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The air smells good on Mustafar. There’s sulfur, and burning, and smoke, and ash, and it feels like the way Anakin feels right now. He could stay here forever, just drinking in the hateful heat. Alone, for the moment. But soon, he will go and wipe out the Separatist leaders, effectively ending the war. Instead of the corrupt Jedi, instead of the Separatist regime that looms over them, instead of whatever fake-peaceful idea everyone has, an Empire will rise.

He frees his lightsaber from his belt. It’s time. Time to end this.

In the distance, somewhere, he hears the buzz of a ship’s engines.

What the kriff? He didn’t realize that people came here regularly. That doesn’t matter, though. Not anymore. He’ll just wait here, until whoever it is arrives, and then he’ll strike. He will finish them, and then he will finish the Separatist leaders.

The ship lands, not too far off. It’s a J-type Nabooian star skiff, which means that…

Oh, wonderful.

Anakin turns and strides toward the ship. If Padmé is here to convince him to stop, it won’t work. She can cry as much as she wants. She can beg him to stop. She can sob and cling to him and make whatever appeals she wants, but it won’t work.

The ramp lowers, and Padmé comes down it. She’s moving faster than he’s seen her move in a while. She looks even more pregnant than usual. Honestly, she shouldn’t be here—not with how far along she is. But here she is, and he’s ready for her. He’s ready for whatever she’s got to throw at him. Whatever appeals, whatever she’s going to try to convince him with—

“Anakin!” Padmé shouts, striding toward him. “I can see you there!”

Oh kriff. He hasn’t heard her yell his name like that before.

“Padmé,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’ve made my decisions. You need to—”

“Need to what, Anakin? Need to what?” She stops in front of him, hands on her hips, glaring. “You think I’m here to ask you to stop?”

“Uh, yeah,” Anakin says. The words he had ready don’t seem to work anymore. “I’m doing this for your good. For everyone’s good. I’m going to end this war, and end the Jedi that have done so much damage.”

“So much damage? Just listen to yourself, Ani! The Jedi that got you off Tatooine? The Jedi that raised you? Have you forgotten Obi-Wan? Isn’t he your best friend? Isn’t he a Jedi? Didn’t he give you everything that he could, so that you could grow up not being a slave?”

“The Jedi have lied.”

“So has everyone else!” Padmé throws her hands in the air. “It’s war, Ani. War! You think that no one has lied? No one’s twisted the truth to try and bring people around to their side?”

“They lied to me,” Anakin insists.

“Because you can’t act!” Padmé fairly shouts. She spins in a full circle, and doesn’t look any calmer once she’s facing him again. “You think that they hate you because they didn’t trust you with information—well, of course they didn’t, because you’re as open a book as a book can be! Of course! Of course they didn’t trust you! You wear your heart on your sleeve! If anyone on Coruscant hasn’t noticed the way you look at me, they’re blind, because anyone with half a brain could tell what’s happened between us for the past three years. Even now, you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve—and that’s how I know that you don’t want to do this!”

“Of course I want to do this,” Anakin says. “Padmé, this is for our baby. Do you want the baby to grow up in a world like this? With lying Jedi and war and everything else?”

“Babies,” Padmé snaps.

“What?”

“Two babies, Anakin!” She gestures furiously to her very pregnant belly. “The medical droid could tell me that much, so I’m surprised that your Force abilities can’t. Oh, so you’re supposed to be the Chosen One, and you can’t even tell that I have two miniature versions of you inside me, kicking me during every Senate meeting where I’m trying to focus?”

“What?”

“Two babies, Anakin! Two! I am pregnant with your twins, and you’re going to turn your back on everything that we stand for?”

“I don’t stand for that anymore.”

“Oh? Oh, you just don’t stand for it? Tell me, Ani—why are you here? Why are you here on Mustafar, days away from home, all vengeful and confident, except that you don’t know anything? Tell me!”

“I’m here to end the war.”

“The war could be ended now if you would come back home and keep fighting!”

“You don’t understand. I’m trying to save you.”

“Save me from what? You think I don’t know the risks of pregnancy? Yes, things go wrong sometimes, but you think I’m just going to give up on this family?” Padmé has never yelled this much, ever, and frankly, Anakin is beginning to be a little bit terrified of just how much anger she can project from such a small frame. “You’re the one ruining everything that I’ve fought for here! Tell me, you think you can end this war? By what?”

“By killing the Separatist leaders,” Anakin insists, throwing a hand out at the building behind them.

“And who told you to do that? The Jedi?”

“Chancellor Palpatine told me that I could save you,” Anakin snaps. “I don’t trust the Jedi anymore.”

“I am losing my mind, Ani!” Padmé fairly screeches. “They have done everything for you, and you trust that twisted old chancellor to tell you what to do? How will he help you save me?”

“He said he could teach me.”

“By what power? By what power, Ani?”

“The Force, okay? Stop yelling.”

“Stop yelling, when you’re acting like an idiot? You are an idiot, Ani, and let me tell you why, because you seem to be too blind to see it yourself. If the chancellor is offering to help you with the Force, then why isn’t he a Jedi? What else could he be? What else?” She plants her hands on her hips again, glaring.

Anakin rubs the back of his head. “He—”

“Jedi or Sith, Ani, answer me!”

Anakin grits his teeth. “I don’t—”

“Answer me, Anakin Skywalker!”

“Sith! Sith, okay? Are you happy?”

“You’re helping a Sith win this war? A Sith? And you think that’s the right choice? Are you losing your mind, Anakin? Are you losing your mind?”

Anakin groans. “Padmé…”

“Don’t Padmé me,” she snaps. “Get on the ship, now. We’re leaving.”

“I have a war to finish—”

“You have two children to raise and a wife to get home!”

“I need to finish the war—”

Padmé lunges forward and catches two handfuls of his tunic. “Anakin Skywalker, so help me, I will not allow you to.”

“You can’t—”

“What the kriff, Ani?” she screams in his face. “I am your wife, I am pregnant with your children, and we are going home. Now!”

“Fine!” Anakin tries to free her hands from his tunic, but her grip is like iron. “Fine! We’ll go.”

“And you will talk to Obi-Wan.”

“I—”

“You will talk to Obi-Wan, as soon as we get back.”

“Okay! Okay.”

“Good,” Padmé says. Her voice has returned to a normal level, finally. She releases his tunic, loops her arm through his, and tows him toward the ship. “Now let’s go, before you make any other stupid decisions.”

***

Nute Gunray waits, still frozen at the window, until the ship disappears before he turns to Poggle the Lesser. “That was very strange,” he says.

Poggle the Lesser nods emphatically. He seems at a loss for words.

“Well,” Nute Gunray says, “At least the Jedi did not come to attack us. Perhaps he had other thoughts? Or perhaps his… but no, Jedi do not have wives, do they? That is very strange.” He shrugs to himself and turns from the window. “Very well, as you were,” he says to the room at large.

Twenty-odd Separatist leaders of varying important positions, from across the galaxy, gathered here in one of the biggest meetings of Separatists since the beginning of the war, hastily pretend that they were doing their work all along, and not gawking at the Jedi and the senator outside.

Chapter Text

The Jedi Temple lunch room is has quieted from the initial rush, meaning that Kit can sit quietly an enjoy his meal in peace. At least, relative peace. The entirety of his old crèche group is here, gathered around the same table. Luminaria and Depa have their heads bent over the same datapad as they look at something. Shaak and Obi-Wan are listening patiently while Quinlan regales them with his latest tail—and, frankly, Kit is a little bit interested in the story, which seems to be about Quinlan breaking up a Devaronian barfight. Kit would rather like to hear his techniques.

“—and just had to move them,” Quinlan is saying. “Now, usually I just kind of use Force suggestions and Force pushes to get them headed for the door, and at that point—”

“Did you teach Aayla these techniques?” Shaak asks curiously.

“Oh, sure, I tried,” Quinlan says, shrugging. “She can do them, but she doesn’t like being in bars. She says they smell bad.”

“They probably do,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

“Oh, for sure,” Quinlan says. “Rancid. But you know what, sometimes, when a problem happens in a bar, you’ve just got to deal with it right then and there. Plus, sometimes, the bartender will give you a free drink after, and—oh, hi, Master Windu, what’s up?”

Kit looks up to see Mace Windu approaching them. He looks somewhat dubious. Frankly? Kit can’t blame him. This crèche group has a reputation, and it’s usually a good one. Not always, though.

Mace Windu nods around at them. “I trust you are… enjoying yourselves?”

“Oh, totally,” Quinlan says. The question seems to be directed mostly at him, so Kit doesn’t feel the need to answer. Quinlan gives a cheerful thumbs-up that doesn’t seem to encourage Mace. Kit has to suppress a smile.

Mace nods. “The chancellor has been asking for a meeting with several active Jedi Masters.”

“I’m out,” Quinlan says, holding up his hands. “Not going to go and… you know… hang out with the oldest guy on Coruscant.”

Mace’s eyebrows rise slightly.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “Quinlan, perhaps…”

“No, no, I agree with the honorific,” Kit says.

Depa nods seriously. “He is, Master Windu, if you really think about it.”

Mace’s eyebrows are higher than Kit has ever seen them. Frankly? Awesome.

“I do need volunteers,” Mace says.

“I can go,” Kit says. “Quinlan, do you need any more candid holos?”

“Always,” Quinlan says. “Master Windu, do you want to see my collection so far? I’ve got dozens of the things. Some of them I got from the holonet, if you must know, but I’ve taken plenty myself. There are just loads and loads of these candid shots of Chancellor Sheev that—”

“Sheev?” Mace repeats.

“Chancellor Palpatine,” Shaak says helpfully. She puts a hand on Mace’s arm. “Don’t worry about Quinlan, Master, he’s perfectly all right.”

“Sheev,” Mace says again.

“His first name,” Quinlan says.

“He knows the chancellor’s first name, Quin,” Kit says.

“Right,” Quinlan says. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

Luminaria clears her throat. “I can go as well, Master Windu. I assume my presence would be helpful to you?”

“Nari, can you get some candid holos, too?” Quinlan says.

Obi-Wan elbows Quinlan. “Quinlan, please, try to restrain yourself at least for the moment.”

“But it’s so easy,” Quinlan whispers.

“That’s fair,” Kit says. “I think that if the chancellor ever stood in the rain, he would just melt. He seems so… meltable. Frankly, that would explain why he always stays on Coruscant, you know? The lack of rain is his natural habitat.”

“Does it rain on Naboo?” Shaak asks.

“Well, of course,” Obi-Wan says. “There are plenty of oceans there. I would know.”

“So has he ever gone swimming?” Quinlan asks.

“Probably not,” Depa says seriously.

Mace looks around at the group of them. “If you’re all finished? I did come to ask if there were volunteers to go and speak to Chancellor Palpatine, because he does have concerns about growing threats of a war that he wants to discuss.”

“I’m going,” Kit says.

“As am I,” Luminaria says. “Is Master Yoda coming?”

“He is,” Mace says. “In fact, he’s joining us momentarily.”

“How nice,” Shaak says, throwing a glance at Quinlan.

Kit leans around Mace to see the aisle between tables. There’s a familiar small, hunched figure approaching them.

“Hello, Master Yoda,” he says.

“Talking about the meeting with the chancellor, you are?” Yoda asks.

“Yes, Master,” Shaak says. “At least, Master Windu is attempting to have us talk about that.”

“Master Yoda,” Quinlan says. “On a scale of one to frog, where would you rank Chancellor Palpatine?”

Obi-Wan drops his forehead to the table with a distinct thunk. Depa and Luminaria exchange glances, and both seem to be struggling not to laugh out loud. Shaak’s face becomes very pensive, but Kit has known her long enough to know that that means she’s highly amused. Mace rubs his forehead. Quinlan is the only one whose face remains perfectly serious. And frankly? Kit is there for it.

“Hm,” Yoda says. “On that scale, you say?”

Quinlan nods. “Yeah. I just kind of feel like he’s got some resemblances, and, y’know, I’ve been asking loads of people this.”

“Hm,” Yoda says again. “Froggy of face, the chancellor is.”

Obi-Wan has just straightened up, but he nearly falls off the bench he’s sitting on. All three women simultaneously put a hand up to their mouths. Mace makes a strangled sound. Quinlan tries to make sure that Obi-Wan doesn’t fall off the bench, and in so doing, manages to fall off the bench himself.

Frankly? Amazing.

Kit nods as seriously as he can—which is not as seriously as Depa can manage—and says, “I agree, Master Yoda. That’s very… perceptive.”

“Froggy of face,” Quinlan wheezes, dragging himself up from the floor. “Master Yoda, I will quote that forever. If you don’t mind.”

“Hm, mind, I do not,” Yoda says. “Although, perhaps to the chancellor, say it, you should not.”

Quinlan shakes his head solemnly. “You have my word, Master Yoda. I’ll say it behind his back, but never to his face.”

“Quinlan,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice has the same note of amused suppressed anguish that Kit has only heard when he talks about Anakin. “Do you think that that is wise?”

“Yes,” Quinlan says. “Absolutely. Completely. I’m going to make a sign and hang it above my bed. I need to remember it. Forever.” He hacks a cough and stands up. “Well, I think this has been a productive lunch. Master Windu—Master Yoda—thanks for your input. Knock the chancellor’s socks off, everyone.” He starts to walk away, then freezes, and turns around. “Wait, what kind of socks do you think the chancellor wears? Does he wear socks?”

“Quinlan,” Obi-Wan says, “leave.”

Quinlan salutes with an ear-to-ear grin before jogging off between the tables.

They all watch him go in silence.

“We do apologize,” Shaak says, though she doesn’t sound very apologetic.

“No need to apologize, there is,” Yoda says serenely. “Accurate, Quinlan is.”

Mace clears his throat pointedly. “Kit, Luminaria—you’re still willing to go?”

“Of course,” Luminaria says.

“Absolutely,” Kit says. Seeing Chancellor Palpatine after this conversation will be… well, frankly, he’s looking forward to it. And he will definitely be getting the best candid holo he can for Quinlan.

“Good,” Mace says. “Thank you.” He turns and walks off among the tables.

Yoda lingers for a moment. “Hm,” he says. “Lacking in knowledge of what is wise to say, Quinlan Vos is.”

“You can say that again, Master,” Obi-Wan says ruefully. “Among other things.”

“Hm,” Master Yoda says. “Yes.” And that seems to be it, because he turns and follows Mace away. His bearing is definitely a bit amused.

Chapter Text

This list was originally compiled by Hondo Ohnaka in approximately 18 BBY, when it is suspected that he was attempting to track down Obi-Wan Kenobi. Annotations were added at a later, unknown date.

100 75 REASONS THAT JEDI KENOBI IS A VERY GOOD FRIEND

1. Most Jedi are very stupid
2. Kenobi is not very stupid usually not very stupid
3. Most Jedi are very funny because they like to talk about peace but they use lightsabers
4. Kenobi is very funny because he is so easily annoyed
5. He is especially annoyed by acts of pirates such as myself
6. He is good enough to know not to not to mention his annoyance
7. But it is vERY cLEAR (always)
8. Kenobi has only let himself get captured by me one time
9. He was very polite before he was captured (and many people are not, so this is Very Important)
10. He was able to drink the pirate brew that night, and even I didn’t like it that night
11. He tried to escape but that is not relevant
12. He did not break up my base
13. This means that I did not have to pay all of my men to come back, which is vERY eXPENSIVE
14. This is probably because he is very busy
15. I am choosing not to believe that because clearly he intended it as a gesture of friendship
16. But whatever the reason, my base is still standing, and that means I did not have to pay mORE cREDITS
17. I have had to pay mANY cREDITS due to Jedi, and none of them are from Kenobi yet
18. Well, if I am hONEST, there was one time on Felucia when Kenobi and his Padawans Skywalker and Tano were preventing me from a vERY proFITABLE venture
19. I do not hold it against him though because it was only his job
20. We were still friends dESPITE his keeping me from profit
21. He has a very funny accent
22. He cares about his friends, I tHINK (though it is hard to tell)
23. He agrees with me that his Padawan Skywalker is more trouble than he is worth
24. Kenobi is worth his trouble because he is very funny
25. Being funny is a very valuable skill
26. I will aLWAYS be more funny than everyone else
27. But Kenobi is allowed to be the sECOND fUNNIEST
28. Having a Jedi best friend is very useful because when the Jedi get annoyed (they do that a lot), Kenobi will be able to get me out of trouble, I can always get myself out of trouble
29. The Jedi do not take kindly to pirates but I aM aN eXCEPTION
30. At least fOR KeNOBI
31. He has told me that most of the rest of the Jedi think that I am a very big problem, and of course they are right, because I am the most notorious pirate in the entire galaxy, and no bounty hunter or assassin could even dream of taking my place
32. Many have tried, but I think that Kenobi would try to keep them from breaking my base apart
33. I did help him one time, and that means that he must owe me a debt
34. I helped him to deal with the creepy sITH that were iN mY bASE
35. He dealt with most of the problems but I was the one there providing mORAL sUPPORT
36. We make a vERY gOOD tEAM
37. I am the one who provides all the support and Kenobi does all the work
38. And of course this is the necessary part of any good friendship because who is going to provide support if not for the sUPPORTER, who is mE
39. If Kenobi were ever to get himself into trouble, I would come and help him, because the galaxy would be very sad if there were no Jedi on my side
40. I think that I could oBVIOUSLY convince another Jedi to be friends with me
41. But Kenobi is vERY fRIENDLY on his own
42. It is very useful to have a Jedi as a best friend when there are various annoying lowlifes that are trying to spoil my work
43. When I tell them that a Jedi is my best friend, they are very quickly intimidated
44. I am able to eXAGGERATE vERY wELL and claim that Kenobi is right there and ready to help even though he is not actually because he is vERY bUSY with his jEDI wORK
45. There is apparently a lot of jEDI wORK to be done
46. aLL tHE tIME
47. I am actually rather doubtful of whether or not the Jedi are truly as busy as they claim to be
48. But I am sure that my friend Kenobi would not lie to me about being busy
49. I am also sure that his Padawan Skywalker is not always busy because there is no way that someone like him could occupy his days usefully and profitably, and it must be his own failing that makes him this way, because there is no way that my friend Kenobi would have taught him to be that way
50. Kenobi is probably a very good teacher
51. I would not know this myself because I am not a Jedi
52. I could be if I wanted to, though, and I am cERTAIN that Kenobi would convince them to let me join them
53. I would not be there to bE a Jedi of course, but only to see what they have so that I can LIBERATE IT
54. Kenobi is very good at hiding
55. I have never met anyone so good at hiding
56. I suppose that when everyone wants to kILL tHE jEDI (why would they want to do that????), being good at hiding is a very good skill
57. That is why I believe that Kenobi is still alive
58. Kenobi would only die if he was very stupid
59. And he is not very stupid
60. He is not even a little bit stupid
61. Actually he is very stupid sometimes but not when it comes to staying alive
62. So whatever that vERY sTUPID Empire is doing, I know that Kenobi will have survived
63. Jedi are friends to everyone
64. This is part of their Code I think
65. Which means that Kenobi must also be friends with everyone that he knows
66. Kenobi knows me
67. It is lOGICAL that Kenobi and I are friends therefore
68. It is further logical that we are bEST fRIENDS, because it is very clear that there must be no one else in his life that is quite as good of a friend as I am
69. Pirates are very good at being friends
70. There was one time that I asked Kenobi if we were friends and he did not say no
71. What he said to me was “aLL tHINGS aS tHE fORCE wILLS iT” which is Jedi code for not wanting to have to say something extremely profound
72. But I know that the Force would will for us to be best friends because nothing else would make sense
73. I miss Kenobi because he WAS a good friend and still WOULD be if I knew where he is
74. That is why I am looking for Kenobi
75. And when I find him then I will make him an honorary pirate because there is nO rEASON that he cannot be a Jedi AND a pirate :) :)

Chapter Text

Holoblogging the Rise of Darth Vader

7 Embarrassing Stories from Darth Vader’s Padawan Days He Doesn’t Want You To Know

Fifth 27, 984 RR

Greetings to all readers! In today’s article, I will be sharing with you a few stories from Vader’s Padawan days that maybe be of interest. Please remember as always that, for your own safety, you should avoid bringing these stories up to his face. He has always been touchy about them, and I suspect that he will be increasingly more touchy about them as he entrenches himself more deeply into the faceless persona he seems to favor now.

#7: Tripping on his new robes

Early in his Padawan days, while he was still growing at a rather astonishing rate, he would need a new set of robes every year or so. A Jedi’s robes should nearly brush the floor, and so he kept having to replace the last set of robes. Usually, he would get a new robe at the correct length. One year, though, when he was about sixteen, he chose to get a robe significantly longer than he was tall, in hopes of growing into it and not needing to get a new robe for at least two years.

This proved itself to be an unwise decision. It was an idea with the best intentions, as many of his ideas were, but a very poorly executed one.

The robe he chose was at least two sizes too big. Not only was it too long, but it was too big in every dimension. He was a rather unimpressive teenager, and so the shoulders were too wide, leading to the sleeves being too long. I’m frankly surprised that his head didn’t fit the hood properly, because his ego would have led me to believe it would. But, alas, even the hood was too big.

In an unfortunate coincidence, he got his new robes the evening before he was supposed to meet with the Jedi Council about a very important step in his journey as a Padawan.

Thus, while walking into the Jedi Council Chamber, he had an unfortunate series of events occur. First, he tried to throw back his hood, and only succeeded in catching it over his face. Second, with his abruptly diminished vision, he failed to notice the MSE-6 that was just leaving the Council Chamber. Third, he had the misfortune of stepping into the droid.

This resulted in his tripping and falling on his face in front of the Jedi Council.

To their credit, they did still allow him to continue his Padawan journey. I am fairly certain, though, that during the meeting at least a few of them were trying not to laugh.

#6: Nearly decapitating a fellow Padawan

This story is not quite as humorous, unfortunately. I will omit the other Padawan’s name. Vader had recently gotten his very first lightsaber (he had at least three, and I suspect that he may have once lost and replaced one before I noticed), and was practicing with a fellow Padawan. The instructor did tell them that they were to turn their lightsabers to the training mode, to avoid any mishaps. However, he didn’t listen. Any actual injuries were thankfully averted by a well-timed shout from the instructor, and many apologies were made after the fact.

#5: Backflipping to show off and grounding himself

When he was about fourteen years old, he was on an unfamiliar planet that he seemed to regard as his own personal training grounds. This planet had quite magnificent rocky outcroppings that were once considered tourist attractions, before the area became an active volcano site. The once-magma, now hardened into new shapes, seemed to attract him just as much as the remains of the rock outcroppings, and he took to them the way a Hutt takes to a swamp.

Now, this might have been all well and good if there were not multiple other Jedi and their Padawans on the mission with us. There were several, and most of the Padawans were around his age. So, naturally, in the mindset of a young teenager, he found it necessary to attempt a very complicated series of flips off the rocks.

He has never been consistently good at flips. (In fact, if you have ever noticed that Vader walks strangely or seems rather mechanical, that is in fact a byproduct of not being consistently good at flips. I will perhaps write about that in a future installment of this holoblog.) Instead of the impressive combination of acrobatics that he attempted, he instead caught his foot on something and tripped.

Although there was no lasting damage, he did spend the rest of the mission mildly concussed and very grumpy. He was thankfully old enough at that point to know that there was no one to blame but himself, but he did complain to himself rather a lot. It got rather wearing over the course of the next few weeks, until he returned to normal.

#4: Spraying himself in the face with used engine oil

While many of his claims are preposterously exaggerated, others are not. One of the un-exaggerated claims is that he is excellent with ships. He is, in fact, excellent with ships. He can fly them confidently, repair them, and build them. He has studied most kinds of ships, and the ones that he has not, he can usually figure out. This skill is often very useful on missions where our ship is compromised or we have to use a decrepit abandoned one that barely works. Regardless of the situation, he is capable of figuring out something about the ship at hand.

Unfortunately, he knows that he is good with ships. That arrogance is what led to his downfall in this case.

He was presented with an unfamiliar ship model that had been recently abandoned by a bounty hunter that we were chasing down. We planned to take the ship and follow the bounty hunter in it to speed up the chase. When we tried to start it, however, it did not work properly.

Naturally, he crawled under the ship to begin trying to repair it. The other Jedi who was with us at the time—left unnamed here, as it was a rather clandestine mission—inquired as to whether or not my Padawan would be able to complete the repairs necessary.

My Padawan replied that he knew what he was doing, with all the confidence of a teenager.

It was at that moment that he decided to open a valve that was not the engine casing (as he claimed he thought it was), but the release valve for the used engine oil. He panicked and didn’t move promptly, which led to him getting even more soaked with the used oil than he would have been otherwise.

We had a good laugh at his expense. To his credit, he did get the ship running again, and was able to find a lake shortly after to wash the oil off in.

#3: Attempting to flirt at a traffic stop

When he was about twelve years old, we were on a highly populated planet (unfortunately, another clandestine mission, so I cannot identify the planet here). He was exhibiting his typical love of ships by driving the speeder we had rented. Unfortunately, he was far more used to podracing and competitive flying than city traffic. Enough of the annoyed people he cut off must have called the local authorities, because we were pulled over in short order.

I made typical apologies (as anyone with a Padawan like mine must have ready at a moment’s notice). The female officer seemed ready to accept the apology and let us off with a warning.

This would have been fine, except that my Padawan decided it would benefit us if he tried flirting with the officer. She was at least thirty years old, and at least twice his weight (unsurprising, given that he was very small throughout most of his Padawan years). And his attempt at flirting was both unsolicited and uninspiring.

Her reaction was perfectly understandable—she forcibly removed him from the front of the speeder and put him in the back, and informed me that I would be the one driving from there on out unless I wanted my Padawan to be thrown in their lock-up for as long as she could get away with.

I did attempt to give him a few pointers on flirting later on during his Padawan years, but I don’t think he ever took them to heart. He was always enamored with his own ideas of romantic words.

#2: Getting sick with a fever and referring to Master Yoda as his “favorite gremlin”

As tends to happen, occasionally an unavoidable sickness circulates through the Padawans at the Jedi Temple (who have not yet learned enough control of the Force to hold it off). Unfortunately, my Padawan became one of these at the age of thirteen. It was a particularly nasty round of sickness, because this one came with a fever. Perhaps it was his planet of origin never having exposure to this kind of sickness, but it hit him especially hard, leaving him with a fever for several days.

On the third day—which was the worst one, when I am quite convinced that my Padawan consisted of nothing but the temper of a bantha and the conscience of a tooka—I was called to the Jedi Council Chamber without any explanation. As it turned out, my Padawan had managed to escape his room and wander into the Council Chamber by accident.

He informed me, quite deliriously, in front of the entire Council, that his “favorite gremlin” had called me to pick him up.

There was a moment of spectacularly stunned silence then. I am quite certain that Master Koon was laughing behind his mask. None of the other Masters were afforded that luxury, unfortunately, and had to stifle their laughter for the minute that it took me to express apologies on my Padawan’s behalf and to usher him out of the Chamber.

I am fairly certain that I heard laughter as the door closed behind us.

#1: Submitting the wrong homework

My Padawan also had an unfortunate habit of saving personal files on the datapad where he would usually do his homework. Most of these were harmless enough, because no one was concerned when he accidentally submitted schematics for an obscure starship instead of the correct homework, as long as he rectified the mistake promptly.

I learned, unfortunately, that there were a few files on his datapad that should not have been released.

Perhaps it is even more unfortunate that the one he managed to submit by accident was an illustrated and ranked list of the huggability of each member of the Jedi Council.

This list circulated the entire Temple in a matter of twenty-four hours. I was on the tail end of finding out about it, which meant that I had the honor of escorting my Padawan to the Jedi Council Chamber to apologize to the Masters. I don’t think that many of the masters were disappointed by the release of this ranking, though, especially Master Billaba (#3), Master Pell (#2), and Master Koon (#1). Master Yoda (#4) even stated that he would be interested to see my Padawan’s ratings of several of the more famous senators. My Padawan promptly replied that Senator Taa would be at the bottom of any such ranking.

At that point, Master Windu (#12) put a stop to the rising sense of hilarity and refocused the meeting. My Padawan properly apologized, and he was able to attempt to put the whole matter behind him.

Unfortunately for him, this was not the case, because for several months afterwards everyone who met him in the Temple took to asking him how huggable they looked on a scale of Master Koon to Master Windu.

Chapter Text

“Look at this,” Diim hisses, leaning over toward Rissa’s desk space.

Rissa nudges her headset back off one ear and leans toward him. “What is it?” she whispers back.

Diim throws another glance back up at the rest of the bridge of the Star Destroyer—nah, it’s fine, there’s no one important in here anyway—and then pointes to his screen. “MasterHermit948 just posted another article.”

Rissa’s eyes light up. “Really? I haven’t seen any of his stuff in ages. What is it this time?”

Diim clicks on the holoblog article. “Uh… oh. Wow. That takes guts.”

Rissa gives a low whistle. “No kidding. Stars.”

They both look with admiration for a few seconds at the article title that proudly declares 7 Embarrassing Stories from Darth Vader’s Padawan Days That He Doesn’t Want You To Know.

“I’m going to read it,” Diim whispers.

“No, don’t,” Rissa whispers back.

“Why not?”

“We’re on the bridge, Diim!” She gestures emphatically at the walkway that runs right past their work stations. “Anyone walking by will see. And we’re on the same Star Destroyer as the person that that article is about! If Lord Vader comes in here and sees you reading that, do you think you’re going to last any longer than Admiral Nantuvas?”

“Oh, come on, Rissa—Nantuvas was an idiot. He practically insulted Lord Vader to his face.”

“And that article’s going to do it, too! Come on, Diim, don’t do it.”

“Okay, fine,” Diim whispers, rolling his eyes.

Rissa goes back to her work, and Diim returns to his own screens. But Rissa isn’t his boss, so he can do what he wants. He works for a few minutes to make sure she doesn’t get suspicious, and then switches back to the holoblog article. He cannot wait to get all the dirt on Vader. This is the sort of thing that will circulate like wildfire down in the crew quarters.

He’s halfway through with the article, fist pressed against his mouth so that he doesn’t accidentally laugh at the thought of Darth Vader himself as an awkward teenager—ha, Diim himself was an awkward teenager not that long ago—when he hears the blast doors swish open, footsteps stride along the walkway, and the chatter of voices on the bridge growing silence.

Oh kriff no. Diim straightens up as quickly as he can and tries to switch back to his work. He manages to bump his datapad off the desk. As it crashes to the floor, he spins to grab it. He straightens, and freezes as he sees Darth Vader standing on the walkway above him.

Vader’s eyes are fixed on something behind Diim’s shoulder.

Oh, right, that’ll be the holoblog article he still hasn’t managed to close.

“Kriff,” Diim breathes, not daring to raise his voice anymore.

Rissa makes a tiny, terrified sound. Honestly, Diim would kind of like to do the same. This is it, then? He’s worked so hard in the Imperial Academy to get here, and now he’s just… going to get thrown out the airlock because he read the wrong holoblog article at the wrong time? To be honest, he kind of deserves it, he guesses.

“What is that?” Darth Vader asks, voice as low and even as ever.

“My work station, Lord Vader,” Diim says without thinking. He regrets it immediately after. Maybe they’ll at least send his Imperial ID tags to his parents?

“Do not move,” Vader orders.

He strides a few steps further along, to where the control pit is accessible by a flight of stairs. Diim doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone other than a control tech come down those stairs, so the sight of the most feared being in the galaxy coming down is… well, it makes this all feel a little bit more surreal.

Rissa flinches away as Vader passes her, moving her hand just in time to keep from touching his flowing cape. Vader stops behind Diim and stands there in impassive silence for a few seconds.

“I can explain, Lord Vader,” Diim starts.

“I did not complain,” Vader rumbles.

Diim has to work hard to keep the confused frown off his face. “I, uh, I would never accuse you of that, Lord Vader. I can explain, though, if—”

“No,” Vader says. He points to the screen behind Diim. “That story is incorrect.”

Diim spins back to his screen, staring at the conclusion of the story he was just reading out of the holoblog. Sure enough, it says that teenage Darth Vader—whoever he was before—complained after getting injured when he messed up an acrobatic trick.

Which means that this story is true?

Yeah, Diim might as well just go find an airlock for himself to save someone else the trouble. And probably HermitMaster948 will be on the business end of a lightsaber once Vader manages to track down the author.

“I’m so sorry,” Diim blurts out. “It’s just—this holoblogger—his stories are really good. Stuff about the Jedi, before the Empire, and his own Padawan who seemed to be—oh, kriff, I’m sorry, that Padawan is you. Oh, kriff, I’m sorry. Just tell my parents I messed up bigtime.”

“Stand up,” Vader orders.

Diim does so, as quickly as he can. Rissa makes another tiny sound and looks away. The other techs stay frozen in their spots, like they have been ever since Diim caught Vader’s attention.

But, unbelievably, Vader seats himself at Diim’s place. And proceeds to read the rest of the holoblog article. Diim wishes he could see Vader’s face. He would pay good money to know what Vader is thinking.

“He was never good at masking his holonet connection address,” Vader rumbles at last.

Diim shifts his weight to the other foot, twisting his hands behind his back.

Vader accesses the code behind the holoblog article and skims it for only a few seconds before nodding. He stands again and looks down at Diim. “Your name?”

“Diim. Diim Kadd, Lord Vader.”

“Congratulations on a job well done,” Vader says. “You will be rewarded for this.”

With that, Lord Vader sweeps up the stairs again and orders in a once-more ringing voice, “Set course for Tatooine.”

Diim could swear that Vader flinches as he says that. Diim looks back at the screen. Is there a story that’s going to explain that? Maybe not in the article, but he sure hopes that HermitMaster948 survives long enough to spill some more blackmail material. Not that he’d ever blackmail Lord Vader, of course. Of course.

Chapter Text

“How’s the 501^st treating you?” Cody asks, sliding into a seat next to Rex.

Rex snorts. “Well, let me tell you—there would be about two dozen troopers in this mess hall playing sabacc right now if we were on my ship right now. It seems like here in the well-managed 212^th, troopers actually get some sleep.”

“No, no, I fully attribute the 501^st’s insanity to lack of sleep,” Cody says seriously. “Especially yours.”

“Shut up.” Rex elbows Cody.

Cody elbows him back and shoves a mug of caf into Rex’s hands. “Any gray hairs yet?”

Rex snorts again. “If I had hair, I’d have white hair to rival General Yoda’s.”

“Kriff right you would. Your troopers are insane.” Cody takes an appreciative sip of his own caf. “What about your new ARCs? They did really well on Kamino. They might be the most level-headed of your whole battalion now, huh?”

“Most insane, actually.”

“I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Eh, neither would I. But now that they’re ARCs, they think they’re capable of anything. And they usually are, but not always. Fives is capable of doing almost anything that he puts his mind to, but he usually winds up blowing something up along the way. Sometimes that’s the plan, and sometimes it isn’t. Fifty-fifty, really. And then Echo is Fives’s common sense, but when Fives is dead-set on something, Echo will follow him to Korriban and back to make sure that he doesn’t get himself killed. That’s all well and good when they’re working on something relevant.”

“And when they’re not?”

“Recruiting more friends. Thinking up schemes. Getting into more trouble. I don’t know, but it’s always something…”

***

It’s some unholy hour in the morning when every light on the ship turns on, every alarm starts blaring, and Rex falls out of bed on his face. Spitting indistinct curses, he frees himself from his blanket and stumbles to his feet. He’s half asleep still, yeah, but even his half-asleep brain knows that there is no way the collision alarm, the all-hands-to-battle-stations alarm, the engine malfunction alarm, his personal alarm, and the kriffing training alarm would all be going off at the same time. As if to make it even more surreal, his room is currently lit with the normal lights, the emergency running lights, and the flashing alert lights.

In the middle of the chaos, Rex’s comm goes off.

“Rex,” Anakin’s voice says. “What’s happening? Did I miss something? There’s no way I missed something. It all feels normal except that everyone’s waking up and panicking.”

“False alarm, I think,” Rex grumbles, grabbing for his armor. “I’m going to disable these alarms so that I can deal with this without a migraine.”

“Okay. I’m in a meeting with the Council right now. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I will.” Rex cuts the comm and grimly pulls on his helmet. He’s going to get to the bottom of this, and then he’s going to go back to bed. There is no reason that he should be roused out of his bunk for whatever nonsense is unfolding.

There’s a control panel just down the hall that allows him to disable the blaring alarms and lights. He goes to it and flips all the switches. Once they’re off, he can at least think.

Kriff, he’d love some caf before dealing with this.

He heads for the engine rooms first, where there’s most likely to have been some kind of circuit messed with. He can’t imagine Echo letting Fives get away with actual messing with the wiring, but he can easily imagine them pulling off some other prank and inadvertently doing something to the wires.

Rex opens a comm to Ion, the head engine tech. “Ion,” he says. “Did the alarm come from your area?”

“No, sir—engines are still fine, and we’re still in hyperspace. I’m getting a lot of bad flow signals from landing bay 4, though. Something overloaded a circuit that messed with the alarms.”

“Thanks, Ion.” Rex cuts off the call and starts for landing bay 4. It’s on the starboard side of the ship, opposite from Rex’s barracks, staggered below landing bay 2 and above landing bay 6. Halfway there, Rex’s comm buzzes. He looks down at it. It’s Echo.

“Echo,” Rex says, opening the line. “Status report.”

“I’ll explain what we did later, sir, but we’ve got a bigger problem now,” Echo blurts out. There’s the sound of blasterfire in the background—the kriff? “We have SBDs in landing bay 4, and we’re pinned down.”

“Who’s we?” Rex demands, breaking into a run.

“Me, Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, and some of the mechanics. No casualties. We—Fives, to the right!—could really use some backup, sir, as soon as you can.”

“En route,” Rex says. “Hang in there.”

It takes him a few minutes that feel far too long to reach landing bay 4. On the way, he calls Appo and Kix. Appo says he’ll be there in less than five minutes, and Kix will be just behind him. That leaves Rex as the only backup, because it’s kriffing 0300 and no one else is up and about unless they’re manning their stations.

The landing bay doors are still sealed off. Rex slams his hand into the button to open it, ducks, and charges through the gap as soon as it’s wide enough.

Sure enough, SBDs are roaming throughout the place. That’s not a problem, though; Rex has taken down enough SBDs during this war already that he could probably cover the walls of his bunkroom with pieces of blown-apart metal. The bigger problem is the charred hole in the wall that must have been what set off all those alarms. It could have been caused by the SBDs, or by the troopers that are in here. The two are about equally possible.

Working quickly, Rex takes out at least five SBDs before any of them even realize that he’s there. The scattered blasterfire from behind a hastily-improvised wall of crates continues, along with what sounds like annoyed arguing.

The kriff are they arguing about, when SBDs are the real problem?

“And—got it!” Fives shouts, appearing over the wall of crates. He has to fire a few more times before he actually takes off his target SBD’s head. So much for ARC training. Fives’s SBD is the last one to be taken out.

In the silence, a few sparks spit out of the fallen SBD metal shells, and a few wires hanging out of the wall crackle ineffectually.

“What was that?” Rex demands, holstering his DC-17s and striding across the hangar. “Where did the SBDs come from?”

“Uh,” Fives says.

“We’re in hyperspace,” Rex says. “Where the kriff did SBDs come from?”

“They were in one of the crates in here,” Echo says helpfully, appearing around the end of the crate barricade. “We were going through some of the crates, looking for supplies, and the SBDs must have activated at the same time. The next thing we knew, we were fighting for our lives.”

“Right.” Rex shakes his head. “And how’d the crates get onto the ship?”

“We loaded them, probably,” Jesse says, joining Echo. Hardcase and two mechanics are closely behind them. “We just loaded up on supplies on the last planet, so I guess some non-supply crates got mixed in somehow.”

“So, some Sep added SBDs in crates to our supplies?” Rex shakes his head. “So much for Seppie ingenuity. That was pathetic.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky for that,” Fives says.

“Why were you going through those crates, anyway?” Rex asks.

No one makes eye contact.

Right. Well, that’s interesting.

“I’m not leaving until I have an answer,” Rex says.

Jesse coughs and shuffles his feet. “Eh… do you really want to know?”

“No, he doesn’t, Jesse,” Fives says firmly.

“I do,” Rex says. “Spit it out, Fives.”

“We’re alive,” Hardcase says weakly. “That’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah, I’m glad I’m not dragging your failed shebse out of here,” Rex says. “And that doesn’t change that I want answers. What were you doing down here, in the middle of the night, going through crates? Looking for supplies, or whatever Echo said? I know you’re not helpful enough to be trying to assist the mechanics.” Rex eyes the two mechanics, who look like they’d rather be anywhere else. “You weren’t involved in this?”

One of the mechanics shakes his head. “We didn’t realize the troopers were down here until the SBDs were activated.”

Rex pulls off his helmet. “Really? Sneaking around?”

“It was Fives’s idea,” Hardcase blurts out.

“It was not,” Fives says. “You were the one who—”

“Woah,” Echo says, holding up his hands. “Guys?”

“Yeah, well you—” Hardcase starts again.

“We were looking for the supplies for the freshers,” Jesse interrupts. “One of us knew that we’d gotten some supplies at our last stop that hadn’t been moved to regular storage yet. Another one of us has that nasty gritty glitter stuff. We were going to fill the new soap dispensers with a mix of soap and glitter.”

Rex wishes the ceiling had some explanation printed on it for how he got stuck with these troopers. “You realize the general uses the freshers, too, right?”

“That was part of the point,” Fives says, shrugging. “And it was Echo who knew about the glitter.”

“Hey,” Echo says. “I knew about the glitter, but it’s not mine, and I didn’t suggest getting up in the middle of the night to go and fill soap dispensers with it. I just mentioned that other time—”

“Yeah, but you came along for the plan, didn’t you?” Fives retorts.

“Yeah, he did,” Hardcase says. “But, uh, Rex—”

“That’ll be Captain Rex until I have a reason to trust you not to do something this abysmally stupid again,” Rex says.

“We were here when the SBDs showed up, though,” Jesse reasons. “All the mechanics down here would have been in trouble if we hadn’t been here.”

“And you’re sure something that you didn’t wasn’t what triggered them?”

“Oh,” Jesse says. “Uh.”

“Yeah,” Rex says. “That’ll be a week joining maintenance before you go back to regular duties.”

“No way,” Hardcase says.

“He’s not kidding, Case,” Echo says.

“Come on, Fives,” Hardcase says, slipping around Echo and marching up to Fives. “This was your idea, remember?”

“Oh, now we’re throwing blame around?” Fives rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t fight a kid, anyway. Don’t think about it.”

“I’m a kriffing week younger than you!”

“Well, when we’re done with maintenance assignment, then you’ll be as old as I am now, and you’ll get your cool back. Maybe.” Fives crosses his arms. “Chill out, ad’ika.”

Hardcase’s frown deepens. “Take that back.”

“Not a chance, ad.”

“Take that back!”

“Stop right there,” Rex orders. “I don’t need to—”

Fives starts to turn away; Hardcase lunges for him; Rex leaps forward. He catches Hardcase’s arm, drags his momentum forward, and neatly flips him to the floor.

“—break up a fight,” Rex finishes grimly. “Well, Hardcase, I think two weeks might be better for you, huh?”

Fives whistles softly. “Holy kriff. You just got bodied, Case.”

Hardcase stares up at Rex, mouth opening and closing a few times. Finally he manages, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

Jesse snorts. Echo rolls his eyes.

Rex steps back and nudges Hardcase in the ribs with the toe of his boot. “Stand up, and help maintenance clean up this hangar. Report to my bunkroom when you’re done. The rest of you can go back to bed and stay there until the morning. You’ll join maintenance then. You threw this ship into chaos for long enough, and now I have to explain to General Skywalker why the kriffing shipwide alarm got set off.”

With that, Rex turns and strides out of the hangar.

He hears Hardcase whisper, “Wow.” There’s a fair amount of awe in that whisper.

Rex doesn’t really care. He’s got a bunk waiting for him, and he’s not going to deal with any more osik about glitter pranks or SBDs or whatever the kriff his troopers have going on.

***

“Insane,” Cody says, shaking his head. “All of your troopers.”

“Not all of them.” Rex tips his mug back so that he can get the last of the caf. “Though I will admit that the non-insane ones are getting fewer and further between.”

“Sounds perfectly suited to Skywalker’s usual antics.”

“Oh, don’t get me started.”

Cody glances at Rex’s mug. “More caf?”

“Yeah.” Rex swings his legs over the bench and stands up. “I’m going to need it.”

Chapter Text

Jacen Syndulla shambles down the narrow hall, barely missing walking into an open toolbox that he may or may not have left on the floor last night. He yawns widely and adjusts his grip on his mug of caf. With Mom away, his sleeping habits have been honestly pretty crummy. He might have gone to bed at 0300 last night. Or, like, maybe 0400? He doesn’t really remember, because he was in the middle of trying to finish adding some new wiring that should hopefully improve the reaction time on the Ghost’s aft gun locking systems.

Jacen kicks aside a hydrospanner and steps into the cockpit of the Ghost. It’s flooded with sunlight at this time of day—just past 1100—and his usual seat is practically begging him to just sit down and put his feet up on the console.

He stops a few steps short of the seat, staring. There’s someone in the seat. In his seat. In the copilot seat he’s occupied since before he could walk.

Correction: there’s the shape of a person in his seat. The person is blue, transparent, and looking at Jacen with a smile.

“Uh,” Jacen says. “I’m dreaming, right? This is a dream? I’m still asleep?”

The blue person shakes his head. “No, you’re not dreaming.”

“Okay then,” Jacen says slowly, dragging the words out. “Uh. Are you a Force ghost?”

“Roughly,” the blue person says.

“I’ve never seen one before,” Jacen says. “Wait, then why are you here—in my ship?”

“Your ship?”

“Mom’s ship. Whatever.”

Jacen takes a closer look at the blue face, which is kind of hard to see in the slanting sunlight. And holy karabast, he would know those eyes anywhere. Because they’re his eyes. Those are the eyes that he sees every time he looks in the mirror. And that’s the same jaw line. Sure, Jacen’s hair is green and going in every direction, and the blue person’s hair is some darker color—it’s hard to tell, since everything is just kind of blue—but there’s no mistaking it.

“Uh-uh,” Jacen says, taking a step back. “No way.”

“There’s always a way,” says the Force ghost who is apparently—yeah, Jacen can’t reconcile that yet.

“I thought you were dead,” Jacen blurts out.

“I am dead,” the guy—okay, fine, Kanan Jarrus, but Jacen’s not going to think of him as anything else until he gets some kind of confirmation of this—says.

“No, I mean, I thought you were gone.” Jacen gestures vaguely with his mug of caf. “You know, like… diluted in the Force or something. I dunno, I don’t know how that kind of stuff works. Why haven’t you showed up before? Where’ve you been? Have you been talking to Mom and not me?”

Kanan Jarrus’s Force ghost shakes his head. “No.”

“Then where’ve you been?”

“… it’s complicated.”

“Uh, great. That’s amazing.” Jacen blinks a couple of times, and nope, he still doesn’t wake up. “So… why are you here?”

“I’m your father,” Kanan Jarrus says.

“Argh! Yes! I know!” Jacen sets his mug down on the console and folds into the pilot’s seat, slamming his hands up against his face. “But, like, why didn’t you show up before? I’m sixteen! You could have, like, dropped by to say hello sometime, right? And now you’re just here… what, haunting this ship?”

“I’m not haunting the Ghost,” Kanan Jarrus says.

“Then what are you doing?” Jacen asks.

Kanan Jarrus opens his mouth, and then pauses. His transparent blue face turns toward the windshield for a moment, a half-smile curling the corner of his mouth.

“Can you… feel the sun?” Jacen asks hesitantly.

“This is a ghost ship now,” Kanan Jarrus says slowly, and very deliberately.

“… it’s been called the Ghost since before I was born?”

“Well, yes,” Kanan Jarrus says. “But now it is a ghost ship.” He pauses, and then says very seriously, “It’s a Force ghost ship.”

Jacen’s mouth drops open, and he can’t even stop himself.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, jolting to his feet. “You did not just make a dad joke.”

“I am your father,” Kanan Jarrus says gravely.

“My dad makes dad jokes?” Jacen fairly howls. “Chop! Chop! You aren’t going to believe this!”

With a disgruntled series of crashes and more than a few choice beeps, Chopper appears in the doorway to the cockpit. He turns to look at Kanan Jarrus, and then bursts into a violent string of insults and beratements. If words could kill, Kanan would be… well, more of a Force ghost than he already is. Since he’s already pretty dead, though, he just sits there and smiles with all the satisfaction of a tooka that’s gotten its way.

This is the weirdest day ever.

Also, holy karabast, Jacen has been talking to his dad. He always just figured that he’d never get to meet that fabled figure, but now, his dad’s Force ghost is sitting in the cockpit on a brilliant sunny morning, and Chopper is swearing up a blue streak.

“Hey, uh, Chop,” Jacen says at last. “Do you think you could, like, tone it down for a minute?”

Chopper spits a last, particularly scathing insult before trundling backwards and shutting the cockpit door with a very annoyed click.

“I see he’s happy to see me again,” Kanan says cheerfully. “I’ve missed that little murderous metal can.”

A loud double-beep echoed in the hall.

“Love you too, Chop,” Kanan calls back.

“Wait,” Jacen says. “So you… you’re just going to hang out here?”

“For a little while, yes.” Kanan shrugs. “I… I’m also waiting for someone else,” he adds carefully.

“For Mom,” Jacen says. Because, obviously, Kanan will be most eager to see her. That’s fair; he’s kind of not met Jacen before today. “Will she be able to see you?”

Kanan—Dad? That term still feels weird—makes a sort of back-and-forth nod. “I hope so.”

“Okay.” Jacen pauses. “Wait, do you know my name?”

“No,” Kanan admits. “I was going to ask Hera, but you showed up first.”

“Jacen,” Jacen says. “Jacen Pas Syndulla.”

Kanan nods. “Hello, Jacen. I’m Dad.”

“Okay,” Jacen says throwing up his hands. “No. Nope. I know you’re my dad, and I know I should respect you, but it is way too early for dad jokes. Especially ones that don’t even make any sense.”

“I think Chopper is angry because someone’s been pushing his buttons,” Kanan says.

Jacen stares at Kanan for a few confused seconds before it clicks and he scowls. “Seriously? Seriously?” He fishes his comm out of his pocket and thumbs the button to call Mom.

She picks up after only a few seconds. “Jacen?”

“Mom, Dad’s here, and he’s telling bad jokes.”

“… what?”

Chapter Text

Luke finds Grogu where he knew he would, down among the tall grass and the muddy ground on the bank of the stream that they’ve been staying at for a few days. Grogu is sitting quietly at the edge of the grass, looking intently at the still, cool mud. The dappled light that comes through the leaves of the trees above them rests on Grogu’s head, making him look almost like a glowing angel. That is, if he weren’t small, green, and definitely up to something.

Luke crouches down next to Grogu. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

Grogu’s thoughts don’t form words so much as an exclamation.

“Use your thoughts, bud. Is there something interesting in the grass?”

I see one!!

“What do you see?”

Look!!

Grogu thrusts out his tiny, three-fingered hand and narrows his huge eyes in concentration. It’s a little reminiscent of Yoda on Dagobah, except that a small struggling frog emerges from the mud rather than an X-wing.

“Yeah, it’s a frog,” Luke says. “They’re all through here, because they live in this river.”

The frog glides slowly toward Grogu and Luke.

“What are you planning to do with the frog?” Luke asks.

There’s a moment during which Grogu’s thoughts are definitely very pleased about something, and also very mischievous. Then, very clearly, and much more articulated than most of the thoughts Luke picks up, he hears something that he would never expect to hear from this small, satisfied green child.

I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.

“What?” Luke says.

Grogu’s thoughts immediately spiral into memories, and Luke sees the same face—the same helmet, rather—over and over. Shiny metal, dark visor, leather gloves that Grogu sits in while he watches the world. Luke gets a very distinct sense of safeness in those memories.

. . . but he also happens to remember that the Mandalorian that he found Grogu with is a bounty hunter.

“Buddy, the frog isn’t a bounty,” Luke points out.

Fire.

“. . . I don’t think burning the frog is a good idea either.”

An image appears in Grogu’s thoughts, very firm and clear. It’s a frog, cleaned and cooked, steaming slightly, and dripping with grease. When Luke looks over, Grogu’s eyes are very wide and hopeful.

“Uh…” Luke shifts and settles himself more comfortably, cross-legged on the soft dirt. “Grogu, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t think it’s normal to use the Force to hunt and then eat frogs. Especially not if you’re thinking of it as… bounty hunting.”

He hunts for nourishment too.

“Well, sure. Everyone has to make money somehow, to buy food.”

He eats.

“Yep, that’s what people do, to stay alive.”

He eats them when he brings them in. Warm or cold. Sometimes he cooks food.

Luke blinks a couple of times, not sure he’s heard that right. “I’m sorry, the Mandalorian is… he eats his bounties?”

Grogu’s thoughts turn disdainful. Of course.

“Humans don’t do that, buddy.”

You wouldn’t know.

“I think I would. I’m a human, too, remember? In human circles—actually, in the circles of every sentient I can think of off the top of my head—we don’t eat our bounties. Almost every bounty is a sentient, too. Eating an animal is one thing, but hunting bounties and then eating them… well, that’s not something we do. It’s considered pretty heinous, actually.”

Fire.

“Look, buddy, we can talk about eating frogs in a bit. Are you serious about the Mandalorian eating his bounties?”

Buir hunts for nourishment. Grogu’s eyes narrow proudly, and his miniature spine straightens. Just like me.

“Uh,” Luke says slowly. His education didn’t cover the eating habits of Mandalorians, but he figures he would have heard something about it if they were actually eating sentients. But Grogu seems so set on it.

Frog, Grogu thinks, looking intently at Luke. Fire. Hungry.

“Right, right,” Luke says, getting to his feet. “Let’s cook a frog for you.”

Two more frogs shoot up out of the mud, and join the first one. Grogu looks up at Luke, eyes wide.

“. . . fine,” Luke says.

***

1423

Jedi: Hi, sorry to bother you, but can I ask a question?

1901

Djarin: Yes.

1918

Jedi: I was talking to Grogu earlier today, and he told me that it’s apparently some sort of practice to eat the bounties that you take in. Can you clarify on this please?

Djarin: What?

Jedi: sorry this is weird but

Jedi: do you eat your bounties?

Djarin: No.

Jedi: thanks

Chapter Text

Echo ducks low behind the wall that’s serving as their only cover at this point. “Hunter, I’m going to need backup in about a minute or we’re going to have more serious problems!” he snaps into his comm. “That Sith monster didn’t even seem affected by the explosion.”

“Hm. That does not seem to follow given my calculations,” Tech’s voice says over the comms.

“Because he’s a kriffing Sith lord, Tech! Is there any backup?”

“Yeah, I’m on the way,” Hunter says. “Wrecker’s coming in from the opposite direction. Omega, no, don’t—”

Whatever reprimand that Hunter was trying to give is lost in the screech of twisting metal. The Sith lord tosses aside the pieces of broken metal and roof as if they don’t weight anything. The reckless abandon is clearly aided by the Force. And kriff, it’s a lot like fighting with a Jedi. Except that instead of being side-by-side with the Jedi, like Echo always used to be, he’s facing down a Sith. And, admittedly, that’s a little kriffing bit different.

“Hang in there, Echo,” Hunter’s voice says.

“Yeah, I’m comin’,” Wrecker grunts.

“Amazing, guys. The osik, really.”

Echo fires a few blaster bolts in the direction of the Sith lord, but he deflects them with the glowing red blade. Kriff, what’s it going to take to get through to this guy? A lot more firepower than Echo has, apparently, because he just keeps coming.

Well, kriff, Echo’s going to need a solution faster than his backup is going to get here.

He scrambles to his feet and full-out sprints for the next piece of cover. Is it a retreat? Technically, but not if he’s planning something. He leaps over a broken-down speeder and crashes to the ground just as a piece of the blown-up roof from earlier comes hurtling in his direction. That would have taken off his head if he hadn’t ducked fast enough.

He rolls onto his back and wriggles underneath the speeder. It’s an uncommon model, but it’s not that hard to see the fuel cells. They’re barely charged anymore, but it looks like that’s what he’s got to work with. Quickly, he jerks the fuel cells out. A few sparks hit his visor, but he’s moving too fast to care. With the fuel cells in hand, he wriggles a little further, until he can see the starter. He rips that out as well, and rolls onto his stomach, already fumbling with the wires to get them connected.

Usually—and he knows his from his ARC classes—the starter’s charge goes through a regulator before hitting the fuel cells. Without the regulator, the undiluted starter charge should hopefully turn the fuel cells into a very effective explosive.

“Echo, what’s your position?” Hunter demands.

“Under the decrepit speeder. For the moment.” Echo wriggles back out from underneath the speeder and rises to his knees. The Sith lord is still approaching.

“What’s that suppose’ to mean?” Wrecker asks.

Echo doesn’t bother responding. He just checks the wires again. They’re ready to go. Rising to his feet, Echo twists two wires together on the starter, allowing the current to start flowing, and hurls the makeshift explosive toward the Sith lord with all the power he can get. As soon as it leaves his hand, he spins on his heel and sprints away.

He has about two seconds of thinking that he might have accomplished something.

Then, naturally, the explosive hits the ground next to his feet, and he instinctively dives to the side while throwing his arms over his head.

The explosive goes off in a roar that throws everything around it in all directions.

Well, the one thing Echo will say for this new iteration of osik on this already osik’la day is that he can make a mean makeshift explosive.

His head is pounding and his nose is bleeding when he drags his head up off the ground. He tears his helmet off, blinking rapidly. Everything around him is a blur of color and moving haze. It seems that explosive kriffed with his neural implants, which is always the best part of any mission. He’s going to have to talk to Tech about making his helmet self-made-explosion-proof as well as normal-explosion-proof.

“You, clone,” a voice rumbles from behind him.

Echo twists to see who it is. His vision is slowly returning to normal, and he can just make out the dark armor and cloak of the Sith lord that’s looming above him. Kriff. Hunter is going to kill him if this Sith lord doesn’t first.

“Kriff you,” Echo snarls.

The helmet’s visor stares at him impassively. The second slip past. Echo’s comm must be broken, because all he can hear anymore is the slow, rasping breaths that the Sith lord is drawing at unnaturally long intervals.

“Well?” Echo demands, stumbling to his feet. He glares at the Sith lord. “What are you going to do, demagolka?”

The Sith lord flinches. Interesting; Echo wouldn’t have assumed that a Sith lord would know enough Mando’a to understand that. But he definitely seemed to understand it, and—

—he retracts the red blade of his lightsaber.

“What the kriff?” Echo says, more to himself than anyone else.

“Echo?” the Sith lord says.

“Get out of my head, kriffer.”

The Sith lord shakes his head. “No,” he says, voice still a low rasp. “I would not take anything from your head. Echo?”

“Yeah. Nosy much? Who’s asking? How the kriff do you know me?”

The Sith lord makes a sound like he’s dying, but on second thought, it might be hysterical laughter. He certainly leans forward, like he’s just heard a joke too good to miss out on. A whole lot of the 501^st used to do that. If a joke was made, Echo could guarantee half the troopers within earshot doubling over to laugh.

“You stayed with Clone Force 99?” the Sith lord says. “Is that working out well?”

What the kriff? How does the Sith lord know this? Why does he care?

“Look, I don’t know who you are,” Echo snaps. “But I’ve got my entire squad headed in my direction, so you’d better explain who the kriff you are in the next fifteen seconds, or you’re going to get shot and blown up about half a dozen ways before you know what’s happening.”

The Sith lord hooks his lightsaber on his belt and reaches up to free the mask part of his helmet from the back. As he peels it back, Echo takes an involuntary step back.

The first thing he notices about the face are the scarred lines. In particular, the one scar that cuts through the Sith lord’s right eye. The rest of the skin twists and knots the scar tissue around the eyes that stare at Echo, yellow around the centers. But the edges? Those are blue. Blue that Echo remembers, because he’s seen that face way too many times. It’s missing the constant smile lines and the unruly brown hair, but it’s—

“General Skywalker,” Echo blurts out.

“Echo, it’s good to see you,” Skywalker rasps. His voice is natural, then? It’s not a voice modulator? What the kriff happened to him?

“You were a Jedi,” Echo stammers.

“Uh,” Skywalker says.

“You kriffing didn’t,” Echo says.

“Uh,” Skywalker says again.

“Echo!” Hunter shouts from somewhere behind Echo.

“Don’t shoot!” Echo shouts back.

Hunter comes running up beside Echo and skids to a stop. Omega is on his heels, staring open-mouthed at the now-unmasked Sith lord. Skywalker. Whatever. Tech and Wrecker come sprinting in simultaneously from the opposite side. They all stop behind Echo and stare. And, to be perfectly kriffing honest, that’s a good reaction to this news.

“Uh, good to see you again,” Skywalker says. He nods around at the group of them. “I… don’t recognize you,” he adds to Omega. “Sorry about all of the… uh…”

Echo clears his throat and uses the voice he used to use on Fives when his twin was being particularly irrational. “General Skywalker, you mean to tell me that you became a Sith lord and came here to attack us because we’re trying to steal a handful of Imperial secrets?”

“Yeah, not cool,” Wrecker grumbles, crossing his arms. “You let me blow up a ship. That was cool. This isn’t.”

“You picked up Obi-Wan’s best glares,” Skywalker says, not meeting Echo’s gaze.

“Oh, yeah, great point,” Echo says. “Where’s General Kenobi? Does he know that you’ve gone off and done this? Because I think he’d love to know. I think he’d also love to know why you’re moving like some kriffed up cyborg with a voice modulator, because that is kriffing problematic.”

“I am a cyborg now, and that’s Obi-Wan’s fault,” Skywalker grumbles. “Though, Echo—do you have any advice on how to take care of prosthetics? I think we’ve got an overall similar thing going on where—”

“Nope,” Echo says. “Not a chance.”

“We can’t just leave ‘im here,” Wrecker reasons at a deafening whisper. “He’s a bad-guy.”

“Colloquially, that is correct,” Tech agrees.

“We could take him with us,” Omega suggests.

“He’s a kriffing Sith,” Echo says.

“No, that sounds like a good plan,” Omega says. She marches forward, ducking underneath Hunter’s attempt to grab her, and walks up to Skywalker. “What’s your name?”

“Vader,” he says.

Echo clears his throat pointedly.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Skywalker says reluctantly.

“Cool,” Omega says. She grabs Skywalker’s hand. “Come on, let’s go and find this Obi-Wan!”

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon steps out of the training room and comes face-to-face with a miniature Torgruta youngling. He blinks down at her for a few seconds. She stares back, clearly unbothered by it. Qui-Gon has not met any Torgruta younglings in a very long time, but he knows he’s seen the markings on her face before. Somewhere. Where somewhere? That’s an amazing question, but he really doesn’t know.

“Master Jinn?” the youngling says. She does a quick, over-the-top bow that Qui-Gon rather approves of. “It’s an honor to meet you.” She straightens up, beaming. “Did anyone tell you that you’re really tall? They said that when they told me about you, but I didn’t realize.” She holds up one hand as high as she can. Given her own size, her hand barely even reaches his belt. “They really weren’t kidding.”

“No,” Qui-Gon agrees. “They weren’t. What’s your name?”

“Ahsoka,” the youngling says. “I’m four. How old are you? You look really old. Are you fifty? A hundred? No, they said that humans only live to be a hundred, so you must be younger than that.”

“Soka!” a voice calls from down the hall.

It’s another youngling, this one a Mirialan a little bigger than Ahsoka. She approaches Ahsoka, but pauses when she sees Qui-Gon.

“Oh,” the Mirialan youngling says. “I’m sorry.” She, too, does a quick bow. There’s a lot less flourish to hers than to Ahsoka’s. “Master Jinn.”

“He’s really tall,” Ahsoka says.

“Shh, Soka, don’t say that,” the Mirialan youngling says.

“Soka?” Qui-Gon asks.

“It’s a nickname!” Ahsoka says brightly.

Ah, it’s starting to come together. Qui-Gon has a sneaking suspicion that he knows who this youngling is, now.

“Who gave you that nickname?” he asks.

“Master Plo!” Ahsoka says. “He’s really nice. He’s the one who found me and brought me to the Temple. Do you know Master Plo?”

“I do, in fact,” Qui-Gon says.

“That’s so cool! Do you know all the Jedi? I bet you know all the Jedi. Master Yoda says that when you get really good with the Force, then you can sense all the Jedi and all the other people, too. And I feel like if you can sense them, then you must know all of them. Do you know Master Yoda?”

“Soka, shh,” the Mirialan youngling says. “Of course he knows Master Yoda. Come on, we should go.”

“But I’m here to train! And so is Master Jinn, right?” Ahsoka bounces on the balls of her feet. “Master Jinn, do you want to practice forms?”

Qui-Gon has to bite back a laugh. “Of course,” he says with dignity. “I would be honored.”

“That’s so cool! Thank you!” Ahsoka grabs the Mirialan’s arm. “Barriss, come on, you have to do it too! All the other crèches are going to think it’s so cool that we got to train with Master Jinn!” She releases her friend and ducks ducks around Qui-Gon to slip through the training room door. “This is so cool!”

Qui-Gon looks down at the Mirialan—Barriss, it seems. “Are you two in the same crèche?” he asks.

Barriss nods. “We are. Ahsoka is… very excitable. Please excuse her.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” Qui-Gon says. “I’m very pleased to get to meet her again, in person this time.”

“Again? In person?” Barriss’s nose crumples in a confusion expression. “Have you met her before? I would have thought Soka would mention it.”

“I—ah—maybe once or twice,” Qui-Gon says. “It’s a long story.”

***

One year previously, Qui-Gon returned from Nal Hutta after a deeply unsatisfying mission, towing a deeply concussed and confused Obi-Wan. He headed straight for the Halls of Healing to drop off his Padawan—Obi-Wan had walked into at least three walls in the past fifteen minutes—and find a bed to take a nap on. The Jedi in the Halls of Healing were always annoying about making him stay there far longer than necessary, which is how he wound up bandaged within an inch of his life and under strict orders to stay in the bed “or else.” It wasn’t even like he’d lost more than half his blood. He walked the line, that’s what he did, and had to deal with a whole parliament of ideas about what was best for his health.

That was how, in the middle of the night, he woke up to someone sitting down on the side of his bed.

“Qui,” Plo’s voice rumbled.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and scowled. “I was sleeping, Plo.”

“I have just returned from Shili,” Plo said.

Qui-Gon groaned and levered himself up to sit halfway propped against the headboard of his bed. “Plo, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Look,” Plo says, holding out a datapad.

Qui-Gon takes it and squints against the blue light. “It’s a Torgruta child,” he says at last.

“A Force-sensitive,” Plo says. “I brought her back with me to the Temple, and she is becoming a youngling.”

“That’s great, Plo.” Qui-Gon hands the datapad back. “Could it have waited until the morning?”

Plo pauses.

“Yeah,” Qui-Gon says. He lies down again and crosses his arms over his eyes. “Maybe tell me about her in the morning, Plo, eh?”

“I will,” Plo says earnestly, and then the mattress creaks as he stands up and starts to leave.

“Wait, Plo, I didn’t—” Qui-Gon moves his arms too slowly, and Plo is already gone.

Plo is going to be there when Qui-Gon wakes up in the morning, isn’t he?

Chapter Text

Anakin paces from one side of the lift to the other, breathing hard. His heart might as well be beating out of his chest. He needs the lift to go faster, to reach Palpatine as fast as possible. Padmé is out there, and he’s not going to let this world be a place where she doesn’t survive. Master Windu is going for Palpatine right now, and unless Anakin gets there in time, it’s going to be bad.

Windu is going to kill Palpatine, and with that, Anakin’s dreams will go out the window. He’s never going to save Padmé—unless he admits his marriage to the Jedi—and he’s never going to beat Obi-Wan’s score.

He doesn’t blame himself for not killing Darth Maul—or, temporarily killing him—back on Naboo, so many years ago. He was a kid then, without even an idea of what a Sith was. Obi-Wan got that kill because Anakin wasn’t up to speed yet.

That got Obi-Wan a good reputation. Anakin got to grow up with that, following around a master known for killing the only Sith in recent history.

That all got thrown into flux again with the war. Suddenly, Sith were everywhere. There was Maul, and Oppress, and Dooku, and Ventress, and someone unknown Sith mastermind.

The war has been unfolding in curious ways, and each Sith seems to be leaving the playing field. First, Oppress simply disappeared. There’s been no sign of him since. Probably, another Sith took him down, given the typical habits of the Sith. Similarly, Anakin hasn’t heard anything about where Ventress is since Ahsoka’s trial. She must have been offed by someone as well.

That left Maul, Dooku, and the unknown Sith mastermind.

Maul is on Mandalore right now, from what Anakin’s heard. Ahsoka is there as well. Maybe she’ll get her first Sith kill, putting her into the deeply unofficial—but deeply lifechanging to Anakin—Jedi competition for most Sith killed.

And Dooku? That’s Anakin’s first point on the scoreboard. Obi-Wan was taken out of the fight early enough that it was left to Anakin to bring Dooku down.

That puts Anakin and Obi-Wan 1-1 in this competition.

Palpatine might have answers for Anakin, about what he’s supposed to do to save Padmé. But, to be honest, so will a lot of other Jedi, if Anakin just caves and tells them that he’s married.

In the meantime, what Anakin really needs is another Sith kill to put him up over Obi-Wan’s score.

The lift finally stops, and the doors sweep open on the halls of the floor Palpatine’s office is on. Anakin strides through the halls, sliding his lightsaber into his hand as he does. He’s ready. He is so ready to finish this once and for all. This has gone on for far, far too long, with Palpatine sitting up here and masterminding this war as a Sith. All this time, Anakin was only one discovery away from evening the score. Now, he’s positioned perfectly so that he can end this once and for all, and have killed more Sith than even Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Anakin would throw open the door to Palpatine’s office, but it’s already open. He steps through, staring at the chaos within. Three Jedi lie scattered across the floor. Mace Windu has cornered Palpatine, and is standing over him, purple lightsaber humming.

Palpatine’s eyes meet Anakin’s. “Anakin!” he calls out. “Anakin, help me!”

Anakin steps further into the room, and nods at the two of them. “Master Windu. Chancellor Palpatine.”

Windu turns to Anakin. “Why have you come here?” he demands. “You should have stayed far away, while I deal with this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Anakin ignites his lightsaber.

Palpatine’s face twists, turning into a cruel smile. “Yes. Yes. Good, Anakin. I need your help.”

“No one’s saving you now,” Windu snaps. He locks his gaze on Palpatine and says, “Skywalker, leave.”

“I can’t do that,” Anakin says again, starting forward.

“Don’t interfere here,” Windu snaps. “This must end now.”

“I’m your friend, Anakin,” Palpatine insists, one wrinkled hand clawing out across the floor. “Your friend, and the Jedi—”

“The Jedi are completely right,” Anakin snaps.

“You want to join me,” Palpatine says cajolingly.

Windu’s eyes dart to Anakin for a second. “You’re considering it,” he says flatly. It’s not a question. He must know, somehow, that Anakin did consider coming here and saving Palpatine from his now-inevitable fate.

“I was considering it, earlier.” Anakin shrugs. “I’d like to make a deal, Master Windu.”

“What?” Palpatine says, voice cracking and sounding more like a dead frog than ever.

“What kind of a deal?” Windu asks.

“He dies,” Anakin says. “I don’t join him, I don’t help him, and I sure as kriff don’t listen to his creepy Sith offers. In return, you tell me how to prevent the dreams of my wife dying from coming true. And I kill Palpatine.”

Stunned silence reigns. Outside the window, Coruscant’s bright lights twinkle, and traffic flows in its usual patterns. No one out there knows that their future is already sealed for the better, and all that’s left to do be decided is whether or not Anakin is going to get ahead of Obi-Wan.

Windu inhales slowly, and exhales even slower. “Your wife.”

“My wife.”

“You kill Palpatine.”

“I kill Palpatine.”

“No, Anakin, no,” Palpatine says. His voice has become pleading, and it’s back to that slightly sinister, grandfatherly timbre. “Do you want to risk everything you have?”

Windu doesn’t seem to hear Palpatine. “Why you?”

“Anakin,” Palpatine insists.

Anakin ignores him. “Well, for one thing, because this monster is responsible for the death of more of my friends than I can list right now.”

“That’s not all,” Windu says, eyes narrowing.

Anakin grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Obi-Wan and I are tied for Sith kills right now.”

Windu’s face twitches. “Really, Skywalker?”

“I’ll kill him, I swear. It’ll be over.”

“Fine.” Windu takes a step back, still keeping his lightsaber pointed at Palpatine. “You know this is a shatterpoint, don’t you? And that you’re going to finish this shatterpoint by settling some competition?”

“Anakin, no,” Palpatine says. “You know how much Padmé means to you—”

“How do you who she is?” Anakin snaps, at the same time that Windu says with utter contempt, “You’re married to Senator Amidala?”

“Anakin, no,” Palpatine says. “No, you want my help—”

Anakin strides over and runs him through before he can finish that sentence.

The air immediately seems clearer. Anakin lets out a breath. He looks out at Coruscant’s serene lights. All those people won’t ever have to worry about Palpatine hurting them or anything they care about ever again. It’s finished.

Windu steps back, breathing heavily, and retracts the blade of his lightsaber. “Let me get this straight, Skywalker. You are married to Senator Amidala, you’ve had some kind of predictive dreams of her dying, you want to keep her alive, and you considered joining the Sith masquerading as the chancellor of the Republic so that he could help you with that.”

Anakin sighs. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound good.”

“When you put it any way, Skywalker, it sounds like you were a single bad decision away from becoming a Sith.”

“Yes, Master Windu.”

“But. But, for some reason beyond any comprehension of mine, you decided to kill said Sith masquerading as chancellor, in order to one-up your master’s Sith kill count.”

“Yes, Master Windu.”

Windu’s jaw locks for a moment. “Do you have any idea how supremely stupid that is?”

“Yes, Master Windu.” Anakin clears his throat. “He’s dead, though, isn’t he? And I’m not a Sith?”

“Small blessings.”

“Master Windu, can I ask a question?”

Windu’s expression looks like he’s contemplating dating a Hutt. “Why not?”

Anakin takes a deep breath and searches for the words. “Would you… do you think that he would count as two points, since he was the Sith behind it all?”

Windu stares at Anakin. “What?”

“Sorry, Master Windu.” Anakin clears his throat again. “You’re right. I should focus.”

“What do you mean by two points?” Windu points at Palpatine’s smoking body. “You do not get the authority to change the rules of this contest to benefit yourself. No, the Sith lord counts as one, and that is not up for question. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, Master Windu.” Anakin can’t help his grin, though.

Across the room, Kit Fisto gets to his feet shakily. “What just happened here?” he asks.

“I beat Obi-Wan, Master Fisto,” Anakin says, pointing to Palpatine’s body. “If you’ll excuse me, Masters—I need to go and comm Obi-Wan to let him know he’s fallen out of first place.”

Chapter Text

Embo&Marrok: I will be taking the job on Trandosha.

CB: there are reports of jedi in the area

CB: better to let someone more experienced take that job

Sugieee: where are there not Jedi these days Cad????

Aurra: plenty of places.

Sugieee: true

Sugieee: :(

BobaFett: I’ll take the job inSTEad if iT nEeds somEonE with morE exPerience

LattsiRazzi: i dont think that was what Cad meant Boba!!!!!

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

CB: latts is correct

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

LattsiRazzi: see boba this is why cad is the one that everyone looks up to!!

BobaFett: okay wELl I can takE the job aNYWay

BobaFett: people look up to mE

Embo&Marrok: Latts is correct again, Boba. There are many people in this galaxy that look up to Cad in the sense that they fear him, and the reputation that he carries.

LattsiRazzi: drop the wisdom bombs Embo!!!

LattsiRazzi: we love to see it!!!

Embo&Marrok: But, in all fairness, there are many that fear Fett’s reputation as well.

Aurra: please, i knew him before he had to shave

Aurra: there is nothing to fear in the reputation of that boy

BobaFett: you caN Take thaT opinion aND Shove it

[LattsiRazzi was startled by a message]

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

Sugieee: everyone looooook, Boba’s all grown up now

Sugieee: at least that’s what he waaaaaants to think

[Aurra agreed to a message]

BobaFett: not funny

CB: regardless boba will not be taking the job

Embo&Marrok: I agree, Cad. I will be taking the job.

LattsiRazzi: i don’t think that’s what Cad meant either Embo :) :) :)

CB: correct again

Embo&Marrok: I appreciate your offer, but I do not need assistance.

Embo&Marrok: I am more than capable of dealing with any Jedi that may be in the area, if they are even aware that I am there.

BobaFett: thAT’S not something thaT you caN saY BAne

Sugieee: oooooh things are heating up

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

CB: the job needs someone with experience embo

CB: and it’s on trandosha

CB: whoever goes has to have access to the kind of weapons that are effective on trandosha

Sugieee: he’s talking about his flamethrowers haha

Sugieee: gonna burn some lizards while you’re there Cad???

CB: if necessary

BobaFett: like I SAid, I caN GO And tAKE THE job

Sugieee: he saaaaaaid you’re too inexperienced, Boba

Sugieee: you’d probably mess up and get eaten by a lizard haha

BobaFett: i would not becaUSE I Am better aT my jobthAN THAt

[Boba sent an image]

[image ID: a screencap of a comm conversation between BobaFett and DengarTheGreat, in which DengarTheGreat defers to BobaFett’s claim to a bounty hunting job, citing BobaFett’s greater level of skill and reputation]

[Aurra laughed at an image]

[Sugieee was startled at an image]

[Embo&Marrok was confused by an image]

[LattsiRazzi laughed at an image]

CB: what is that

BobaFett: it’s proof thAT I HAve a GOOD REputation

CB: that doesnt prove anything

Embo&Marrok: I am confused as to why this argument is continuing when I have made it clear what I intend to do.

Sugieee: oooooh them’s fighting words

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

[BobaFett sent an image]

[image ID: a screencap of a comm conversation between BobaFett and Black_Krrsantan, in which Black_Krrsantan compliments a recent hunt of BobaFett’s]

[BobaFett sent an image]

[image ID: a screencap of a comm conversation between BobaFett and bossk in which bossk explains to BobaFett that it is only grudgingly that he is giving up his bounty hunting assignment, and in the interest of staying on BobaFett’s good side]

BobaFett: sEE?

Aurra: no

CB: no

Sugieee: bobaaaaaa you’re so funny

Sugieee: are those even real????

Aurra: your ego is as big as your supposed reputation

BobaFett: they’re reaL

BobaFett: truST ME I’M NOT THat dumb

LattsiRazzi: okay okay we can debate whether or not they’re real

LattsiRazzi: and if Boba is dumb or not

LattsiRazzi: but first I need to know…

LattsiRazzi: Boba, do you keep those screencaps so that you can reference them and make yourself feel better when you’re sad???

LattsiRazzi: inquiring minds want to know!!!

LattsiRazzi: please don’t be mad haha!!

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

BobaFett: i don’t know why this is sO FUNNY

Aurra: because your reputation exists in your head

BobaFett: AND MY SCREENCaps prove i’m right

BobaFett: it’s NOT Funny

Embo&Marrok: If @CB and @BobaFett would like alternate jobs to take while I am taking the job on Trandosha, they can reach out to my contacts on Felucia and Coruscant. They may be able to provide other work.

LattsiRazzi: thanks Embo!!!

LattsiRazzi: I think they’re having too much fun arguing first

LattsiRazzi: RIP helpful suggestions :(

BobaFett: whaT CONTActs

CB: boba does not get the first pick

BobaFett: i cAN PICK WHAtever i wANt to pick

Embo&Marrok: I will forward the contact information to my contact on Felucia to @BobaFett, and the contact information to my contact on Coruscant to @CB.

Aurra: sharing

Aurra: how touching

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

BobaFett: finE

CB: the jobs on coruscant are better anyway

BobaFett: coruscaNT Sucks

Sugieee: the only thing that sucks is listening to Boba ramble like a child

Aurra: he IS a child

BobaFett: a CHILd thaT BLAck krrsantan resPECTs

Aurra: irrelevant

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

Sugieee: welllll Black Krrsantan isn’t in this chat soooooo I’m not sure what you expect him to do Boba <3

BobaFett: he resPECTS me

LattsiRazzi: I’m sure he does Boba!!!!

LattsiRazzi: at least you have a job now!!!!!

BobaFett: i wOULD haVE FOUND one without help

Embo&Marrok: I am sure that you would have, but I am still happy to provide the contact information. I recommend that you check the message that I sent to you specifically.

BobaFett: i sAw it

Sugieee: ohhhhh is it good enough for your skill level Boba?

BobaFett: SHUT UP EVERYONE

Aurra: touchy

CB: child

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

LattsiRazzi: okay okay okay!!!

LattsiRazzi: we’re friends everyone!!!!

BobaFett: not if they keeP maKINg fun of mE

LattsiRazzi: regardless!!

LattsiRazzi: we need to be a team against the Jedi and all the random other people!!!

[Embo&Marrok agreed with a message]

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

Sugieee: you got Latts telling you off, Boba

BobaFett: she’S TElling you off for being aNNOYING

[Sugieee was shocked by a message]

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

Aurra: touchy

[CB agreed with a message]

BobaFett: ruDE

[Sugieee laughed at a message]

[LattsiRazzi laughed at a message]

[Aurra laughed at a message]

CB: deal with it boba