C5P1

Oh what the fuck.

Not for the first time have I decided that the Force existed to simply laugh at lesser existences such as myself. Even now, as I retreat from the battlefield to lick my wounds, my eyes on Kamino still watch. I wanted front row seats to the fall of the Pride and what do I get?

A massive multi-kilometer monster suddenly slowing and then halting in the middle of it's inevitable crash into the surface of Kamino's vast oceans.

No, I do not get that.

What I get is that was impossible.

But then again, it was possible for a proton torpedo to somehow make a ninety degree angle into an exhaust port the size of a womprat that was expelling the entirety of a massive moon sized battlestation's waste heat with a simple application of the Fucking Force.

Were my face capable of looking like I had bitten into something terribly bitter, I would have made that face.

'Commandos,' I said over the Network, as I narrowed my eyes at the still floating command ship. 'Overload the reactors.'

They may be able to catch one ship, but can they catch a million pieces of a ship?

'Reactors are offline, sir,' a battledroid aboard the Pride informs me, almost apologetically. 'Attempts reactivate the reactors or their subsystems are no-urk!"

Aaand there goes my commando droids; their physical avatars disappearing from the Network as their shells were crushed into scrap by an unseen Force.

God dammit.

I turn my attention to my fleet.

One Trade Federation Battleship remained, half of it's hull still on fire, four Providences were in varying states of disrepair, and virtually all my remaining Munificents and Reparations had long since been expended during the running battle of escorting the Pride of the Core.

I did, however, have those twenty four Tector-Class Star Destroyers I captured earlier.

Not that they would be able to do much without their crews and the tiny number of pilot droids slaving the entire fleet together into a cumbersome fleet that could barely fight.

The thought was dismissed in favor of looking at the larger picture. I already had the marrow sample, quite a large amount of loot, and plenty of deniable assets. Tipoca City has already taken a great deal of damage. The Republic fleet had been effectively rendered nonexistent, and I had effectively removed the Pride of the Core from this picture. Every objective here has been achieved, with plenty more besides.

Ventress was safe.

The Republic would no longer be able to produce any number of clone soldiers under any reasonable length of time for the foreseeable future.

I've effectively turned the galactic war on it's head. I may not have destroyed all the clone facilities, but I may as well have with this battle's conclusion.

There was nothing left here for me.

I turn my back on Kamino and begin charting my next moves. 'Take us into hyperspace. I am done here.'

'By your command.' Responds the Network.

-

From the very first moment of my experience, I have been thinking, planning, and fighting. From rescuing Ventress from certain doom aboard that exploding battleship, to commanding entire battalions of war machines at my debut on that ice planet.

From there, there was nothing but a string of victories I earned for Ventress. All of them insignificant in the great scheme of things. Patrol fleets, lone admirals and generals too arrogant or stupid to realize their shortcomings.

I had taken advantage of those weaknesses shamelessly and I earned a reputation for myself. Every victory added another tally to my win, every soldier slain, fighter destroyed, warship scrapped. I was known then, by the multitude of common commanders as a 'troubling foe'. A commander that had the respect and the trust to stand next to the one known as 'Asaj Ventress', Count Dooku's agent and enforcer of his will.

The Republic knew of me, but only through tidbits and hearsay, of scattered vague reports and snatches of corrupted communications.

Until now, I was just another fairly troublesome commander. A droid commander with the novel experience of leading a fleet. A droid commander that had no previous experience as an actual commander.

Either all the opponents I've been fighting up till now were horribly incompetent or I'm a goddamn tactical genius.

But the final tally was not unexpected, but my god it was horrifying. During the entirety of the Battle of Kamino, I had been directing a full battle fleet just over a million and a half battle droids in both the space and land battle. Through the Network, I personally ordered the deaths of more than half a million individuals, from clones to regular men and women.

I had personally pulled the trigger more time than I care to count.

I had just defeated not one, but three Jedi Generals and one of the finest Admirals in existence on their own battlefield. Despite unexpected reinforcements that appeared twice during the entire course of the battle.

Where Grievous failed, I succeeded spectacularly. I had achieved a victory so absolute I cannot comprehend how I even managed it in the first place.

I... I am at a loss as to how I have managed to do all this.

For how long I sat, staring at the azure vortex of hyperspace from the panoramic bridge windows I did not know.

I only slumped into the command chair when I realized the full ramifications of had, might, and will occur. Honestly, were I even capable of it, I didn't know whether or not I'd laugh or cry.

-

The Pride of the Core was back in high orbit of Kamino, where two massive fleet tenders had been attached to it's scarred hull. To the surprise of the Generals Kenobi, Shaak'ti, Skywalker and Admiral Yularen, most of the crew were alive; albeit stranded in lifepods. The same with the crews of her attendant fleet of Tectors.

The ones on the Pride that were unable to get to the escape pods in time, however, were... accounted for.

Fives tried not to think about the fact that they were accounted for in terms of the combined mass of the missing crewmembers due to their being literal paste.

Ugh, too late. The clone trooper went slightly green as he tried to refocus on his work. Tipoca City had been saved from certain destruction after what the Jedi had pulled.

Seeing the eight kilometer warship stopped through the mysterious power that the Jedi wielded and then lifted back up to the orbits was awe inspiring. More than a few clones regarded the Generals in a new light after that.

Hell, who wouldn't?

They were reporting to the Chancellor now, despite looking worse for the wear after that stunt. General Shaak'ti was in the infirmary, having lost consciousness moments as soon as the Star Destroyer was safely back in orbit.

Of course, averting the destruction of his home didn't remove the fact that the scars of the battle remained. Kamino had taken more damage today than it had previously in this entire war. The outer wards were missing entire platforms from orbital debris and and massed artillery fire.

"Hey, Fives, quit dreaming." He looks towards the voice and flushes. Echo looked equal parts disapproving and pensive as a truck full of white-shelled troopers collected it's load and left. "Come on, we need to finish our sweep."

The two of them kept moving, moving deeper into the inner wards. Both Clones kept alert, but Fives quietly marveled that the domed superstructure remained intact despite the damage taken. Plumes of dark smoke still spiraled up into the darkening skies, defiant against the first droplets of rain falling into the still burning infernos.

He tried not to think about all the bodies being hauled into processing, of the small hills of small bodies forcibly decanted, and the grim future of his brothers.

No, Fives forced himself to think about the survivors, about how the Jedi saved them all, and about how great payback would be.

-

"Thank the Force that's over."

Anakin's grunt of "Hn" could be barely heard from his cot.

Relaxing into the stiff, Kaminoan chair, Obi-wan almost groaned from the soreness of his back. All his injuries were making themselves known now that the fighting was over and no one had to make peace with themselves and surrender to the inevitable. And after going through a grueling after action report about the battle, the Jedi became all too aware of all those little cuts and bruises that he seemed to be made of at the moment.

Unlike him, however, Anakin seemed to be in mostly good physical shape. But physical injury wasn't an issue with his fellow Jedi, but the raw emotional pain that the young man was trying to hide from him. Obi-wan didn't say anything, knowing full well just about anything could break the fragile calm that Anakin was projecting.

He needed time to center himself. Until then, Obi-wan wouldn't ask about the delicate matter about the Jedi Knight and his... relationship with the good Senator.

He felt rather than saw Shaak'ti approach. The door opened and Obi-wan turned to ask about her state, but saw her face and felt his heart sink.

"The Senator is pregnant," stated Shaak'ti plainly. Her face betrayed little, but even under her tightly controlled expression, the other Jedi could see how her emotion roiled inside. He could sense outrage, anger, disgust, and betrayal.

Anakin did not say anything. He seemed to be in shock.

"I see," said Obi-wan, feeling the atmosphere intensify. "Shaak'ti, are you sure you are-?"

She ignored him. "How long has this been going on?"

The younger Jedi stayed silent.

"At least six months, judging by the current stage of the pregnancy," Shaak'ti continues, her voice growing sharp. "How long have you been lying to us, Anakin?"

Anakin's face became stony. Though the young man had closed off all outside emotion, Obi-wan's practiced eye could see the minute shivering of barely controlled temper. He stood up, ignoring the protests of his still torn muscles and sore back.

The togruta woman leveled a brittle stare at him, warning the Jedi Master to stand aside. "Why did you do this, Knight Skywalker?"

Obi-wan glanced down at Anakin, but his friend and brother refused to meet his eyes, instead staring stonily ahead in silence.

"Are you aware of the ramifications of this, knight?" Demands Shaak'ti, her voice rising in pitch. "The Senator is the leading opposition against the war hawks. Her being in a relationship with a war hero would ruin her reputation and brand her a hypocrite!"

"So what?" Whispers Anakin, his mask breaking just slightly. "We're married."

The togruta Jedi stared at him in disbelief. "So you admit to this brainless act of stupidity? You're a Jedi, Skywalker! Not a hormonal pubescent farmboy!"

The younger man looked like he had been slapped. Then his mask broke and pure rage filled his eyes. "How dare you-!"

"No! How dare you!" Shaak'ti shouts, her voice wavering as she stumbling forwards. She sways on her feet, but continues with visible strain. "Do you not care about the risk you're taking? This is the Senator of Naboo! You've made her a target! The Confederacy will try to use you through her, if not worse!"

"Padme has always been a target for them! She always will be!" Anakin shoots back defiantly.

"Enough."

Both Jedi seemed to start at his voice. Obi-wan's aches and pain faded away as he spoke, the Force aiding his voice as he stepped between them, surreptitiously tapping his comlink with a minor application of the Force. "Shaak'ti. You have been through a great deal of stress. You're barely standing, let alone thinking straight."

The door opened and a clone trooper walked in, saluting them. "Master Shaak'ti requires assistance returning to the infirmary. Do not let her leave until she is given a clean bill of health."

The togruta woman's shoulders fell in defeat as she accepted his wise counsel for what they were, allowing the gentle grip of the trooper to help her out.

Obi-wan swallowed a sigh as the door closes, knowing full well just how sensitive his former padawan was to his various tics. Anakin sat on his cot, determinedly staring at the white plasteel floor.

The Force faded away and once again, the Jedi Master felt the return of all the aches and pains. But he ignored that for now. A hug was unlikely to be the best show of support that Anakin needed in this latest... fiasco? Scandal? There were no words that he could find in his vocabulary to describe this situation that would be appropriate. Several Huttese curses, unwillingly learned, sprang to mind.

He crossed the short distance between his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Anakin's eyes flickered up towards him, eyes filled with fear of rejection and disappointment.

Obi-wan tapped the unseen bond between him and Anakin. The bond that they've developed since Master and Apprentice. The bond that they shared as friends and as brothers. The fear faded from the young Jedi's eyes.

'It will be alright.' Obi-wan tried to tell him, but he could only give a tight smile to reassure him.

The young man swallowed thickly and accepted it for what is was, looking away a moment later.

This was far as he could give right now, Obi-wan decided. Giving Anakin's shoulder one last squeeze, he turned and left.

Anakin's eyes followed him out, until his gaze was broken by the door closing.

Obi-wan ignored the pain in his back and across his chest. He trusted Anakin to hold himself together in this new and strange trial, the lad was made of stronger stuff than he'd dare admit.

But thoughts of this revelation lingered in his mind. He suspected something of the sort between Amidala and Anakin, but never believed it to be quite this deep. He knew they held a close relationship ever since they met, but marriage? When did that happen? How in the Force did he miss that part of Anakin's life?

The smarmy git in the back of his mind wondered why he wasn't invited to the wedding.

That thought was quickly buried as Obi-wan headed towards the infirmary. Shaak'ti was going to be spending some time in the western wing of the hospital. Away from the good Senator. For now, however, it was time for damage control.

The work of a Jedi Master never truly ended, Obi-wan thought sadly.