The longer the war dragged on and the more men he watched die, the more he despised the ocean planet and the all too clean facilities and the long necked Kaminoans with their datapads recording every little detail about every little thing about them. He kept his eyes focused dead ahead as he passed through the facility despite the fact that he had his helmet on, and knew they couldn’t tell where he was looking.
Call it a precaution, call it habit, keep your head down and do what you’re told and don’t ask questions and you won’t put yourself at risk for their attention and cold, heartless stares as they marked you down as a problem. He didn’t breathe until he stopped outside a darkened room that held rows upon rows of cradle like pods.
This was what he hated the most, however, he thought as he stepped into the room where the newborns were kept. For all the things the Kaminoans did to them, this was the part that broke his heart the most.
He was probably breaking some protocol, entering the nursery where a seemingly endless number of infants slept in varying degrees of silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he pulled his helmet off and set it down quietly on the table by the door.
They were all so small, he thought, making his way down the rows. So fragile and young and peaceful, and yet in less than a decade they would be fully grown men with blasters in their hands marching to their deaths.
Further down one of the rows, a cry went up, almost as if the infant had heard Cody’s thoughts. Heart twisting, he made his way down the row until he was at the pod where the crying infant was. It screamed, kicking and red faced, tears rolling down its face.
Expression drawn, Cody reached one hand into the pod, brushing a finger against the infant’s chubby cheek. The wailing subsided and the baby opened its eyes, staring up at Cody with watery golden eyes before it made a happy sound, and grabbed at his finger with a tiny, uncoordinated hand.
A faint smile crept onto Cody’s face as the tiny hand just barely wrapped halfway around his finger. It was a small wonder, how little the baby was. He couldn’t quite believe it, let alone believe that he had ever been so small. Gurgling laughter escaped the infant as it kicked its feet, reaching for Cody with its free hand.
With bated breath, Cody carefully pulled his finger from the baby’s grasp, then reached into the pod and gently picked it up, shifting slightly to cradle it in his arms. He made sure to keep the blanket between the baby and his armor to cushion it. The baby seemed delighted, a wide, toothless smile on its face, and its hands balled in tiny fists that jerked sporadically.
After brushing the reminiscent tears from the baby’s cheeks, Cody slowly rocked the baby in his arms, humming quietly. The baby continued to laugh, grabbing at his face and hand. Affection warmed him as he let the baby take his hand. A quiet chuckle left him at the sight of the endless fascination that lit the baby’s face. At least, until the baby tried to stick his fingers in its mouth.
“Ah- no, sorry kid, can’t let you do that,” he murmured, curling his fingers just out of reach. “Can’t tell you where these have been. Don’t want you getting sick.” The baby made a sound of protest that was quickly interrupted by a wide yawn. Cody’s gaze softened as he watched the baby’s eyelids begin to drop and its motions begin to slow. Before he knew it, the baby was asleep.
Cody watched it for a moment, continuing to sway as it slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of what the future held for it. Uselessly, he knew, he prayed that it might stay that way. That this child and every other one in the room would never face combat. That he could win the war so that they would never know everything he did.
Brow creasing in a tiny frown, he lifted the baby up slightly to press a gentle kiss to its forehead. For protection. For luck. For peace. He held onto the baby for a few moments longer, unable and unwilling to give it back to Kamino, and then his comlink beeped, signaling that it was time to leave. With a heavy heart, Cody gently placed the baby back in its pod, thankful that it didn’t wake upon leaving his arms.
Careful to avoid looking at its identifying number, he made his way out of the darkened room briskly, almost desperately, grabbing his helmet and shoving it on as he left. It was better if he never knew what happened to the baby. It was easier to depart with the last memory being one of an infant sleeping soundly in the only safety it or any other clone would ever know.
That was what he preferred to remember, and so that was what he kept in his heart as he left the planet. A moment of peace and family and comfort. A moment where someone came to comfort them when they cried instead of having to learn to hide their tears behind their helmets because nobody cared.
He continued to pray that the war would end before those children had blasters put in their hands and the horrors of war put in their minds.
“Have fun,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan could practically hear the smirk
in his voice. He smiled, unable to stop himself. He knew the teasing was
kindly meant, a cover for Cody’s worry over his safety while traveling
alone, and their impending loneliness while Obi-Wan was back on
Coruscant reporting to the High Council, and Cody remained with the
fleet.
“Fun? Perish the thought. A Jedi comes to serve,” Obi-Wan returned in
the same vein, fond and wry and aching to be back before he’d even
gone.
“Hmmmm. A Jedi is a pain in my ass,” Cody said, softer now, almost growling even through the vocoder of his helmet.
“Language dear, what will the men think?” Obi-Wan chided heatlessly.
He brushed his fingers over the small speakers that covered Cody’s
mouth, wistful despite that they’d already shared goodbye kisses until
they were breathless.
“That I’m a Force-damned saint for putting up with your nonsense,” Cody answered.
“You love me,” Obi-Wan insisted.
“I do,” Cody affirmed needlessly, practically emanating his love to
Obi-Wan’s senses. Obi-Wan did not promise he would return soon, did not
promise he would return at all. Those were promises he might not be able
to keep, not when he carried the knowledge that identified their
greatest enemy with him. Cody knew his Jedi would trade his life without
hesitation, if he thought doing so might save another. To save the
galaxy? The Republic? There was no question.
“Have fun,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan could practically hear the smirk
in his voice. He smiled, unable to stop himself. He knew the teasing was
kindly meant, a cover for Cody’s worry over his safety while traveling
alone, and their impending loneliness while Obi-Wan was back on
Coruscant reporting to the High Council, and Cody remained with the
fleet.
“Fun? Perish the thought. A Jedi comes to serve,” Obi-Wan returned in
the same vein, fond and wry and aching to be back before he’d even
gone.
“Hmmmm. A Jedi is a pain in my ass,” Cody said, softer now, almost growling even through the vocoder of his helmet.
“Language dear, what will the men think?” Obi-Wan chided heatlessly.
He brushed his fingers over the small speakers that covered Cody’s
mouth, wistful despite that they’d already shared goodbye kisses until
they were breathless.
“That I’m a Force-damned saint for putting up with your nonsense,” Cody answered.
“You love me,” Obi-Wan insisted.
“I do,” Cody affirmed needlessly, practically emanating his love to
Obi-Wan’s senses. Obi-Wan did not promise he would return soon, did not
promise he would return at all. Those were promises he might not be able
to keep, not when he carried the knowledge that identified their
greatest enemy with him. Cody knew his Jedi would trade his life without
hesitation, if he thought doing so might save another. To save the
galaxy? The Republic? There was no question.
Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, reading again over the ‘pad. The tension
was thick in the room; Cody, Poke, and the slicers Phreak and Hax
waiting on Obi-Wan’s reaction. This information – Obi-Wan shuddered to
think of the chaos that could result if it was made public without very
careful and deliberate setup. The slicers had been working hard at
decoding the chips the medics removed from the men, and Obi-Wan had
known in his gut that the chips were bad news.
This though – Obi-Wan had accepted that Dooku might have been telling
a version of the truth, that the Sith Lord might be at the heart of the
Senate. But the orders spelled out before him – only the Supreme
Commander of the GAR could activate them. And the Chancellor – who had
served long past the end of his term, acquiring unprecedented executive
powers – who was his Padawan’s friend and confidant – the Chancellor was
the Supreme Commander of the GAR.
“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked Cody, who had delivered the damning
report. Cody nodded grimly. “It’s not that I disbelieve you,” Obi-Wan
said, and Cody’s mouth thinned into a tight smile of understanding.
“I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Cody admitted.
“We can’t trust it to a transmission,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “I
assume other battle groups are attempting to replicate our efforts?”
“Yes, although I haven’t heard that any of them have gotten this
far,” Cody affirmed, clearly the spokesman for their little group at the
moment.
“Alright. I’ll request an in person meeting with the Council to
present this, and ask them to hold off on action until we have
corroborating reports. We’ll need a solid plan for when we do take
action,” Obi-Wan declared wearily, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Cody
nodded. Everything would need to be perfect for them to depose the
Chancellor, and if the Sith had the slightest inkling that they
suspected him – Obi-Wan shuddered at the possible outcomes. No. They
would have to operate with the utmost secrecy and care.
The others quietly filed out, their duty complete, leaving Cody and
Obi-Wan alone in the office. For long moments, neither spoke, the
silence lengthening.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Cody sighed.
“If you blame yourself,” Cody warned, and Obi-Wan let out a soft huff.
“No, I’m not so arrogant as that,” Obi-Wan affirmed wryly.
“Arrogant hmm?” Cody asked, going to Obi-Wan and tugging off his
gauntlet and glove so he could sink his fingers into his Jedi’s hair.
“Don’t think I’ve heard that one in a while.” Obi-Wan, who had tipped
his head into Cody’s palm, flushed slightly. “Your ad in a strop again?”
Cody asked gently, and Obi-Wan’s flush deepened. “Please remember what
we were all just thinking and where he spends all his spare time not
with Amidala.” Obi-Wan blanched at the implications, going a bit green
around the edges as the guilt sank in deeper.
“Cody,” Obi-Wan nearly whimpered, and Cody swept Obi-Wan up into his arms, enfolding his beloved.
“We’ll fix it,” Cody promised in a low growl. “I won’t let him steal
your ad.” Obi-Wan nodded, clinging close and trying not to shudder with
terror when he thought about how long the Chancellor – the Sith Lord at
the root of this war – had had unquestioned access to his beloved
Padawan. Just how much of their interpersonal strife, Obi-Wan couldn’t
help but wonder, had been seeded by the Sith? How much of Anakin’s
rebelliousness and anger was insidiously influenced by the Dark side?
Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, reading again over the ‘pad. The tension
was thick in the room; Cody, Poke, and the slicers Phreak and Hax
waiting on Obi-Wan’s reaction. This information – Obi-Wan shuddered to
think of the chaos that could result if it was made public without very
careful and deliberate setup. The slicers had been working hard at
decoding the chips the medics removed from the men, and Obi-Wan had
known in his gut that the chips were bad news.
This though – Obi-Wan had accepted that Dooku might have been telling
a version of the truth, that the Sith Lord might be at the heart of the
Senate. But the orders spelled out before him – only the Supreme
Commander of the GAR could activate them. And the Chancellor – who had
served long past the end of his term, acquiring unprecedented executive
powers – who was his Padawan’s friend and confidant – the Chancellor was
the Supreme Commander of the GAR.
“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked Cody, who had delivered the damning
report. Cody nodded grimly. “It’s not that I disbelieve you,” Obi-Wan
said, and Cody’s mouth thinned into a tight smile of understanding.
“I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Cody admitted.
“We can’t trust it to a transmission,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “I
assume other battle groups are attempting to replicate our efforts?”
“Yes, although I haven’t heard that any of them have gotten this
far,” Cody affirmed, clearly the spokesman for their little group at the
moment.
“Alright. I’ll request an in person meeting with the Council to
present this, and ask them to hold off on action until we have
corroborating reports. We’ll need a solid plan for when we do take
action,” Obi-Wan declared wearily, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Cody
nodded. Everything would need to be perfect for them to depose the
Chancellor, and if the Sith had the slightest inkling that they
suspected him – Obi-Wan shuddered at the possible outcomes. No. They
would have to operate with the utmost secrecy and care.
The others quietly filed out, their duty complete, leaving Cody and
Obi-Wan alone in the office. For long moments, neither spoke, the
silence lengthening.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Cody sighed.
“If you blame yourself,” Cody warned, and Obi-Wan let out a soft huff.
“No, I’m not so arrogant as that,” Obi-Wan affirmed wryly.
“Arrogant hmm?” Cody asked, going to Obi-Wan and tugging off his
gauntlet and glove so he could sink his fingers into his Jedi’s hair.
“Don’t think I’ve heard that one in a while.” Obi-Wan, who had tipped
his head into Cody’s palm, flushed slightly. “Your ad in a strop again?”
Cody asked gently, and Obi-Wan’s flush deepened. “Please remember what
we were all just thinking and where he spends all his spare time not
with Amidala.” Obi-Wan blanched at the implications, going a bit green
around the edges as the guilt sank in deeper.
“Cody,” Obi-Wan nearly whimpered, and Cody swept Obi-Wan up into his arms, enfolding his beloved.
“We’ll fix it,” Cody promised in a low growl. “I won’t let him steal
your ad.” Obi-Wan nodded, clinging close and trying not to shudder with
terror when he thought about how long the Chancellor – the Sith Lord at
the root of this war – had had unquestioned access to his beloved
Padawan. Just how much of their interpersonal strife, Obi-Wan couldn’t
help but wonder, had been seeded by the Sith? How much of Anakin’s
rebelliousness and anger was insidiously influenced by the Dark side?
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