Chapter Text
The Jedi Council was nervous. The Jedi Council was very, very nervous, so much so that the usual meditation-and-releasing-emotions-into-the-Force shtick had failed and High General Mace Windu had broken out the spotchka.
If anything called for drinks, it was discovering that your whole Order was sitting on a primed thermal detonator - well. More like a million of them.
“Ok, wait,” said Depa Billaba, pointing her nearly-empty glass at Obi-Wan. “I agree that the random army of clones showing up was weird, and I don’t trust it either, but you’re saying you got a slicer to hack Kamino’s files-”
“No, I had a slicer teach me to slice-”
“Whatever. And you said the clones are all chipped and rigged to kill us all, right? But, like, why-” she hiccuped, but got back on track- “why would they wait? They could’ve just left us to die on Geonosis.”
Next to her, Kit nodded his head furiously, an action he seemed to immediately regret as he turned even greener than usual.
“Not sure,” said Obi-Wan glumly.
“Stronger together, we are,” croaked Yoda. “Get us alone, they must. A TRAP, it is!” he banged his gimmer stick on the floor, overbalanced, and almost fell over.
Master Plo Koon sighed, sorrowful. “But they seem like such nice boys.”
“And so handsome,” said Obi-Wan dreamily, taking another long pull of bright blue spotchka from his glass.
“Obi-Wan, no,” chorused the half-drunk Jedi Council.
“Aww.”
“At least, not until we can free them from the chips, and from this sham of a war,” allowed Mace. “We’ve got our best people working on how to do it safely. Until that day, or until we find the motherfucker who’s running this whole thing, no one is alone with a clone. Got it?”
–
It was easier said than done. The Jedi had been installed as the Generals of the war effort, at the head of battalions full of clones as well as working directly with clone commanders. It was fairly easy to avoid the rank and file - the natborn officers of the GAR would liaison and hand down orders. The clone commanders, on the other hand…
“Act natural,” Windu had said. Easy for the theater nerd to say, Plo Koon thought. All Plo himself wanted was to get to know the men under his command, to reassure them that he’d do everything in his power to keep them safe. His heart ached to free them from their indentured servitude and watch them blossom into men, not just soldiers.
But no. No, he couldn’t get close. Yet.
He watched his commander approach with a sharp salute and desperately flailed for an excuse to flee.
“General Koon, sir! I’ve compiled the strategies for the upcoming mission and can brief you on our contingencies, sir.”
“My apologies, CC-3636,” he said, and how his skin crawled to use a number for what was obviously a man. But the clone had only said, “personal names are against regulation, sir,” when Plo had asked his name.
“I’m - uh - just about to go and - sharpen my lightsaber,” he finished lamely, and took the offered datapad. “I’m sure everything is fine. You’re very competent.” Plo resisted the urge to pat CC-3636 on the shoulder and made his escape.
Hopefully they’d get this figured out soon. Plo wasn’t sure how much longer he could watch the light in his commander’s eyes die.
–
Obi-Wan turned the corner at speed and bounced off a set of orange-painted armor. His teacup wobbled dangerously- with a touch of the Force he righted it before a drop could spill. “Ah, CC-2224!” Obi-Wan said cheerily. “I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here! Usually the mess is fairly deserted at 0200.”
CC-2224 saluted stiffly. “Apologies, general. I’ve just been going over the personnel for the upcoming mission. I’ve sent multiple messages; if you’d like any input-”
“Oh no, I, uh-” Obi-Wan’s mind went absolutely blank. “I’m afraid I. Uh. Need to use the fresher! Too much tea, you know!” Nervously, he picked up his cup and drained the entire thing, then coughed and sputtered at the bitterness.
“General?” CC-2224 looked lost, the poor man. Obi-Wan repressed the urge to sit him down and make him a cup of tea, proper tea, and instead continued to babble like an idiot.
Honestly, the effect this man had on him was unbelievable.
“Just can’t handle the caffeine as much anymore! I’m sure you know, with the amount of caff you drink - although maybe you can go in the armor? Is that - nevermind. I’ve got to - yeah.”
With his cheeks flaming and that horrid little speech echoing in his ears, Obi-Wan made his least graceful escape to date.
–
“Quinlan! Quin, pick up, pick up, pick up-” Aayla muttered at her comm. She was safe in her quarters for now, but soon she’d have to go out on the mission with her commander and she just couldn’t handle it alone. If Quin didn’t pick up she’d try Luminara-
“Aayla? Everything ok?” Quinlan’s comm finally connected, and his face fizzled into view. Even through the grainy blue, she could see bags under his eyes and frizzy ‘locs.
“I should be asking you that, Master,” she teased. “You look terrible.”
Quinlan waved it off. “Tholme’s got me skulking around the Senate in between missions, just to see if I can pick up anything. Turns out the Senate is chock full of assholes, but none of them are Sith. Yet.”
Aayla hummed in sympathy. Her problems didn’t seem so awful, in comparison; she knew how much the psychometric visions took out of Quinlan. “At least you don’t have to hide from clones constantly?” she offered.
“Nah, they’re here too. Easy to avoid, though, and bright red. Can’t miss ‘em. How’s it going on your end?”
Aayla sighed dramatically, pulling a chuckle from her former master. “Quin. Quinlan. They’re so nice. They’re all so brave, and CC-5052 keeps trying to design armor for me-”
“Don’t get attached,” warned Quinlan. “They’re ticking time bombs. Stay away from them as much as you can.”
“I know. But there’s only so much ‘Jedi-mandated solitary meditation’ I can do before I go insane!”
Quinlan grinned. “It’s what you deserve after skipping it so much as a Padawan,” he teased, and Aayla rolled her eyes with a huff.
–
Official GAR Log//17QBC::11.003.002
<<CC stands for constantly confused, ahahaha no but actually>>
Gree: Maybe we’re not what they expected?
Cody: i’d hate to be the one to tell the longnecks that, but yeah
Fox: Alpha did his best with the worst, like he always said.
Ponds: he was joking
Fox: Was he though?
Bly: what else could they expect??? what else can we do???
Bacara: Mine won’t even look me in the eyes.
Cody: no, i know, kenobi won’t meet with me to go over anything
Cody: but he’ll meet with the natborns
Rex: So you think it’s because we’re clones?
Fox: Has to be. The senators here HAAAAAAATE clones. The droids around here get treated better than us.
Fox: I got spit on yesterday.
Cody: aw shit fox im sorry
Neyo: WHAT THE FUCK I’LL KILL THEM
Ponds: no, Neyo, you can’t, that’ll make Gen. Windu lose his marbles even more than he already has
Fox: wdym
Ponds: the guy just stands up and launches into these speeches
Ponds: like from a holovid, very dramatic
Ponds: and then leaves
Neyo: HE JUST LEAVES
Neyo: IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE
Ponds: at least General Allie just pretends to be sick all the time
Ponds: that I get
Doom: My Generals only talk to each other. But maybe it’s a twin thing?
Doom: I’ve never met twins.
Gree: we’ve never met anyone, and now we have, and they hate us.
Wolffe: so does ne1 kno if lightsabers need 2 b sharpened
Wolffe: n if so how often
Cody: Wolffe its made of light
Cody: whats not clicking here
Rex: Maybe there’s a lot of maintenance involved in being a Jedi?
Rex: Mine is always having to calibrate his hand.
Bacara: That doesn’t explain why they won’t look at us.
Neyo: IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE UGLY, ‘CARA
Bacara: I’m not the one who tattooed his number on his fucking face.
Wolffe: OK wtever, so they h8 us
Wolffe: nthngs different than kamino
Wolffe: we r just clones
Fox: Too true, brother.
Cody: i guess i just figured they’d want us
Cody: yknow how they bought us and all
Bly: well this is depressing!!!! I’m depressed!!!!
Gree: cheers bro I’ll drink to that
Neyo: OYA
Ponds: oya
Rex: Oya
Monnk: Oya
Cody: monnk wtf arent you underwater
Monnk: yeah but I still get WiFi