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. 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, a five tips on the tank that promised refuge if he would just reach back.