No visible wounds. Internal bleeding? “General,” Cody said. No response. “General!” Kenobi remained curled into himself on his side. Cody reached out carefully, pushing him onto his back. Kenobi kept groaning, but inspecting his body in the new position revealed no wounds beyond some bloody scraps filled with dirt and gravel on his hands, forearms, and knees. Head wound?
He peeled open Kenobi’s eyelids but his pupils responded normally. No concussion. No visible damage. The fact he could bend his knees into the foetal position ruled out spinal damage. Limbs weren’t broken. What the kriff was wrong with him then?
“Attention 212th battalion. This is Imperial General Kuhdah. I have received confirmation that the Jedi traitor Obi-wan Kenobi is dead. Clone trooper CT-8173 has done a great service to the Empire in eliminating this treat. However, former Commander clone CC-2224 is a traitor to the Galactic Empire. CC-2224 is to be eliminated on site. All hail Emperor Palpatine.”
The radio switched off and Cody couldn’t breathe. He froze, hovering over Kenobi’s body, and didn’t manage an inhale until the direct line in his bucket crackled to life. “Cody? Cody, come in!”
“Bones,” Cody rasped, tearing a breath into his lungs. A traitor. They’d called him a traitor. Empire, emperor, jedi ordered dead. What was happening? This couldn’t be real.
“Did you hear? Cody, did you hear?”
“I heard.” His head was spinning. A traitor?
“You need to get out of here. Where are you? Can you escape?”
“I found the General. He’s alive, but comatose. I don’t ...”
“Can you escape? Take the General, find a ship and leave planet, or go to ground or, or something, but Cody you’ve got too –”
“I have a speeder. I can –” but even as his brain struggled to work his training kicked in. He needed to follow OpSec protocols and that meant limiting information, especially over an unsecure line.
“I need to go to ground. I’ll comm you directly as soon as I can get a secure line. It’ll be at least a few days. Bones, do they know about you?”
“I’m safe, but I can’t get out. They don’t know my chip was removed so I’ll pretend to – to be like the rest until I can escape.”
The chip. The kriffing chip. That’s why ... “If you leave before I comm you we won’t be able to find each other.”
“I know. I’ll try to wait, but ..."
“K'oyacyi, Bones,” he said, a fierce order more than a goodbye, before cutting the line. He had a comatose jedi, a stolen speeder, and an entire army looking to kill him. He might’ve been in worse situations before, but not many.
All his brothers, looking to kill him. His brain skittered away from the thought, unwilling to face the horror head on, unable to comprehend it.
There was no time to figure out Kenobi’s problem. Cody hoisted the man up and threw him over his shoulder, marching to the speeder. Kenobi lay limp, still moaning. It was almost as wrong as Boil and Waxer’s sudden transformation. Cody had seen Kenobi in bad shape before, everything from banged up to nearly dead, and the only time he ever stayed down was the later. This wasn’t good, especially since there didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him.
Cody started the speeder and took off, forming a plan and immediately putting it into motion. They were on the west flank of the attack, and they’d only hit this city, which meant the rest of the planet shouldn’t have GAR presence – or whatever the Empire’s army was called now.
The empire, an emperor, Cody a traitor, his brother’s acting like droids. What the fuck!
He avoided the men posted on the outskirts of the battle easily enough. Having been the one to post them there he knew where the holes were. His first thought upon slipping through was that he would tear a strip off the men on duty for lax attention when he got back – only, there would be no going back. These weren’t his men anymore. He shut that line of thought down before it overwhelmed him, focused resolutely on flying under the radar.
No time for a breakdown now. No way out but through.
He flew for hours, until the fuel gage on the speeder was almost empty, before settling them in an empty cave, confirming no lifeforms with the infrared on his visor. He took it step by step: shut off the bike, get Kenobi in a covered position, secure the immediate vicinity. After he finished, the hard part came. What now?
Empire, emperor. Chips implanted in brains, controlling clones? Cody declared a traitor. The jedi – dead? Order 66? It couldn’t be real.
He crossed to Kenobi and shook him roughly. No response. Unsurprising since a three-hour speeder ride hadn’t woken him. Cody considered throwing him in the pool of water at the back of the cave but decided to take the easy route first.
He wound up and slapped Kenobi open handed across the face.
Kenobi gasped and stiffened, trying to roll backward into a defensive position but hitting the wall immediately. His hand flew to his hip, where his lightsaber was usually clipped, only to find nothing. His gaze darted around the cave wildly, flitting over Cody and behind him, assessing for treats.
“General, it’s Commander Cody. You are safe, and in a secure location. Stand down,” Cody said, voice measured and authoritative. He didn’t move from his crouch in front of Kenobi, ready to defend himself but hoping he wouldn’t have to.
Kenobi took another gasping breath and met Cody’s eyes. “Cody,” he breathed, reassured, and slumped backward into the wall. “They’re gone.”
“Who?”
“I felt them, all of them. All the jedi. Gone.”
Fuck. “Are you with me, General?” he asked.
Kenobi blinked rapidly, seemingly struggling to focus. He pressed a hand to his chest and hunched over, but he nodded.
“I am prepared to give you a sitrep, sir,” Cody said. Was Kenobi lucid?
“Go ahead, Commander.”
Good enough. Cody detailed everything in blunt terms: the recorded holocron, the troopers’ reactions, the attack on Kenobi, the intel he’d gathered regarding reach of clone behaviour and the role of the chips, Imperial General Kuhdah’s messages, and a reiteration of the danger they were in with a standing bullseye on both their backs, limited supplies, and no exit plan.
With every new horror Cody described, Kenobi’s gaze grew sharper. Good. He needed his General sharp if they wanted to survive this.
“Sheev Palpatine ... how did we not see it?” Kenobi asked.
Cody didn’t have an answer. It still didn’t seem real, for all that the evidence was indisputable. The fucking Chancellor of the Republic. No wonder the war never went anywhere.
“And the men... control chips. Slave chips. How did you escape it?” Kenobi pinned Cody with a heavy look, though Cody was relieved to see it was devoid of suspicion. He explained.
“I never thought I’d be glad to hear you almost died, Commander, but I’m not sure I would have survived if you hadn’t.”
“I definitely wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t,” Cody replied, trying not to think about the fate he’d only narrowly avoided. Fucking slave chips! He didn’t say it, but he also agreed with Kenobi – the man had been in a bad way, and Cody reckoned he’d still be huddled against that cliff, lost in his own head, if Cody hadn’t found him. Still, if anyone could escape an entire army out for his blood with no help and no resources, it was Kenobi.
Regardless, their chances were better together. “We need to get off planet, sir. We need a plan,” Cody said.
Kenobi nodded slowly. “I need to ... assess the situation,” he said. “See if any other Jedi survived.” He grimaced, looking nauseated, and pulled out his comm. He stared at it as if afraid of what it might reveal.
Cody stood. He resolutely ignored his aching knees and the faint dehydration headache starting to pulse through his skull. “I’m going to make sure the perimeter is secure.” He hesitated before leaving, taking in Kenobi’s huddled form. “I won’t go far.” It was a stupid and unnecessary reassurance. Kenobi knew what securing the perimeter entailed, and besides, it needed to be done. But Kenobi looked ... bad. Bad enough Cody wished he didn’t have to leave him alone. Wished he had some men with him to stand guard over Kenobi while he was down. Wished he didn’t feel so damn alone.
Chips in their brains. His brothers, saying “yes, my lord” in robotic voices. It couldn’t be real. Please, stars above, make it not real.
Cody handed Kenobi his lightsaber before he left. He remembered the same scene four hours earlier, fierce joy exploding within him and matched by the smile on Kenobi’s face as he took the ‘saber from Cody. He remembered the certainty that with Grevious dead the war would end. That they’d won.
How blind he’d been. How foolish his hope.
Cody left the cave, hearing Kenobi’s comm start pinging a searching signal as he exited. He methodically swept the area around the cave searching for life forms, traps, high threat areas, and escape lines. All clear.
When he returned Kenobi was right where he left him, but was now breathing harshly, hunched forward with his hands gripping his hair. Kenobi didn’t notice him until he was within arm’s length – unusual and worrying. His eyes snapped up to Cody’s, blue as ever but the gaze somehow distant. “Mustafar. We need to go to Mustafar.”
The next twelve hours passed in a blur. Cody focused on one task and then the next, following the plan they’d come up with in the cave.
Slave chips. His brothers, empty as droids. A target on his back. The jedi, dead. An empire. It couldn’t be real.
They rode the speeder until it ran out of fuel, then walked until they reached a city. They crept into first one hangar then another and another until they found a ship that met their specifications. Cody didn’t like it, stealing from civilians, but they had no other choice. They pillaged for supplies – food, water, inconspicuous clothing. When Cody stripped off his armour to put on civilian gear he felt as if he was tearing his heart out of his chest.
His brothers, slaves to the empire. Him, alone.
It took seven tries to find a ship that they could break into that had sufficient fuel to get them off planet. Cody stowed his armour in the back of the cockpit and dropped into a pilot’s seat, hoping the nat-born generals now in charge were too incompetent to have set up a secure blockade around the planet. Ordinarily it’d be either him or Kenobi making those orders, and clearly they weren’t there to do so now.
They reached atmo with no problems. He remembered thinking months ago that the GAR wouldn’t be able to function without him and Kenobi. What a way to be proven right.
His brothers, wiped clean. Slaves to the new empire.
When they'd planned a circuitous route to Mustafar – ETA 27 hours – Cody moved onto the next step. He needed to plan. To focus. To not think about his brothers, stripped of all autonomy, no better off than droids.
“What’s the plan once we reach Mustafar, sir?” Cody realized he’d never asked why they were going there, had simply clung to the fact that they had a target, had a new mission. Something to think about that wasn’t his brothers or the empire or -
“Anakin will be there.” Kenobi was staring blankly forward, watching the stars woosh by.
“Skywalker’s alive?” Relief melted into Cody's bones. Of all the jedi to make it, Skywalker would have been one of his top choices, and not just because of what he meant to Kenobi. Skywalker was a bit of a loose cannon, but he was a powerful jedi and a capable warrior. He’d make their team much stronger, and in circumstances like this his tendency toward chaos would probably be helpful.
But Kenobi didn’t look happy, and at Cody’s question he closed his eyes, pursing his mouth and hunching his shoulders.
“He’s alive. But he’s no longer Anakin Skywalker.”
Kenobi fell silent. The thrum of the hyperdrive was loud in the cockpit. Cody waited a moment before prodding. “What, did he have a mind control chip too?”
Kenobi made a strangled sound and finally turned to Cody. “He fell. To the darkside.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Of all the kriffing, karking, horrible fucking –
“What’s the plan once we reach Mustafar?” Cody repeated.
“We try to save him,” Kenobi said, but he sounded blank. It didn’t sound like Kenobi liked those odds any more than he did.
“And if we can’t?”
“I will do what I must,” Kenobi said, turning back to look at the stars.
Poor bastard. Cody’s heart, already so bruised, twisted further in sympathy. “I’ll be right behind you, sir.” As if he had anywhere else to be now.
Cody did what he could to recover and prepare while in transit. He washed himself in the lav sink. He stripped the paint from his armour so it wouldn’t be recognizable. Cleaned and prepped his weapons. Ate at appropriate intervals. Forced Kenobi to eat at appropriate intervals. Slept. Tried to force Kenobi to sleep. Failed.
He ran through possible scenarios as they approached the planet, but in the end none were relevant to the situation on the ground.
It was chaos.
He let himself fall into a battle haze, operating on instinct and engrained muscle memory. He trailed his General, watching his six as he had so many times over the years. They followed Skywalker’s trail of destruction. The Separatist Council, slaughtered. Blood everywhere. Fire and ruin. Collapsing infrastructure.
Adrenaline sung through his veins and scenes appeared in flashes. A Nubian ship. Senator Amidala, visibly pregnant, choking. Skywalker, eyes sith yellow with hatred in his heart. Kenobi, interfering. Red and blue blades, crossing.
Losing sight of the General as he fought Skywalker. Lungs burning, sweat pouring down his face as he followed. Body too light without armour, hand clutching his blaster as he ran.
Kenobi and Skywalker, getting further away. Lava everywhere – in the rain, on the ground, rushing in a river toward a cliff.
Kenobi on a skiff. Skywalker on a construction droid. Cody, settling down into a sniper’s crouch.
Kenobi, flipping through the air onto the banks of the lava river. Skywalker following.
Kenobi, on the ground. Skywalker, raising his red ‘saber over his head to strike Kenobi down.
Cody on his stomach, eyes down the scope of his rifle. Deep breath in. Exhaling and squeezing the trigger.
Skywalker jerking forward, laser blast hitting his back dead center. A wave of lava from the river, crashing into him. Kenobi moving, ‘saber separating Skywalker’s limbs from his body.
Silence ringing in his ears. Skywalker slipping into the river. Kenobi watching, screaming at his former padawan. Pain, anguish, betrayal.
Lava spitting in the air. Cody moving forward, raising his blaster again, Skywalker’s damaged form in the crosshairs.
A mercy killing – aim, breathe, shoot. Two in the chest, one in the head. Skywalker stilling. Kenobi’s arms lowering.
Cody running toward Kenobi, meeting him as he turned from Skywalker, face painted in grief, hair and clothing singed and still smouldering in some places.
Running to the skiff where they left Amidala and the droids. Sparks of lava in the air, burning their skin, their clothes, the air so hot it hurt to breathe.
Cody’s thoughts slowed as they escaped the planet, the flash frames of battle slipping from his mind. They arrived at the Polis med-centre in time for Amidala to receive care for childbirth. Not that it helped her much.
He waited with Yoda and Organa and the droids in a room off the operating theater, thinking absently that he should feel out of place amidst this company. He couldn’t bring himself to feel much of anything at all though. He could barely muster a reaction when he learned Amidala had died, even though he liked her well enough, even though she definitely didn’t deserve to go out like that.
It was one more death in a sea of loss.
His brothers ...
He listened passively as the jedi and Organa planned what to do with the children, refraining from comment until he heard Yoda suggest they send the boy to Skywalker’s – Darth Vader, by the end – family on Tatooine. He waited for someone else to point out the stupidity of that plan.
No one did.
He gathered himself and spoke. “Generals. Senator,” he said, feeling starting to crawl back into his body. They turned to look at him and for a moment he remembered that he was the lowest ranking man in the room. He hesitated.
But there was no GAR anymore. There was no Jedi order. He wasn't even sure there was a senate for Organa to belong to. He was just a man in a room of other beings, all of whom had failed.
“That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard,” he said, voice level. That got their attention. “If your objective is to protect the children then you need to leave them somewhere that is either untraceable or suitably defendable to repel attacks. Leaving one of them with a family relation would jeopardize your objective.”
Bail and Kenobi both nodded, but Yoda shook his head slowly. “To Tatooine, he must go."
“Why,” Cody asked bluntly, more a challenge than a question. “Skywalker – Vader – is dead but we should assume that the Emperor knew Amidala was pregnant. We should assume he’s going to search for the kids. And we should assume he’s going to have clone troopers doing the searching.
“Disguising that she gave birth is a good start, but it’s not enough. Amidala didn’t know she was having twins, which means Vader didn’t know, so we can assume the Emperor didn’t know either. Keeping the twins together would throw off the trail.
“And the first trail any trooper worth his salt is going to follow is family relations. They’ll start with Amidala’s network, then move to Skywalker’s. You can’t send the boy to Tatooine, not if you want him to stay hidden. Especially considering Skywalker’s family is civilian. They won’t be able to mount a defence in the event the Empire comes to take the kid.”
“The Commander is right,” Organa said. “I should take both children.”
“It will be harder to obscure their presence in the force if they are together,” Kenobi pointed out.
“I don’t know anything about that, but from an OpSec perspective it’s better to keep them together. Fewer variables. And you’d minimize resources on safety procedures,” Cody argued. With Organa already convinced, he turned to Kenobi, the next most susceptible target to turn to his side. The one he really needed on his team. “I know you’ve been trained in OpSec, sir. You should be aware of this.”
Kenobi nodded, though he looked reluctant.
Yoda hummed and sat silent for a long moment before saying, “Agree, I do, Commander. Together, the twins will go, to Alderaan. And until the time is right, disappear we will.”
Cody blinked twice, as if that’d make the words make sense. “Disappear?”
“Into exile, I must go. So too, must Master Kenobi. Too dangerous, it is, to remain in the world.”
Feeling returned completely to Cody’s body for the first time since he heard the words ‘Order 66’. Flickering flames of rage moved up his throat, threatening to choke him. “You’re going to walk away from the birth of an evil empire? You’re going to watch the slaughter of your people and the enslavement of mine and turn your back?”
His hands were shaking. Every muscle in his back was strung tight. He turned to Kenobi. “And you? You’re going to go along with this?”
Yoda answered before Kenobi had the chance to open his mouth. “Over, is the time of the jedi. Into exile, we must go. Learn the ways of the force from his old master, Master Kenobi must. How to become one with the force, Qui-Gon will show him.”
Cody had no idea what that meant and he didn’t much care. “I know Kenobi can multi-task so I don’t see why he needs to hide in a hole to learn that.”
Cody turned to his General, feeling like he was about to fly apart. He was alone, for the first time in his life. His brothers were gone. It was just him, a clone made for war with no army to call home. All he had was Kenobi. He had only made it this far because he'd assumed they were still a team. His desperation was thick enough to choke him. “General?”
Kenobi looked at him but didn’t answer. That was an answer in itself. Cody’s mind went blank with shocked rage, but his body calmed. His hands stilled. He spoke, voice cold as the hull of a spacecraft in atmo. “Never took you for a coward, General.”
Cody’s awareness of Organa and Yoda faded to the background as Kenobi’s gaze on him sharpened. “It’s not cowardly to retreat to a safe position when the entirety of my life – when all of the Jedi have been – there is no other option!”
“Sounds to me like you want to hide away and you’re trying to rationalize it. You want to leave this fucked up situation behind so you don’t have to deal with it. You want to leave my brothers – my men – our men out there, mind controlled –”
“And if I do? Yoda is right. The time of the jedi is over.”
“Ok, fine. Fine! Fuck the jedi! You’re a General too, and a sentient being. I’m asking for you, Obi- Wan Kenobi, not for a Jedi Master.”
Kenobi slashed his hand through the air, making a noise of disgust. His eyes were hard as he stared at Cody, face twisted into a frown. “And I’ve already failed in every conceivable measure. Everything I’ve touched has turned to poison. My own padawan, turning to the dark side –”
“Get over yourself, Kenobi!” Cody roared, standing and slamming his hands into the table, leaning into Kenobi’s space. “Skywalker made his own choices. I just heard you say that to Amidala so don’t give me that shit.” He took in a deep breath, air shuddering down his throat, still tender from the burning heat of Mustafar.
He sat down again but stayed leaning into Kenobi’s space, keeping their eyes locked. Tension turned the air around them thick, but Cody didn’t notice, every fibre of his being focused on the man in front of him. “You’re not the only one who lost everything. My brothers are gone. They’re – they’re slaves. I don’t know what I can do to fix it, but I know I can’t do nothing. And I think if you run away now, if you turn your back on your men, on the growth of a – an evil kriffing empire you’ll regret it. You’ll hate yourself. The Obi-Wan Kenobi I know ...” he trailed off, breath laboured from the intensity of his words.
Kenobi watched him intently, as if what Cody said next might ruin him. Might save him.
Cody sensed an opening, a hesitation he could exploit. He tried to bank the rage inside down to a little ember and speak well. Maybe even speak kindly.
“You’re a good man, sir. You’ve been dealt a bad hand. We all have. If life was fair this never would have happened. But it’s not. And unfortunately for you, you’re a good man and you’re someone who can do something about this clusterkriff of a situation. I don’t know what, but I bet it’s not nothing.
“I think we’re the same, you and me. Duty. Loyalty. These things still matter. We can do something good. We have to try.”
Kenobi drew in a shuddering breath, eyes blinking rapidly, but he didn’t move. He stayed leaning into Cody’s space, their eyes locked. He looked pained, and his voice was uncharacteristically weak when he answered. “I don’t know if I can.”
But Cody did know, and his voice was infused with iron certainty as he said, “You can. And I’ll help you.” He waited, trying to pretend that his sanity didn’t hinge on Kenobi’s answer.
Kenobi’s face crumpled for a moment before he caught himself. He leaned back. He took a deep breathe, and said, voice level if not quite as confidant as usual, “Right as always, Commander. Ok. Let’s fight.” A strange expression passed over his face as he stared at Cody, like he was trying to smile but forgot how.
It was a horrible expression, but Cody didn’t care. He’d take it. It was all he had at this point. He clapped a hand on Kenobi’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. Their gazes held, and Cody felt grimly satisfied, relieved, like he’d been on the verge of tumbling over a ledge only to be caught at the last moment. He pitied Kenobi, he did – or perhaps more accurately, more painfully, he empathised with him.
But he’d meant what he’d said before. Kenobi wasn’t the only one who’d lost everything, and if Cody was forced to continue living another day in this Gods forsaken reality he wasn’t going to do it alone. He couldn’t do it alone.
Cody was made to fight, so he was going to. He’d drag Kenobi with him, kicking and screaming if necessary. There wasn’t any other acceptable option.
“Look on the bright side, sir. Overthrowing an empire can’t be any harder than quelling the riot was, when we shut down Chip’s back-room distillery.”
Kenobi snorted and rubbed his hands over his face for several long moments. When he dropped his hands his gaze was clear, his shoulders upright. The General still had some fight left in him.
Objectively, the odds hadn’t gotten much better. Kenobi was a great general, a fearsome fighter, and a master jedi, but he was still only one man. Still, Cody figured any side with him and Kenobi on it couldn’t be counted out just yet, no matter how bad the odds.
“I believe you two will not be the only ones acting against the Empire,” Organa cut in. If Cody were a lesser soldier he’d jump – he’d forgotten the other people in the room. Sloppy of him. He dropped his hand from Kenobi’s shoulder, squared his own, and turned to face Organa.
“Let’s walk and talk, gentlebeings,” Organa said, standing. “I must return to Alderaan immediately.”
Cody and Kenobi both stood, though Kenobi turned toward Yoda instead of the door. Cody and Organa exited to give them a moment together. They were perhaps the last two jedi alive. Cody knew that pain to his soul.
Organa left to collect the children, and Cody waited by the door for Kenobi. He exited with Yoda before Organa returned. Kenobi stopped beside Cody as Yoda hobbled onward, stopping a few steps away and bowing his head at them both. “May the force be with you, Master Kenobi, Commander Cody.”
“And with you, Master Yoda.”
“K’oyacyi, General Yoda.”
Cody and Kenobi turned to face each other as Yoda disappeared down the hallway. They didn’t say anything as they waited for Organa, just stared at each other. Cody wondered if Kenobi felt like he did – like the other man was a lifeline, the only thing keeping him tethered while the black of space tried to pull him out into the abyss.
He didn’t know how to express his gratitude that Kenobi had agreed to stay with him and fight. He wanted to bottle the feeling in his chest and pass it over to Kenobi so he could see. He thought about ripping his ribcage open and showing Kenobi that he was the only thing standing between Cody and utter despair, that he was the only bright thing in a world turned to ash by his brothers’ enslavement.
But that was impossible, and he was too drained to figure out how to put that feeling into words, so he just stood beside Kenobi and hoped he knew.