Buy'ce

 Some years before the events of episode 4



Dusk near the Senate Rotunda - Coruscant

Darth Vader strode out into the plaza in the deep shadows to south of the building, he moved slowly, the force coursing through him like a rapid. Scanning the surrounding area carefully, there were thousands passing through as the day neared its end. A few meters behind two members of the 501st now sporting stormtrooper armor moved to opposite sides flanking Vader, weapons loose in their grip. Captains Case and Tgor scanned the crowd obsessively constantly comparing faces to the image on their heads up displays. The sandy haired boy was a Padawan who had escaped Order 66, he was out here somewhere, it was almost certainly a trap but Lord Vader still had not allowed them to call for reinforcements.

In just under a minute, Case thought to himself, they could have Alpha Company on hand, three full assualt shuttles and three gunships for cover. Case signaled Tgor, it was his turn to remind Lord Vader. Tgor grinned inside his bucket, "Lord Vader, we could more efficiently cover the plaza if we bring in Alpha Company". The only response was silence, the constant reminders were indeed irritating but Vader was no fool and quickly dispatched those he found in his employ. Case and Tgor were indeed correct and would have been remiss in their duties if they did not remind him of this simple fact. Logically, tactically they were indeed correct, call in Alpha Company, cordon off the Plaza and conduct a thorough sweep. Darth Vader's elite commanders were however force blind, the boy was here and purposefully drawing Vader out. Allowing himself to be felt in the force but only just so much, baiting him in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Jeten Rodair as the boy was known had grown stronger, more sure of himself in the years since the Purge. They'd dueled during Operation: Knightfall, the purging of the Jedi Temple, the boy had escaped his blade on that day. Rodair had fought remarkably well for one so young, he'd been tenacious but had opted to escape rather than face his destiny at Vader's hands. There was no escaping it, Vader smiled inside his helmet despite the pain it caused him, today there would be no escape for him. Today Jeten Rodair would become one with the force. There was great relish in the moment, a worthy adversary at last, Vader knew he would not be disappointed, he had forseen it. The question remained however, why now? Why come out of hiding after so many years? Fleetingly the thought that the boy had chosen simply to pick his own time and place occurred to him.



Darth Vader knew better though, the boy was certainly ready to meet his end but this was a distraction, a preamble to something else. The force roared at him in warning as a sulphur blade sprang to life amidst the crowd, fifty meters away, as the doomed young Padawan opened himself fully to the force. In just a few seconds a corridor had cleared between them, now the crowd paused almost as one. They were given a wide berth, Case and Tgor both opened fire as the Padawan leaped forward. Vader still had not even unclipped lightsaber from belt. The force sang with his opponents intentions, Vader simply watched as the boy took two force assisted leaps toward him.

The yellow blade flashed here and there sending the blaster fire back at his attackers, Tgor and Case had handled Jedi before, they fired and moved avoiding their own deflected fire. Rodair landed just two steps from Vader, the force a gale in the plaza as light met dark in a furious clash. Vader's crimson blade finally sprang to life, he feinted forward already pitching his weight back as Rodair sailed overhead. There blades met in a thrumming roar, Rodair dancing around never standing still, denying the troopers a clean shot and keeping Vader on the defensive. Rodair could feel Vader's grim smile beneath the skull like mask, he knew his momentum was rapidly diminishing. Destiny approached but his death would not be in vain.

Three hours Ago...Coruscant - Lower Levels - Andrute' TapCaf

The bar area was smack in the middle of the place and a sea of people moved about it, each patron it seemed clamored in a different tongue or ,with and in, several in many cases. Two droids simultaneously took orders and made drinks using multiple appendages, it seemed like chaos, the desired effect, but was in fact a very ordered process. Each spot at the bar had an ordering station which consisted of cash/credit collection and a single large unlit button. First you put your credits in via the chip reader or if you had cash by dropping it into a receptacle just below the chip-reader. Credits, gold, gems, just about anything of value could be deposited, items would be identified and value assessed according to the Galactic Blue Book, a decidedly shady resource but this wasn't the Senate District. The cheapest drink available on the premises was ten credits, putting anything in the cash scanner worth less than that was grounds for immediate ejection from the premises. When the button lit up you either spoke your order or transmitted it to your ordering station then press the button, just don't try to order more than you have credits to pay for, a handy LCD mounted next to the chip-reader keeps your running total.



Just walking into this place was a huge gamble for him, this place was owned by a Hutt, which meant that a good portion of its patrons would be local thugs for hire and of course, much more dangerous to him, bounty hunters. The three Mandalorians occupying the dimly lit corner booth were exactly the sort he should be avoiding but it was directly to these men that the force had led him. Directly to a group of heavily armed and armored mercenaries for hire who had a special death reserved just in case they ever came across a Jedi. Jetten Rodair would die at the hands of Darth Vader, it was his destiny he knew, long had he quested through the force for a way to make it count. Coming around the furthest end of the bar from the armored trio, Rodair drew in a deep breath and decided it was best to just jump in head first. Then a surprising thing happened, two of the Mandalorians rose from the table, they passed to either side of him without a backward glance. Reminding himself that he was about to deal with a sworn enemy of the Jedi, he stayed on course for the table. For a moment Jetten detected something familiar as the Mando merc looked up at his approach, it was often hard to tell with helmeted figures but he could feel the eyes staring back at him through the T-shaped visor. Some of them, it was said, had 360 degree vision in their helmets, buy'ce as they called them. Rodair had learned a fair bit of Mando'a in preparation for this meeting, once he'd gotten past the surface he'd found much to admire in their culture.



Now just a step from the booth, every sense peaked on adrenaline, Jetten watched as the Mandalorian flipped a datapad down and slid it across the table. A hand resting lightly on the blaster beneath his cloak, Jetten took a seat and received another surprise. Expecting to see himself displayed on the datapad, he was surprised to see an Imperial Execution Order for one Bardan Jusik. Jusik had fought in the clone wars then to the surprise of many had left the Jedi Order. The rumors were that he had taken up with a group of renegade clones who had left, what was then the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR).



3 Days Later...

The murky green liquid dimmed his vision, he looked around trying to remember how he'd ended up here, it returned slowly to him. The renegade Jedi had attacked Vader in the Plaza outside the Senate Rotunda, his reactions had been pure reflex. Combat was pure instinct, combat was good because it forced one to focus only on the present, distraction meant death. He'd been bred for combat, grown in a vat from the cells of the greatest warrior in the galaxy, Jango Fett. Case had been among the last of the original Fett clones, grown in the murky vats on Kamino, still in service to the Empire. The only remaining pure Fett still serving in the 501st, Vader's Fist, the most elite combat unit in the Empire. Since the dissolution of the Republic other clone templates had been put into service, there were still some Fett clones in general service but he didn't know any of them, they hadn't come from Kamino, there was no kinship despite the shared genome. All his brothers were dead now, how often had he prayed for death? Daily it seemed, especially lately with the ever intensifying nightmares. To the wider galaxy he just a faceless stormtrooper, an instrument of order and death, the last person any sentient creature would stop to help. When citizens of the Empire saw him coming they scrambled out of his way and silently hoped he wasn't coming for them. Floating in the tank, his last concious thought of the fear he inspired, Case slipped slowly back into unconsciousness. The oblivion of sleep had long ago stopped bringing him any comfort, when he slept he dreamed, his dreams were far from pleasant. Case was a man not a machine, he'd slaughtered men, women, and children in service to the Empire and these things haunted him. Struggling against sleep was pointless but it was a reflex now, like so many others he had learned.

Kamino

Perpetual rain, the cloning facility stood silent and unmoving against the crashing waves. The first wave of drop ships carried the vanguard of stormtroopers that would take down the orbital energy shields, they skimmed in low, under a hundred meters and still getting soaked. Case was torn, many of his brothers felt as he did but no one said a word, duty first. The Kaminoans were attempting to build another clone army to challenge the Empire. This could not be permitted, Boba Fett himself was among the men ready to assault their old home, Case took the participation of a Fett as holy writ despite his misgivings, his anger settled into a cold knot as the first of the assault shuttles started taking fire.

Sterile and dry inside, a place that inspired a bit of dread in most feeling beings, a constant torrent of rain on the outside, waves rose and crashed in a searing rhythm of randomness, the skies and seas populated with all manner of strange creatures. They were the most conundrumic of them all, the finest cloners in the galaxy, a perfection of the art seemingly achieved without feeling. The Kaminoans were all dry sterility and it was reflected in their sterile, overly lit environment, a place were everything was ordered for maximum efficiency. There was no concession to feeling anywhere, they were as cold inside as out, they seemed like soulless creatures, everything in clean efficient lines, no wasted room or effort. An instinctive dedication to their craft, a fineness of purpose only found in the most devout disciples. So cold though, so flat.



"Thirty seconds", Case casually announced, one by one the members of his platoon rattled off their readiness in various ways, a quip, a name, a syllable of Mando'a. The ritual of terrified men prepared to do their duty. The assualt shuttles cruised in at top speed, the clone pilot dropping into hundred meter high waves in a desperate dance with turbolaser fire screaming into his HUD, Shiner was all confidence. The numbers ran down then he cut all thrust and ramped the repulsor coils into the red. The shuttle jumped skyward, Shiner was on automatic, thrust and cut repulsors, he hauled the nose up and dropped ramp. The crashing waves were just visible past the descending ramp, they rose almost as one and before the shuttle had even touched the deck they were dropping onto the landing platform below. The first few seconds were always the worst, their initial losses would likely be high, Case was first out, the air around him detonated as anti-infantry batteries opened up taking out several members of his platoon before they had time to settle onto the deck. A hundred meters away Case spied Boba Fett, his troops were already organizing around him and taking their platform, laying down a withering hail of return fire as another assault shuttle screamed in over their heads. Case bit back his fear, started barking orders and broke toward the ramp that led up towards the cloning facility. One, two, three they fell to his blaster fire, his brothers, deep down in a place he refused to acknowledge he berated himself. What was he doing? He never stopped though, never slowed as he maneuvered his men up the ramp, the now empty assault shuttles providing covering fire. A curious detachment settled over him, watching the inevitable, his body fought out of reflex even while his mind revolted against him.



Several hours had passed and finally the cloning facility was cut-off, all the platforms taken, they'd breached the facility at three points. It came down to blade work as Case started the laborious process of clearing the facility, his brothers fought hard. They made him proud, his heart swelled with it, for an unthinkable moment he considered changing sides. How many would follow him? Then he was buy'ce to buy'ce with Fett, and against the tortured revolt of his soul he led his men forward, side by side with Fett. Case lost himself in it, the bloody screaming murder filled him with rage and it fed on itself, he would immolate or be immolated, his lost brothers deserved no less now. They had believed in the GAR, they had spent their lives for it, it had ultimately failed them. They were just automatons to them, bred for war, no one cared about clones except other clones. They fought on anyway, that was what people never understood about Jango Fett. The Grand Army of the Republic hadn't been so loyal in spite of sharing the genome of Fett but because of it. Deep down whatever else you might say about the man he understood duty, that was one gene that hadn't required tweaking. He could pretend detachment but no matter which side of the line they were his brothers. The only family he'd ever known.

It was the Kaminoans who'd forced him into this position, so when ever he found one he used his knife instead, Fett himself had given the order. "Don't waste ammo on Kaminoans, gut them. Still a lot of fighting left to do." It would be the only words he'd ever hear Boba Fett say, brutal efficiency, this was in their bones. That much at least was apparent now, he never allowed the swelling hatred to overtake him when he happened across one of the cloners, a single well placed knife stroke was all it took to kill the rebellious cloners. Its all they would get from him, a cold passionless death, detachment ruled once again, to their credit they never begged or asked them to stop. Kaminoan pride did not allow for that, not that it would have done them any good. Then the cold precision was replaced with the hazy coat of anger again as he turned to kill more of his brothers.



'Smoke drifted and bodies lay but no smell penetrates the buy'ce...'



The air was cool and crisp against his eyelids, he could feel the bacta residue on his skin but couldn't move. It was not quite consciousness, a sort of fugue dream state that spun in on itself to reveal a dimple in time, four grains, one at each point of the cross which spun in his mind's eye. The babble of a firefight, the soft, almost comforting echo of a stun grenade, then the wails of the dead, the ash choking his helmet filters till he had no choice but to take it off. It was an empty hollow blackness, what would it say if he just shrugged it off as the fortunes of war. Death would have been a reward but death was for those who had honor, those who believed in something, he was a pit of indifference who had long ago ceased to believe in anything. Loyalty bought nothing but pain and yet he could not be anything else. The death filled smoky swirl filled his nostrils, no HUD now to tell time, temperature, and air composition just a pair of perfect copies and the smell of his charred flesh. Then he was drifting in the tank again, a shadowy form reached out to him it seemed, five tips on the tank that promised refuge if he would just reach back. It seemed such a long way and then it was another time again.

Shakedown - Lieutenant Case Personal Log

The kilometers long Super-Star Destroyer was nearing full operational status, we were arriving just in time for the first shake down cruise. Lord Vader was taking it out personally, rumour had it the shakedown with full crew and complement was to be anything but typical. It didn't matter the 501st stood tall and proud, gleaming in their newly minted stormtrooper armor. We'd been the last unit in the Empire to shed the GAR armor, I still had mine squirrelled away. A minor clerical error by all appearances. Lord Vader was simmering that day, taking young officers to task, his reputation as a deadly enforcer was acknowledged with fear by all. These crewman represented the absolute finest the Imperial Navy had ever produced. Some were cloned, some were exceptional applicants hand picked by his agents from the recruitment pool.



We weren't worried one way or the other, every member of the 501st was fiercely loyal to Vader. Lord Vader led from the front, he didn't scoff at getting his hands dirty. Many horrible things could be said about the Dark Lord of the Sith but he was as loyal to his men as they were too him. Vader's Fist, as our legion was known didn't have supply problems or second rate gear. The absolute deadliest military force in the Empire. I was laying in my bunk when word came down, the newly minted Executor was hitting a mercenary base in the deep core, they were suspected of providing aid to GAR deserters.

Deep Core

The Executor had jumped in alone, its massive bulk eclipsing the systems primary, its shadow cast a deadly force into the void. Disgorging from its bays TIE fighters, assault shuttles and gunboats. Their arrival had caught the mercenary band unawares, six ships hung over the hollowed out asteroid. Three old Republic gunships and three modified Corvettes, there seemed to be several ships docked in the hangar.

As in all things the advantage cut both ways. The Executor's sheer size did not permit it to get close enough to effectively use its massive turbolaser batteries but every path to freedom led within range of its guns. The mercenary ships didn't try to run, they threw themselves head first into the attacking force even though they had to understand the overwhelming odds. A motley assortment of craft were leaving the cover of the hangar deck, to a ship they moved to cover the gunships and corvettes. Space exploded around them as the TIE fighters and gunboats moved in ahead of the relatively slow assault shuttles.

Case's anger grew as his shuttle careened into the hangar bay trailing smoke, two full shuttles lost in the approach. The cold knot of resolve settled over he and his men. They fought for every inch of ground as they stormed the hangars, the bolts of green, blue, and red, criss-crossed leaving only smoking ruin behind. It was in the move up one of the parallel corridors leaving the hangar, Case dove for cover as a mini-rocket skimmed past his shoulder exploding in the chest of the trooper behind him, his HUD told the tale, as Goteg's icon flashed red and dimmed. Rock was next to meet his end, they'd been together for so long, there were just a few of them left now, sons of Jango. Dead. There would be no funeral, no one but Case would notice or mark their passing, the Empire would happily grow replacements for them. The smoke and bodies were piling up in the corridor, breaking into another side passage Case spied a small armored figure just ahead, it noticed him as well and fired. It was a child clad in Mandalorian armor, the sight gave him the slightest of pauses, a child? By the time Case berated himself for allowing the distraction the child's full grown counterparts leapt into the corridor behind a grenade. The HUD ignored the smoke and dutifully outlined his attackers, Mandalorians, they flooded the corridor with blaster fire, Case fired almost blindly, the child fell as two bolts flashed into his chest and set him spinning down the corridor. The adults never paused, never looked back, they came hurtling forward a battle cry on their lips, "Kyr'am", death. Their fury drove the stormtroopers back, then they hit the front rank and Case was once again bucket to bucket with a Mandalorian. Their blasters vomited a red hail, one of the mercs went down but even as Case went to step over him, he reached up and pulled him down. They struggled, more mercenaries showed up to hit them from behind, everywhere was anarchy as they forced the stormtroopers to go hand to hand. The Mandalorians seemed to be few but they were clearly the better warriors, they never hesitated, never paused to consider the fallen, they came on with unabated fury. The passion that drove them, the rage they allowed themselves to feel, the calibrated stormtrooper could not comprehend. The situation was coming apart fast, finally Case got his opponent pinned, his arm rose as he prepared to drive his blade into a seem in the armor. Then a small armored missle caught him full in the chest, a miniature version, the fury of the adult packed onto a smaller frame. The child pounded into him with everything it had, Case knocked the kid back and grabbed a blaster off the floor. The child's adult companion was closing with him again, he fired but the bolts glanced off the beskar'gam not even appreciably slowing him. When they met again Case was ready, his blade moved on its own, pure reflex, as he found the seem in the armor, felt the blade bite flesh, the energy leaving his enemy as the body sagged to the floor. He pushed the body away, a callous gesture devoid of feeling, he banged off the bulkhead, crashed to the floor, his bucket popped off.

Now everything slowed as his own dead eyes stared back at him. In a brief respite the corridor was clear, just him and the child, the little warrior was shaking, but he didn't hesitate to hoist a grenade launcher off his dead companions armor. At this range the detonation would kill them both, the little guy could barely lift it but he didn't seem to care as he swung it up, the launcher was bigger than both his arms. Case was all into it now, the thoughts of all his fallen brothers staring back at him, the rising muzzle a threat to be extinguished, his body was just coiled instinct. The blaster spat spinning the child around, the launcher fell to the floor, sent a grenade arcing into the far end of the corridor. Anything, he would have given anything in this moment to die but here again his body betrayed him, diving for the deck.

The smoke rose all around him, his armor charred but still intact. The sounds of more fighting could be heard in the distance, it was slow going as he rose to one knee, reflexively grabbing his rifle off the deck and checking its charge. The HUD was rebooting, it masked all sound and smell, it was maddeningly silent inside the buy'ce now. The comm chatter and HUD were old friends that had ceased to be, nothing was left of his brother's head but the eyes continued to stare at him. Case felt a twisting in his guts as he moved to exit the corridor in the direction of the hangar bay, saw that the explosion had tossed the child's body clear to the other end. Staggering forward he tripped over the kid's helmet, pitching forward he saw the body burnt and broken lying in an unnatural position. The impact with the deck wasn't felt, he caught sight of the child's horribly burned face, it was unrecognizable except for the eyes. It was always the eyes that haunted him, they never slept. What have I done?

Better than half the Mandalorian force had escaped that day despite the overwhelming odds. Lord Vader was brutal for weeks following the debacle.

Bardan Jusik - http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Bardan_Jusik

- Bardan Jusik, later known as Gotab, was a Human male Jedi Padawan to Master Arligan Zey. He was also a Commander at the time of the Clone Wars and aided in briefing clone commandos before a mission. He was against the creation of the Grand Army of the Republic and even addressed his negative ideas to the Jedi Council. He was later promoted to Jedi Knight and became a General in the GAR. He later abandoned the Order to join the Mandalorians, saying that he couldn't fight for a Council that approved the slave labor that was the GAR.

"So how do we justify what we are doing now? Breeding men without choice, and without freedom, to fight and die for us? When do the means cease to justify the end? Where is our society heading? Where are our ideals, and what are we without them? If we give in to expedience in this way, where do we draw the line between ourselves and those we find unacceptably evil? I have no answer, Masters. Do you?"

―Bardan Jusik, as a Jedi Knight, addressing the Jedi Council on the matter of clone troopers.[src]

The smoky blackness parted in one long vision of the horrors he'd committed and the ones he'd turned his back on. It could have been any city in the middle of nowhere, the orders were disturbingly familiar. Suspected rebels. They went in hard and fast, they killed a dozen or more, the rest of the small town was cowering in fear. There had been some resistance, but it had been pretty easy over all, nothing to get worked up over, not that there ever was. Case was jogging forward pleased there hadn't been any heavy resistance, it was their first op with a dozen new men in the unit. Different template, different breed, sloppy. He caught sight of it in a side view, a pregnant woman, one of the aruetii as Jango's sons called the other clone template in use, something in the set of his shoulders. The comm crackled, some other annoying detail required his attention. In the end it had been Heron that brought it to his attention. The aruetti had raped the woman, the child was dead. Heron had taken matters into his own hands, he'd beat the trooper to within an inch of his life. Everyone thought that would be it but then Heron had put a blaster bolt through his head. The remaining areutti had slapped Heron in cuffs and wanted him executed. Case had been beside himself, what was this? Troopers raping women and killing children. What were they becoming? In the end Vader had said nothing about having to get twelve replacements so quickly, fortunes of war.

'There was no place to hide anymore...'

Each curtain of smoke parted only to reveal more horror and pain, eternal blackness, there was no place left to run. We gave them everything. What have they done to us? All the faces of his dead brothers swam before him now, an unending sea of possibilities. Each a unique life, each with its own cares and worries, casually snuffed out and for what? There was no honor in this, there never had been. The fools of the galaxy wallowed in themselves and then sought to use others to fix their problems. Animals. He'd fallen in with them, what had he done?

'From somewhere it descended into the blackness, first just a shadow among shadows, then it began to burn.'

It had seemed just another horrible dream then the burning tips had descended on him. A comforting hand, a soul as full of pain as his own, he struggled against the void that held him down. Desperately he tried to reach back, to close the never diminishing distance, then it was there a whisper in his soul, "Easy ner'vod, I'm here."

There were shapes now, not quite clear but definite shapes. Dead brothers, an old man, a Jedi, a woman, a child. The faces of his brothers were easy to distinguish, clones could always tell other clones apart, the others were strange unknowns as yet. Then others arrived, the crowd began to grow and the feeling came over him that they wanted him to speak. Staring out over the gathering faces before him, a beat began to gently play in his mind.

Dusk near the Senate Rotunda - Coruscant

The red and yellow blades continued to cross, both participants ready to play their parts. There was no hesitation in Rodair now, he was the burning brand and he would set his brother free, his conscience would be clean. Now the resignation was finally gone and the joy of his purpose being fulfilled was upon him. Vader would take his life but it would be a fair trade. A lightness lifted him now, his blade flashing with an ease he'd never known. The understanding came to him now, this is what Yoda had so often spoken of, the force. No colors separated it, it just was and now so was he.