Chapter Text
Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla—along with two of Din’s ori’ramikade, Silk Zivak and Aedo Linnar—skulked in the shadow of massive statues that guarded the entrance to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Twilight had fallen and the plaza at the base of the massive stairs that led to the Temple was deserted.
“Karking Force osik,” Paz muttered.
Din had to agree. In the years that he’d been mand’alor, working with the likes of Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker, Cal Kestis, and Ezra Bridger, he’d seen quite a few things he couldn’t explain. None of those things had prepared him to be flung almost thirty years into the past.
Din, Paz, and a few of Din’s ori’ramikade, had been taking a much-needed break on Concordia. Aedo claimed to have seen movement in a cave as they were out hunting and dragged Silk along to check it out for possible danger. When they hadn’t returned, Din and Paz had followed. Din didn’t know what happened after that, except that he’d woken up with his three verde, against a stone wall under a strange sky. Thankfully, Silk had a starmap loaded in her HUD, and was able to identify the constellations overhead. And the year based on the stars’ locations.
“So, we’re at the jetii Temple,” Paz murmured.
“Yes,” Din said.
“On Coruscant.”
“Got it in one, vod,” Aedo teased, poking Paz between his armor plates.
Paz slapped the white-skinned Nautolan’s hand away.
“And you think this is the night the Purge is going to happen,” Paz continued.
“I think it’s already started,” Din said, gesturing to the far end of the plaza.
A long column of men in white armor was appearing from the darkness beyond, marching toward the Temple.
“Well, what the hell?” Paz groused. “If the Force is going to send us back in time, why not give us the resources to stop the Purge from happening?”
Din agreed on principle. “We’d need an army to stop something of that magnitude. Maybe the Force couldn’t send that many people back.”
“So, what are we supposed to do, ’alor?” Silk, a Theelin female asked. She wore silver beskar’gam edged in yellow.
Din sighed and tried to recall everything he’d learned about this night from Ahsoka and Cal. Neither of them had been at the Temple, but both had experienced the betrayal of their clones. And Ahsoka had told him about the chips. How Captain Rex had managed to override the order he’d been given, if only for a moment. Ezra had talked about his master, Kanan Jarus, also known as Caleb Dume, and how one of his clones, Commander Grey, had allowed him to escape.
“I’ve been told the clones don’t have to obey the order to kill the jetiise,” Din said. “They can override it, though it is difficult. I’m going to see if I can help them make that leap. Maybe we can at least save some of the jettise in the Temple.”
“And what are we doing while you’re facing down the advancing horde by yourself, ’alor?” Aedo asked with a wry tone.
Din turned to his two most trusted lieutenants, aside from Paz. “You and Silk are going to warn the jetiise. Paz will help me face down the horde.”
Both ori’ramikade shared a look.
“What about—” Silk began.
“No,” Din said, though it tore at his heart. He knew she'd been going to ask about Grogy, but Din couldn’t risk that removing Grogu from the Temple would alter the future so that he’d never see his ad again. “He survived this night once already. He’ll do it again.”
He could tell by the cant of their buy’cese that his verde thought he was crazy to leave the youngling.
“What if we’re the ones who got him out of the Temple the first time,” Silk insisted. “If we leave him here . . .”
“Karking Force osik,” Aedo and Paz muttered in tandem.
“Warn the jetiise,” Din reiterated. “Find a ship. The Force will take care of the rest. Go now.”
The troopers were nearly at the bottom of the steps to the Temple, led by a man in dark jetii robes.
Silk and Aedo nodded. “Oya, mand’alor.”
“Oya!” Din said in return.
His two ori’ramikade ran up the stairs and disappeared into the Temple.
Din strode down the steps and stopped near the middle, Paz at his side. He didn’t intend to let the invaders any closer to the Temple than he had to. As the legion of clones approached, Din unclipped the Darksaber from his belt, held the hilt aloft, and ignited the blade.
“Ke’mot, vode!” Din shouted, his helmet’s vocoder at maximum volume.
Behind their leader, the troopers slowed to a confused stop.
The robed man didn’t stop, however, and Paz tensed at Din’s side, his hands on his heavy blaster canon. The man stopped a few steps from Din and threw back his hood revealing longish, curling golden-brown hair and sickly yellow streaks in his blue eyes.
“Who are you to call them brothers?” the man asked.
“I am the mand’alor,” Din said. A ripple went through the clones. Good, at least they seemed to know what the title meant. Din turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “And you are Anakin Skywalker. Or should I call you Lord Vader? It would break Ahsoka’s heart to see you now.”
“How do you know Ahsoka?” Skywalker snarled.
“We can discuss that later. Right now, I’m asking you to stand down. You’re being deceived. All of you.” His gaze swept over the clone troopers behind Skywalker. “And I won’t allow you murder innocents.”
He brought the Darksaber into a guard position. Skywalker grinned like a maniac and shrugged out of his robe, then unclipped his lightsaber and ignited the blue blade. He leapt at Din, bringing his ‘saber down in an overhanded strike meant to cleave Din in half. A few years ago, Din had requested a beskar gorget from the Armorer after Ahsoka had pointed out how easy it would be to just chop his head off with a lightsaber. He was thankful for it now, as Skywalker changed his overhand strike to a sweeping backhand slash as he sailed over Din’s head. As it was, the blow sent Din tumbling down a few stairs, his unpainted beskar’gam ringing against the stone.
The sounds of many blasters powering up sent Din scrambling to his feet.
“I don’t particularly like mowing down men who haven’t pissed me off,” Paz said, powering up his heavy blaster canon. “But if you so much as twitch, I’ll do it.”
Trusting his vod to watch his back, Din fired his grappling line at Skywalker and used it to yank the dar’jetti toward him. Skywalker’s ‘saber sliced through the grappling line and their blades clashed in a crackle of energy.
“I have to do this,” Skywalker growled. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
They sprang apart and traded a few blows before locking blades again.
"It can’t be worth the billions of lives—Jedi, clone, and civilian—you’re willing to throw away,” Din shot back.
“I would burn the whole of the Galaxy to save her,” Skywalker howled, and Force-pushed Din across the stairway.
Ka’ra preserve us, Din thought. He’s doing this for his riduur.
Inside the Temple, a claxon began to sound. It was past time to wrap things up.
“Paz, a little help here,” Din said over their in-bucket comm.
“Oh, so I’m not just here to look pretty?” the heavy gunner snarked.
“Di’kut!” Din growled.
He threw himself at Skywalker, his black blade flashing in an attempt to keep the dar’jetii from sensing Paz’s attack. Din didn’t see the blow that flattened Skywalker. One moment, Skywalker was seriously threatening Din’s existence with his lightsaber. Then next, the dar’jetti was sprawled at Din’s feet, his ‘saber clattering down the Temple steps.
Paz chuckled and cracked his knuckles. “Now that’s what I call percussive recalibration.”
He grabbed Skywalker’s limp body and held the dar’jetii in front of him like a shield.
Din turned to the clones. “You’re all being controlled. There’s a chip in your heads making you susceptible to someone’s orders. The Jedi aren’t your enemies. Leave this place.”
A clone with an arrow on his helmet stepped forward. “Good soldiers follow orders, and we’ve been ordered to terminate all traitors to the Republic.”
“If you continue on this course of action, verde, there won’t be a Republic,” Din yelled. “Your actions right here, right now will help destroy the Republic you and your vode have been fighting for. That your vode have died for. That Fives and Tup died for.”
A ripple ran through the clones. Din was grateful for those nights when he and Ahsoka had gotten drunk together and she’d opened up about her time in the 501st legion. It might be just what he needed to get these men thinking for themselves again.
“Look into the complaint Captain Rex filed about Fives’ death. Even your captain thought something was wrong with how that was handled.”
“Din, we’ve got to go,” Paz muttered.
Behind them, shouts were rising from the Temple.
“Are you men, or are you droids?” Din challenged. “Do you blindly follow orders telling you to kill those who’ve protected you and fought with you and bled with you through this war, or do you decide your own destinies? Don’t let the chip in your heads take away the thing you’ve fought so hard for. Your identities. It might have been a silent struggle, but I see you, vode. You Jedi generals see you. Don’t throw that away.”
Overhead the sound of a ship’s engines filled the air, and a shuttle landed in the plaza. The door opened and Aedo stuck his head out, gesturing to Din and Paz.
“Hurry, mand’alor!” the Nautolan ori’ramikad shouted.
Keeping Skywalker between them and the clones, Din and Paz started for the shuttle.
The clone with the arrow stepped forward and removed his helmet.
“I’m Commander Appo, mand’alor. I'll look into Captain Rex’s report. Ori’haat! Until we get some clarity on the situation, we won’t allow anyone into the Temple.” He turned to one of his men. “Fox, leave your weapon and go with them. So we can stay in touch, mand’alor.”
The trooper in question handed his blaster to another clone and started toward Din.
“Sir?” Paz murmured, as they kept walking toward the shuttle.
Din nodded. “It might be a good idea to keep in communication. We still have to figure out how to get back to our own time. And what to do with Skywalker.”
“We’re bringing him with us, sir?” Paz asked.
When Din nodded, the heavy gunner tossed Skywalker’s body into the shuttle, and followed him in.
“The jetiise karked this up once already,” Din said climbing in behind Paz. “I’m not giving them the chance to do it again.”
“Sir, yes sir,” all three ori’ramikade said, grinning.
The clone trooper, Fox, joined them, and climbed into the shuttle under threat of Aedo’s blaster pistol. The clone kept his hands where they could be seen and took a seat at the back of the shuttle.
“Silk, get us outta here,” Din ordered as a wave of Jedi began pouring down the Temple stairs.
The door closed as the shuttle rose into the sky.
“Where to?” Silk called back.
Din tried to think. He wanted to go to Mandalore, but wasn’t sure how Bo-Katan would greet them. He wanted to find Ahsoka, to see if he could save her from the hell that was coming, if she wasn’t living it right that second.
“Just get us away from Coruscant for now. We’ll have to try and lose any pursuit anyway.”
“Roger.”
“What do we do about this besom?” Paz said, his blaster trained on Skywalker.
Din looked at Aedo. “I don’t suppose you found a pair of Force suppression binders on your way through the Temple, did you?”
“Sorry, ‘alor. Didn’t know we’d need any.”
A happy coo made all of them freeze, and Din felt like he’d been punched in the gut. From under one of the seats, a tiny green figure in tan robes trundled, dragging a pair of binders.
“Haran’kar,” Paz muttered, sounding awed.
Din had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Grogu?”
The little one looked up at him and beamed, reaching his arms up to be lifted up.
“We didn’t bring him along. Ori’haat, ‘alor,” Aedo said, the red and orange markings on his lek-tresses going pale.
Din lifted Grogu into his arms and passed the binders to Paz. “It’s fine, verd. If he’s here, it must be the will of the Force.”
Paz snorted as he cuffed Skywalker. “You’re starting to sound like a damn jetii, ‘alor.”