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batsutousaiTitle: Start of Something Good
Series: Make a Brand New End
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Qui-Gon Lives, time travel, jedi families, canonical character death, we stan Mace Windu in this house, the clones deserved better, Jango deserved better, character with PTSD, the Kaminoans are the worst, mentions of child experimentation, Force-sensitive clones
Summary: When Feemor warned the Council that a jedi had died, he couldn't have known what they would uncover. (Even if he kind of had.)
A/N: Go on, ask me how long I debated how to go about bringing the clones into this AU.
So, it's not really clear how much most jedi know about the origins of the clones, because everything we know the jedi know, actually is learnt by members of the Council or Anakin. Given they fall pretty much immediately into the war, I went with the assumption that not every jedi knows everything. So, for Feemor's part, he knew they were created on Kamino, he probably knows who the template was, and he can do the maths to figure out this is about the time they were ordered. But who did the ordering and the chances that Dooku might have stuck his nose in? Yeah, not so much.
The timeline is a little wonky here, I think. Uhm, according to The Clone Wars, Sifo-Dyas was on a mission from Valorum when he was killed, but general consensus I'm seeing otherwise has Dooku not leaving the Order (and, therefore, starting his Fall) until after Qui-Gon's death on Naboo. *handwaves everything* Bear with me, I guess?
One last note, promise: Because Feemor is very much Coruscant-bound for the foreseeable future, it seemed silly to write from his PoV, so I'm picking on Mace this time. Which, related, posting the first chapter for Mace Windu Appreciation Day.
This fic is completed at three chapters and will update every other day. If you prefer to read a fic all at once, come back on the 27th.
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
The chirping of his comm woke him, and Mace groaned as he stumbled out of bed and to the wall console in the main room. "Windu," he answered when he hit the accept button.
There was no visual, and as soon as the caller spoke, Mace understood why: "I apologise for the early hour, Master Windu," Feemor said, an edge to his voice. "Unfortunately, this is something of an emergency."
Mace sighed and rubbed at his forehead; even talking to the time traveller caused little shatterpoints to form in the air around him, though there were far fewer than if he could have seen the man. "Promising," slipped from him before he could stop it, his brain-to-mouth filter hampered by the lack of caffeine. "What's the emergency?"
"A jedi just died."
Mace stiffened, very much awake, now.
"I can't tell for certain whom—they weren't anyone close to me—but it was about twenty minutes ago. Not on Coruscant, or anywhere in the core, I would guess. Further out, mid or outer rim."
"Are you certain?" Mace had to ask, even as a chill crawled up his spine; that was...far more specific than Mace had ever heard someone pinpoint the death of a jedi at a distance. Hells, the common belief was that you couldn't even feel the death of a jedi they weren't bonded to at that distance.
"About the death? Absolutely," Feemor replied, and he sounded tired. "It's very distinct, and I've felt it...more times than I should like to recall."
A war, Feemor had said. A war he'd lost almost his entire lineage to.
Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Mace what that might mean for the numbers of the rest of the Order. (Or, it had, but he desperately hadn't wanted to think about that too much.)
"About the distance? It's a lot of conjecture based on correlating the feeling with reports of deaths. This is hardly an exact science."
Exact science, no, but it was something that you would need a lot of data to make even passingly accurate.
Not for the first time, thinking about the future the elder master had lived made him simultaneously ill, and wishing there was a cushy mission to a peaceful, jedi-friendly planet they could send him on for a few months. (And not just because then he wouldn't be constantly dropping more problems in the Council's lap; they were still debating how to handle their new chancellor answering to the sith, not to mention the potential for a galaxy-wide war, and Mace didn't think they would be reaching a consensus about how best to tackle either of those issues at least until they had more exact intel about whether or not Palpatine was already answering to the sith, and if there was a way to save him or stop the potential war from happening.)
Mace sighed and nodded, then remembered there was no visual, because Feemor was honestly doing his best to keep from making the headache his current existence caused Mace from getting any worse. (If only the man's former master could follow his lead.) "I'll inform the Council and we'll look into it, check in with all of the jedi out in the field."
"Good, thank you. I am..." He sighed. "I need to get Wangui up and drop her on Qui-Gon's doorstep soon."
Right. "Good luck with Palpatine," Mace offered.
Feemor's laugh sounded a little brittle, and Mace had a sinking feeling that the man had got far less sleep than he should have before his first day serving as their new chancellor's advisor. "Thanks." And then the connection ended.
Mace sighed and let himself rub at his headache for another minute or two, then typed out a message to the whole Council that they needed to check in with all of the jedi that were on missions out past the expansion region.
By the time he'd had enough tea to feel human and got dressed, he had a handful of responses from other members of the Council, some asking why, but all of them already working through those jedi on distant missions they had a more immediate way of reaching than the usual Council channels.
Mace ignored the questions—that could wait until they were all together—and set about checking in with those jedi he could more easily contact, noting down the two he couldn't reach immediately.
By the time they met up in the Council Chambers, they had only three names that were on missions out past the expansion region who no one had managed to get an answer from: Master Aur'em Heartlighter, Knight M'reib Chapos, and Master Sifo-Dyas.
"Why are we doing this, Master?" Depa asked as Yarael and Even, the last to arrive, made their ways to their seats.
Mace sighed. "Feemor comm'd me this morning; he felt a jedi die."
"Then, why were we looking out so far?" Even asked, frowning. "I don't deny that the death of a jedi is cause for concern–"
"Felt the death, did you?" Yoda interrupted, something sharp in his voice, and Mace wasn't the only one to shoot him a startled look. "Felt it I did not. In the core this death was not."
Mace inclined his head. "Feemor was the one who said they were most likely in the mid or outer rim."
"That's a hell of a range," Saesee murmured, expression troubled.
"Yes, and he's had a lot of practise," Mace added.
Almost the entire Council flinched, in the Force if not physically; Mace evidently wasn't the only one who tried not to think about what fighting a galaxy-wide war meant for their numbers.
Yoda sighed and tapped on the arm controls of his chair, bringing up the three missing jedi on the projector in the middle of the room. "Have three names we do. Gone to Felucia Master Sifo-Dyas has, mediating a revolution he is; on Ord Mantell Knight Chapos is, collecting a youngling she is; and in Hutt space Master Heartlighter is, tracking a slaver ring she is."
"We may be able to discount Heartlighter," Mace mused. "Feemor suggested he would know if it had been someone close to him, and I believe she's still on good terms with Knight Ursu." Ursu and Heartlighter, so far as he knew, had dissolved their training bond, as was traditional, but they had taken missions together since then, and Mace wouldn't be surprised to discover they had formed a more equal pair bond, given the nature of their duties as a shadow (Ursu) and an investigator (Heartlighter).
"Ask Knight Ursu we can," Yaddle pointed out, tapping at her own chair controls, and Mace suspected she was seeing to that.
"It would certainly be faster to ask her former padawan than trying to track her down ourselves," Oppo mused. "Aur'em has always been exceptional at covering her tracks."
"If she isn't certain about her status, Knight Ursu may be the best choice to send after her former master," Ki-Adi pointed out. "How difficult will it be to remove her from her current mission?"
"Difficult," Oppo replied, "but doable."
"Then we'll send Knight Ursu to check on Aur'em, if she can't verify her former master's status," Mace announced. "What of Knight Chapos? Do we have any jedi near Ord Mantell that can verify her status?" Unlike Heartlighter, Chapos didn't have a surviving master or padawan who might retain some sort of bond that could be used to reach out to her.
"Gorse Pottem is leading an AgriCorps team on Genassa," Depa said, looking up from her datapad. "Last I heard, they were wrapping up."
"Is this really something we want to send a Corps team on?" Even asked.
Depa made that face that Mace knew meant a rant was imminent, and he sighed. "That was not a criticism against your friend, Depa," he interrupted, and she ducked her head back towards her datapad a hint of chagrin in her Force presence.
"The Corps team may be our best option," Plo commented, looking through his own datapad. "The next closest jedi we can afford to divert is Knight Oabb and his padawan, on Ansion."
Oabb, Mace knew, was an excellent duellist, but often came off a little too rough to serve as an ideal first or second meeting with a potential initiate's parents. His padawan, Kri Hornings, was only just old enough to be allowed out on missions with the peacekeeper, and sending them into a situation that may involve a dead jedi knight and a potential initiate that may be in danger was...an uncomfortable idea.
"Trust in the Corps we should," Yoda declared.
Mace nodded to Depa, and she started typing out a message to Gorse. "And Sifo-Dyas? We diverted him to Felucia because there was no one else in that sector."
"Do we even know why he was out that far?" Even asked, frowning down at something on his datapad. "He wasn't slated for any missions."
Mace pulled up Sifo-Dyas' file himself, checking his mission logs. Even was right, he hadn't had a mission since before he'd been removed from the Council, though he'd certainly logged his share of travel hours.
"Have a mystery, we do," Yoda mused. "Send a Councillor, should we?"
"I volunteer," Mace said before anyone else could, and someone stifled a snicker.
"Hoping to avoid Master Feemor?" Adi guessed, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Mace frowned at her. "Maybe."
Yoda eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "Go to Felucia you will."
Mace nodded and tapped to exit out of Sifo-Dyas' file, only for a 'file locked' page to pop up as he touched the wrong part of the screen. "Or not," he murmured, and slid the warning screen to the holoprojector in the centre of the room.
Surprise flickered around the room.
"The Office of the Supreme Chancellor," Oppo read off of his own datapad.
"Palpatine?" Depa asked uncertainly.
"No, this looks like an older lock order," Ki-Adi said, zooming in on the file on the projector, showing the date in tiny script at the bottom corner.
"Go to Valorum Adi will," Yoda decided. "If our deceased jedi Sifo-Dyas is, delay assistance on Felucia we cannot."
They all nodded. "I'll leave as soon as we've got through the morning's business," Mace said, motioning for the files over the projector to clear, so they could move on.
The trip to Felucia was not a quick one, despite the Perlemian Trade Route passing practically within spitting distance of the system, and Mace was actually grateful that his comm lit up with a communication from the Temple as soon as he dropped back into realspace outside Lianna. "Adi, what have you got for me?" he asked as soon as her image cleared enough to be recognisable.
"We've got word back that both Knight Chapos and Master Heartlighter are alive and still safely working through their missions; Sifo-Dyas is almost certainly our dead jedi."
Well, it was a relief to know this trip wasn't for nothing, at least.
"However, it may turn out you're in the wrong place," she continued. "Finis told me he'd sent Sifo-Dyas and his aid, Silman, to Oba Diah to resolve a dispute among the Pykes."
"That's troubling," Mace murmured. "I wish Valorum had told us so we'd known not to take Sifo-Dyas off his mission."
Adi sighed. "Unfortunately, he was trying to keep it mum so as to keep from panicking Coruscant's underbelly. It's possible he thought Sifo-Dyas would have informed the Council before he left..."
"But he was barely on speaking terms with us before we kicked him off the Council," Mace finished with a sigh. "Yes. Now I need to determine my priorities here: Do I continue to Felucia and see to the state of things there, or do I go on to Oba Diah?"
Adi glanced to the side for a moment, a murmur of voices coming through the audio, too distant to be distinct, then nodded and looked back to Mace. "Based on when we confirmed the new orders with Sifo-Dyas and when Feemor sensed his death, it's unlikely he made it to Felucia. We're re-routing someone to take over that mess now."
Mace nodded and started inputting his new destination into the nav computer. "Then I'm headed to Oba Diah. I'll comm as soon as I know something."
"May the Force be with you, Mace."
Mace sighed. "May the Force be with us all," he muttered, and ended the call so he could mourn another forty hours of travel in private.
Almost as soon as he hit realspace in the Kessel system, his comm lit up with a distress call being sent over a jedi-specific frequency, one the Pykes likely wouldn't know to check. "Good call," he muttered to Adi and the rest of the Council as he turned his ship towards the moon the distress call was coming from. He tried to hail on the same frequency—Sifo-Dyas was almost certainly dead, but they had no way of knowing whether or not the aide had survived—but got no response.
The moon was...not particularly welcoming, and Mace grimaced to himself as he set his ship down as close to where the distress call was coming from as he could, then hunted through the all-weather kit to find the necessary protective gear to go out into the sandstorm. He wished he could just wait out the storm, but he didn't know how long it would last, nor did he know the status of the aide; if there was even the slightest chance he could save the man by taking a little risk, he had to do it.
The shuttle, when Mace stumbled across it, was empty of all signs of life, though smears of blood were visible under already-accumulating piles of sand that had blown in through the cracked viewport. So, too, was Sifo-Dyas' lightsabre, forgotten against a console.
They had been here, then, when the ship crashed. Or was shot down. And then either someone had come in and pulled them out, or they'd made what seemed to him a poor choice (especially without Sifo-Dyas' lightsabre) to travel out into the moon's wilderness, in which case, he was unlikely to find either of them until the storm cleared.
Frowning and clipping the abandoned lightsabre to his belt, next to his own, Mace continued to the controls, tapping hopefully for any signs of power.
A couple of consoles flickered unhappily, and Mace yanked a drive out of one of his belt pouches, plugging it in and tapping through to download as much information from the damaged shuttle as he could. Then, while that worked, he went hunting for any personal data devices that might have survived the crash.
He came up with a datapad that was cracked at one corner, which turned on to a Senate login screen—almost certainly the aide's—and an incomplete personal holocron, both of which he slipped into pouches on his belt for later consideration.
He retrieved the drive, made one last circuit of the shuttle, then pulled his protective gear back into place and once again braved the storm.
Once back on his own ship, he input the commands to break atmosphere and plugged in the drive to see what he'd found. Most of the information was basic travel data, series of coordinates showing where the shuttle had been since the last wipe. There wasn't anything on the reason for the crash, nor any personal notes of any sort, and Mace sat back in his chair with a sigh, feeling defeated.
He was just reaching forward to start a call to the Council, when an incoming hail came through. "Unidentified Republic shuttle, you are in Pyke Syndicate Space. State your business or be fired on."
"I am Jedi Master Mace Windu, here seeking information on a missing jedi master and Senate aide," Mace replied.
There was a pause, during which Mace narrowed his eyes, fingers straying towards the command to activate his shields, and then the response came, "A jedi master and Senatorial aide were here, but they were recalled for matters that were not made clear to the Pykes. They left the system five days ago."
"Is that so?" Mace returned, suspicious. "Then why did I just find their shuttle crashed on one of Oba Diah's moons?"
There was another pause, then, "The Pykes do not want jedi as their enemies. Their shuttle was attacked by an unknown ship as they were leaving the system. When the Pykes checked the crash to provide assistance, there were no bodies. It is believed their attacker left with them."
Something about that rang...almost false in the Force, but also almost true. If Mace hadn't been a single shuttle, alone in Pyke space, he might have chased after the truth, but he wasn't suicidal, so he replied, "I see. Thank you for your assistance. Were your talks with the Republic settled sufficiently? I'm afraid I don't know all the details, but–"
"The talks were settled sufficiently, yes!" came the immediate response, the Force pulsing with the falsehood.
"I'm glad," Mace lied, staring out the viewport towards the planet. "By your leave, then."
"Safe flying, jedi," came the response, and that, at least, tasted of honesty; the Pykes truly weren't looking to start hostilities with the jedi or the Republic, but Mace suspected they knew more about Sifo-Dyas' crashed shuttle than they were saying.
Well, that would need to be a mission for some other jedi; Mace had neither the firepower, nor was he willing to endanger what evidence he'd managed to unbury. So he turned away from the planet, input a destination on the other side of Hutt space, where he could safely call the Council without making any of the crime syndicates that claimed so many of the systems in this region nervous, and punched the hyperdrive once the computer finished the calculations.
With a sigh at the sight of hyperspace yet again, Mace pulled the holocron out of the pouch he'd slipped it into. He suspected it would just hold more of Sifo-Dyas' rantings about a massive conflict and the Republic needing an army–
Mace froze, staring at the inactive holocron as he finally connected Sifo-Dyas' rantings with what Feemor had let slip about the future he'd lived: A galaxy-wide war and an army led by the jedi.
"Kriff," he breathed. They should have listened to Sifo-Dyas, just like they should have listened to Qui-Gon when he'd claimed he'd fought a sith on Tatooine, and Dooku when he'd started in on the corruption in the Senate having a negative impact on the Order. Force, had the Council been letting themselves get too comfortable, too focussed on voices saying the same damn things, all agreeing with each other and refusing to heed warnings from others? Had they truly forgotten the point of picking so many different voices to sit their seats?
He rubbed tiredly at his face and activated the holocron. "I'm sorry, Sifo-Dyas," he told the hologram of the dead master that appeared. "I'm ready to listen, now."
Sifo-Dyas stared at him for a long moment, then started reciting the dire warnings of war and the need for an army that Mace had heard so many times before. And it was no more illuminating, now, than it had been a year ago.
"I've had the last laugh, though," Sifo-Dyas said, smirking at Mace. "Yan helped me come up with the funds to create the army we'll need. You'll all see, in time."
Mace had stiffened at the mention of the most recent member of the Lost Twenty. Who, according to the man's grandpadawan, was very much in danger of Falling and joining the sith. "Dooku helped you with this?" he demanded.
Sifo-Dyas sniffed. "Yes, another former member of the Council you would all prefer to pretend didn't have a mind of his own."
"Sifo-Dyas, Dooku's Fallen," Mace insisted, even if they didn't have confirmation, because between erasing information from the archives and the grief Yoda had been wearing about himself as he passed on Feemor's warnings, he couldn't imagine that wouldn't happen again.
"Fallen? Yan?" Sifo-Dyas scoffed. "He would never. He may enjoy reading of the dark side, but he would never Fall to it."
The Pykes had said another ship had attacked Sifo-Dyas' ship and taken his body and that of the Senatorial aide. Would Dooku have–?
An army. Dooku had helped Sifo-Dyas fund an army. And Yoda had told them that Feemor said he had been the one they were fighting against.
"Sifo-Dyas," Mace interrupted the holocron's continued lauding of Dooku's character, "where is this army?"
Sifo-Dyas narrowed his eyes. "Why? So you can put an end to it?"
"No. Because another jedi has travelled back from our future, and you're right." Mace gritted his teeth, made himself add, "We should have listened to you."
Sifo-Dyas stared at him for a long moment, then said, "I don't believe you." The matrix shut down.
Mace gave himself a moment to curse. Loudly.
As soon as he reached realspace, he comm'd the Council. It was probably pure chance that he managed to catch all of them in a meeting, but he was willing to give that one to the will of the Force and sent a well of gratitude towards it.
"News, have you?" Yoda asked.
"I don't have confirmation of Sifo-Dyas' death," Mace admitted, "but I doubt he's alive. I found his shuttle downed on Oba Diah's moon, empty. A Pyke patrol told me they were shot down by a ship they didn't know, and that any bodies or survivors were gone by the time they checked. I sensed a lie, but I don't have the resources to press them for answers."
"We can send a team out to do so, perhaps get a clearer image of events," Eeth said musingly.
"And a retrieval for Sifo-Dyas' ship," Oppo added. "Did you manage to find anything of note within the crash?"
Mace unclipped Sifo-Dyas' lightsabre from his belt and held it up to show them. "I managed to get some things off the computer, though none of it looks particularly useful, and Silman's datapad, which will need to be unlocked by the Senate. I also found a holocron Sifo-Dyas was working on. He doesn't trust me, for reasons which should be surprising to no one–"
Someone snorted.
"–but he did tell me he managed to find the funds for his army, with Dooku's help."
Mace could almost sense the round of shock and concern that went around the room.
"Is Feemor free?" he asked, because he'd been travelling so long, he couldn't guarantee his sense of Coruscant time.
"He should be at the Senate, right now," Adi replied, shaking her head.
"Take a couple of hours to eat and meditate," Yarael suggested. "We'll comm back once we have him here."
"Maybe take some pain killers in advance, Mace," Depa added, teasing.
Mace sighed. "We'll speak in a few hours, then," he replied, and signed off.
And then he did, in fact, go to check the shuttle's medical supplies for pain killers.
When they comm'd back a couple of hours later, they discussed a few Temple issues that had come up while Mace had been travelling, then called Feemor in. The shatterpoints around him weren't held at bay by the distance, but the pain killers blocked the worst of the headache the man's circumstances usually gave him, and Mace used the rare chance to examine the elder master.
The small shipboard holograms were hardly useful for details, but stress was writ obviously enough in the deepening lines around his eyes and mouth, far more prominent than they'd seemed the last time Mace had chanced a look at him. He held himself in an easy manner, shoulders loose and legs ever so slightly spread, hands folding politely in front of himself as he straightened from his bow of greeting.
It was a deceiving stance, Mace knew, had seen far too many jedi holding themselves in exactly the same way jump into action almost before anyone realised there was danger. Peacekeepers and investigators, usually, some diplomats and shadows, those who had a history of missions going arse over and needing to pull a lightsabre or other weapon in a heartbeat.
Feemor had never fallen into any of those categories, had always had far more luck than the rest of his lineage when it came to missions ending peacefully; he had never moved with that easy grace of someone used to fighting for his life, and Mace had to wonder how many others in the Temple had started to realise that something soul-deep had changed about the mild-mannered master, something completely unrelated to the long-overdue rescinding of his repudiation.
(He wondered, too, more privately, whether the man was in danger of joining his former master as one of the greatest duellists in the Order, which had never been a title Feemor had attempted to claim.)
"Masters," Feemor murmured. "You have questions for me?"
Eyes turned to Mace, and he inclined his head. "I'd like you to tell us more about the army of the other side. The one Dooku leads?"
It's only because he could see everything as a tiny image in front of him, rather than sitting in his usual seat, that he noticed Yoda's ears droop.
Feemor glanced at the Grandmaster, mouth tugging down ever so slightly, then looked back at Mace. "The Seps?" he asked, and Mace couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising at being granted a name. "We actually faced the beginnings of them on Naboo; they used battle droids. B1s to start, with the droidekas, but they advanced quickly, working towards the BX and MagnaGuards. Models meant for facing jedi," he added.
Well, wasn't that a grim thought.
"The B1s and B2s were the most common, even later in the war," Feemor offered, and Mace could only guess at what cues he was reading in the Force from the other Councillors. "The B1s go down quick, and the B2s are better armoured, but a lightsabre can take them out easily, or a hail of blasterfire. Droidekas are only a problem if you let them set their legs and get their shields on, and, even then, you can get through those by walking up behind them, or rolling a grenade at the right velocity."
"And the ones to fight jedi?" Oppo requested, clearly filing all of the information away for later consideration; Mace suspected the Thisspias would be requesting a more detailed brief from Feemor later, so he could fully peruse each model's strengths and weaknesses, build up battleplans they could refer to in future, should the war occur again.
"Ah. They were more agile, moved faster. The MagnaGuards were almost always equipped with vibrostaffs, I believe?"
"You don't know for certain?" Eeth enquired, not judging, just curious.
Feemor shrugged. "I was clean-up; we got the B1s and B2s that got left behind. Sometimes a surviving vulture droid or three would attack our ship when we entered the system, or on our way down to the surface. Rarely, a semi-functioning tactical droid would manage to put together a resistance." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, cocking his head to one side. "I did face one BX. It was...not something I should like to repeat."
Mace could translate that any number of ways, none of them good. He did know, at least, that Feemor had survived the occasion, given he'd said it was one of his own soldiers who shot him.
Feemor clasped his hands together again, over-long tunic sleeves falling loosely over them. "May I ask why you're asking? I had believed the Trade Federation and their allies would pause their droid productions for a while. Or, at the least, stay enough under the radar to keep the Republic from suspecting them of warmongering."
That was another problem to send a team to look into, then. How delightful.
"Recall Sifo-Dyas, do you?" Yoda asked.
"Master Sifo-Dyas? Yes. He was on the Council for years, and a good friend of Master Yan's. He died..." He trailed off, blinking. "Oh. He was the one I felt die?"
"We can only assume," Mace admitted drily. "I've found his crashed shuttle, but there's no body."
"He's the only jedi who fit your criteria who is unaccounted for," Plo said.
"Mace found some evidence that he was working with Master Dooku to fund an army, however," Adi explained. "He was convinced we would need one, but none of us would believe him."
Feemor let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement. "Master Yan would be the jedi to go to when you needed help raising funds under the noses of the rest of the Order," he said drily, and Mace doubted he was the only one to grimace in acknowledgement. "But I can't imagine someone like Master Sifo-Dyas funding a–" He froze, his eyes going wide.
"Master Feemor?" Depa called.
"I'm sorry," Feemor said, his voice gone a little odd. "The systems Master Yan attempted to erase from the Archives, is Kamino on there?"
"Kamino?" Yarael repeated, even as he and most of the other members of the Council pulled out their datapads to check.
(Mace regretted leaving his behind, but it had been better to leave it safely in Temple, than to chance it ending up in the hands of someone unsavoury if his mission had gone to hell.)
"Kamino, out in wild space," Eeth said.
Feemor closed his eyes and let out a long, steady breath, then looked at Mace. "The Kaminoans are cloners; when we found them ten years from now, they had an army waiting for us, cloned from the genes of a Mandalorian bounty hunter. They had already been fully paid for, and we weren't in a position to ask any questions. Or," he added, tone going self-deprecating, "if the Council did, the answers weren't shared with the rest of the Order."
An army of clones. That did sound far more to Sifo-Dyas' taste than an army of droids. More comfortable for much of the Order, even, especially those who specialised in the Living Force.
"If Master Dooku knows about this army, why didn't he sabotage them in some way?" Adi asked.
"What's to say he didn't," Even returned with a hint of a bite. "Without Sifo-Dyas there to tell someone–"
"Feemor!" Yoda called, even as Depa rushed up out of her chair, datapad clattering to the floor, and hurried forward to the master in the centre of the circle.
Feemor flinched away from her when she touched his arm, body twisting into a low Soresu guard, one hand reaching for his lightsabre, only to freeze when he found nothing there, because Yoda had already summoned it away.
"Master Feemor," Depa said, voice careful and hands held up in a show of peace. "Do you know where you are?"
Feemor didn't speak for a moment, and then he rasped, "Council room. Kriff." He straightened, and Mace didn't think he was imagining the fine tremors shaking his form. "I...apologise."
"Your fault that was not," Yaddle insisted. "Healing you still are."
The sound Feemor let out could have been termed a laugh, if one was feeling generous.
Depa reached out again, making sure he could see her this time, and took his arm. "Come here and sit down," she insisted, motioning back towards her empty chair.
"No, it's fine, I'm fine," Feemor insisted, because he really had been raised by Qui-Gon Jinn.
"Sit you will, Great-Grandpadawan," Yoda ordered, "or return your lightsabre I will not."
"Troll," Feemor returned without any real heat, and allowed Depa to lead him back to her seat. Only once he looked like he would stay, did Yoda float his lightsabre back to him, while Depa collected her datapad and stood politely just off to the side, in front of the doors.
"May we ask what triggered that?" Yarael enquired gently.
Feemor folded his hands together in his lap, casually twitching the sleeves of his outer tunic to cover them from view, the same way he'd had them while standing. "I believe Master Yan did sabotage the Vo– the clones," he said in an almost-casual voice. "Neh– My subordinate and I were...not what I would call friends, but to unhesitatingly shoot me was not in his character, wasn't in the character of any of them. Their training included following the orders of jedi utterly without question, and while plenty did learn to question us, especially in regard to our own health–" his mouth quirked, fond "–following an order to shoot one of us is something else entirely."
"You're certain about that?" Even asked.
Feemor's head tilted to the side slightly. "Think of them like padawans," he said in a thoughtful tone. "They think the world of the jedi leading them, but they also recognise we're fallible and sometimes need a second pair of eyes or hands to get a job done properly."
"A padawan would never attack their master," Depa murmured, looking at Mace with a troubled frown. "Not without extenuating circumstances."
"Or the influence of the dark side," Feemor said, something weighted in his tone.
Mace had a sinking feeling that, whatever Feemor had just thought of, whatever horrors waited them in the future, he was very much not going to enjoy them.
"If Master Dooku is working with the sith master who is controlling Palpatine," Oppo mused, and Mace really wished the Thisspias master thought of things a little less tactically, some days, "he can pit two armies against one another, wearing down anyone who might be inclined to fight for the 'right thing'. And then, once a certain goal has been met, use a failsafe built into the armies as sabotage by the other side to wipe out the last of those who might oppose them."
"We won," Feemor rasped, and even through the blue tones of the hologram, he looked pale and sickened. "Master Yan was dead, and Yoda had just called me to let me know Obi-Wan had killed Gr– the other field leader. All the was left was the leaders of their senate, the ones who avoided the battlefield at any cost."
Heads around the room turned towards the doors, and Mace could just barely hear the sounds of a commotion through the audio pick-up.
"That sounds like Knight Kenobi," Depa said, and Feemor let out a tired laugh, rubbing at his face.
Yoda motioned and the doors opened. The visual didn't extend past the room, but it didn't take long for Obi-Wan Kenobi and little Wangui to take the offer and step into the room, both looking a little uncertain.
But then Kenobi spotted Feemor and huffed out a strained laugh. "I thought you were joking about one of us joining the Council to give Qui-Gon an aneurism," he teased in a strained voice, while Wangui rushed over to her master and climbed into his lap like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.
(Given the way Feemor immediately wrapped his arms around her, perhaps it was normal. For them. Mace knew just enough about Feemor's medical circumstances from before the time travelling to guess he would be dragged over hot coals by Healer Kloic Skey if he started judging how the elder master interacted with his lineage. Especially given how much more strain Feemor was under, between his future knowledge and having to deal with the chancellor daily.)
Feemor choked out a laugh. "Oh, no, little brother, I really wasn't joking about one of us joining the Council. But it won't be me."
Mace almost missed Kenobi's horrified look, his attention caught by the looks Yaddle and Yarael were trading; he knew neither of the masters were comfortable with the idea of the Order having to go to war—none of them were comfortable with the idea, in truth, but some of them could stomach the possibility of leading an army better than others—and wouldn't be surprised if they resigned their seats to masters they believed more capable of taking those reins. (Depa, Mace suspected, would follow their lead, though she hadn't been quite as vocal about her disapproval of their possible future.)
Mace had a sinking feeling he was going to need to get into the habit of taking pain killers before every Council meeting, because that look had been too perfectly timed to not mean that Feemor was on a list of one or both of their preferred replacements. Which was sensible, since Feemor had more experience than any of them when it came to fighting in a galaxy-scale war, and was one of only two masters alive with experience fighting sith. (Not to mention his position as the chancellor's jedi advisor, which was historically a position held by someone on the Council.)
And then Feemor's comment to Kenobi registered, and Mace cast an appraising look over the young knight. He'd managed to kill a sith, and Feemor had said he'd taken the boy Qui-Gon was convinced was the child of prophecy as his padawan and raised him to knighthood. Adding in his history of messy missions with Qui-Gon, including taking part in any number of outright wars—one of which he'd left the Order to fight in on his own—Mace could see how he would make a choice Councillor, especially during wartime.
...Mace almost wanted to drag them both onto the Council, just for Qui-Gon's reaction.
"Master, what happened?" Wangui asked, sounding just as worried as Depa always had when Mace got a headache because of his ability to see shatterpoints.
Feemor shook his head and looked towards Kenobi. "Just...something I didn't want to remember," he said.
Kenobi hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gripped Feemor's shoulder. "Wangui, we should let them finish their meeting," he said as Feemor rested his own hand over Kenobi's.
"What if he remembers something else really bad?" Wangui demanded.
"Then we'll be right outside."
"Go on," Feemor said, giving Wangui a gentle push. "I don't think I'll be much longer. Maybe we can try that diner Obi-Wan swears by?"
"Dex's?" Kenobi said. "That's a great idea, but if Qui-Gon finds out we went without him when he could have come, he'll be a misery."
"Ah. Why don't you go invite your grandmaster, then?" Feemor suggested to his padawan.
"I know what you're doing," Wangui informed them both, sounding just the slightest bit petulant. But she also slid out of her master's lap and stalked from the room, huffing a bit.
Kenobi stayed where he was for a moment longer, hand still on Feemor's shoulder, then nodded and stepped away, turning to bow to the room. "I apologise for the interruption, masters," he said, perfectly polite.
"Understand we do," Yoda said.
Kenobi bowed again, then took his leave, the doors falling shut behind him.
"What do I need to know about the clones and the Kaminoans?" Mace asked into the following silence, because it made sense to him that, since he was already outside the Temple, he might as well extend his mission to check on this army of clones.
"Yes, it would be less noticeable for you to extend your trip, than for one of us to leave," Ki-Adi commented. "And it's clear this planet needs to be checked sooner, rather than later." Because they were trying to get jedi out to check all of the systems Dooku had erased, to find out what about each of them might have been worth hiding, but it was something they needed to keep quiet, away from any chance of the sith's allies finding out they still had access to that information. Which meant being careful who they sent to check and having to find reasons the Senate wouldn't note for jedi to extend a mission and check one of the systems that happened to be either nearby, or on their way.
Feemor was staring at Mace, and he wished the resolution on the holograms was better, because he just knew there was something important about whatever his expression was. "Kamino is a water planet," he said after a moment that felt like it stretched too long, "and suffers nearly constant rain. There are cities dotting the surface, all made up of structures built above the waves. Tipoca City is the one you'll want; I can only assume they'll direct you to it once you explain you're a jedi.
"Kaminoans are all tall and thin, with long necks, not unlike Quermias." He nodded to Yarael, who let out a low, thoughtful hum. "From what I've heard about them, they're, nearly as a whole, arrogant and slightly xenophobic. They also view the Vo– clones as products," he said, spitting the word like it was poison. "They would kill clones who didn't meet their exacting standards."
Mace stiffened, heard others draw in sharp breaths or let out noises of dismay; the idea of ending a sentient life just because it didn't match their idea of perfect was...anathema to anyone with even the slightest connection to the Living Force.
"Allow that we will not," Yaddle declared, an unusual hardness to her tone.
"Agreed," Mace said. "That's something I'll be talking with them about."
"In the– During the war, a member of the Council stayed on at Kamino to act as oversight," Feemor offered.
"A not unwise course, with the sith involved," Oppo mused. "Mace, get the lay of the land, see where things stand, then we'll decide which of us would be best to remain on site for an extended stay." He turned to Feemor. "Unless you know who did so during the war?"
Feemor shrugged. "They're not currently on the Council, and nor are they currently in a position to spend an extended time on Kamino."
Someone huffed a quiet laugh, almost certainly at how Feemor avoiding giving any hints as to this potential future Councillor's identity.
"Anything else, was there?" Yoda asked Feemor.
Feemor nodded. "The Vo– clones–"
"Just say whatever it is you're trying not to say, Master Feemor," Even snapped.
Feemor's jaw clenched, then he let out a sharp breath. "Their progenitor is a Mandalorian; they referred to each other as vode, brothers. There was a lot of anti-clone sentiment from certain corners of the Republic, and the Seps weren't unknown to use the word as an insult, especially in anti-Republic propaganda. It...left a bad taste in my mouth, so I asked my men what they'd prefer to be called and they told me I was welcome to use what they were already calling each other."
"Understandable, that is," Yaddle announced.
Feemor inclined his head to her and looked back at Mace. "The Vode have been genetically engineered in a number of ways—faster, stronger, more accurate shooting—to be better partners for the jedi. They've also got accelerated growth, so they age two years for every one. It's the way the Kaminoans managed to have an entire army ready in ten years."
"Ends, does this accelerated ageing?" Yaddle asked.
"And what happened when more cl– Sorry, when more Vode were needed? I assume there was a point during the war when the original army was no longer enough," Eeth said.
"I...don't know that the accelerated ageing ever stopped," Feemor admitted, sounding troubled. "We were far too focussed on the war and trying to get the Vode sentient rights, to worry about how quickly they might be ageing."
"Kark," Even muttered, and Mace whole-heartedly agreed; the clones—Vode—had been made to fight in a war, and they hadn't even been granted basic sentient rights? What had the Republic come to?
"And we did need more Vode, yes. The Kaminoans just...sped up their growth even more," Feemor said, and there was something off about his voice. "Those Vode, they died a lot faster. Not enough training, not enough time to adapt to their changing bodies, I don't know, but it seemed like we had to light pyres for twice as many Vode after those ones started being sent out."
"At least two jedi will need to remain on Kamino," Plo suddenly said, a hard, determined edge to his voice, audible even through the vocoder. "One member of the Council to act as oversight and protection against sith influence, and one jedi with the biological and medical expertise necessary to oversee that care and engineer a cure for the accelerated ageing."
"And we'll set a group of consulars to working with those senators they trust to handle the matter delicately, to work on legislation to legalise cloning and grant rights to any clones in Republic space," Adi added, right on his heels, the upwards tilt of her chin saying she would be working on that even without the Council's support.
"Agreed," and "Seconded," went around the room, unanimous support for both propositions given without hesitation, and Mace saw Feemor looking around at them all with an expression that looked very much like hope.
"The doing of this Council the creation of the Vode was not," Yoda said, firm and unyielding. "Yet, ours to bear, much of the blame is. Our duty, to help them it is." He turned to Mace. "Go to Kamino you will, yes; safeguard younglings you must."
"Yes," Mace agreed. "Feemor, if anything relevant occurs to you..."
"I'll pass it on to the Council at the first opportunity," Feemor promised, pushing himself up from Depa's chair and brushing a hand down over his tunics.
"Good. Go see to your padawan."
Feemor bowed and took his leave.
Mace waited until Depa had retaken her seat, before he said, "I would appreciate some warning before any of you resign and name Feemor as your preferred successor."
"I don't believe we're quite at that point, Mace," Yarael said, and Mace didn't need a perfect connection to know there would be mischief glinting in the Quermia's eyes.
"Coming, a time for new voices is," Yaddle added in a warning tone. "Blindsided this Council has been, by the sith, by Sifo-Dyas' army. Much needed, Master Feemor is."
"He's certainly more than earnt the position," Plo said, tone mild through the vocoder. "As Yoda pointed out, he has passed a far greater Trial than any of us can truly understand."
"I don't disagree," Mace interrupted, "I just need to stock up on pain medication."
Chuckles went around the room and Yarael promised, "We'll let you know if any of our resignations are imminent. However, in the case of my untimely demise, yes, Master Feemor would be my preferred replacement."
"And mine," Adi added.
"Master Jinn is mine," Yaddle offered, perfectly serene.
Mace's brain completely stopped working for a moment.
And then Yoda started cackling, while Oppo said, "Mace, you may not be the only one needing to stock up on pain medication."
Mace rubbed tiredly at his forehead. "Someone tell me the coordinates for Kamino. Please."
They waited as he put them into the computer and it worked out a route. He passed on the next time he was expecting to be out of hyperspace once it finished, Yoda promised one of them would be available for a check-in call, then he said his goodbyes and hit the button to return him to hyperspace.
And then he went to go lie down, because he really was sick of staring at hyperspace.
3- Oh But I'm Starting to Believe
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