Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grief

The Force howled

Lights, extinguished.

Darkness with claws and teeth.

Ripping, tearing

Devouring

…

Grief

Sandstorms choke the oxygen from lungs

Sand scours cloth from flesh and flesh from bone.

So does lava.

…

Grief, whirling.

The eye of the storm

Lukkema

Sandstorms scour.  They flay. But, eventually, they pass.

…

Anakin opens his eyes to pain.  This is… a medical facility?  He reaches and the Force screams and the sandstorm rises again, a howling shield between burning flames and the dark.

He is always burning.

…

Anakin opens his eyes to pain.  He is… kneeling?  Depur exalts above him.  Everything is red.

"I will obey, Master," he says with cracked lips and screaming lungs, his throat dry, so dry.

He is used to thirst, this is something more.

He finds that he has to use the Force to stand again, his legs unfamiliar and clumsy.  Hot, tight skin and the pins and needles of nerve damage.  He climbs to his feet… are they his feet?  Didn't Obi-Wan?  The pain rises and the sandstorm rises and he is swept away again.

…

He dreams.  Shouts, screams echo through the susurration of the storm.

"Close yourself off, Anakin!"

"This isn't you!  Please Anakin, raise your shields!"

"You're my brother, Anakin!  The Darkness has clouded everything, it isn't too late!"

"It isn't too late!"

And his own voice, screaming.  "Don’t lie to me!"

"I have failed you, Anakin.  Perhaps if I were a better Master…"

"A better Teacher…"

"Anakin!"

"Anakin!"

"Anakin…"

…

He wakes.  This is… a hyperbaric chamber?  Control panels flicker around him, lighting the space in a mixture of white, green and blue.  There is no red.  He glances up to see a nightmarish black helmet hanging above.

He reaches out one scarred finger to press the unlit blue button just within reach.

"M-medical report," he orders the unit through a mouth so dry his lips crack on the first word, the stinging pain of split skin almost unnoticed, drowned out by the pain of moving his arm.

"Lung function improved by 2.8%.  Digestive tract repair complete.  Do you wish for a summary of past completed procedures?"

"No."

"Do you wish for a summary of future scheduled procedures?"

"No."

The unit flashes for a moment and then goes dormant.  Anakin twists the knob that controls the main lights and looks down at himself.  His prosthetic hand is damaged and in dire need of maintenance.  He has extensive burn scarring across the top of his thighs.  One leg is prosthetic below the knee, the other now ends at his upper thigh.  The prosthetics are…trash.  He could have built better from scraps out the back of Watto's junkyard.

He shifts, ignoring twinges of pain, and reaches for the drawer marked 'bacta'.  The unit starts to protest, and he overrides it without much thought.  He applies a whole tube of bacta to the burn scars that litter what is left of his limbs and the buzzing in his head subsides a little as the pain of scorched nerve endings eases.

It is a little easier to think.

Digestive tract repair complete.

He looks down at his abdomen, at the port for a feeding tube that has been grafted in, and lifts his flesh hand to his throat.   There should be…

There.

He pushes the correct button and a thin hose descends from the top of the pod.  Water.  He bites at the flexible end and cool liquid fills his mouth, washing away tacky saliva and the dried fruit sweetness of bottled oxygen.

Standing in line waiting for water rations as the dry dust of a Tattooine summer fills his mouth and nose.  The relief of that first splash of lukewarm water washing the grit away. 

The sandstorm threatens to rise again but Anakin pushes back.  Lukka has hidden him, as Lukka hides all brave enough to face his winds, but the time of hiding is over.

The water soothes his dry throat and he drinks sparingly before letting the tube fall again.  To his left, there is a dormant control panel.  He hits the right combination to bring it online.

First, he must find out his own capabilities.  Then he must find out where he is, although the familiar resonance of engines through the metal chamber surrounding him already tells him that he is on a Venator class Star Destroyer.  He needs intel before making a move.  The last weeks… months?  Of his life are a confusing mess of images and orders and strange, blank spaces.

The screen presents cold facts and impersonal statistics.

He was ruined.

But he is healing.

His lung function is at thirty percent, and the black armor that he has been avoiding looking at is currently his only way of surviving outside of the hyperbaric chamber.

The Hyperbaric chamber has had its processes overridden to return him to, at best, fifty percent functionality.

Anakin is enough of a slicer to fix that, at least.

He enters the final command.  Immediately, equipment whirs into motion around him and he sinks into unconsciousness.

…

Anakin wakes to pain.

But the pain is so much less that the relief brings tears to his eyes.

He must not waste water.

Without the programed restrictions, the chamber has done a much better job.  The prosthetic legs are still terrible, but the connection ports are no longer inflamed and when Anakin slips his legs from the padded rests and climbs tentatively to his feet, he is steady.  The burn scars are reduced and more comfortable, no longer pulling with each movement.  The feeding port is removed and his throat feels stronger.

He reconfigures the pod to turn the medical procedure bed into a padded chair, retrieves a nutrient pouch from the storage drawer and sits down, using the force to pull the one data screen in the pod into an easy reading position.

He is not yet ready to leave.

He is not yet ready for the suit.

Thankfully, when running at full capacity, the pod is fully capable of sustaining him for days or even weeks.  Under the restrictions programmed in, it was only suitable to sustain life for mere hours.

Anakin grew up hating Depur and all of his ways.  This hatred is nothing new.  Depur, chain giver, wears many faces.

Anakin has been chain blind, taken in by the Jedi's belief that they are free despite the restrictions of the Senate.

Anakin has been depukrekta.

He needs to find out what has happened to his men.

…

It has been fourty-two days since Order 66 was given and the Jedi order fell.  During that time the GAR has been put under the authority of the Navy Officers and assigned to a series of disconnected missions with the worst casualty rates Anakin had seen since Krell had fallen to darkness.

Thousands of Storm Troopers have joined the ranks, graduates of training camps Darth Sidious had quietly arranged on overlooked planets.

Darth Vader had been given five star destroyers and tasked with hunting down traitors to the Empire once he had been released from the medical facility on Mustafar.

That was… six day ago.

Five star destroyers could easily hold fifty thousand men.

It is time to be Ekkreth.

Chapter Text

CC-1119 isn't sure what to think when Darth Vader doesn't show up on the bridge of the newly repainted Solidarity at the beginning of the day shift.  They're in hyperspace, on the way from Coruscant to the first of the fifty seven planets on the list.  They will be in hyperspace for three days. Perhaps Vader considers this downtime?

The thought feels wrong. Sky- the General had always checked in at the beginning of day shift.

CC-1119 leaves the bridge and heads into a nearby communication room before checking the records.

Darth Vader is listed as being on temporary medical hold.

CC-1119 viciously stuffs down the urge to remove his helmet and rub his hands over his face. This is no longer the GAR, that has been made perfectly clear to them. He cannot afford to be Appo.

Good soldiers follow orders.

...

Seven hours later, CC-1119 is still on the bridge when an aide approaches, looking nervous.  "Transfer orders, sir," he says, handing over a datapad.

The three stormtrooper regiments that have been struggling to integrate with Clone training and tactics for the past five weeks have been reassigned.  To bolster numbers, they will be taking on the remains of eight different battalions that have seen heavy losses recently.  The code at the bottom says that Darth Vader has authorised the transfer.  CC-1119 has no reason to question it.

He adds his own authorisation and passes the datapad back to the aide.

Then he heads into the darkened communication room.  A copy of the orders is already available to him when he logs into a terminal.  With fingers that he refuses to let shake, he dials a code from memory.

There is a long moment while he stares at the screen and waits for a connection.  Then, finally, a familiar helmet appears.

"CC-2224, you and your men are ordered to report to the Solidarity.  Your reassignment order should arrive shortly."

He can see the way that Cody stiffens in surprise.  "Thank you for the warning, CC-1119," his brother replies after hesitating for just a moment too long.  "Do you know the reason for this transfer?"

"All Stormtrooper units are being reassigned," Appo tells him, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. "Eight… eight clone battalions are being transferred in to replace them."

He can see the way that Cody focuses in at that news.  "Just clones?" his brother asks.

Appo shrugs helplessly.  "Just clones," he confirms. "The stormtroopers were having difficulty integrating."

They sit in silence for a long moment.  Appo is wondering if he dares to say anymore.  He should wait.  His brother will arrive soon, and hopefully together they can try to make some sense of the mess that their lives have suddenly become.

The ping of an incoming message breaks the silence.  "Transfer orders received, CC-1119," Cody confirms.  "We will rendezvous with the Solidarity."  He ends the call there and Appo is glad that he did, glad that the temptation to break away from the regulated mindset of CC-1119 has been taken away.  He takes a deep breath, checks his datapad, and dials the next number.

…

CC-1119 is on the bridge when the Solidarity exits hyperspace over Murkhana.  He is glad that his helmet hides his face when he sees the telltale gleam of several ships waiting for them.  Ships full of his brothers.

Vader had arrived on the bridge several moments earlier, and he had nodded at CC-1119 in a familiar way, although they haven't spoken.

Now though, he turns to the commander, the red lenses set into his helmet flashing eerily under the harsh lighting.  "Commander.  Commence troop transfer and redeployment."

"Yes sir."

"You have three hours.  Once complete I require you and Com- CC-2224 to report to my office.  We will be sending Delta Squad to the surface, advise them to prepare for deployment."

"Yes sir."

CC-1119 makes his way to the communication room.  He briefly wonders if perhaps he should just move a bedroll in and stay there permanently.

His brothers are all lined up neatly in front of their transports within fourty five minutes of docking, identical duffel bags set neatly by their identical boots.  The storm troopers on the other hand, are a kriffing nightmare.  CC-1119 had told them that they had an hour and a half, because he knew that it would take at least an hour for the droids to run a decom cycle on their bunks and he wanted his brothers to have somewhere clean to put their kit down. 

Apparently nat-borns, even those from Stormtrooper boot camp, can't pack for osik.

They were running perilously close to the three hour deadline before he was able to give the signal to move, and then he waited in relief as his brothers file past him in orderly lines.  The Stormtroopers making their way onto the transports that had dropped his brothers off don't look nearly as polished.  CC-1119 hides his derision under his helmet and turns to leave, only to nearly run into Darth Vader.

His breathing unit was a lot less obvious than it had been when he had come aboard ten days previously.

"This is why, Commander," Vader says.  CC-1119's confusion must be obvious in the force, because after a moment he elaborates.  "If anyone should ask why my unit is composed only of Clones, tell them of this transfer."

"Yes Sir," CC-1119 agrees.

CC-2224 approaches with another clone, possibly Waxer, and hands over his bag.  Appo really, really hates that the new regulations have had them stripping their paint.  "CC-2224, reporting for duty Sir," he says, facing Lord Vader for the first time with his back straight and his chin up.

"Welcome to the Solidarity, Commander," Vader replies.  "Follow me."

Appo and Cody keep a discreet distance until they reach the lift and then, to his surprise, Vader looks at them for a long moment and then deliberately steps in front of the security camera and turns his back.  Appo takes a millisecond to realise that this is the most overtly Skywalker action he has seen from the man since the Order was given as he reaches for Cody.  The two clash together, plastoid plates clattering quietly as they embrace.  Appo holds his brother for as long as he dares, feeling the solid warmth of him seeping through his blacks.  Alive.  Here.  Together.

Vader scrapes a boot deliberately on the grating a few seconds before the lift doors open, giving them plenty of time to separate and stand at attention.  The corridor is full of clones in white armour and other personnel in shades of green and grey.  They join the crowd, keeping pace with Vader as his very presence cuts a path through the busy hallway, and then turn off into a much quieter side passage, and then turn again into an area that CC-1119 had thought was reserved for droid maintenance.

Vader opens an unmarked door at the end of the hall and gestures them inside.  It is… a workshop.

"My new office," he says.  "Please have a seat."

"Sir?"

"The old one was… unsuitable."

Cody and Appo sit.  Many things have seemed surreal since the Emperor executed Order 66 and declared the Jedi order traitors to the Republic, but this is possibly the worst one yet.

"I wish to discuss several changes with you," Vader says quietly.  "But first."  He reaches onto one of the shelves and presses a button.  A red light blinks into existence and all of a sudden, a haze of apathy he hadn't even really noticed clears from his mind and Appo can think clearly for the first time in weeks.

"Osik!" he curses, ripping off his helmet.  Next to him, Cody has clenched his fists into his stomach and burst into tears, horrible gut wrenching sobs that skid the chair he is sitting in across the floor.

"Comfort your vod, Appo," Vader-Anakin Skywalker orders from behind oil slick black plastoid and red glass.  "We do not have long, but there is time enough for this.  You didn't kill him, Cody.  Obi-Wan lives."

With that little tidbit of news, Cody calms quickly and he is soon drying his face on a rag Anakin produces and sitting up tall.

"The Sith screwed us," Skywalker says bluntly.  "You were screwed before you were decanted, from the records I've found.  They're not hiding them anymore.  I… the Jedi masters at the temple actively encouraged my friendship with the Chancellor.  With a Sith.  From when I was nine."

"You didn't have a chance either, Sir," Appo dared to reassure him.

Skywalker shrugged, shuffling his boots on the metal floor of the workshop.  "Not once he executed the order.  I… the Force… I couldn't, I'm sorry, I-"

"It's all right, Sir," Cody interrupts him.  "I can't promise I get it, but I get enough."

"It messed with my brain, my sense of self, my sanity," Skywalker said bluntly.  "But the Force is calming now, and with it my mind.  I came back to myself… four days ago."

"And moved your office to maintenance?" Appo asked.

Those eerie red lenses looked around the cluttered room, far less sterile than the rest of the ship now that all the personality has been declared contraband and stripped out.  "I've always liked droids.  And my hand needed maintenance.  And whoever installed these legs was… besides, it's far less obvious to activate a jammer in here."

"How long is the range?" Cody asks.  "Will the- will the chips reactivate once we leave?"

"Not unless you receive another order," Skywalker assured him.  "You should be back to the way you were during the war."  He sits back and squares his shoulders, body language resolute and determined.  "I'm going to free everyone, I promise.  But I need to get the Imperial personnel moved off ship first, so it might take a few months.  And I need to get the rest of the clone battalions moved here.  And keep up appearances with the Emperor. We're initially supposed to be confirming Jedi deaths and checking for leads on missing members of the order, which will take us all over the galaxy. I'm hopeful that we can pick up most of them."

Cody frowned.  "We have room for… Ten thousand men a ship? If you replace all the support crews with Clones?"

"Best to stagger it," Appo advises.  "Put a squad on it.  Can't make too many transfers, people will notice."

"What’s the long term goal, sir?" Cody asks.

Skywalker slumps forward as far as he can in the life support suit, pressing gloved hands against his helmet.  "Still working on that," tells the floor.  "I don't…. The Jedi had their problems.  The Knights especially.  But the Knights were only one of Five Jedi Corps.  And the Sith aren’t any better.  And there's this prophecy that’s… it's probably the only reason the Jedi trained me at all.  It says that I have to bring balance to the force.”

Appo and Cody consider that for a long minute.

“Do we even believe in prophecies?” Cody asks after a moment.

“Sounds like a load of osik to me,” Appo replies.

“I… have seen some things that make me inclined to believe in them.  Prophecies.  But they were always tricky in the stories.  So…. I’m being Ekkreth.”

Cody and Appo share a helplessly confused glance.   Cody arches an eyebrow and wins their silent stand off.

“Ekkreth?”

Skywalker tilts his helmet back.  “It’s not important.” He says after a long moment.  “I… I’m going to free the clones.  And then maybe some slaves.  And see if we can remake the Jedi order into something better, more balanced.  Under Darth Sideous’ nose.  Are you in?”

Well, there’s only answer to that.

“Oya!” Cody and Appo say together.

Chapter Text

As soon as the man had deliberately put himself in front of a security camera and given them privacy to reunite, Cody had suspected that they were somehow dealing with Skywalker instead of Vader.  As the days turned into weeks it became more obvious that Skywalker wasn't the same General that Rex had always complained about down at 79s, but he also wasn't the insane murdering Sith apprentice he had expected to have to deal with, so.  Silver linings and small mercies. 

Cody, as one of the few surviving CC units, was somehow put in charge of the secret mission to replace all personnel on all five venators with Clones in such a way that the nat-borns didn’t notice.  It did make sense for it to be him - Appo was already in charge of the fleet, but it wasn't what he had expected to be doing.

He hadn't expected much of anything.  Dying?  He had always expected to die. 

Ongoing life under the Emperor was a new, unexpected challenge. 

Rumours of rebellions, or possibly just one Rebellion, had started to spring up here and there, which added a new layer of complexity to things but also a possible opportunity, which is why Cody is currently picking his way through knee high spiky vegetation in a very drippy rainforest hoping to find someone willing to actually talk to him rather than shoot him.  He has a white pillowcase tied to a stick in the vague hope that it might make the sentients he is tracking down let him speak before firing at him.  He is also carrying three blasters and twelve power packs, a set of grenades and a vibroknife.  He is not an idiot.

Well he is.

But hopefully not too much of one.

A stick snaps to his left.  He spins in place and dodges a blaster bolt that smashes harmlessly into a tree.

"I just want to talk!" he yells out quickly.

"Empire scum!" comes the expected insult.

"That's what I want to talk about!"

There is a moment of silence, then a series of hissed whispers, and critically, no more blaster bolts.  "What?" asks a different voice.

"Not like we had much choice, ok?" Cody yells back, letting the frustration he's been battling with since Skywalker deactivated his chip colour his voice.  "We were created to fight for the Republic, we still don't have sentient rights on pretty much every planet out there, and for all that the Senate technically still exists, the Clone Rights bill seems to have disappeared along with Senator Amidala," he sighs.  "I… things aren't what they seem on the surface, ok?  I came to ask if I could have a conversation with one of your leaders."

"A conversation?" asked the first voice sceptically.

"Yeah.  Can you help me?"

More hissing whispers, the conversation goes on for longer this time.  Cody is pretty sure that there are four of them, hiding behind a large fallen tree trunk about ten meters away.

"All right," comes the eventual conclusion.  "We'll help you find someone to talk to."  The expected four beings extracted themselves from the foliage behind the log Cody had already marked as their most likely hiding spot.  One of them immediately walks off and starts talking into a comm unit, while the other three eye Cody warily.

They stand in awkward silence until the fourth Rebel rejoins them.  "They’ve agreed to a meet," she says, looking disgruntled.  "A klick south.  No sudden moves."

Cody bites down the urge to reply 'Roger Roger' as he suspects that they will not find it as hilarious as his brothers would, and instead turns south and starts walking.  He really hopes that he isn't about to get shot in the back.  Trust has to start somewhere, right? 

The forest doesn't get any drier but the spiky vines do seem sparser when they stop in a small clearing.  A short being is waiting for them, features muffled by green and tan fabric and a pair of flight goggles.  Cody wonders if he really had a chance of recognising the being or if the rebellion are just hedging their bets. 

"Speak," comes the tense instruction.  His escort have arranged themselves around the outskirts of the clearing, two facing in and two on watch.  The supposed leader he has walked to meet appears to be alone.  He just has to hope that they really have enough authority to make decisions. 

"The Clone Army was created to serve the Republic, ordered by the Jedi," he begins.  "This is what all the propaganda has told you.  This is a lie.  The Clone Army was created because Emperor Palpatine ordered our creation.  We were created as part of a larger plan to subdue the Galaxy into accepting his rule.  We have no rights.  We have precious few belongings.  We were decanted with control chips in our brains that suppress our free will and change our behaviour under specific circumstances.  We are not born Free, and we are not Free now."

Cody has practised this speech in his head many times.  He always imagined that he would be telling it to more than one impassive-seeming being.

"We are working quietly, under the Emperors nose, to gather our brothers into one fleet, leaving the rest of the Imperial Army to the storm troopers and the nat-born command crews," he continues.  "We are taking out our control chips, but this is just the first step.  There are Brothers out there that are… unsuited to this subtle rebellion.  They have nowhere to go, for we have never had a planet of our own and few even consider us a People.  Some want to fight the Empire, to fight back against the being that bought them.  There are other brothers that just want peace.  Will you help us?"

The rebel leader held up a hand and Cody obediently lapsed into parade rest and waited for his response.  He did not have to wait long. 

"Your words are true," the rebel agrees.  "These chips… they are the reason you fired on the Jedi Generals?"

"Yes," Cody confirms.  "The Chancellor executed order 66.  It declares the Jedi traitors to the Republic and calls for their immediate execution.  We had no choice."

"Slaves rarely do," the rebel agrees, absently.  "What do you intend to do about the Jedi now?"

"The mission that we have been assigned is to track and locate surviving Jedi, force sensitives and Jedi temples and artifacts so that they may be collected or destroyed," Cody relays.  "We intend to… be very bad at certain parts of the mission.   We will track and locate, and then we hope to help the Jedi to better hide themselves, perhaps some of the old temples from before the Ruusan reformation may be reopened.  Or the Exploracorps might have found something in wild space, if we manage to get in contact with them."

The rebel leader is utterly still and calm, suspiciously so, Cody belatedly realises.  Is he talking to a Jedi?  In his, admittedly limited experience given that he is barely fourteen, nat-borns are usually a little more… expressive.

"So, you are proposing an alliance?" the rebel asks.  "What form would this take?"

Appo had had an awful lot of thoughts on that topic, but Cody decided to stick to summarising the one he thought was the most feasible.  "We would stage a conflict," he says.  "Perhaps when you're ready to move base because the Imperials are getting too close.  Clones would drop in, set up a base camp with ample rations and medical supplies for a ground campaign.  We would then stage a raid or battle, something that we could film.  Lots of smoke and explosions.  The camp would be wrecked.  Supplies would be loaded on to your transports, marked as a loss in the after battle report.  Brothers would be loaded onto your transports, marked as killed in action. Once both sides have evacuated and the base is clear, we would finish with a light bombing run from orbit, light enough that should you wish to return to the base at some point in the future, there wouldn't be too much digging out to do.  Three or four months later, we repeat in a new location.  You get regular drops of food and medical supplies that way, and trained soldiers for your rebellion, and we get to clear bunks so that we can continue moving Brothers from other units to our group of Venators."

The rebel leader tilted their head in a slow nod.  "A well thought out plan, Commander Cody," they said in approval.  Cody froze.  He had never mentioned his name, not to the four he first encountered, not to the leader.  Without his armour paint, he should look the same as any other clone.

The rebel unhooks their goggles and pulls the muffling fabric from their face in the same moment, revealing pale skin and bright red hair.

"Commander Kestis?" Cody splutters in shock.  "Good to see you alive, Sir."

"Ahsoka always said you were a good strategist.  But you're leaving something out," Kestis said, a hard light in his eyes.  "Darth Vader.  Anakin Skywalker.  We know who is in command of the fleet you came from."

Cody pressed down firmly on the urge to sigh.  "The General… all the death through the force and the influence of the Sith sent him insane.  For weeks.  Nearly two months, I think it was.  He eventually recovered as the force did, the way that he tells it.   He's badly wounded, from a fight with General Kenobi, and is being slow to recover as the Emperor intentionally sabotaged his treatment and he wasn't sane enough to do anything about it, until recently."

Kestis looked troubled, but Cody supposed the truth sensing ability was good for something, because the former Commander seemed to believe him.  "Is he the reason you think you can find the exploracorps?" he asks.

"Yes, he has codes, we just need to get to the right deep space relay satellite stations to see if there are any messages to read," Cody confirms.  "In the mean time he's working on distributing chip disrupters and making himself a pair of new legs.  And trying to keep the Emperor from suspecting anything by acting like an unhinged maniac in front of the Imperial officers that are on board, which has the nice side effect that many of them are requesting transfers.  More spots for me to backfill with Brothers from other units."

Kestis nods, still looking sombre.  "I… do not think that I can forget, what happened at the temple," he says slowly.  "But.  I know how strong Skywalker has always been in the force, and I know what the force felt like, when you… when we… when it happened.  It was… not… I can understand, how it might have driven him mad, mad enough that the Sith managed to influence him.  And I understand that these chips forced the 501st to, to do what they did."  he nods, seeming to come to a decision. 

"This rebellion is in need of trained soldiers, you're right," he says.  "And the supplies will also be welcome.  We will be happy to ally with you and your men.  And should you hear from the exploracorps, or assist with the founding of a new temple, um, please pass that information along as well."

Well, there's only one answer to that.  

"We will," Cody promises.  He holds out one of the untraceable comm devices that Slice and Dice have been working on in the back of the droid maintenance bays - very sparse with the cameras, those bays, it's why Fives had always used them for moonshine - and Kestis accepts it. 

"I won't tell Skywalker it was you I spoke with," he decides.  Kestis looks surprised. 

"Why not?" 

"He's going to have to report to the Emperor at some point, he's a bit worried about having to hide too many things, he said.  But we have a few brothers from the 13th, I'll let them know I've made contact."

"I'd appreciate that," Kestis says, looking more than a little overwhelmed.  Cody suspects that most of the 13th that are still alive will include themselves in the first transfer to the Rebellion once they hear of their Commander's involvement. 

Chapter Text

Three months after waking up in the Hyperbaric chamber that has somehow become his quarters, Anakin stares at the test results displayed on the monitor.  His battered body has finally reached the minimum threshold.  He could exit the chamber without the hated suit, exist outside of its suffocating confines. But.  If the Emperor caught even the vaguest rumour, he would know that Anakin and by extension the remains of the GAR were slipping their chains.  Their first joint manoeuvre with the Rebellion forces is due to take place on Jakku, and he will do nothing to jeopardise that.

He just… really hates the suit.

Obi-Wan's voice rises in his memory.  "Look for a third way, Padawan.  Things are not always black and white."

Anakin comms Appo and Cody to come to the medical suite that seems solely reserved for him.  All the droids present have been reprogrammed, and the security camera is easy to bypass.  He spends the time it takes Appo and Cody to arrive double checking that the room is secure.

He waits to open the chamber until they have closed the door behind themselves and had a moment to look around.  Cody pulls off his helmet immediately, and after an unsubtle nudge, Appo does the same. Anakin closes the external feed and hits the button to open the chamber, the first time he has dared to do so without donning the suit first.

It is… reminiscent of standing on the peak of a mountain, or landing on a planet whose atmosphere is nearly unsuitable.  He will adjust.  The look of surprise on Cody and Appo's faces makes it worth it.

"Wanted someone… here in case… I pass out," he pants, rubbing a hand through the fuzz of hair on his head that is growing in through and around the scar tissue.

"Sir, are you sure you're ready to go without the suit?" Cody asks.  "I know you hate the thing, but the last thing we want is a setback."

"Numbers indicate… this is fine," Anakin dismisses his concern.  "Can't leave… the room anyhow.  Gotta stay secret."

"Would trooper armour be more acceptable than the suit?" Appo asks. 

Anakin considers for a minute.  It is tempting, but until all the Navy Officers are either transferred or proven sympathetic to the cause, he needs to be seen moving around the ship as Vader.  "It would… but no," he tells them.  "Private only… for now."

"Any new units that you've been made aware of, Sir?" Cody asks.  They all know he's asking about the 327th. 

"I think I… found them," Anakin smiles, ignoring the strain of his lungs as he breathes the thinner air.  "They were… split up.  Into seven.  Once we get… some spare bunks… I'll submit the forms."

"Ok, Sir, you need to stop talking or get an oxygen mask on or something," Appo decides.  "Kix would be so pissed if he could see us right now."

Conceding to the growing need to sit and catch his breath, Anakin steps back and sits down on the med-bed, signing to Cody to report as he does so.

"We have all of the third shift staff replaced with Clone troopers now," Cody reports, sounding very satisfied with himself.  "It was the easiest shift to start with; it's seen as the least desirable.  A nice side effect of this is that we can now pick and choose the security feeds that get saved to backup.  So if you did want to walk around without the suit, that would be the time to do it."

Anakin considers.  "All right." he decides.  "Issue me armour."

Walking around as a trooper will at least get him out of the constricting life support suit, and it will give him a fair amount of cover if he is spotted by one of the Officers.  They are extremely unlikely to recognise him, especially from a distance. Even the better officers of the GAR had been struggling to identify the men since the order to remove their identifying paint had been broadcast.

He is still surprised by how much he misses seeing it.

"The ARC troopers have finished planning the 'assault' on Jakku.  The list of clones who will be moving to the rebellion has finalised at 327.  It's… it's a good start, but it’s not enough."

Anakin nods agreement.  The rebellion won't be able to cope with a large influx of troopers, but the list of Brothers still stationed with other units in the Imperial army is still far, far too long, and yet getting shorter every week.  "Need a planet," he concludes.

Appo nods.  "After Jakku, we're well placed for a four hour hyperspace detour to a deep space relay satellite, BB-267/Alpha," he says, an odd mix of trepidation and hope twisting his force signature.  "If we can make contact with the Exploracorps and explain the situation, they might know of a world where we can go.  Our forward base kits would be enough to set us up with a basic settlement, but they are far from self sufficient."

Cody huffed a laugh.  "So far I have more than seven thousand clones who have expressed an interested in agriculture," he adds.

"Seven thousand?" Anakin splutters.

Appo grins.  "Dice made a poll," he reports.  "To try to figure out if we had a decent mix of job roles when we eventually settle somewhere.  Still, seven thousand is more than I would have expected."

Anakin is surprised to see Cody looking reluctant rather than amused, scuffing a boot on the durasteel floor of the med bay and shifting uncomfortably.  After a long moment where both Anakin and Appo look at him expectantly, he squares his shoulders and opens his mouth.  "Prime grew up on a farm," is so far from what Anakin expected him to say that the words don't register for a moment.  "Before, before he was adopted by Jaster Mereel."

Appo's face twists into a frown.  "I forgot your batch got the special treatment," he said sourly.  "Guess we got some farmer genes as well as warrior genes then."

"Guess so," Cody says softly, watching Appo carefully.  Anakin stays silent, trying to keep his breathing calm and steady despite the ache spreading through his chest.  The issues that the men have with the being responsible, in part, for their existence are many and varied.  This particular interaction is not for him to interrupt or mediate.

Appo scowls fiercely, and Cody looks calmly regretful and Anakin is relieved when his Commander snorts dismissively and changes the subject.  "We're going to need a reason for stopping at the relay station for the Nat-born officers," he points out.

Anakin shakes his head.  "No, the truth will do," he replies.  "We are checking for Jedi transmissions to see if it affords any new leads.  All we need to do is hide or change the content of any transmissions we do find."

…

The inaction burns at him, but Anakin and Appo agree that it is too soon after his injury for him to leave the Solidarity for a ground campaign.  If someone decides to include that in a report that the Emperor actually pays attention to and the Sith realises that he's far more healed than he should be, then the plan might be over before it's properly begun.  Instead, Cody is in charge of the forces on Jakku, and judging by the sporadic and often corrupted helmet and security cam footage being uploaded to Solidarity's databanks, the Commander has an unanticipated talent for holo making.  The 'attack' by the Rebels on the forward base is extremely convincing.

They hope that, as months go on, the amount of scrutiny their operation is under will decrease.  Until then they have to act as if every camera feed they do not directly control is monitored.

An officer strides onto the Bridge, his face pale under his regulation helmet.  "Sir," he says, saluting sharply.  "Apologies for interrupting your overview of the Campaign, but the Emperor has requested that you contact him."

Anakin goes to nod, but the restrictive helmet design means that he cannot efficiently move his neck.  He radiates as much frustration and discomfort into the force as he can manage, suspecting that Palpatine is peering across the lightyears at him at that moment, trying to discern his state of mind.

"I will make the call in communication room six," he snaps.  "See that it is set up."

"Yes Lord Vader," the officer replies, hastening out of the bridge.

Appo looks over from his station, his fingers discreetly making the battle sign for luck.  Anakin signs an acknowledgement as he turns to follow the officer at a sedate walk, giving him ample time to get to room six first.  He uses the delay to get himself back into the mindset of Vader, strengthening the sandstorm shield of anguish and pain that the Sith Lord will expect.

"I understand that you have engaged the Rebel forces on Jakku," the man Anakin first knew as Senator Palpatine rasps, his words echoing in the darkened room.

"Yes Master.  The… Imperial forces are taking heavy losses but I am confident that the men will wipe out the Rebel infestation," Anakin replies, remembering at the last minute to substitute Imperial for Republic.  Hopefully the Emperor will take the pause as a stutter from the life support suit.

"It was reported that you have made several troop and personnel adjustments.  Explain."

Anakin makes sure his shields are at full power.  They had talked about this, discussed a series of good reasons why Solidarity and the other ships in the fleet were only crewed by Clones, he just had to keep calm while facing the man who murdered everyone important to him and not let the madness of the dark side cloud his mind again.

"Mixed battalions of Clone troopers and Storm Troopers performed poorly in initial simulations," he began.  That at least he has some hard data for, should the Emperor ask.  "As my fleet had a higher percentage of Clone troopers to begin with, I determined that it would be more efficient to continue with a force comprised mainly of Clones. They are a finite resource now, and should be utilised efficiently in the service of the Empire."

"You do not believe that other commanders were using the Clones… efficiently?" The Emperor asks, and Anakin suppresses a surge of terror at the sheer darkness that stabs towards him in the force, even though a transmission.

"There are multiple partial units of Clones in the Imperial Army," Anakin explains, reaching desperately for calm.  He needs to keep calm, to keep his sandstorm shield strong, to keep up the ruse or they're all dead.  "Consolidating the partial units into Clone specific battalions is a more efficient use of the resource than incorporating them into Stormtrooper regiments."  He could really grow to hate the word efficient, but he can't currently think of a better one.  He's fairly sure that Cody had come up with a stronger argument, but he can't remember the details right now.

There is an overlong pause as the Emperor considers his words and Anakin struggles to breathe through rising panic.  "I see," the Sith says eventually.  "You dislike waste then, my young apprentice?"

"On Tatooine, nothing is wasted," Anakin replies, hoping that reminding the man where he first came from would redirect him from believing that Anakin's apparent frugality stems from the Jedi's teachings.

"Very well.  I look forward to receiving your after engagement report."

Anakin is unsure if the Sith has truly accepted his argument, but there is only one appropriate response from a slave.  "Yes Master."

"And once the Rebels on Jakku are annihilated?"

"There is a subspace relay satellite nearby.  I will have the slicers review the logs for coded Jedi transmissions.  If they are gathering, we will find them."

"I will see all remnants of the treacherous Jedi order crushed from the Galaxy," Palpatine spits out.

"Yes Master," Anakin agrees.

"Do not fail me."

The transmission ends without waiting for him to respond and Anakin takes a second to slump over the communication console.  He has fooled Depur.  He can take a moment to breathe.