Fanfiction Drabbles

He needed the intel in that helmet. And the protection. Wasn’t beskar, but Kal would make do. He rifled through the white armor and found the shots for pain and stims. He would need those if this battle drug out or forced him to keep moving. Kal brushed the visor clean and slipped on the helmet.

The full three-sixty degree view was disorienting for the moment. Not quite like his own bucket. He blinked through many screens and tabs, seeking what he needed. 

“Hey, that’s not a clone.” A mechanical voice was too close. 

Kal grabbed the nearest blaster and shot the battle droids. He started running. Now that he had his bearings, he could join the rest of the Clone Troopers. Grabbing rifles, blasters, and power cells as he found them. Too many Clones were dead. Surely the infantry was better trained than this. 

He saw a splinter group of battle droids engaged with a stranded squad of Troopers. Kal didn’t wait. He pinged their comms. “Hold your fire. I’m right behind them,” he ordered. They did halt but the confused voices demanded to know who was using CT 75-8731’s commlink. Kal wasn’t going to waste his breath. He aimed his rifle and got three shots through the heads of three battle droids before the dull machines even turned. By then Kal was already changing vectors. 

His next rounds were rapid fire duel DCs. That took out more. By that time the squad swarmed around their cover to join. In moments the droids were rubbish.

One took a leadership position though none of them were trained officers. “You’re not a Clone.”

“Wonder what gave that away.” His gold beskar armor was clearly of Mandalorian design. That he wore a Clone’s helmet only said that his own had to be scrapped. 

“I’ve got to report this to the Commander.” The Clone’s ident tag marked him as CT 32-5532. The gray-green pain markings meant nothing to Kal. The comm in Kal’s helmet linked to the shared channel. “Commander Suaent, we have a non-Gar combatant who assisted us.”

“Does he have a name, Dals?” A young woman’s voice answered. 

“Mattran. Falin Mattran,” Times like these he hated the army’s chain of command. Kal grimaced as he shifted his weight off his injured ankle. Too much activity without preparation. 

“Ah… Thank you, Mattran. Dals and his squad will escort you to the forward base and we can figure out how you stumbled upon this battlefield.”

Kal rolled his eyes. He knew exactly how he ended up on this battlefield and not a soul was going to believe him. Karking time traveling idiot. “Of course, ma’am.” He could play along until he figured out more. As much as he did not want to, it was probably the only way to get out of here.

Dals sent a map to Kal’s borrowed bucket. “It’s going to be a bit of a march. The General is still salvaging her battlefront, so all air support has gone to them.”

“They just left you here?” Kal grimaced, taking a seat on the chassis of a droid. He might as well use the spare moment to inject the pain medicine.

“We were doing searches for medical evacs. Hadn’t found any, then got pinned down by those droids. It helped that you arrived when you did, sir.” Dals paused on hearing Kal grunt in pain. Shots to the ankle never got easier. Hesitantly, Dals asked, “Are you injured, sir?” Clearly wondering if he should have said something to the Commander. 

“Just an old injury. This will get me through the march without trouble.” Kal stood. He oriented himself based on the map and started walking. An airlift or a jedpack would have been immensely helpful, but Kal knew how to deal with the hand he was dealt. He was still going to figure out how to kill the Jedi, but reconsidered telling the man that he had sent Kal into a battlefield. 

The squad followed without comment. Kal bet they were on their private channel trying to figure out how a Mandalorian showed up in this mess. They were too polite to ask. Possibly too new out of training. Even knowing that this was what they were made fore did not ease the pain of seeing so many dead and discarded. Kal steeled his heart to get through this. They heard distant cannon fire of a battle mopping up. The urge to join never quite left him. 

He saw signs of the forward camp with their sentries and makeshift fortifications. “Private Dals? Did CT 75-8731 have a name?”

“No, sir. He was only five days off Kamino.” Matter of fact. Hidden sorrow, perhaps. That was life as a soldier.

“Did you know him?”

Dals paused, looking to his squad. “Sorry, sir. It looks like his entire squad died in that fight.”

Kal sighed. “So it is… May I keep his armor tally?” He showed the bit of plastoid and circuitry carrying the Clone’s identity. Kal barely remember removing it. It wasn’t like he would ever pass for a Clone. Too short for one. Wrong armor for another. The tally might have gotten him limited access to some data console, but now it seem more important to remember a boy who had helped him without knowing.

Dals shrugged. “We have no use for them, sir. It’s already scanned and added to the list.”

“Thank you, Dals.” Kal removed the helmet and passed it over. “Wouldn’t have made it through without him.” Two Jedi were headed his way. Kal did not look forward to this conversation. At least it confirmed what Jango didn’t want to discuss. The Jedi commanded the Clone Army. The Jedi might know how to fight, but they were no generals. “Well, one of you must be Commander Suaent.” 

The petite female Iktochi with a Padawan chain waved. “You must be Falin Mattran. This is my master, Cas Oprei.” A slender blue skinned female Twi’lek nodded gracefully. They both wore bland Jedi robes. Kal bit back a frown, having become too accustomed to the Temple Guard ornamentation. 

“Master Mattran, it appears the Jedi Council wishes to speak with you. It is not often a Mandalorian appears out of nowhere.”

“Who said I appeared out of nowhere?” Kal challenged.

“You did not appear on any of our scans or sensors until you contacted Private Dals.”

“Just means I know how to stay off the radar. Something your troops could learn more of.”

“I see.” Oprei’s lips thinned. “Regardless a transport is arriving to escort you to Coruscant.”

“That’s not necessary.” Kal regretted playing along.

“I must insist. The transport is already on its way. Either you may join us and rest until the transport arrives or I must detain you while we wait.”

“Right. Sounds cozy.” Kal scowled. He could use a cool canteen of water after that march. Only he heard a horribly familiar engine. It would be too much to hope that it was the Jedi coming to collect him out of this mess. He almost didn’t want to turn around as he observed the poorly disguised shock on both the Jedi’s faces.

“Master Guard,” Oprei bowed. “This is unexpected.”

“Jedi Master Cas Oprei. Padawan Kie Suaent. I was sent to collect one, Falin Mattran.”

“That would be me.” Kal turned to face the Temple Guard. Same ornate mask and robes, but taller than Kal’s Jedi. “Why did they send you?”

“To expedite answers. Please board the transport.” The Guard stepped off the ramp and bowed slightly while gesturing to the entry hatch. Kal glared vibroblades at the polite order. There was still a possibility this Temple Guard knew Kal’s Jedi. It was a step in getting this whole thing fixed. The Guard bowed deeper when Kal climbed the ramp. He heard the Guard speak to the Jedi and Clones, but the words did not linger in his mind. Kal turned to figure out why it felt muffled. “Please continue into the ship.” The Guard prodded him into the hold before closing the hatch.

“Did you… mind trick Jedi?” Kal asked stunned. 

The Guard slipped into the cockpit and the ship rocked as it lifted off. “It is not an easy feat. Nor is it one to preform routinely,” he said returning to face Kal. His hand rested on that long lightsaber pike at his hip. “You do not belong here. I would very much prefer to kill you. However, they do not recognize that vambrace. I do. Why are you here and where is my kin?”

Kal dropped into a fighting stance, realizing he only had his knife, garrote, and a few shock grenades. Not enough to go against a Temple Guard, but he’d be damned if he didn’t go down fighting. He did pause to look at his left arm at the white vambrace that was getting more scuffed by the day. “You think I want to be here! Last thing I know is I was trying to get a sick Jedi to drink water and he then banishes me with his mind. His words. So don’t act like I’m here by choice.”

The Temple Guard did not relax his stance, though he did remove his hand from the lightsaber. “That should not be possible.”

Snorting, Kal dropped down onto the bench. “Don’t tell me that. I’m karking here where I shouldn't be. So figure out how to get me back already.” The blank stare of a Temple Guard answered him. He should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy.