Zona’s Corner

At 0759, the door to the briefing room opened, and Cody turned his attention to the figure walking in. First, he noticed that instead of being clad in head-to-toe armor, the man wore a simple tunic and pants spun from basic, beige fabric, brown leather boots, and a matching wide belt around his waist. An unimposing silver and black cylinder hung on his hip. The stranger continued to make his way into the room, but a GNK droid crossed his path, and instead of swerving out of the droid’s way, he ran right into the corner of it. The impact wasn’t enough to topple the droid over, but the man stumbled, planting his hands on top of the GNK to regain his balance.

“Apologies little one. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” The man said while he gave the droid a little pat.

“GONK GONK,” the droid waddled on its way.

Cody was thankful for the helmet hiding his face because he was sure his expression was an even mix of bewilderment and shock.

While growing up, entertainment wasn’t easy to come by on Kamino, and a favorite past time amongst the cadets was retelling the latest story from Kal Skirata. Skirata was one of the mandalorians Jango Fett recruited to assist with the training of the clone troopers, and true to his Mandalorian roots, he took the cadets under his wing, treating them like his children rather than just soldiers for cannon fodder. During their breaks, he’d gather them around and tell stories of his encounters with the Jedi, a circle of cadets hanging onto his every word, eyes brighter than twin suns. When training was finished for the day, imaginations running wild, the younglings would run to the barracks or mess hall, wherever their brothers were gathered, and reenact what they just heard.  

Cody wasn’t immune to the fantasy, caught in the deep fascination of the force-wielders that had taken hold of his brothers. He’d never confess to it, but he and Wolffe would sneak into the supply closets, grab a couple brooms, and put on their best lightsaber duels. Bly walked in on them once. He only promised to keep quiet after Wolffe let him participate.

So, as it goes, an army raised in isolation grasped onto the legends of warriors with 10 years of time to conjure up images of the Jedi they’d call generals and commanders. Cody kep his image in mind. It wasn’t what was in front of him. Call him naïve, but he didn’t think a ruthless warrior who could take down any being in the galaxy while levitating the objects around them would be walking into GNK droids, let alone gently patting it with an apology.

Perhaps this wasn’t Obi-Wan. Maybe this was a messenger, a new Jedi in training, here to tell Cody that Obi-Wan was running late with council duties, on his way back from taking down a planet-wide coup he resolved single-handedly with nothing but his lightsaber and his wit.

But the man continued into the room, giving a look back at the GNK waddling to its destination, and then making his way around the table to Cody. His stride gave an illusion of sure confidence, but Cody’s training caught the miniscule hesitations in the swing of his arms and darting around of soft blue eyes that gave away the man’s nerves. Once again Cody found himself questioning if this was actually one of the steadfast legends he’d grown up hearing about.

The man came to a stop in front of him, a warm smile peaking from under a trimmed, ginger beard. Hand stretched out, those blue eyes focused on the T of Cody’s visor.

“Hello there. I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m to meet CC-2224 here, and seeing as you’re the only other person in the room, am I correct to assume that’s you?”

Fitting his hand with the Jedi’s, Cody responded, “Yes, sir. CC-2224 reporting for duty. It’s an honor to meet and serve with you, sir.”

As Cody spoke, he caught a faint grimace on Obi-Wan’s face that disappeared as quickly as it came.

“I apologize, Commander, I mean no disrespect by my question, but do you perhaps go by something besides a number? I understand the Kaminoans are efficient, and I’m happy to address you by whichever identity you choose, but I, well, addressing a being by a number seems, impersonal,” Obi-Wan stammered through his question, crimson rushing to his cheeks but sincerity in his eyes. Cody was stunned. Why would a commanding officer care about what they called him?

“The Kaminoans only address us by number, sir, but most troopers choose a name before shipping off. Sometimes it’s chosen by us, and sometimes it’s chosen by our brothers. You can call me Cody, sir.” Pride coating his words, he felt his mind relax when he saw the smile on the Jedi grow.

“Very well. Commander Cody, it’s an honor and pleasure to meet you. I imagine we’ll be spending a lot of time together over the unknown future. Although, I’m sorry that it’s come to this for us meeting each other.”

Obi-Wan was setting a record for number of times you can surprise someone in a minute. All of their lives, the clones were told it was their purpose to serve under the Jedi and protect the Republic – this was inevitable. Why was his general sorry that the inevitable was happening? That the very reason for Cody’s existence was in motion?

“Not to worry, sir. This is what –“

Obi-Wan quickly raised his hand to halt Cody, “Apologies again Commander, but by any chance you wouldn’t mind removing your helmet?”

Cody’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his arms automatically reached up, grabbing hold of the bucket and lifting it off his head. Muscle instinct tucked it to his left side all the while trying to not give away his growing puzzlement. There were a million more of him, he was nothing to look at. He was quite literally created to die, copies of him in every corner of the GAR, and it didn’t matter if the Jedi in front of him knew his face or not.

“As I was saying, sir, this I what we were made for, my brothers and I. War is inevitable for us,” Cody simply explained.

He gave credit to the Jedi, Obi-wan was good at masking. To an untrained eye, he’d seem indifferent, but the sorrow in his eyes and quick down-twitch of his lips told Cody a different story. Obi-Wan was disturbed by what he heard.

“Ah, well. I’m sorry that’s the truth of your creation, Commander. I want to assure you though, you’re not,” Obi-Wan paused, eyes darting as he grasped what to say. “You’re not war fodder. Not to me. To any of us. The Jedi. You are men, and men I’m responsible for. I’m learning on the go, but be assured that the well being of your brothers, of our men, is my top priority. I will employ every strategy to ensure a victory for the Republic, but most importantly, a victory for them.”

The sky blue of Obi-Wan’s eyes transformed into stormy grey, as ruthless and firm as the sincerity in his pledge to the commander.

“That. That means a lot to me and my men, sir,” Cody felt his response weak compared to the conviction in Obi-Wan’s voice, but it was all he could think of as his brain continued to short circuit, adjusting to the reality introduced to him over the last few minutes.

“I look forward to meeting them.” A hand swept through long, ginger hair, pushing it behind an ear, and Obi-Wan took this time to look around the briefing room, seeming to take it in for the first time. “I’ll be honest with you Commander, this is all very new to me. I’m sure it comes as no surprise that diplomatic negotiations require different tactics than battles. Usually much shorter.” Obi-Wan gave a sly smirk.

“That may be so, sir, but rumor around the barracks is you’ve seen some impressive combat in the recent years. You could say the boys of the 212th are excited to serve under the only Jedi to face two Sith lords in a century. Please excuse their eager questions when they meet you. You might be the closest thing to a celebrity they have.”

If possible, the blush on Obi-Wan’s cheeks deepened to a red that would match the Corrie Guard’s armor. His left arm hugged around his waist while his right elbow rested atop its wrist, his hand resting under his chin, absentmindedly stroking his beard. The Jedi’s eyes thought the ground around Cody’s boots was the most interesting spot in the room, and the commander held in an astonished laugh as he realized the Jedi was embarrassed.

“Kal Skirata is one heck of a storyteller,” Cody thought.

Finding the scene in front of him too amusing, Cody remained quiet as Obi-Wan worked through what to say. His mouth opened and close, little stammers making their way past his lips, but he eventually worked his way to words.

“That’s, uh, very kind of you to say, Commander.” Obi-Wan rubbed the back of his neck. “They were, uh, duels of necessity. I try not to make a habit of engaging with Sith.”

“Either way, it’s still an honor, sir, and nothing to take lightly. I’m sure some of the boys will try to see those combat skills up close in the rec room,” Cody hoped his attempt at banter would put Obi-Wan at ease, and he was awarded with a soft chuckle, the Jedi back to stroking his beard.

“Not something I’m unfamiliar with. My padawan was always eager to mention to whoever would listen that he trains with the ‘Sith slayer’, as the other younglings nicknamed me. Always amusing how obvious little ones are when they think they’re being subtle. Not hard to eavesdrop when their idea of a whisper is a normal conversation.” As he spoke, Obi-Wan’s attention focused out the window that overlooked the Coruscant skyline. Fondness took root in his gaze, and Cody recognized it easily. Kamino wasn’t blankets and bedtime stories, but his brothers gave him memories scattered through his upbringing that prompted the same look the Jedi currently held.

“Padawan, sir? Not familiar with the term.” Cody decided to prolong this moment for the general, if not just for a little longer.

“Yes, padawan. I imagine it’s most similar to a cadet for what you’re familiar with. When Jedi are young, around 9 years old, they go through the trials and are appointed a Jedi master. Their teacher to show them the ways of the force, of being a Jedi, and perhaps most important, how to grow through life. I guess it’s the closest thing to a parent a Jedi will have,” Obi-Wan explained. “My padawan and I had a less traditional start. I won’t bore you with the details now, but Anakin and I grew past our rocky beginning together, and I trained him for 10 years. He was just knighted the other day – our graduation ceremony you could say – and now he’s leading a battalion.”

There wasn’t a lot for Cody to reference regarding traditional families given his non-traditional life, but as Obi-Wan spoke, still stroking his beard, staring out the window with a look of what Cody could only describe as adoration, it was clear to the commander that Anakin held a significant place in Obi-Wan’s heart. Adoration was replaced by a smirk when the Jedi’s focus was back on Cody.

“Granted, I hope that whomever he’s assigned to is ready for some, how shall I say, creative approaches to battle. Anakin means well, but he’s as headstrong as he is confident, and I’m fairly certain his confidence could fuel the entire Jedi Order.”

“Any chance you remember which battalion he’s assigned to, sir?” Cody asked.

“I believe the 501st is coming to mind.” Obi-Wan’s answer pulled a deep laugh from Cody.

“Oh, don’t worry, sir. Your padawan’s in good hands. In fact, based on your description, I think that might be a match made by the Maker itself. My brother CT-75, uh, Rex, is just as fond of unusual strategies as it sounds like your padawan is.”

“Oh goody, sounds like we’ll have some entertainment during this war,” Obi-Wan couldn’t hide the amusement in his tone. Cody let the ease that had taken over the interaction calm the remaining tension his body was harboring. A comfortable silence settled over the two while an ambience of scanner beeps filled the space, and Cody took this opportunity to take in the man in front of him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t clad in sleek armor, walking as if one with the air, holding back the deadly grace of a Nexu. Most likely if you passed by him on the street, you wouldn’t spare him a second glance, mistaking him for a hermit or a beggar, but Cody was starting to think that maybe he missed the important bits of Skirata’s stories.

It was easy to understand why a young clone created from a warrior would hold onto legends of a single being taking down a whole rebellion. Of swords made from kyber, or of battles fought entirely with an invisible strength only the Jedi possessed. But he missed the compassion found in sparing lives, even those that didn’t deserve saving. He missed the determined will honed through decades, even centuries, of disciplined training. He missed the unconditional love for a galaxy that can be flawed and ugly, always finding the good beneath the seemingly endless layers of scum.

He realized those qualities, together in perfect balance, were the legends of his childhood, and standing before him in a beige tunic, without a single piece of armor in sight, minutes after walking into a GNK droid, was the perfect warrior.

A beep from Obi-Wan’s commlink startled both men out of their thoughts, and a quick tap to his wrist silenced the alarm. The Jedi looked up at Cody expectantly.

“It appears we must be on our way, Commander. We are to make our way to Christophsis for our first engagement.”

“Right away, sir. I just need to stop by the platform above us to check in on a brother. They’re meeting their general shortly.” Cody kept to himself it was Rex waiting, and he couldn’t wait to see Rex’s reaction to their generals’ connection.

“Can’t get rid of me so easily, little brother.”

Obi-Wan waved his hand dismissively as he turned to the door. “Of course, Commander. In the meantime, perhaps you could enlighten me to the story of how you received that scar. It looks like quite the event.” Sweat beaded on Cody’s forehead as images of supply-closet brooms and fake duels flashed in his mind.