#sw ff

As the shockwaves subsided, the emergency lights kicked on and so did the air, overwhelming her with the stinging aroma of smoke and sterilizer. The clash of blaster bolts and the hum of a swinging lightsaber raged through the blood red halls, joined in chorus by the blaring evacuation siren and the screams of the injured and defenseless. Still, she kept her hand clamped over her mouth and nose to muffle the sound of her breathing. In her ears, her pulse pounded. In the bottom of her stomach, a pit formed.

She did not understand – why were they doing this? Weren't they friends? Did she do something to make them mad? What did she do? Tears sprang from her ocean blue eyes and rolled down her rosy, cherubic cheeks. What did she do?

"Anora!" Master Teble called out. "Anora, call for help!"

She did not move – she couldn't. Her fear had condemned her to watch the destruction of her kin through the slats of the vent she had crawled into to hide.

The clone troopers corralled her master into a corner. Her turquoise, serpent-like head tendrils slithered angrily in the air behind her. Over and over she deflected the blaster bolts with her green saber, sometimes taking out a clone with a well-timed swing, but more often than not, being grazed herself. Her movements were slowing. She was hurt and losing hope. Despite sensing that her Padawan was close by, she was more alone than she'd ever been.

Agony and death poisoned the medical station as the clones advanced. She snapped her eyes shut and covered her ears, but it did nothing to drown out the screams. Not the younglings, someone pleaded, no, please not the younglings!

"Anora, hel-"

Tagged By

@socially-awkward-skeleton and @g0dspeeed (Thank you all so much!)

Star Wars Tag List

Between your departure and the beginning of the clone wars, you spent your time traveling from system to system gaining new techniques and knowledge of health care. You excelled at the medical academy and already gained much experience. Your patients included Jawas, Wookiees, togrutas, government officials, humans, and even mandalorians. Now those were hard patients.

Once the clone wars hit you were hired as a battlefield medic for the republic. You had no real qualms over the government, your loyalties were to living organisms, no matter who or what they had done. Being Surrounded by Jedi knights, you couldn’t help but think of Anakin. You selfishly hoped he never found someone to replace you.

While on the planet Naboo before the war broke out you heard talk of senator Padme Amidala’s new Jedi bodyguard. It seemed as if they were romantically involved which is why it was such a hushed scandal. You of course remembered her as the beautiful young girl who you would never compare to. There's no way that Jedi could be Anakin. Right? No it couldn’t be. Either way your main focus now was keeping your patients alive and healthy.

“B” a nurse called

You turned, “Yes?”

“Patient 67 was moved to sector C, but they still need the bacta transfusion and the aloe salve”

“I’m on it”

“The Botanist” or just “B” is what people called you now, I guess it was better for anonymity? But they mainly called you that because of your signature remedies were ones made of plants. For your final you chose to do a study of different plants with healing properties. After many hours of research you found a plethora of uses for many different botanical organisms. Each species reacted differently to certain plants, for some plants could cure all diseases, but others they would only heal a scrape. Either way you employed plants healing capabilities, in some way, to almost every case you got.

After the war the steady need for medics was dying down. Many of your colleagues opted to settle down in a steady system and open their own practice. Some of you wanted that too but deep down you knew that was not your destiny. You barely ever got a chance to reminisce of your past but every so often you would miss the boy you loved on Tatooine. Where in the galaxy is he now?

You had gained notoriety as a skilled healer who served during the clone wars. A healer who could alleviate the most severe of symptoms, who never turned down someone in need. Throughout your career you were offered many permanent positions, but you could not be swayed no matter how hearty the deal. You still had something to do, you were still unfulfilled.

Some time after order 66 you got wind to the termination of the Jedi. Hm. For a moment you sat silently…. You allowed yourself to mourn for the countless lives lost, you let yourself mourn for…him… Anakin. Though you wouldn’t sadden yourself with the possibilities, you always wished for his mothers affirmations to come true. But now you are an adult with responsibilities, there was no time for fairy tales.

About five years had passed since the fall of the republic, now only the domineering empire remained. Personally the governmental shift had not affected your small life. You didn’t know much of the inner workings of this new system. You only heard daunting stories of those who crossed them. You had heard of the feared Darth Vader, a man in a black armored suit, his ruthless red lightsaber the demise of so many souls. Yikes. You wondered if whoever was in the suit had a hand in the termination of the jedi not so long ago.

You were working out of a small mining system, helping locals recover from a major explosion in one of the mines. Heading back to your camp after a long day of work, you felt a sense of unease. Your senses were fighting for you to flee. Why? As much as you tried, you just couldn’t shake that feeling. Your fears were confirmed when you saw four stormtroopers huddled around your camp. Your brain screamed for you to run but your legs continued walking. Why would imperial troopers be at your camp? You had never had any run-ins with the law before.

Gingerly you stepped into their view.

“H-Hello? Can I help you?”

They turned together in tandem, blasters held close to their chests. The one closest to you stepped forward and glanced down at you.

“Are you the medic known as the Botanist?”

Suspiciously you nodded, “is there something I can help you with?”

“We have orders from the emperor to retrieve you.”

“May I ask the reason for this sudden disturbance?” You asked

“His majesty wishes to employ you as his apprentice’s personal physician.”

You began to shake your head, “I do not take exclusive patients, I need to be available for all who require my assistance. Taking this job would mean-“

“Do you really have a choice?” Interrupted another trooper. Your eyes darted between the four figures, blasters perfectly on display.

“I guess I really would be no help if I were dead?’ You thought to yourself.

“No, I will accompany you, do you at least happen to have a file I could study on my new patient?” You sighed, defeated.

The troopers nodded at each other and started walking.

“Hello?” You asked hurrying to grab your bag trying to follow them.

“Further north you will reach a port, from there you will be guided onto an imperial vessel, I assume you will be given the file there. If you fail to reach the port, you will be tracked, hunted, and killed.”

The man’s words sent a shiver down your spine. Luckily you had been operating around this planet for a few months and knew the quickest way to the port. You nodded at the troopers and headed on your way, only your backpack in tow.

__________________________________________

You knew the quickest route to the port, but it was still a long haul. By the time you reached the entrance around five hours had passed. You alternated between hitching rides and walking to reach the destination. You walked in seeing mostly locals sending out shipments or unloading cargo. The large ship on the end of the dock was not easy to miss, the imperial crest adorning its flanks.

You approached the vehicle nervously. Stormtroopers dressed in black armor guarded the entrance.

“Hi there, I was sent by a squadron from the east sector. I’m a medic”

“The botanist?” Asked the slightly taller trooper.

“Yes” you confirmed laughing nervously.

The two gave each other a look and stepped out of the way so you could board the carrier. Giving them one final nod you entered the maw of the ship.

How did you get here? What were you doing? You never had any run ins with the empire before now so how would they have even known of your existence? Why did the emperor want you specifically? Who was his apprentice? Why did he need your assistance? What in the galaxy was-

You were pulled from your thoughts as an imperial officer grabbed you by the shoulder.

“This way, medic.” They spat.

They brought you to a small seating area and motioned for you to take a seat. You nervously sat as they chucked a large file into your lap.

“You have from now until we reach our destination to become acquainted with your patient”

You looked at them dumbfounded, you only just heard you were becoming a personal physician and the file in your lap was rather large.

“Where are we going? How long will I have to study the patient’s file?” You asked.

Rolling their eyes, the officer shortly snapped out,

“If you must know. Mustafar.”

Before turning and quickly exiting, air tight doors sealing behind them.

Mustafar? You had only ever visited the volcanic planet once and the heat alone was enough to keep you away.

What kind of person could stand to live there? You pondered as you prepared to begin studying the gargantuan folder.

__________________________________________

Mustafar was an uncomfortable planet to say the least. Why anyone would live there was questionable. But one man chose to construct a fortress of the active planet. Heavy footsteps followed by rhythmic breathing filled the corridor as the master of this fortress made his way to his throne room.

He effortlessly created a foreboding demeanor even as he simply sat down. Dressed in the darkest black, the Sith Lord sat on his throne, large body exuding an aura of dominance. In front of him a blue holo-figure, a ghastly old….man? The once human face twisted and contorted by hate and insanity spoke to the man in the chair,

“Lord Vader”

“Master.”

“How has your recent recovery faired?”

The dark lord paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. Recently he was involved in a large TIE crash, to further the damage after the crash he was set to face a skilled opponent upon arrival. He was always in pain, but the new blaster burns and the injuries from the crash had impacted him severely.

“It is…adequate, my master” he finally responded

The sickly man raised his head to reveal his glowing eyes.

“Your…efficiency has been…strained as of late, lord Vader.”

Those words cut into the mechanical man, he took in deep breath.

“My apologies, master. I will assure the utmost success for my future endeavors” He felt suddenly short of breath, respirator kicking in to save him the struggle of trying to breathe on his own. His masters eyes widened and his mouth opened downwards.

“Ahhhh… I see you are struggling, my apprentice.

This could become a problem”

Vader’s back stiffened, “NO. No, my master, I have everything under control, the droids in my medical wing have been upgraded recently and I-“

The emperor cut off the armored man.

“I have arranged for a highly…. Reputable medic to aid you with your….ailments.”

Vader felt his chest tighten, he didn’t need anyone.

“Master ple-“

“They are set course on a vessel as we speak.”

Vader was silent. He would not be seen as weak. He would end the medic’s life.

Palpatine spoke once more.

“You will fail me no longer. You will accept these treatments and you will be restored to your highest efficiency. Am I clear”

Efficiency. He really was just a machine of the empire. Just a weapon.

“Yes, master.” Vader confirmed. Palpatine smiled his all knowing smirk and faded out of the call.

Left to his thoughts, Vader rested his head in one of his gloved palms. He felt as if the only time he wasn’t being used as a weapon or even a fighter was as his days with his mother on Tatooine. Watto used him. The jedi used him. Obi-wan used him. The empire used him. Palpatine used him.

Padme.

Padme didn’t love him.

but….

His mother never used him. Neither did…

she.

F/N.

***

(a/n: aahhhh, the next chapter should actually have some reader/ vader interaction yaaay :))) i hope u guys r enjoying it here <3)

           Kote stared at where the cadets were and was caught in a nostalgia trap, remembering when he had been at a similar age. He and his batchmates liked to pretend they were flying in outer space, too. Except they never had any miniatures like them. Kote, his batchmates, and all his brothers within the compound ran flight simulations based around archival data from old skirmishes in preparation for their duties as soldiers. Immature handling of a craft like he’d seen from that batch’s leader would have gotten him a fierce reprimand from his trainers and the Kaminoans or, if it had been on an actual battlefield, killed. Kote doubted any of those cadets were aware of this fact as he was.

           Unlike him, those cadets were not raised to know. They shouldn’t have to, either.

           He shook himself free of the past with that last thought. Kote could not let himself be distracted now that he had already come so far. He was a man with a mission. And, like he’d been taught, he swallowed down the tempting bitterness that cloyed in the back of his throat and marched forward with renewed determination.

           Republic business waited for no man, especially if that man was a clone.

           Kote weaved an uncertain path through the streets of Coruscant. Though he walked blindly, a strong warmth had settled deep within his chest that inspired an odd sense of confidence within him. A voice, somewhat reminiscent of his Prime, whispered in his ear. Kote was nearly convinced it was his Prime save for the manner in which the voice spoke. While it had Prime’s timbre and pitch, the cadence was completely off. The voice sounded too dull to be Prime’s, who was known for his sharp and caustic tongue. When the voice said, ‘you are almost there’ the sentence didn’t cut. Its words wrapped around his spirit and sent a dizzying thrill across his body. It was then Kote realized he wasn’t hearing those words. They had come from some place deep inside him.

           Kote ground his teeth around a curse. A few days without his batch and he was already starting to go mad, hearing voices…

           He slowed regardless of how the voice urged him further onwards. ‘A few more steps’. Kote spun in a mad circle, catching his breath as he surveyed the area. It didn’t look like an area suitable for politics.

           The massive crowds had thinned to a few stragglers who didn’t hide their suspicions about him. They were dispersed amongst the buildings in sparse clusters and had a more noticeably rougher edge to them. The buildings, too, seemed less shiny than what he had seen previously. It was dark on the other side of their transparisteel, enough that he could see his reflection clearly if there wasn’t a glowing neon tumor fixed somewhere above.

           He didn’t linger on his face. Vanity wasn’t encouraged where he’d been raised.

           His eyes were on all the others’ reflections. Part of his covert operations training involved watching without being caught. This way, if he noticed an unfriendly face sneaking his way, he could strike first. The element of surprise was necessary since he hadn’t any weapons on him. His armor was supposed to withstand a lot of fire and blows, but there was no practical data to back these claims. It hadn’t been tested in actual combat. He didn’t plan on acquiring that information first-hand.

           Kote pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his head and marched at a slower pace than he had before.

           He took great pains to ignore the voice he’d been hearing as it wasn’t making any sense. Every attempt at silencing it made the voice louder. Every shove against it was met with an equal response that made him wince in the aftermath. Kote broke from his surveillance to wipe at his eyes with a tired fist as the latest battle with the voice was like trying to move a freighter-class ship using only his forehead. Because he wasn’t looking where he’d step, Kote’s foot landed on a foreign object that almost made him lose his balance.

           The voice cried out again. Kote was doubly sure it couldn’t be his Prime since he doubted Prime would ever sound so melodic.

           Luckily, loud as it had been, the voice didn’t utter another note after its short song.

           Kote sighed in relief. His pain began to ebb away since the voice wasn’t taking up all the space in his mind. He blinked back into awareness soon enough. Kote stepped off of the foreign object once he had his bearings and peered down at it. Its cylindrical shape was familiar to him. He crouched for a better look, scooping the object up into his hand to study it from all angles. It was as he recognized the shape to be of a hilt that Kote identified the object in his hands.

           It was a lightsaber.

           Like with most things, Kote never had the experience of seeing a lightsaber with his own eyes. He knew the basics of it. Battle strategies involving lightsabers were downloaded into his head, both for fighting with and against. The Kaminoans even taught him about those who could wield lightsabers.

           The files on them weren’t as robust as he would have liked, but there were a few important facts contained within.

           Firstly, that they – or rather, one of their members – had commissioned the Kaminoans to build an army that led to Kote’s creation. Secondly, wherever there is a lightsaber, its wielder should not be far behind.

           “Excuse me. I believe that what you’re holding there belongs to me.”

           Kote knew that this new voice wasn’t imaginary like the last. He had never heard it, nor an accent like it. The notion that he enjoyed how this new voice spoke, how he wouldn’t mind hearing it speak more, crossed his mind and confused Kote greatly. It was the first time he’d ever found a voice to be pleasant and didn’t know what to do with this information.

           “Sir?”

           He was drawing too much attention to himself by not responding. Kote had to act quickly. His grip on the lightsaber tightened as he rose to full height. The voice had come from behind him, so he spun on his heel with trained precision and faced the lightsaber wielder.

           None of his years on Kamino prepared him for this.

           “Hello,” the wielder said, smiling at Kote as if he were another one of his brothers. Except Kote’s brothers’ smiles never inspired such strange and precise reactions within him. “It looks like you’ve found my lightsaber.”

           “Hnn.”

           Kote was trained for war in any terrain, but he was unable to handle the battlefield that used to be his body. His face warmed to a significant degree like he’d been in the midst of an intensive exercise. Kote’s chest stuttered as if it couldn’t remember how to breathe, and his heart had lost the careful pattern of its beat and couldn’t reclaim it. There was a desire to take this new man in his hands, like he had done with the lightsaber, and observe him every which way until Kote knew him as if it were his own. Already Kote catalogued the waviness his gingery hair and beard, the softness of blue gaze, the slim build hidden beneath flimsy armor, and, as he already mentioned, the man’s amazing smile.

           Kote had been warned that those who wielded lightsabers were capable of other tricks that could confound their enemies. Was this one of them?

           No. For some reason, Kote didn’t believe it was. Though it meant his inner turmoil went unexplained.

           He would have to leave it that way, as his silence went on for far too long. The other man’s smile started to dim. Kote hated that he was the cause of it.

           “Here,” he said. His hand shot forward rigidly as he presented the lightsaber to its wielder. “Take it.”

           “…Thank you.”

           The lightsaber wielder reaches out hesitantly for his weapon, his stare unblinkingly turned onto Kote as he moved. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and it required every ounce of willpower Kote had to not cling to the lightsaber because he’d been touched by someone who wasn’t his brother. He thought to himself that he was acting like a fool. Kote was wearing gloves. Their skin hadn’t made contact. Why would he think this simple act was that important? Why did he believe, had he not been wearing gloves, it would have been worse?

           Kote’s empty hand hung in the air between them as the lightsaber wielder clipped his weapon onto his belt. Belatedly, Kote realized how useless his hand was just floating there. He dropped it back to his side.

           “You know, I can’t begin to tell you the number of times I’ve dropped this…”

           It was an unnecessary comment to make. For some reason, the lightsaber wielder thought to continue their conversation far past its logical conclusion.

           Kote blinked at him as he struggled to respond. Improvisation wasn’t his strongest suit. “You should be more careful then,” he told the other man. “A weapon like that could easily wind up in some enemy combatant’s hands at some point, statistically speaking. And without your only means of offense and defense, you’d be dead.”

           He observed how the lightsaber wielder’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch in a manner that sent ripples across his placid expression. Kote gathered that he might have been too blunt, critiquing how he managed his weapons despite never holding a lightsaber before today. Usually that had never bothered Kote back on Kamino. In this instance, Kote wished he could strike what he had said from the record. Or for the ground to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Whichever was the most plausible, and fastest.

           “Right.” The lightsaber wielder was too kind as he still entertained Kote after his verbal gaffe. He arched his brow and stroked his beard. His smile had returned. “Well, maybe if I’m lucky the only hands my lightsaber will end up in other than mind own is yours.” Those words caused the wielder to react in a certain manner as well, tripping over himself in apology. “Or rather,” he amended, “hands that are like yours.”

           Kote relaxed. It seemed like the wielder was aware of his brothers, then, and what they had been made to do. Which made it easier for Kote to ask him, “If you don’t mind, I could use your help.”

           “Of course.” He was glad to move past their bout of awkwardness much like Kote was. “What do you need?”

           He allowed a tiny smile to crack his regimented expression. “I’ve been trying to find my way to the Republic’s Main Building, and I believe I might be lost.”

           The wielder’s gaze travelled from left to right as he leaned closer, conspiratorially. “You are correct. We are far from where the Senate conducts their business.”

           But why were his instincts ordering him here? That was a question for a different day. Kote stayed on task, “Do you happen to know how I can get there?”

           “I do.”

           Kote listened intently as the lightsaber wielder provided detailed directions on how he could reach the Galactic Senate from where he was. He also offered up ancillary information like its hours of operation, whose office he could petition for an audience, lodgings near the Senate for him to stay in and – once Kote mentioned how he hadn’t a single credit to his name – the location of his base that always had bunks at the ready for those in need.

           The wielder had been explaining the distance between his base and the Senate, using a holographic map of Coruscant as an aid, when they were interrupted by an incoming transmission.

           His map disappeared and was replaced with a tinier man in similar uniform as the wielder. He was noticeably sterner than his contemporary but, if Kote were to guess, he was the younger of the two.

           “Master,” the younger man said, “where are you? I believe I’ve tracked the assassin heading back towards Senator Amidala’s apartment.”

           “I was a little sidetracked reclaiming my lost lightsaber, Anakin,” he said. “I’ll reconvene with you at the apartment. May the Force be with you.”

           “And with you, Master.” The transmission had ended there.

           Kote stared at the other man in concern as he weighed what the younger wielder had said in his mind. “You’re in the midst of an operation,” he said, “yet you’re helping me out? Why?”

           The lightsaber wielder chuckled and laid a supportive hand against his shoulder. They were separated by his cloak, pauldron, and the thick, black bodysuit he wore under his armor. Kote was keenly interested in how delicately the wielder’s fingers curled and the heat it inspired beneath his skin. “I couldn’t very well have continued my duties without my lightsaber,” he told Kote, “It’s only right that I help you after you’ve helped me.”

           “Oh…”

           Kote catalogued his delight at hearing the wielder admit how helpful he was to him. It was what he had been made for. He was thrilled to have served well, even if it had been as small a task as weapon retrieval. Kote had to start somewhere. However, besides that, there was another emotion Kote couldn’t name that existed along the boundaries of his earlier delight. It was similar to it though wholly different. The closest Kote came to understanding it was the fact that its happiness wasn’t born out of an accomplished mission but rather because the lightsaber wielder had recognized his usefulness.

           He liked it a lot.

           “I’m glad to have been of service.” Then, as the lightsaber wielder began to turn away from him, he hurriedly called out after him. “I’m… Kote.”

           The lightsaber wielder glanced back at him, smiling. He waved as he continued striding off towards his next destination. “And I am Obi-Wan Kenobi!” he replied, “It was a pleasure to meet you Cody! May the Force have our paths cross again.”

           “It’s Kote, actually…” Obi-Wan had fled by then, and his name was swallowed up by the silence.

           Cody wasn’t much different from the name he had chosen for himself. “Cody…” It didn’t sound sweet like Obi-Wan said it, but Kote thought it nice all the same. He wouldn’t object to being called it, especially if it were Obi-Wan doing so.

           Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan.

           The lightsaber wielder had taken too much of his time, and his focus. Kote had his mission, and much like Obi-Wan’s, it demanded his attention. He couldn’t be distracted, now that he was so close.

           “You shouldn’t be here.”

           Kote heard Prime’s voice again. Only it hadn’t been soft and blunt like it was earlier, nor did it come from within. It had been spat out by the source and stabbed into Kote’s chest.

           He staggered and slumped over sideways as his Prime loomed over him, decked menacingly in his full besk’ar. “No,” he gasped, “I… how did you…”

           “You are one bad clone.”