Chapter Text
–Keeli–
Ryloth is, in one word, dirty. It isn't covered in trash or filthy by any means. It is simply just covered in dirt, dust, and sand. Geonosis had been much the same, but coming from the near sterile environment of Tipoca city, it has still quite a shock to Keeli and the rest of the troopers deployed to fight the insectoids.
To Keeli and most of his vode the worst part of it all, aside from the whole dying bit, was that fine dirt gets absolutely everywhere, whether you want it to or not. Through air filters, into electronics, and most notably in through any seams of your clothing. You can’t escape it. Unfortunately now, it looks like they never will. Keeli had just spoken to General Di and now they are going to hold the line in the canyon they are currently in. They will let the people of Ryloth survive. They most likely… will not, serving as both a diversion and the last line of defense.
Their battalion hasn't been on Ryloth for very long. A week ago, the Separatist invasion seemed to come out of nowhere mere months after the start of the war and its beginnings at the battle of Geonosis. Even though they haven't been here long, every single trooper has wished at least once that they could be on absolutely any other planet, and this includes the stalwart Captain Keeli.
After receiving the call from General Di that the battalion would be giving the Twi’leks a head start, Keeli had made the solemn rounds to their men, to his vode. It was a subdued affair, no one arguing, just coming to the dawning conclusion that they would be giving their lives for the Republic. Every clone knows this fact well, but none of them really thought it would be so soon.
Still, they do their duty, and most of them pay the price in the most permanent way possible.
–Ima-Gun–
As a Jedi, Ima-Gun Di has been in more fights than he can count. As a Jedi Master… well, he’s been in even more. Not more than Master Eeth Koth, but definitely his fair share. As a Nikto, many species, but humans most specifically, try to meet him with violence. Even if he uses every ounce of goodwill and diplomacy at his disposal, sometimes, you can’t stop prejudice.
When assigned the 43rd Battalion, Ima-Gun Di had braced himself for the same xenophobic behavior from the troopers assigned to him, but he was pleasantly surprised and relieved to find that they treat him like any other sentient. They don’t quite treat him like one of them, one of the vode, as he learns they call themselves, but kindly enough.
As a part of the war effort, the Jedi hold the ranks of General and Commander. Which makes them superior officers to pretty much all of the clones–the troopers. They have said on more than one occasion that they were ‘made for the Jedi’. The idea that sentient beings, people, were made for someone does not sit well with Ima-Gun.
Over the weeks, and later months, together he has learned more than he ever wanted to know about Kamino, its practices, and what these… not innocents, not children, but also not adults with all the world experience that comes with their physical maturity, went through. Ima-Gun sees them as the people they are. He watches them blossom into confident individuals, and he even befriends quite a few of them. His Captain, Keeli, is probably the person he is closest to and he finds himself on more than one occasion having to push down blossoming feelings that go beyond just mere friendship. They just seem to leak from his subconscious unbidden.
The more Ima-Gun tries to ignore the feelings, the more time he spends planning and even spending downtime with Keeli, which results in more meditating to release his emotions. It’s a vicious cycle, but one that he is not unused to. By the time they make it to Ryloth, Ima-Gun can no longer let the feelings go. He finds himself drawn to Keeli more and more, and he finally realizes that he can’t deny how much this man means to him. Yet still, he does not act on the feelings. Keeli and his vode, as they call themselves, are not considered sentient beings in the eyes of the Republic and even the GAR. They are labeled as ‘owned property’ and as a Jedi, someone who has personally dismantled slavery rings and knows his own people suffer from the same, it does not sit well. He can’t bring himself to put Keeli in a position where he has to feel like he needs to follow orders. Not now, anyway. Not yet.
Which brings Ima-Gun Di back around to the situation at hand. He and his troopers are facing down enough droids that there is little hope of any of them surviving. B1s are easily dispatched by any seasoned trooper and even less of a problem for a Jedi, but in large enough numbers they can overwhelm even a Master of Soresu. Just to top it all off, the planet is crawling with B2s and there is also the problem of the tanks.
Ima-Gun is fully prepared to give his life for the people of Ryloth, the innocent Twi'leks who have been invaded by a droid army. He mentally falters at the thought of his men, equally innocent in this whole endeavor, dying. He tries to focus on the fight at hand, but the worry, the fear, the guilt persists.
None of the clones have a choice or ever had a choice–in anything really. Ima-Gun was told that the clones swore an oath to the Republic, but–well, let’s just say that Ima-Gun does not think fondly of the way that the Kaminoans raised them, let alone trained them. Between trying to feed them through tubes that lead directly to their stomachs and telling them that they are disposable, Ima-Gun Di has thought of some very un-Jedi like things that he would like to do to Lama Su.
Shaking his head out of the memories of all of the horrors that he has learned since being forced to joint the GAR himself, Ima-Gun settles himself next to his troops as they wait for the droids to make it to the pincher point they set up to increase their meager odds of survival. Keeli, his ever increasing centering point, is stoic beside him. The only hint of apprehension is the slight pinch to his shoulders. His mind focused and the worry just barely detectable through the Force. To an outsider, Keeli’s body and posture give nothing else away.
–Keeli–
Waking up coughing, gasping for air in the dust cloud surrounding him, Keeli groggily takes in the condition of his own body. He hurts, his chest is a molten ball of agony. He remembers being shot by the droids, not once, but twice. The first shot had hit him hard enough to knock him over and kick his bucket halfway to Coruscant, but the second shot after he had gotten back up had hit him hard enough to go through his arm–no, wait. He had been shot three times! The last shot, which radiates agony through his entire upper body anytime he so much as twitches, had gone through his chest. He can still breath, so he presumed his lungs still work well enough. A small mercy.
Finally able to take a full breath without coughing, Keeli uses it to huff out a rough, “Kriff!”
The resulting chuckle draws his attention.
Lying meters away, on his front, currently trying to pull himself along on the ground is Patches, his squad medic. Seeing Patches on the ground reaching out flashes Keeli back to the battle he had just lived through.
–
“Fall back, fall back!” Keeli had yelled as his men had been gunned down by the droids, one at a time.
The remaining troopers, those still alive, had run, limped, or been carried behind cover. The rocky landscape, at the very least, had afforded them at least a modicum of shelter from the barrage of blaster fire. Yet, the vast majority of them were unmoving on the ground in front of him. A veritable sea of bloody plastoid.
Firing his twin DC-17 blasters, Keeli had formed up behind his jetii. General Di is a formidable opponent. While he isn’t on the Council, he is still a devastatingly good Force user and duelist in his own right. Keeli feels his stomach flip a little as General Di pulls off some sort of acrobatic move that would have left the jaw of any watching trooper hanging.
Keeli knows that his mind shouldn’t wander like this, but he knows he’s completely capable of multi-tasking. He also knows that he shouldn’t be ogling his General… even if the Nikto is a sight to behold.
With fervor, Keeli fires at the approaching droids as his troops make a break for the cliffs. They’ve planted detonators in the rockface that the clankers are passing through and they need to find cover–and quickly.
Standing behind and to the right of his General, Keeli slowly backs up while still firing at the droids. The sword and shield maneuver is something that clones and jetii quickly found to be the most advantageous position for them to be in when in small groups. Clones fire from behind and the jetii block any incoming fire and the clones form the offense in various numbers. It works perfectly… until it doesn’t.
Hearing a cry of pain from behind him, Keeli looks back to see a trooper, a shiny with no paint, lying on the ground right before the ridge of low rocks that bracket the caves. Sparing him another glance, Keeli watches as his squad medic Patches sprints out of cover and heads to the downed trooper. He doesn’t get far before another trooper is helping him drag the injured vod away. Another cry of pain echoes through the canyon, and Keeli’s attention is again pulled away. All three troopers are down. One, Keeli can see a smoking hole in his bucket and the other… Patches is still conscious, but can’t manage to stand. The shiny is still on the ground nearby, unmoving.
“Keeli, we must focus on the droids ahead of us,” his General says. “I know you are worried about your vode, but if we lure them just a little farther, we can take out the entire group. Please, stay with me for a moment longer and we will be able to help them.”
“Yes, sir!” Keeli barks. He can do this, they can do this. They will save Ryloth even if it costs them…everything.
It’s then that a burning hot pain shoots through Keeli’s arm and another knocks him off his feet. The impact with the ground knocks the wind out of him and he can’t even wheeze, let alone get back up. His training, however, has other things to say, and he overrides his instincts. Keeli rolls over onto his side. Ahead of him, Master Di is still blocking blaster bolts. He is getting a tiny bit slower, but it would not be noticeable to anyone who doesnt know him or that isn’t a clone. Relying on body language to tell your vode apart goes a long way to help you notice a flagging jetii.
A lucky blaster shot hits the casing of General Di’s lightsaber and the weapon goes flying out of his hands and hits the ground right next to Keeli. Grabbing for his own DC-17, Keeli shoves it in one of his holsters, grabs the jetii’s weapon and forces himself into a standing position with a grunt.
“General, catch,” Keeli wheezes out, tossing the ‘saber to the jetii. General Di doesn’t even look away from the droids that he is using the Force to push away when he catches it.
“Thank you Captain,” Di says. Keeli can just hear the humor in his voice as he says, “Shall we offer them a peaceful surrender?”
“Absolutely not,” Keeli says so emphatically that it surprises him a little. He quickly adds, “--Sir.” to soften the abrupt reply.
“Agreed,” General Di says, and Keeli grins.
The pair continue firing on the droids as they watch for the last of them to round the bend. When the last droid puts its toes around the corner Keeli gives the order to blow the explosives hidden in the opposing cliff face.
“The droids are in position, fire!” he yells into his vambrace.
The resulting silence makes the hair on the back of Keeli’s neck stand up. From their location, they can just barely hear the ships finally coming through the blockade overhead. Keeli looks to his General. They can only worry about what is in front of them right now.
“Status report, we need that cliff down, now!” Keeli yells into his comm again.
“I do believe something is wrong.” General Di says. “I will hold them off. Go check to see what the status of–”
Before General Di can even finish his sentence, the man is struck in the leg by a blaster bolt. He twirls on the droid that flanked him and uses the Force to crush its processor. Releasing the crumbled droid, he turns as Keeli is again struck with a bolt. This bolt hits Keeli in the upper chest. He can’t feel anything but pain, and his mind goes white.
–
Breaking out of the flashback, Keeli shouts, “Patches? Vod, are you a sight for sore eyes.” He looks around the battlefield. The cliff face nearby where the explosive trap was planted is gone. Rocks and boulders are everywhere, and Keeli feels a sense of dread as he looks at the devastation around him. There are bodies strewn all around–some clearly dead and others… others are sluggishly moving!
“Some of our men are still alive… wait, where is General Di?”
“He’s–” Coughing through the dust, Patches clears his throat. Keeli suspects his helmet must have been knocked off during the explosion. “He’s over there. He… uh, he brought down the cliffside.”
“How? He didn’t have the detonator, did he?”
“No, he… Keeli, he used the Force to do it. I’ve never seen him so angry. He saw you get hit again and go down and then… he sort of lost it? I could feel the power from him from over here.”
“Oh…” Keeli says dumbly.
“He’s over there,” Patches says and tips his chin in the direction of their General who is barely visible with all of the falling debris. Only the debris is not actually falling, but spinning wildly around him.
Surrounding the man is a glowing shield. It must be the Force, Keeli surmises, because it looks nothing like one of the shield generators that the Seppies or even the GAR use. Carefully pushing himself into a sitting position, Keeli reaches out for Patches as he finally makes his way to him. He hauls Patches up next to him and they survey the situation together, sitting in the dust debris.
Getting a better look at his General, Keeli can see that within the swirling sphere, sitting with his legs tucked up against his body is General Di. The Nikto has his hands wrapped in the horny like protrusions at the top of his head and covering his face. It looks like he is protecting himself until Keeli sees that he is rocking back and forth. He can just barely make out the mutterings coming from his deep, gravely voice.
“Kriff,” Keeli says.
“Kriff indeed,” Patches agrees.
“Think he’s okay?” Keeli asks, trying his best to exude hope in every fiber of his being.
“Not sure, but he looks physically fine from here. Let’s check our vode first. I think a few were already in the cave when the rocks came down… and then the explosive went off from that.”
“Wait, they did go off?” Keeli feels like a very dull tubie right now.
“Shouldn’t have, as far as my understanding goes, but…” He gestures at their General. “Force osik.”
Keeli nods and gingerly braces himself to stand.
“You think you can walk, Patchy?”
“Not without help,” he says, trying to wipe off all the dirt from his front as he presumably tries to ascertain his own injuries. “Hit in the hip and can’t–” he hisses. “Can’t feel my leg.”
“I’ve gotcha,” Keeli says, stooping, and gently reaching out to his medic with his good arm, chest aching as he does.
With twin guttural groans, Keeli pulls Patches to his feet. Patches wraps an arm over Keeli’s neck and with his good arm, Keeli wraps it around Patches’ waist. Just about ready to make the painful trek to their General, the pair nearly jump out of their armor when another trooper ducks under Patches’ other arm.
“Kriff, vod!” Patches exclaims as all of the weight is taken off of his injured leg. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but where in the kark did you come from?”
“I was near the cave when the blasts went off. Why were there two?” he asks in confusion.
“The General,” Keeli and Patches say together, after sharing a look.
The shiny still looks confused, and now that Keeli looks closer, it looks like he is not only uninjured, but also barely has a scratch on his armor.
“How far in the cave were you?”
“Just the mouth, I, uh, I found Lieutenant Error under a bunch of boulders after the dust settled,” Keeli sees the dejected look on Patches face at yet another loss.
“Oh no, he’s fine, was just pinned. The comms equipment is gone though. He’s looking around to see if he can salvage anything. Told me to come find you–to come see who was still alive.”
Patches seems to deflate at the mostly good news.
“Good job, trooper,” Keeli says and pats the shinies’ spaulder from the awkward position he’s in carrying Patches.
The kid beams. Keeli thinks he must really be new. He tries his best to know all of his troopers, but he never had a chance to do more than introduce himself to the shinies they just picked up from Kamino before the battle here on Ryloth.
“Ah, you were part of one of the squads that were freshly minted. Sorry this was your first campaign, trooper, but you did good, vod.”
“I like the sound of that sir.” Keeli looks at him in confusion as they weave their way through the rubble. “The name, Mint, I think that’s me.”
“Sure is, Mint.” Keeli smiles, but his face falters as they finally approach the wildly spinning circle of Force energy emanating from the General. “Mint, how about you sit down with Patches while I talk to the General?”
“I think I can help, sir. I can feel him. He’s in pain. Not just injured… he’s hurting.”
“You… wha–nevermind. Yeah if you think you can help. Come along, just keep your eyes peeled, yeah?”
“Yes, sir!” Mint says with far too much enthusiasm for someone who just about died with his entire Battalion.
“Let’s put Patch down over… there,” Keeli says with a tilt of his head.
Together they gently lower Patches down to the dusty ground. The man lets out a whimper as they do, but seems to settle himself quickly.
“Here, you hold onto this.” Keeli hands over his remaining DC-17 and Patches holds it at the ready, always willing to watch his back.
“I’ve never seen the General like this Mint, so be cautious. No startling movements, okay?”
Mint nods, taking on a strange and more serene tone to his posture than Keeli has ever observed in a fellow vod. The resemblance to a jetii is uncanny and the thought runs a tiny chill up his spine.
Walking up to the edge of the barrier, Keeli raises his hand up to the transparent shine. He pulls his hand away quickly, worried that it might burn him.
“It won’t hurt you, it’s just a defense, not a countermeasure,” Mint says as he walks up and places a hand on the field. “His mind is still roiling. I think he can hear us though. You should try to talk to him, Captain.”
“Umm, yeah, sure,” Keeli says awkwardly. He’s spoken to General Di thousands of times, but this feels oddly more intimate. “Sir, uh, General Di, can you hear me?”
The jetii remains unmoving aside from his persistent rocking. Next to Keeli, Mint shifts his stance and then his hand on the barrier in front of him.
“He can hear you. I don’t think he’s ready to speak, but he’s listening.”
Keeli nods.
“Umm, I–thank you for saving our lives, sir.” Keeli watches as his General twitches minutely in his near fetal position. “None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you. Uhh, I didn’t know you could take down a whole mountain. That is really karking–err, sorry, really impressive, sir.”
Watching his jetii–and isn’t that a revelation. He’s thinking of General Di as his. Not in a possessive way… okay not in an entirely possessive way, he mentally amends. But more of a ‘you are one of us, but not one of us, we picked you’ sort of way. Keeli’s confusing even himself by his own feelings.
As Keeli is stewing in said feelings, he notices General Di’s head raise up slightly. Over the buzz–not buzz of the shield, Keeli can just barely hear him.
“I almost killed you all. I almost–I did…” he trails off and ducks his head down, head rubbing on his robed forearms.
“What? No, if you hadn’t thought to bring down the rocks yourself we wouldn’t have been able to. Our remote detonator was ruined by a blaster bolt.”
“I… didn’t know that,” General Di says, still almost too quietly to hear. “I saw what I thought was you and your vod killed and then I just… I didn’t think. I just reacted.”
“Well, you have excellent instincts, sir.” Keeli says.
“No, not so good, if they tell me to touch the darkside. To be desperate for power, even if… even if it is to save lives,” he says dejectedly. Keeli can see his body tense as he grips the sleeves of his robes with his clawed hands. The durable fibers still puncture minutely as he shakes.
“Sir, General Di? My name is Mint, uh, I can feel you and you don’t feel dark to me. You feel upset and frustrated, but not dark. If you did touch the dark it didn’t leave more of a mark on you than anything else this war has done to any of us. Sorry, that was probably out of line, but I–wanted you to know that you don’t have to hide yourself from us.”
With a deep exhale of breath, Keeli watches as his General’s body visibly relaxes, one limb at a time. As each muscle set bleeds away tension, the barrier lessens, more and more until it is completely gone. When it is no longer visible, Keeli moved forward cautiously.
Bracing his injured arm against his body, Keeli kneels next to his General, to put himself at the same height. He hopes his presence is less intimidating that way. Sitting is uncomfortable in armor so he rocks back on his heels. Keeli tries his best to emulate the calm assurance of Alpha-17, just minus the mir’sheb stubbornness.
–Ima-Gun–
Reaching out, Keeli telegraphs his movements as best he can. “Sir, is it alright if I touch you?”
“No, not quite yet, Captain,” Ima-gun says. He still feels nebulous and a little untethered, like he skirted too close to a blackhole and it tried to suck him in… or maybe succeeded in getting part of him.
“Sorry, sir,” Keeli says, pulling his hand back. Mint kneels next to Captain Keeli and now that he is so close, Ima-Gun can undoubtedly feel that he is indeed Force sensitive. He didn’t know that any clones were able to be, but he’s also a little disappointed in himself that he couldn’t tell sooner. He’s no Finder like Master Koon, but he should at least be able to feel something. He truly feels like a failure all around today. The only consolation is that the Twi’leks escaped.
“No harm, Captain, I just need a few moments to pull myself together,” Ima-Gun says as calmly as he can.
“Sorry, sir. I don't think we have time for that… uh, sir. I can feel… something. We need to move away from here now,” Mint says with such seriousness that Ima-Gun momentarily forgets that he is new, fresh from Kamino.
“Yes, you are correct, Mint. We need to move,” Ima-Gun says, rising to his feet. He winces as he rises, the pain from the blaster wounds making themselves apparent. Mint braces himself against him. It’s both a balm and pain, but he endures the touch to help save his remaining troops.
“I think there is a cave around the bend. We should be away from whatever is coming this way. It doesn’t feel good,” Mint says, expression unreadable under his helmet, but determination emanating from him in the Force.
“Great, we all agree, let’s get out of here,” Keeli says in an unusual show of disregard for the chain of command. Ima-Gun doesn’t much care for his position as a General, because he trusts the clones to have far more experience with military movements and all around knowledge of warfare than himself. The Jedi are known as peacekeepers after all and… Ima-Gun tries not to think about what happened. The pain of losing his men–of losing Keeli.
“Sir, I can help you. I’ve still got two good legs,” Keeli suggests. Still feeling slightly averse to touch, Ima-Gun takes a deep breath and tries to let out his apprehension into the Force.
“Yes, that way Error and Mint can help Patches,” Ima-Gun says, agreeing.
Keeli nods. Out of the corner of his eye, Ima-Gun makes out the familiar shape of a trooper helmet, Keeli’s helmet, obscured by rubble. He limps over to retrieve it, a chorus of protest coming from all of the troopers. Ima-Gun holds out a placating hand and walks back with the helmet in hand, brushing dirt from the visor.
“I thought you might want this with the wind picking up. I am suited to arid environments like this, but humans generally are not. It might help,” he says while handing over the helmet to Keeli.
Grabbing it with one hand, Keeli tries his best to manhandle it onto his head. Before Ima-Gun can reach out to help, Mint steps forward and tilts the plastoid enough to fit over Keeli’s head.
“Still works,” Keeli reports after the helmet settles. “Not great,” he says as he taps the side of it with his palm. “It’s at least serviceable.”
Looking around again at their surroundings, Keeli says “Mint, lead the way. I think the cave you… know about might be our best option.” He must have realized his mistake earlier because he looks over to Ima-Gun to confirm.
“I leave it in your capable hands, Keeli.” If a Nikto could blush, Ima-Gun is certain he would be bright up to his horns. It seems like his Captain is not the only one disregarding GAR regulations today.