Chapter Text
Chapter One
Cody has a limit on how much Jedi-ness he can take in a single day. Unfortunately, he hadn't prepared any good escape strategies.
This had not been the plan.
To be fair, Cody hadn’t actually expected anything to go according to one of his plans in a long time. Certainly not since meeting Kenobi. But still, it had been a nice plan. He had actually started looking forward to the ‘little bit of rest’ that Kenobi swore GAR command had promised them. In the end, that GAR promise and the accompanying ‘plan’ were both worth about as much as they always were – twenty good minutes filled with peace of mind, until he couldn’t force himself to trust in either any longer.
The plan was for their battalion to hightail it to Coruscant and drop off Poggle, the Bug-King himself, for interrogation. They would resupply as quickly as possible and head straight for Dantooine to help the 187th with cleanup. All that needed doing after that was a trip to Kamino to pick up fresh recruits.
A trip to Kamino would take 12 days, if they really stretched it out. Supposedly, they had twice that before they were needed again.
Cody hadn’t believed that for a single second.
Kenobi was far too valuable an asset to waste on an ‘easy mission’ like post-battle cleanup, must less be allowed downtime. They would be redeployed soon. And not to Dantooine. Any trooper allowed to wear 212th orange knew that, even the barely-better-than-shinies.
But he was confident enough that nothing catastrophic could happen until they’d reached Coruscant, at least. They were in desperate need of resupply. Their medical stores were run through and their armaments were nearly completely depleted. They couldn’t go anywhere or do anything until they were replenished. Not even the Senate could fuck them out of this one. The laws concerning this war might be shit on a good day, but in this instance they were surprisingly clear: when medical supplies ran below 21.26% standard stores, there could be no further deployment.
They were in desperate need of new troops too. They’d lost nearly half their numbers on Geonosis. More than any other battalion there. But there were no laws against sending clones off to die needlessly when they were hopelessly outnumbered. Besides, clones were harder to come by. You really have to go out of your way to get your hands on them.
As expected, they made it to Coruscant without anything popping up out of the Deep Black to fuck them over.
As expected, as soon as they got to Coruscant everything went to shit right off. Although it would be several more weeks before he realized just how deep that shit really ran. It hadn’t actually looked that bad from the start.
Cody supposed Skywalker’s pipsqueak of a padawan had it worse, as far as mislaid plans went. Or the men who went with her did. Because Jedi experiences were altogether unknowable to someone as ordinary as Cody. Who was he to say what’s considered a ‘bad day’ for a Force-Sensitive? In his experience, all Jedi seemed to have a rather warped sense of what’s ‘normal’. And don’t even get him started on the their mangled definition of the word ‘fine’.
If Kenobi says that to him one more time…
Cody had never wanted to know any more about the Force than he absolutely had to. The longer this war went on, the more familiar Cody got with Jedi in general and Kenobi in particular, the more he’s sure that’s the right decision. Whenever Force nonsense got involved, to hell with a plan, he’d be lucky to get out with his sanity still intact.
Those clones with Tano certainly hadn’t. Probably, anyway. None of them had woken up yet, so he couldn’t say for sure whether they got their minds back after the worms were sucked out of them. It didn’t really matter either way. Better odds than not, they would all be decommissioned anyway. The Kaminoans didn’t take any chances. And this time, not even the Jedi could keep this debacle quiet enough to pass under the their flat noses.
Geonosis had been the worst battle they’d seen yet, not even counting the outbreak of zombie worms they’d barely dodged having to deal with. Cody was still praising the lucky stars he didn’t know he had on that one. It must have been some kind of Force-Divine-Miracle, honestly. In all of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life, when had trouble ever brushed that close to the man and not stuck to him like a mag-lock seal? Never, Cody is absolutely sure.
When Alpha-17 had heard what Jedi Cody had been assigned to, the bastard had actually laughed at him. ‘Good luck,’ he’d mocked. ‘You’ll need it. Better you than me.’
Cody had puffed up with bluster. He’d read Kenobi’s file. He’d read the files of all the High Generals. As far as Cody could tell, not one of them had any experience that would lend itself to warfare or command. But Kenobi had a good strategic mind and a handful of long-term campaigns (or missions, as Jedi called them) in his youth that might be bent into some kind of understanding of extended combat. Cody could work with that. He could work with less than that, if he had to.
If any Jedi was qualified to lead this war, it was Kenobi.
He’d told Alpha-17 that. He’d told him that Cody would make sure the newly-minted 212th Attack Battalion was the best in the GAR.
Alpha-17 had only laughed harder. ‘Don’t you worry about that, Kote. You’ll be the best for sure. And you’ll be sorry for it.’
Cody had been determined to prove him wrong.
His determination had lasted no more than 3 months. Then he resigned himself to a short lifetime of hanging on for dear life while Kenobi shot through the galaxy like a high-yield speeder with its brakes cut, pinballing between all the biggest disasters in the Republic like a goddam wrecking ball.
It’s like the man was trying to win a medal for being the best punching bag in the known universe. A medal he would politely decline, of course, with endearing humility. Just like all the other well-deserved accolades Kenobi didn’t seem to care for. Fucking Jedi…
If Cody’s determination lasted 3 months, he’d known it as a fool’s errand in less than 1. But he’d not have lasted so long at Kenobi’s side if he wasn’t at least half as stubborn as the Jedi bastard himself. Cody had finally given in when they’d come across Kenobi mid-battle, impaled on a piece of duraplast, surrounded by destroyer droids, and fucking flirting with the Sith witch trying to literally kill him.
That was the first time in Cody’s entire short life that he had ever surrendered to the inevitable.
Geonosis had been the second.
He hadn’t thought they would make it through that battle. Death was always a looming threat in war. It came for the most battle-hardened and experience warriors as easily as it came for the shiniest cadets. But Cody had never let himself really think about the end. What it would mean. The regrets he tried to pretend he didn’t have. All the things he still wanted to do. The people he wanted to do them with…
It was easier not to think about it. The same way he refused to think about the ‘after the war’ Kenobi was always wanting him to talk about. It hurt too much.
But in that moment, surrounded on all sides by enemy fire, watching the tally of lost brothers rack up on his HUD, listening to Kenobi coughing up blood behind him…
Cody had surrendered then too. And not just to the inevitability of his own death. In that moment, when he thought there was no point left in keeping up the lie, he’d let himself acknowledge things he had always kept buried deep inside. Things he couldn’t take back.
Unfortunately, Cody was fairly sure there was worse waiting for them in this war than Geonosis. This war seemed to grow more terrible with every passing day. Every other month he found himself newly shocked by the depths of depravity that seemingly intelligent beings could sink into. Every time a new horror came around the corner, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t be surprised by whatever happened next; that he’s come to terms with how bleak the universe was; that he would give up hoping that people might turn out to be not-completely-terrible. And yet, when the next one came, he still found himself beating a practice droid into scrap until his fists bled and then drowning his sorrows with his brothers.
But only the brothers who were ranked high enough that he might never need to order them to their deaths. It’s hard to inspire troops to hopeless heroics after they’ve seen you passed out on the fresher floor or chucking up into your own bucket on the taxi back to base.
There were plenty of sorrows Cody would love to drown right about now. He was sorely tempted to let himself, too. But his better judgement was still winning this particular battle.
They had been on Coruscant for nearly 22 hours now. So far everything was running smoothly and going exactly according to plan. He’d finished all of his over-due paperwork, half of his almost-due paperwork, and it was looking like he might even get to that pile of when-you-get-a-minute paperwork. The resupply was running ahead of schedule, and there hadn’t even been a single stingy nat-born quartermaster or critical Seante Oversight official who he needed to bully into handing over the supplies they’d asked for.
The easy go of it had been making him twitchy with paranoia for hours.
All in all, it was rather a relief when his comm finally pinged with a new message from Kenobi. And Cody was quite certain he was prepared for whatever was waiting for him when he opened it.
He was wrong.
But not for any reason he was equipped to deal with.
Cody opened the channel immediately, accepting the call before the first ping had finished echoing through his empty bunk. Kenobi’s face manifested above the comm port on the corner of his cramped desk, already smiling warmly like there was nothing better he’d rather be doing on an afternoon of downtime.
“Cody,” Kenobi greeted. “You needn’t be so eager for new orders. We are on leave, after all. I’d been quiet prepared to leave a message.”
“Yes, sir,” Cody said at once.
It was easier that way, with Kenobi. He’d found out through some very long months of trial and error. Kenobi was always looking for a verbal spar, but if you rise to the bait there’s no telling how long the battle would last. Cody didn’t mind indulging the man, if only to see the easy comfort it seemed to bring Kenobi, but only when he was sure he had hours to spare.
“Oh, Cody,” Kenobi said fondly. “One day I’ll see you relax, mark my words.”
“Yes, sir,” Cody said again.
If he’d been wearing his bucket, he wouldn’t have to worry about whatever feeling was squirming in his gut and what it might be doing to his face. But he’d stripped to his blacks when he’d gotten to his quarters. So, just to be safe, he kept his gaze on the wall over Kenobi’s left shoulder and didn’t look directly at the man’s soft smiles.
Cody cleared his throat. “New orders, then, sir?”
“Not as such,” Kenobi sighed. “Not yet, in any case. The 212th is being brought into conversations regarding renewed efforts in the Galigann system. Nothing has been decided yet, but I would very much like to hear your opinion on the matter before commitments are made.”
Cody’s chest tightened. In a good way.
Kenobi had always been an odd one with his clones. From the very start, he’d never planned a mission without going out of his way to hear the thoughts of the men he commanded. As if a clone’s opinion mattered for anything at all. At first, Cody hadn’t trusted it. He had been certain it was some kind of trick, or more likely a test. It was so different from anything his training on Kamino had prepared him for, from everything he’d been taught that Jedi were, from what he understood a clone’s proper place to be in the galaxy.
Before he would feel nothing but suspicion when Kenobi would turn to him and ask ‘what do you think, Commander?’
Now he felt nothing but pride.
Well… not nothing. He felt other things too. He just didn’t like thinking about those things.
“Of course, General,” Cody said. “I’ll head to the bridge immediately.”
“Oh, no, Cody,” Kenobi said. “These conversations are still too informal for all that. I had hoped you might join us here at the Temple.”
Cody froze.
“The… uh… temple, sir?”
“Yes,” Kenobi said, like this was all perfectly reasonable. “We’re convening in a few hours. Whenever you can make it, Cody.”
Cody had never been to the Jedi temple before. He didn’t think any clone ever had been. It’s not like the Jedi kriffing Order needed clones to stand guard or run security.
It had never been said that clones weren’t allowed inside the temple. It just… wasn’t done.
The temple was their place. It was a private place. A special place.
Not the sort of place a clone was meant to be.
“Sir, I don’t really…” Cody hesitated, not sure how he was meant to finish. “I’m not…”
“Don’t worry about getting lost, Cody,” Kenobi said reassuringly. As if that was Cody’s problem at all. “The Temple can be a maze to the unprepared. Just come to my quarters when you get here and I’ll lead you through.”
Then Kenobi signed off, like that was the end of it.
Like this new turn hadn’t made Cody’s discomfort grow a hundred times worse. Like the Jedi Temple hadn’t been intimidating enough. Now he was supposed to wade unprepared into Kenobi’s private quarters?
Fucking kriff.
The Jedi Temple was fucking massive.
Cody had known that, objectively, before he got anywhere near it. He knew the layout of the Temple about as well as he did the layout of the Senate House. He had the highest clearance level it was possible for a clone to have, and that was enough to give him access to a whole host of useless data. It’s not like he’d seen any detailed blueprints or security codes. But he’d read the military briefing of both strategic locations. He’d even done some personal research on the history of the Jedi Order in general, which included a good deal of information on their key structures, of which the Coruscant Temple was paramount.
He knew the Senate House was a hulking giant of a building, large enough to dwarf even the floating cities of Kamino. And he knew that the Temple was even bigger. There were registered planetary moons that couldn’t hold a candle to its size or scope.
Still, knowing it all beforehand did nothing to help prepare him for standing before the massive structure, looking up at the towers that stretched far above the clouds. At the top of the tallest tower, Cody knew, was the room where the Jedi Council held their sessions. From all the way down here, it felt like a throne room for immortals and gods. Kenobi sat in one of those 12 chairs, passing judgements on the happenings of the whole galaxy.
Cody didn’t like this impression of the Jedi Council any more than he liked the feeling of his own insignificance in the face of it. It wasn’t at all in line with what he knew of any Jedi Master, much less someone as warm as Kenobi. The General had only ever set himself as Cody’s equal. If anything, they were partners in this terrible war.
And yet, there Kenobi sat high above while Cody stood far below like an ant in the shadow of a divine mountain, unable to comprehend the majesty of the highest peaks.
Cody might have stood there all day, looking up at the Temple and feeling sorry for himself, too intimidated to move on.
If it hadn’t been for the creepy-looking Jedi guards staring right at him the entire time.
It was only the lightsabers that gave them away as Jedi at all. They certainly didn’t look like any Jedi he’d seen before, or even heard of. The robes they wore were the same color as the sort Kenobi – and many of the other ‘traditionalists’, as Kenobi called them – preferred to wear. They had the same layered overtunic on top, but the armored skirts were altogether strange to Cody’s eye.
But he knew a lightsaber when he saw one, even ones as strange-looking as these. He’d seen double-sided lightsabers in holo-pics before, but these were longer even than those. They looked closer to a staff than a lightsaber, and the guards wore them slung across their backs rather than hanging at their hips. Still, lightsabers they were. Cody had become familiar enough with Kenobi’s lightsaber to pick out the components – power converter, magnetic stabilizing ring, blade shroud emitter, control dials – even from afar.
The most striking aspect of their appearance were the masks they wore. Every guard wore the same blank mask, with no more personality or expression than could be seen through the slim eyeholes. With the identical masks and the identical uniforms and the identical lightsabers, they were as devoid of any individuality or identity as Cody had felt as a clone on Kamino.
With the masks, it was hard to know where they were looking or what they were looking at. But Cody could feel their eyes on him, like scientists dissecting a bug underneath a microscope. It was just as likely to be his imagination as actual fact, if not more so. Still, it was enough to kick his shebs into gear.
He marched up the long line of steps to the Temple entrance and ducked inside quickly. It was far too easy a thing to do, from a security standpoint. The Temple didn’t even have front doors, for kriff’s sake, much less locks on them. Then again, in Cody’s experience, Jedi were deterrent enough against any foolish ideas of criminality.
There were more of those creepy guards standing around inside. Of course there were. And now that Cody was actually inside, there was no amount of bluster that could get him moving any further. He was officially as far as he could go and still pretend to have the slightest idea of where he was headed.
Cody wouldn’t put it past the Jedi to leave holomaps at every entrance so that any riffraff off the street could wander in and navigate their way to any number of disasters. No doubt, they would say something foolishly idealistic like ‘all people are welcome here’ or ‘our purpose is to serve those in need, not keep them at arm’s length.’ But if there were maps, he didn’t see them. Which meant he was going to have to ask someone for directions. And the only Jedi he could see loitering around the entrance hall were the guards in masks.
Great. Just kriffing perfect.
If he’d been paranoid about it before, he was absolutely certain those guards were watching him now. He might not be able to see their eyes behind those blank faces, but as soon Cody stepping into the building proper, half a dozen heads turned in his direction and hadn’t moved and inch.
He was just about to resign himself to stepping towards one of those motionless figures when he heard voices echoing from around the nearby corner. Wilting a little bit on the inside from relief, Cody quickly marched after them. The guards watched him as he hurried past, but didn’t move a single muscle to try and stop him.
When he rounded the corner, he found the targets he was after were much further away than he originally thought. But it was immediately clear how he had mistaken them for being so close. The high-pitched excitement of children carried easily through quiet halls. Not even the heavy calm of the Force-imbued Jedi Temple could rival the sheer energy that came with a child’s very existence. There were six children all together, each looking about the size of a 4th year cadet – whatever that meant for a nat-born in terms of age – trailing after a single adult human like a squad marching out of formation.
It took Cody a long time to catch up to the small group. He followed them down a long hallway and around another corner, feeling foolish all the while. It might well have taken longer than that – they were still ahead of him rounding the final corner – but when Cody came around the final bend, he found the whole pack of Jedi stopped and staring right at him like they’d been waiting for him to catch up.
There was no way of saying whether this was some kind of meddlesome Force intervention or if they’d simply noticed they were being tailed. Half the walls along the way were lined with reflective glass, after all, supposedly to maximize the effectiveness of natural lighting. And it’s not like Cody had been trying to go undetected. They easily could’ve just caught a glance of him.
It still seemed more likely they’d ‘sensed’ his coming. If only because Cody was all too familiar with Kenobi’s infuriating tendency to notice everyone within a 50 foot radius of himself. The man was never wrong. It didn’t matter whether the troopers were within his line of sight or not. It didn’t matter whether the troopers were trying their god-damned hardest not to be within his line of sight or not.
At least Cody had managed to get the General into the habit of not calling his brothers out when they were lurking. Not in front of nat-borns, in any case.
Suddenly faced with the undivided attention of 7 curious Jedi – one diplomatic head tilt and neutral smile, six pairs of ogling wide-eyed stares – Cody straightened to attention. But before he could so much as make a crisp salute, the Jedi adult was already speaking.
“May I be of service to you, Master Clone?”
“Uh…” Cody froze for a moment. He’d forgotten how strangely all the Jedi used to talk, back when they were still fresh-faced on the battlefield. “Yes, sir. If you’ll permit me, General.”
The woman blinked back at him, as if in surprise.
“I am a Jedi, Master Clone, not a General,” she corrected. “And I can hardly permit you to do anything at all. You are free to do as you will, as are we all.”
This time it was Cody who blinked in surprise.
The Generals used to say strange things like that too. At first, they’d seemed to feel nothing but discomfort at every military protocol that had been engrained into their Clones since birth. It had been disconcerting for Cody and his brothers – a complete contradiction to everything they’d been taught about their future wartime commanders. But the Jedi had grown accustomed to the proper way of doing things. Eventually.
It didn’t seem possible for a fully grown Jedi warrior to have gone so long into this war without getting used to the way their clones operated. Or perhaps she had just chosen not to. There were some Jedi who rejected the ways of their clones, acting hardly better than any other nat-borns. He’d never met any himself, but he’d heard terrible stories from some of his brothers.
The idea put Cody on edge immediately.
“Yes, sir,” he said stoically. When in doubt, it was always better to agree and move on, rather than let the conversation dwell in uncomfortable territory. “My General requested that I meet him here. At the Temple. I am to report to his quarters at first opportunity. But I’m afraid I don’t know the way, sir.”
“We would be honored to assist you, Master Clone.” The Jedi bowed her head slightly. “Right children?”
There was a chorus of answering ‘yes, master's.
Cody wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with six excitable Jedi children longer than was absolutely necessary. One adult Jedi was almost too much trouble for him, and they had decades of training under their belts in wrangling back their Force shenanigans. But since he had no other options – and because being anything other than politely diplomatic in Kenobi’s own home seemed almost akin to a betrayal of the man’s entire personality – he nodded gratefully.
“Thank you, sir,” he told the woman. Then he nodded to the children as well, just to do the thing proper. “Sirs.”
The children let out a wave of poorly suppressed giggles. The Master’s lips twitched, but she managed to keep her expression smoothly professional.
“Which Jedi are you here to meet, Master Clone?”
“General Kenobi, sir.”
The Master did smile this time.
“All the clans of the creche are familiar with Master Obi,” she said, causing the children gave another round of giggles. “But I’m afraid I don’t know where his personal quarters are, exactly.”
Of course.
Honestly, it might be for the better. Kenobi hadn’t strictly ordered Cody to come meet him in the Temple. He technically could just turn around and go back to the Negotiator. It wouldn’t be insubordinate at all. If he gave up now, he would have the perfect excuse. Much better than a simple ‘I don’t want to’. He would even have a witness.
But apparently it couldn’t be that easy. Before Cody could utter a single word, the Jedi started speaking again and his only chance to bow out semi-gracefully was snatched away.
“It will be listed in the directory, however. That much we can certainly do for you.”
The Master turned to the group of younglings, calling a small human boy to the front. “Ommie. Please take this man to the residence wing and show him how to find Master Obi’s quarters. Then come right back.” She gave the boy a stern look. “Without any stops. You won’t get out of meditation just because you’re late.”
Then she swept the other children away and they disappeared into the labyrinth of vast Jedi Temple, leaving one tiny human behind staring up at Cody like a second year cadet presented with a brand new DC-20S blaster for inspection.
“Hi!”
Cody bit back a grimace. He wished he’d left his bucket on. But taking it off had seemed like a slightly less threatening gesture when a grown man is following a group of children through a maze of abandoned hallways.
“Sir.”
“My name is Ommie,” the boy said obviously. “Ommie Sho. Why do you call me sir?”
“Uh…” Cody hesitated, unwilling to admit it was only because he had no idea what else he was supposed to call Jedi children. That had not been in any of his Kaminoan training. “You’re a Jedi, sir. Aren’t you?”
“I guess.” Ommie shrugged. “I’m only a crechling. My clan is still 5 months away from becoming Initiates.”
That wasn’t any help to Cody whatsoever. He had no more idea what being an initiate entailed than he knew what a crechling was.
“Which way to the barracks?” he asked instead. Then, just so he could claim he hadn’t completely abandoned any attempt at politeness, he added, “sir.”
The boy blinked at him. “What’s a barrack?”
“General Kenobi’s quarters, sir.”
“You mean the residence wing? All the Masters live there. That’s where Master Obi will be. I’ll show you.”
Cody gave a relieved, “thank you, sir.” But the boy didn’t seem to hear it. He was already trotting away.
He should have known that wouldn’t be the end of his discomfort.
As soon as they were trapped together in a lift, shooting up a dizzying number of floors, the boy turned back to him and said, “Master Oshana says the clones have a tragic fate. Do you feel tragic?”
“Uh… No?”
“Master Ak Atii says the clones are the war’s first and last victims,” he said next. “And that the clones’ very existence is proof that the order has lost its way. Do you know what that means?”
“No.”
The boy looked disappointed. “I don’t either. But it sounds pretty bad.”
By the time they were finally knocking on Kenobi’s door, Cody was just about ready to walk straight into a clanker’s blaster fire. He would absolutely prefer death or even a month in a bacta tank to spending another minute alone with any nat-born child ever again.
“Hello, Master Obi,” the boy said excitedly as soon as Kenobi opened the door. He gave a little bow, too. But it didn’t look like a very proper one. “I brought your clone.”
Kenobi smiled warmly at the child. “Yes, you certainly have.”
The boy smiled wide. He was missing one of his front teeth. “He calls me sir!”
“Does he indeed?” Kenobi turned to give Cody an impossibly fond look. “How very proper of him.”
“I have to go now,” the child said regretfully. “Master Oshana told me to come straight back after.”
Kenobi gave the boy a short Jedi bow, smiling all the while. “Well I thank you for your service, youngling.”
The boy bowed back. “Bye Master Obi! Master clone!” Then he darted away.
Cody nearly sank in relief. But the feeling was very short lived indeed. It only took him about 20 seconds to remember that this whole ordeal wasn’t nearly over yet. The overly active youngling may have gone, but Cody was still trapped in a huge Temple filled to brimming with Jedi. And now there was Kenobi to deal with. That was a whole different sort of discomfort – the emotional kind. Which Cody knew could be far more draining than a million uncomfortable childish questions.
“You seem to have made quite an impression,” Kenobi remarked.
“I didn’t realize Jedi could be so…” He hesitated, not sure how best to end the sentence without causing offense. “Not calm.”
Kenobi laughed. “Come in, Cody. No need to stand in the hallway.”
“Sir?” Cody was absolutely certain his mental wellbeing would be better served by not knowing any more about Kenobi’s living quarters than he already did. That is to say, hardly anything at all. “The briefing, sir? Shouldn’t we be heading that way?”
“It’s more of a exploratory meeting than a briefing,” Kenobi corrected. “And it’s not for some time yet. Come in, Cody. I was about to start some tea.”
“Of course, sir,” Cody sighed, resigned to his fate.
Kenobi’s quarters weren’t anything like what Cody had been expecting.
Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting. He tried not to let himself think about Kenobi in any way that didn’t directly relate to the war or his role as Cody’s General. Most certainly he’d never gone around imagining what Kenobi’s home looked like. Or his bedroom. Or anything else.
But Cody supposed he had expected something along the lines of Kenobi’s quarters aboard the Negotiator. Bare, impersonal, professional, with just a few touches of personality shown in the handful of personal items Kenobi had brought aboard – a hanging tapestry by his meditation mat, a warm blanket slung over the desk chair, a tea set and a mismatched collection of mugs. There was nothing else Cody could envision. He’d never seen anything else, unless he was counting the rubble of those houses in the war-torn villages of Ryloth or crumbling cities of Christophsis.
This was nothing like Kenobi’s shipside quarters. And it was nothing like the homes of Ryloth – even if they had still been standing. This was something in between. It was… very Kenobi.
It was easily twice the size of even the most luxurious military quarters Cody had ever seen. The space was even structured into separate rooms. There was a kitchen on one side with a small table for eating at. On the other was a pair of doors, presumably bedrooms, separated by a shared fresher. In the middle of everything was a common room of sorts, with armchairs and meditation mats scattered about.
Still, it was much smaller than any home Cody had ever seen planetside. It made sense – Jedi were supposed to be monks of a sort, and to some degree ascetic. But for all its attempts at minimalism, the living space was no less filled with personality. It wasn’t showy or grand. There were no obvious decorations or prized possessions. But everything inside seemed to speak to Cody, its message perfectly clear.
‘This is Obi-Wan. This is who the man is. This is what his soul looks like.’
In one corner, shadowed from the balcony’s sunlight by a painted screen, stood a potted plant. The ceramic of the pot was chipped and the edges worn down. The paint on the screen was bright and childish, an intricate mess of clashing colors, and in the bottom corner was the name ‘Anakin’ written in blocky, uncertain letters. The plant exploded with vines that crept up the walls and clung to the ceiling, contained only by the rays of light outside the reach of the screen.
In another corner was a pile of pillows. Each was a different color. All were well used, with frayed corners and patched with random bits of colorful fabric. There was a shelf with a smattering of strange objects, like mementoes of a well-lived life. In the kitchen was a tea collection that spanned an entire shelf, brimming with exotic tins stacked in an unorganized mess. The low tables dotted around the sitting area were piled with datapads of every imaginable type – GAR paperwork, holojournals, novels, academic papers, library records.
Just stepping inside made a wave of peace wash over Cody. This place was warm, soft, safe.
It came to Cody in a dizzying rush. This is was nat-borns meant when they talked about home. This is why they care about it so much. This was home.
Cody pushed the thought away immediately. It would do no good to dwell on it. Or even acknowledge it as a passing thought. Best to forget it entirely. He was just relieved for the moment of peace and quiet after having dealt with all the sheer Jedi-ness of larger Temple. It probably had nothing to do with Kenobi, at all.
Cody stood just inside the doorway, falling to attention for the familiarity of it, waiting for Kenobi to return. The General had slipped into the kitchen as soon as Cody came in, shuffling through his tea collection like he was trying to choose one.
Kenobi came back a few minutes later, holding a little black pouch and an electric kettle. He set both on a low table in the middle of the room. On either side of the table was a large pillow on the floor for sitting on. Kenobi lowered himself to one, then gestured to the other with his hand.
“Please sit, Cody.”
Cody did as he was bid.
He set his bucket on the floor next to him and watched as Kenobi fiddled with the tea, sprinkling dried leaves from the pouch into the kettle and setting the dial for heating.
“General…”
“No need for that,” Kenobi interrupted. “There’s no one else here, and we’re hardly on duty. Call me Obi-Wan.”
Cody absolutely would not be calling him that. But he would loosen protocol enough for “sir.”
Kenobi sighed softly to hear the honorific, but didn’t push it any further. “Yes, Cody?”
“The mission, sir,” Cody prompted. It was much more comfortable to focus solely on business. He didn’t even want to know what kind of conversation might come up naturally while sitting in a place so intimate that the General wanted him to address him by first name only. “I wasn’t aware the Galigann system had any strategic value, sir.”
“It doesn’t,” Kenobi admitted. “That’s why efforts to capture the planet were abandoned so early into the war.”
When the kettle chimed, Kenobi paused his speaking to pour the tea. Cody peered into his mug dubiously, trying to decide what to make of the brownish water. None of the leaves had gotten into his cup, at least. There must be a filter in the spout of the kettle. Or else the leave had simple dissolved. When he was done, Kenobi continued with his briefing.
“The only purpose for taking the Galigann system is to use it as a staging ground. From there, we could push into a cluster of several critical Trade Federation holdings.”
“Why did the first assault fail, sir?”
“The Trade Federation protects its assets well, and has done since long before this war started. The fortifications and planetary defenses proved greater than we expected, or were prepared to deal with. Galigann was never an essential target, so when the first push failed it didn’t seem worthwhile to redirect forces from elsewhere in the war effort.”
Cody nodded. “But with the victory on Dantooine…”
Kenobi smiled coyly when he trailed off. “You never miss a beat, do you Commander? Your cleverness astounds me.”
Cody squinted back, entirely unimpressed with the General’s attempts at flattery and unwilling to play along.
“Yes, Dantooine. Those seismic canons the Trade Federation provided for the Separatists, while technically entirely legal, were a blatant disregard for the neutrality agreement. Public opinion is starting to turn. And some think it wise to push the advantage before the Federation has the chance to recover.” He paused to take a sip from his mug. “How do you like the tea, Cody?”
Cody hadn’t tried the tea yet, and Kenobi knew it. This seemed like a very diplomatic way of ordering him to take a taste.
Keeping his face as neutral as possible, Cody took a sip. It tasted like hot water, with a bit of flavor added like an afterthought.
“It tastes like tea, sir.”
“Oh, Cody,” Kenobi said fondly. “We’ll make a tea lover out of you, yet.”
“How does that rank among all the other things you’re planning to make out of me, sir?”
“At the very top,” Kenobi said immediately. “There’s nothing more important than tea, Cody.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“I do,” Kenobi said stubbornly. “But until then, I suppose I’ll have to start keeping caf in my kitchen. I have some in my rooms aboard the ship, but it hadn’t occurred to me to have any here as well.”
Cody wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that, but there was a warm feeling spreading in his gut that had nothing to do with the hot leaf juice Kenobi was force-feeding him. If Kenobi started keeping caf in his home, it could only mean that he expected to have Cody back in them often enough to warrant it. They often spent long nights together doing paperwork in Kenobi’s quarters aboard the Negotiator, and it wasn’t long before Kenobi started having caf ready for him when he showed up. But it felt entirely different here, in the Temple, without the excuse of having his own quarters just down the hall.
“What kind of defenses can we expect?” Cody asked. Because if they didn’t get back to business very soon, he might be forced to fling himself from Kenobi’s balcony. “In the Ganligann system?”
“All the defenses that you’ll hear about in the meeting later,” Kenobi said. “There’s no need to spend more time than necessary in such bleak conversation.”
Cody frowned. “I’d rather not go into the meeting unprepared, General.”
Kenobi snorted into his tea. “I very much doubt you’ve ever been unprepared a day in your life, Cody. You are a most excellent Commander.”
To his horror, Cody felt his face go unnaturally hot. He tried to hide his blush by picking up his mug for another gulp of tea, but he doubted it was successful.
“Tea is meant to be sipped, Cody,” Kenobi told him. “Not chugged like bad caf.”
Cody took a sip. But that didn’t make it any better.
The caf that Kenobi kept in his quarters wasn’t too bad. But the standard GAR stuff was truly awful. The best strategy there was usually to drink it as fast as possible to bypass as many tastebuds as possible. Kenobi seemed almost personally offended at Cody’s attempt to do the same with his beloved tea.
“Speaking of your skills as a Commander,” Kenobi went on. “I’m meant to be teaching a class to a group of chrechlings tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to join me?”
It took a good deal of time for Cody’s brain to make sense of that. “Join you? To… teach a class? To shiny Jedi?” Then, suddenly realizing he wasn’t actually sure if a ‘crechling’ even was a shiny Jedi aside for the fact that the tiny Jedi cadet who’d led him here claimed to be one, he added, “what exactly is a crechling, Sir?”
“Children, Commander. Jedi younglings.” After he seemed to notice that Cody wasn’t the least bit enlightened by that explanation, he elaborated. “Force Sensitive children come to the Temple quiet young. They are raised in small units called clans. Almost like a clone’s ‘batch’, as I understand. They receive a standard education until they turn 10 and become initiates and learn to use the force in whatever way is natural to them. Combat, mostly, especially with this war.”
That didn’t make much sense to Cody. The clones were taught combat from the moment they started to walk. Maybe even before. It was hard to say, since none of them had good memories from that young. He had always figured Jedi were trained the same.
But he didn’t say so. In several instances, off hand comments about Cody’s upbringing on Kamino had sent Kenobi nearly to tears, for reasons far beyond Cody’s understanding. He had never been able to figure out what, exactly, would set the man off. Now he lived in fear of those sad-eyed looks. They were far too powerful.
“If crechlings aren’t taught combat,” Cody asked instead, “what could I possibly have to teach them?”
“The corruption of this war runs deep,” Kenobi said regretfully. “Deep enough, even, to touch the children we try to shield from the horror. The Masters of the Creche have decided that the children must be given some introduction to the war before they are expected to become a part of it. I would prefer to protect their innocence, but it’s not my place to contradict the Creche masters.”
“Aren’t you a council member? Doesn’t the council decide everything for the order?”
“Not at all,” Kenobi said easily. Like it wasn’t uprooting Cody’s entire understanding of the Jedi with casual ease. “The Order is vast.”
“Sure,” Cody said, deciding that he didn’t want to know any more. If the kriffing Jedi got any more complicated than they already were, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it. Today had been enough of a mind fuck already. “But I’m not sure I’m the best person to be teaching Jedi children, General.”
“Who better? Who could provide a truer understanding of this war than a clone fighting in it?” Kenobi took a long sip from his tea, giving Cody a shifty-looking side glance over the rim of his mug. “You know, Commander, teaching is a privilege.”
Cody squinted suspiciously back at Kenobi. Just from the dignified airs the man putting on, Cody was certain he was up to something shifty. And he used to say things exactly like that to Skywalker, back when he was trying to trick the man into taking on a padawan.
“I hope you’re not getting any ideas, General. I thought all that talk about padawans on Christophsis was only a ploy to get Skywalker to agree to train Tano.”
“You really don’t miss a beat, Commander.” Kenobi smiled grimly. “And there’s no need to be so cynical about it. If Anakin had remained stubborn about it, I certainly would’ve taken Ahsoka on myself. She’s an exceptional child.”
“I’m sure she is, Sir,” Cody allowed. Although he was anything but sure. He’d hardly spoken ten words to the child himself. His brothers in the 501st, Rex especially, had plenty to say about their tiny commander. But since the girl had the lot of them wrapped around her little fingers, Cody could hardly take their glowing praise as unbiased truth. “But she’s still a child. Not ideally suited for fighting in a war.”
“I would say Ahsoka has been a great benefit to the 501st, on the whole.”
“There’s a big difference,” Cody stressed, “integrating a shiny Jedi into a single legion, than setting one up in an entire System’s Army.”
The Jedi Council had split the entire GAR into 10 System’s Armies. Aside from General Yoda – who controlled the Coruscant guard alone – and General Shaak Ti – who oversaw training on Kamino – each council member was given one of these armies to command. General Kenobi commanded the whole of the 3rd System’s Army, which totaled nearly 294,000 men. No child should be given a responsibility like that. Not even a Jedi child.
If you ask Cody, the 6,000 in the 501st was already too much responsibility for a child. But, of course, no one ever did ask Cody.
“I suppose,” Kenobi allowed. “And it’s worth noting that my fellow councilors consider their responsibilities to the war too great to properly devote their attention to training a padawan. But you can’t blame me for wishing for the best.”
“You can wish for the best, General, if that makes you happy. But as a leader, it’s your responsibility to prepare for the worst. What do you think would happen if you took a padawan and then something happened to you?” As much as Cody didn’t like to think about it, not even the Jedi were immune from the dangers of battle. One day Kenobi would walk into a battle that he wouldn’t come back out of, just like all the rest of them. “Command would fall to your padawan. Do you really want a child being given that kind of authority?”
No member of the Jedi council had taken a padawan since the war began. Padawans were learners not leaders, and that sort of power wasn’t meant for the unprepared.
General Fisto had been the only one to have a padawan at the start. And Kenobi, of course. But neither had been promoted to the council until after the war began. Fisto had renounced his position as teacher almost as soon as he was given a council seat, allowing another to guide the boys last few months of apprenticeship. And Kenobi was eligible to become a Master only after Skywalker was knighted – apparently successfully training a padawan was a requirement for promotion among the Jedi.
“No,” Kenobi said quietly. He was staring down at his nearly empty cup of tea, shoulders slumped and expression dark. “You are right, of course.”
His forlorn expression made Cody’s chest clench up. But there was nothing for it. He was in the right and they both knew it. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t help anyone.
“I’m sorry, General,” Cody said softly. He was tempted to reach across the table, to take Kenobi’s hand in his own and hold tight, but he knew he couldn’t. “Maybe after the war…”
“Yes,” Kenobi said. But it wasn’t said with his usual optimism. Instead, his smile had turned brittle and sardonic. “One more thing to look forward to, after the war.”