Chapter Text
Yan Dooku couldn’t help his smirk of victory, even as he sensed the approaching signatures in the Force. It was too late. He had everything he needed and the ritual was well underway.
He had grown wary of doing things his Master’s way. He was actively taking on all the future blame and consequences while his Master sat pretty in a place where no one would place the blame of the suffering stretching across the galaxy. He also had a bad feeling that he wouldn’t survive to reap the benefits of it all, and he doubted he’d fall naturally in battle. He couldn’t trust his Master blindly.
And, well, it was Sith tradition to turn against one’s Master.
Yan, however, was a smart man, and killing Darth Sidious would not work out in his favor. Not with how they say on two sides of a concocted war. Sidious had protection, Yan was often joining battles. He was vulnerable to Sidious’ plans…currently.
He’d come across a way to turn the tide in his favor. Kill his Master before he gained such protection. Do things his own way to stomp out the corruption in the senate and Jedi Order. Remake the galaxy the way he had dreamed it would become when he left the Jedi and began searching the Dark for a way to fix the rot in the galaxy.
It had been a long process of personal missions and sending bounty hunters after the things he needed. And he’d almost gotten everything without Sidious or the Jedi finding out he was up to something. But upon arriving on Korda VI, he found that information had leaked.
He forged on ahead, and upon getting the final thing he needed, he decided to do the ritual right there. He had a big enough head start, and he didn’t want to risk his plans getting back to Sidious by the time he reached the location he had originally planned to conduct the ritual.
The Force was vibrating around him, the trees cracking ominously.
Blaster bolts cut through the air and got caught in the twisting Force around him. He smirked and turned his gaze onto the two running at him.
Kenobi and his commander.
They pushed past the ritual circle. Foolish. They could stowaway if they wished, but it’d likely cost them their minds.
Or, it’d cost Kenobi his. He didn’t know how it’d affect the clone.
The fact remained that neither of the Republic heroes had done what was needed to protect themselves properly.
The Force flared, and his vision whited out.
Yoda hummed as he hobbled to the front of the small group of younglings made up of different ages under the age range of their species' requirement to become an initiate. Normally Syfo-Dyas handled such a class, but he’d been bedridden by one of his migraines and had requested that the Order’s Grandmaster cover for him.
Yoda didn’t mind. He loved any opportunity to spend time with the youngest members of the Order, though he normally helped to teach the basic lightsaber katas to the ones getting closer to becoming initiates, or visiting the nursery to help care for the babies and hatchlings there, helping to shield them from the stronger fluctuations in the Force that could upset them. It was always so calm and light in the nursery, it did his old warn soul good to feel such bright lights of the Order’s future so happy and content.
But this class wasn’t either of those. This class was to help the younglings who were gifted with visions learn to cope and handle such things. There wasn’t enough younglings with the gift of foresight that warranted classes by age group like all the other classes, so they had been condensed down into one class for the younglings, initiates and padawans together. Those who were ready for more advanced lessons on the topic stayed an extra hour after the class was let out for the youngest students.
Yoda had the younglings meditating at the moment, letting them all settle themselves into a better mindset to listen and learn after several of them had reportedly had a rough night on the visions-front. The youngest of the group still needed to be guided into meditation, so Yoda had sat them down in the middle of the room with him so he could guide them into it before he stood and moved around, checking on each youngling in the force, giving them a small gentle tug if they were going too deep.
Deep meditation was a good thing, normally, but for younglings with a gift for visions, they could easily fall into one and get lost in it. That was not the goal with this, and the meditation needed to stay light, but calming.
It didn’t stay light and calming.
Without warning the Force flickered strangely, jolting the younglings out of their meditation, many of them gasping with surprise.
And then one cried out, and Yoda spun around to look at the five year old who was clutching his head, confusion, fear, and pain pulsing within his Force signature.
Whatever it was, it was not a vision. Yoda knew that much. Using the Force to make his movements swifter, the old troll rushed to the boy’s side and reached out a clawed hand to try and help the boy through whatever was happening to him.
But then Yoda himself stumbled, dropping his gimmer stick in shock as he felt one of his own bonds twist Dark before snapping with such force that he was nearly brought to his knees, his hand instead moving automatically to his own head in an attempt to nurse the mental wound.
The younglings all were vibrating with worry and panic around him, and he croaked out some calming words as he shook himself of the backlash he’d received. He’d investigate that later. First he had a youngling who needed him.
Opening his eyes he hadn’t realized had closed themselves, Yoda looked back to the boy who was gasping and screaming. Yoda once again reached out to help the boy, and then…
Something in the Force popped violently. Every single person in the room, and even Yoda himself was thrown to the floor, but the boy….
The boy was gone, and Yoda couldn’t feel his presence anywhere.
Shaking, Yoda moved to touch the spot where the boy had been sitting.
“Dismissed, class is. Return to the creche or your masters at once, you all will.” he said firmly, and the class all nodded, too shaken to do anything but obey.
Yoda turned to head to the Council Chambers where he called for an emergency meeting. It wasn’t hard to do. The entire temple had felt the disturbance in the Force, and all members of the council had headed there, same as him.
All but Yoda’s former padawan, Yan Dooku, who was also quickly reported to have disappeared from where he had been standing during the disturbance. Multiple Jedi had witnessed it…and spoke of how he had twisted dark right before he had.
Something was very wrong, and everyone agreed that the missing youngling, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was likely in serious danger, while the Jedi themselves were left without a single clue as to where to even start searching for him.
It may already be too late.
Cody groaned as he came to, his mind slowly remembering what had happened. The mission to Korda VI, Dooku doing some sort of Force osik, trying to stop it with Ob—General Kenobi at his side, and then…
And then…
Well, now. Him waking up slowly with one hell of a headache.
He cracked open his eyes and grunted as he blinked them clear a few times until he saw the dusty forests of Korda VI. He pushed himself up and sat back, intending to look around, but got distracted by his own hands.
His far too small hands. He lifted them, turning them over as he wondered why they looked like the hands of a cadet.
The arms they were attached to were also small. Skinny, lacking the muscle he’d built up through endless training. They also were draped in the red and grey tunic that was standard for a cadet’s uniform.
“What the kark?” he muttered looking down at the rest of himself. His armor was gone. His blaster gone, and his body so very small. Being so small made him feel so misplaced. Clones with a body this size belonged on Kamino, not Korda VI. But also, he was supposed to be fully grown and at his general’s side!
His General.
Dropping his hands, he looked around. A pair of leather boots were sticking out from a large bush in the distance, and Cody pushed himself to his feet and ran over to them. As he got closer he found the familiar color of Jedi Robes, though they seemed looser and baggier than what Obi-Wan wore them. He dropped to his knees and pushed the bush’s leafy branches aside to find a Jedi youngling with bright red hair, his robes only slightly too big as if designed that way so there would be room for the growing boy.
Cody just knew it was his general. It only made sense. If he was back to being cadet sized, then it wouldn’t be far-fetched for Obi-Wan to also be cadet-sized.
Though Obi-Wan was a much smaller cadet than Cody was at current. By natborn standards, Obi-Wan looked to be about maybe three or four standard years, while Cody was pretty sure he had been thrown back into his cadet body of a natborn ten standard…which, to be fair, would have been his body if the Kaminoans hadn’t forced all his brothers and him to have such advanced aging. Whatever Force osik they had gotten caught up in seemed to have simply undid that feature for him.
Cody pulled Obi-Wan out of the bush and tried to awaken him.
“General? Obi-Wan?” he gently shook his miniature general. The boy didn’t even moan. Simply lay there unmoving. Worry crashed over Cody, and he checked for a pulse. There was one, and it was normal and strong, so that wasn’t the problem. Probably the Force osik had taken a bigger effect on him because he was sensitive to it.
That’s what Cody was going to tell himself, at least. It was just going to take Obi-Wan a bit longer but he’d wake up and then they’d figure things out together.
Hopefully.
A twig snapped, and Cody was on his feet, reaching to his belt for his blaster that wasn’t there. Nothing was there. Both his and Obi-Wan’s belts were simply that, belts. They held no pouches or weapons. And oh, how he missed having his blaster or even Obi-Wan’s lightsaber when Dooku stepped into view. Unlike the two cadet-sized republic officers, the Sith was still an adult, though clearly younger as he had more black in his hair and beard than he did grey, and he had his lightsaber on his belt.
Though it was very strange to see Dooku dressed in Jedi robes. Cody didn’t know much about the Order as a whole but it felt like sacrilege to see a Sith Lord in Jedi robes.
“Fascinating, I had wondered what the Force would do with you.” Dooku drawled, stepping closer and drawing his lightsaber, though it remained deactivated. “I had guessed you’d simply cease to exist as you never existed in this time. After all, if you never existed, you had no body to be thrown back into. But how’s your mind, I wonder?”
“My mind is just fine, Dooku.” Cody snarled.
Dooku laughed, “It seems so. How unfortunate for you. I’ll simply have to dispose of you. Can’t have you sticking that little lab rat nose of yours into my business. My grandpadawan, on the other hand…” he smirked and reached out a hand like he was doing something with the Force. Cody moved to put himself between the Jedi and Sith, but it didn’t seem to bother Dooku, nor did Obi-Wan seem to be affected by Dooku’s actions, “Hmm, his mind is overwhelmed. A lifetime of memories that don’t belong in such a tiny body assaulting him all at once. It’ll be interesting to see if it drives him crazy, destroys him, or will settle. And if it settles…what memories will be left to him. Either way, I feel like between that and his young age, he could very easily be brought over to my point of view. I could raise him as my apprentice. So don’t worry, little clone, you will die knowing your beloved general will live on.”
“Kark off!” Cody snapped, gathering Obi-Wan into his arms and trying to pull the boy away from the Sith. The problem was that his cadet body wasn’t enough to do much. Obi-Wan was small, but he didn’t have the strength he once had.
Dooku took a step forward and lit his lightsaber. The blue blade even more off-putting than the robes he wore.
“Stay back!” Cody yelled, unable to help the panic in his voice.
Dooku took another step forward. Moving slowly. The Sith was toying with him.
“Why don’t you leave Obi-Wan where he is and try to save yourself, little clone? Go ahead, run. I’ll give you a head start.”
Yeah, fat chance. Cody wouldn’t abandon Obi-Wan. It was more than just loyalty to his Jedi—Cody loved him, though he could never act on it. Not during the war, at least.
“I SAID STAY BACK!” he screamed. He didn't know how but he felt himself give some sort of push—and…it worked. Dooku stumbled back slightly.
The man looked surprised as he paused to study Cody, and then a grin broke out on the man’s face.
“It seems the trip through time has left you with Force Sensitivity. Maybe you are worth keeping alive for now.” he tilted his head, “Of course, if you continue to be an annoyance, I don’t have an issue with killing you anyway.”
Keeping one arm around Obi-Wan, Cody thrust out his hand, trying to repeat the push from before. If he suddenly had the Force on his side, he was going to use it to the best of his ability! It wasn’t a blaster, but it was something.
Unfortunately, he was untrained, and Dooku now was expecting it and had braced himself for the possibility of Cody repeating his new trick.
“Oh come now, there’s no need for that, little lab rat. You should be glad you have intrigued me. You have gone from one of a million to one in a million.”
Cody stepped back again and stumbled, falling back with Obi-Wan. Thinking quick, he grabbed the rock he had tripped over and threw it at the Sith, hoping that the push he tried gave it with the Force would actually help.
It didn’t, as the Sith dodged the attack with ease and gave a disappointed sigh, “Very well.” he raised his lightsaber and started to bring it down at Cody who gasped and ducked, curling up smaller in an attempt to dodge the attack.
Before he could even smell the ozone from the blade or feel it burn into him, Cody instead heard the sound of blaster fire.
Cody cracked open his eyes, watching as Dooku fell to the ground, blaster marks littering his side and singing his robes. He looked over in the direction the shots had to have come from to find a small group of Mandalorians, all with their blaster’s being lowered. The one who had a cape over their armor holstered their blaster and moved forward, posturing in a way that said they meant no harm until they got close enough and stooped down to Cody’s level.
“Are you alright?” they asked in accented basic. Knowing their armor, they likely mostly spoke mando’a, but basic was always the safest guess when talking to someone new outside your own local system.
Instead of answering, Cody lunged forward, grabbing the Mandalorian’s blaster and turning it on Dooku, blasting his face in until it was unrecognizable. He knew enough from Maul’s continued existence that it was very hard to actually kill a Sith. Obi-Wan had cut the guy in half and still he came back over and over trying to get his revenge. He wasn’t going to risk Dooku doing the same. Hopefully shooting his brains out would be enough.
When he was done he finally relaxed and handed the blaster back to the Mandalorian, “Ori'vor'e.” he muttered.
The Mandalorian was stiff with shock as they took back their blaster.. To most, it was well hidden, but Cody knew how to read the emotions of people who lived in their armor. They looked down at the blaster, over at Dooku’s mutilated body, and back to Cody.
The others were also similarly stunned by Cody’s actions. “Did the Jetii hurt you? Hurt them?” the Mandalorian asked in Mando’a, nodding at Obi-Wan.
Cody shrugged, “It’s complicated. The bastard’s just hard to kill. Needed to make sure.”
“He went down pretty easily, ad’ika.”
Cody shook his head, “I know of a dar’jetii who was cut in half and still kept coming back looking for revenge. I wasn’t going to trust this one not to come back after a few shots to his arm and ribs. Should probably burn the body…”
“Dar’jetii?”
“Sith.” Cody said in basic.
“They’ve been gone from the galaxy for a long time, ad’ika.” they shook their head.
Cody shrugged, “I know more than you.”
The mando sighed and removed their helmet. They were human—or near it—with skin a tad lighter than Cody’s own, and long black hair pulled back in a loose tail. Their face aged and scared. “Where’s your buir’e? Why are you two alone out here?”
“We’re alone.”
“I can see that. I doubt that the jetii—dar or not—was either of your cabur.” They paused, taking in Obi-Wan’s attire, “...unless I’m mistaken?”
“We are alone.” Cody repeated, “I used to have vod’e, but now it’s just me and Obi-Wan.”
“And what is your name, ad’ika?”
Cody hesitated and bit back the habit of listing his identity number rather than his name. If Dooku was telling the truth and they were in the past, then the Republic wasn’t at war and this Mandalorian wasn’t likely to be any sort of enemy to him. They were just a person worried about the two children they came across being attacked by Dooku. And considering his brothers, who hadn't been too far behind him and Obi-Wan hadn't shown up to help, where thee Mandalorians had, he was inclined to believe that they had been thrown into the past.
“I—I’m Cody.”
“I’m Jaster of clan Mereel. He/him.” he started to introduce himself.
Cody scrunched up his face. The name sounded familiar, why did it…oh. “The Mand’alor. The leader of the True Mandalorians.” at least for a time. Until he was betrayed. Cody didn’t know all the details on that, he just knew it had happened. Boba had babbled about it at one point before the war’s start, and like everything that the clones took from their Mandalorian heritage, they grasped the language and stories they happened to overhear and shared it amongst themselves, building up their own version of the culture to the best of their ability. It was far from perfect, but it was better than nothing.
Jaster nodded, “That I am, and if you and the little one—Obi-Wan?” —Cody nodded to confirm the assumption— “If you and Obi-Wan are alone here, we can help you get back safely to your aliit. I’m sure your buir’e are very worried.”
“No one is missing me.” It was depressing to think about. He had millions of brothers, and then he had none. All he had was Obi-Wan…maybe…if he remembered Cody.
“Your buir’e?”
Cody shook his head. He didn’t have one. Jango had only wanted Boba. Never any of the rest of them.
Jaster looked saddened, “I knew that clan Fett had all been wiped out by Death Watch, but Seeing you…I had hoped.”
Cody frowned at him.
“You look so much like my adopted ad. Just a few years or so younger, really. It’s easy to guess you came from clan Fett.”
“My vod’e and I never got a clan name.” They didn’t get any names. They had to name themselves and each other, and then they clung to those names, desperate to be more than a string of numbers.
“Then you can find aliit with us, if you’d like. Both of you.”
Cody frowned. Unlike himself, Obi-Wan was likely missed. The Jedi were probably very worried, and would come looking.
Being accepted—adopted, even—sounded too good to be true, but he also selfishly wanted to stay by his general’s side.
“Ade are the future.” Jaster said gently, having taken Cody’s silence as uncertainty, “Even if you do not choose to stay with us, you will be protected until we find you a home.”
“No matter what?”
“No matter what.” he confirmed with a nod.
Cody sighed, “I stay with Obi-Wan, but he hasn’t waken up at all so—”
“We’ll have our medic look at him.”
“The dar’jetii did some Force Osik…I think it did something to him.”
That made the man hesitate, “Well, our medic doesn’t know anything about the Force, but he’ll do whatever he can. Will you allow me to carry him for you?”
Cody gave a hesitant nod. He knew he wouldn’t be efficient at doing it himself. And he could stick close.
Jaster gently scooped Obi-Wan up into his arms and stood up. “I’m taking the ade back to camp. Take care of the mess.”
“Yes, Alor!”
“Is there a reason we aren’t engaging?” Montross asked, pushing his way into the tent where Jaster was sitting, pondering over the ade he had found.
The older of the two looked so much like his Jango. So much so that the lack of armor and the fact that he was younger than Jango was at current hadn’t registered. He’d seen the Jetii raise their jetii’kad against his son. Aiming for his neck, and he was shooting before he even registered he had moved to grab his blaster. The men with him had also been quick to shoot as any Mandalorian worth their beskar would to save ade, but he was sure he shot first in his desperation to save who he’d perceived to be his son.
Of course, he did calm down and realized that little Cody wasn’t Jango, but there was something about the boy, aside from clearly being related to Jango in some way. The way the boy of (likely) ten handled Jaster’s blaster with ease, unbothered by the recoil that should have thrown the boy off, the way he seemed to brush the situation off as normal rather than act the way any child his age tends to act when facing such a scary situation…the lack of aliit the boy seemed to have…
Well, he intended to adopt the boy and give him a proper childhood. Jango would probably be happy to have a little brother. But he’d have to talk to his son first.
The younger boy was a whole other matter. Jaster wasn’t stupid. The boy, Ob-Wan, was dressed in a very Jetii-like style of clothing. If Cody was right and the Jetii they had shot wasn’t actually a Jetii, then perhaps they had just dressed up as such to be undercover and had kidnapped the little one from the Jetiise.
Which would mean that he’d have to contact the Jetiise about their missing ad. He was not looking forward to that. But before reaching out to their historical enemies, he would speak with the ad to confirm the suspicion once the boy awoke.
Montross cleared his throat, clearly waiting for an answer to his question and indicating that Jaster had stayed lost in his thoughts for too long.
He shook his head, “Our scouts have not reported back yet. We won’t make our move until we have confirmed our intel and gotten a feel for the situation.”
“I thought you personally took a small squad to do the scouting.” Montross frowned.
“Plans changed when we overheard an ad screaming. We changed courses and investigated that instead. Found some demagolka attacking two ade. The ade are with Mij getting looked over, and I sent another group out to scout.”
“Who did you send?”
“Jango took a few of his grunts out to scout.”
Montross scoffed, “You sent a bunch of ade out to do the scouting? They’ve barely adjusted to the weight of their armor!”
“They are quite capable, Montross.”
“You may as well have sent the two new ade you found!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Jango and his grunts have all passed their verd’goten’e. They are trained for this.”
Though he had little doubt that young Cody would be able to handle some level of scouting. Perhaps the boy’s been homeless and getting by with sneaky means that would give him the skills to scout a bit. It could be why the boy seemed older than he was. But again, those thoughts were for later.
“They lack the experience that literally anyone else here has. I know you’re proud of your son, but—”
“Young minds often have a unique way of looking at the world. What they lack in experience is made up for in creativity. They have the training needed to keep themselves safe while scouting, and who knows, they might just notice something I would have missed had our original plan run its course.” Jaster reached over to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I know you worry about them, but they can handle this. This job isn’t high-risk.”
Montross looked put-off, but before anything more could be said, Jaster’s comm chirped and he pulled it out to check the message.
Mij had finished checking over the ade they had picked up and wanted a word with him. Nodding to himself, he tucked his comm away and grabbed his helmet, “You’ll be the first to know once we are ready to make our move.” he told his friend before ducking out of the tent to head to the medical tent.
Entering, Jaster found that Cody was curled up with Obi-Wan on the cot, holding the younger boy close as they both slept. Mij was waiting for him, datapad in hand as he went over whatever information was displayed.
“How are they?” Jaster asked.
“As far as I can tell, Ob’ika is unharmed, but exhausted. He should awaken in his own time, though it’ll likely take a while. Cod’ika, however, is worrying.”
“He’s hurt?”
“No, health-wise he is fine, but I found two equally worrying things while scanning him.”
Jaster pulled over a seat to sit down next to the medic, “And those are?”
“First, I found a medi-ident chip. The kind used in times of war so that any medic can have access to a soldier’s medical records if needed, regardless of a proper connection to the systems that keep track of that kind of thing. Worse, the chip isn’t even blank. It has records of injuries consistent with fighting on the front lines. But curious enough, he is listed on it as commander rank, identity number CC-2224, but no actual name, heritage, or home planet listed.”
That was worrying. Where in the universe was a war happening that they were using child soldiers?! But it did explain a few things. Like how adult the boy seemed to be, and how familiar he had seemed to be with handling a blaster that should have been too much for him to handle.
“The other thing I found…was a slave chip. And given it’s location, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had some sort of mind-control capabilities.”
Jaster froze, dropping his helmet.
“Cod’ika was just as shocked when I questioned him about it. He had no idea it was there, or he at the very least had no memories of it. It’s possible that the chip suppressed memories of it.”
“What do you need to get it out of him?”
“I can’t do it here. I don’t have the equipment needed for such a delicate operation. We’d need to take him to a proper facility. He’s aware of that as he begged me to take it out of him.”
“That will be our top priority, then. Once we have liberated the missing training squad for the Korda Defense Force, we’ll head back home so we can free Cody.”
“Good. I was going to split off if you weren’t thinking correctly on the matter.” Mij approved before smirking, “And I was going to adopt Cod’ika right out from under your nose for it.”
Mij knew him too well.
To be continued…