Chapter Text
The members of the 108th Legion- mostly officers and longtime veterans or founders, in this case- were taking a much-deserved break in the Honorbound’s dedicated rec room; courtesy of General Zadé Laurondai.
Kaya couldn't help the small, if fond smile that crossed his face as he watched his boys indulging in card games, the occasional snack, and cuddle piles on the numerous cushions and assorted blankets. He felt a brief pang looking at them.
Their al’verd’ika- Chase- had been dead for over a year by now, and the general had a new padawan to boot, but there would always be a slight melancholy associated with the wildly colorful, non-regulation bedclothes for him. After all, Chase had made every one. He'd enjoyed crafting as a hobby- knitting, weaving, crocheting, embroidery; if it involved textiles and keeping his hands busy, the commander had done it- and decided the ship and the men needed ‘brightening up’ early in his acclimation to both. He only became more determined to use any free time he had on such projects when he realized how tactile the clones were; at least with each other.
The al’verd'ika’s memory lived on in everything he'd made, as well as the small shrine on a shelf directly across from Kaya- occupied by incense, holopics, the boy’s few personal effects, his lightsaber, and his self-made tooka doll; the latter of which the men had subsequently adopted in jest as the 108th’s unofficial mascot.
Kaya's thoughts abruptly ground to a halt as the warm weight leaning against his side shifted, and the voice it belonged to spoke up.
“I can feel you brooding, my dear Commander.”
Kaya's face quickly brightened from its contemplative scowl, and he turned his head slightly to face his general. Manda, she was a vision in her loose Jedi robes instead of her usual armor; though that, too, was stunning. But without the custom clone trooper armor, Kaya could see the young master’s free-flowing hair and pale skin properly, could smell her hair product and the sweat and blood she shed for him and his brothers day after day; and it was intoxicating.
Both of Zadé’s hands rested atop each other on his shoulder, and her head had been tucked against his neck until she'd moved. The rest of her body, at least, still lay curled up into his left side on the cheap couch that occupied the room.
“Chase again?” the general asked knowingly, a sympathetic look crossing her face.
Kaya simply nodded, not feeling a need to put his thoughts into words.
“Mm. It's okay, Love. Mhi su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, mhi partayli, gar darasuum, Chase Rood’ix. Cuun maan ad.”
Kaya blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding at the confident proclamation and remembrance, and settled back into the couch; stretching out his left arm to tug Zadé closer for good measure.
Then his comm crackled from its resting place on top of his torso armor, discarded in a pile next to him on the couch.
Frowning in annoyance, but resigned to the importance of any and all messages he received, Kaya reached out his right arm to pluck the device off the armor stack.
On seeing the seven characters projected from it in Mandalorian script, his eyebrows rose in surprise.
ORDER 66.
Kriffing finally, the commander couldn't help but think triumphantly.
***
Oh, great.
Dragon inadvertently let the mental grouse slip, but he also felt he was fully within his rights to express it, if only in the confines of his mind.
He'd been waiting on his turn at sabacc, and decided his time would be well spent snooping on- no, sorry; reconning- the general and commander. Oh, he had no illusions about being able to successfully do so without at least one of them picking up on it, but they did seem pretty absorbed in their snuggling, he couldn't help but think wryly.
So, he discarded his armor slowly and as silently as he could manage, knowing he wouldn't stick out entirely in just his blacks. Most didn't feel comfortable being so ‘naked,’ even in a place meant for relaxation, but some gave in under the excuse of making cuddle piles less achey.
Dragon shuffled forward on his knees until he was a scant few inches away from the back of the couch. But before he could make any more moves or decisions, Kaya's comm went off from the right.
The veteran trooper quickly ducked down against the back of the couch as his CO turned slightly to eye the offending device and reached out to grab it with his free arm. Dragon decided this was a worthy target of his attention and quickly popped his head back up, enough that his eyes had a peek above the edge of the couch.
The projection from Kaya's comm left his mouth dry and face ashen, though there was also some clear irritation that refused to be shuffled to the back, either.
So Dragon let the two words that best summed up the situation run through his head in clear disdain, and felt absolutely no shame over it.
***
Kaya was now intimately aware of his general and lover’s closeness, but also her seeming obliviousness to the situation at hand.
Good. Less hassle; no unnecessary maneuvers or risks this way.
Making sure to keep up a calm, relaxed facade, and checking that his mental shields were shored up, Kaya shook his head in feigned dismissal at the message he'd received, before returning his comm to the armor pile off to his right.
Then, slowly, carefully, he pried one of his DC-17 pistols from its holster amid the meticulously arranged stack. His favored DC-15a carbine was too large, and also rather efficiently buried under his armor plates and additional weapons; and it was far less discreet as well.
As he cradled the pistol against his kama-covered right thigh, Kaya chanced looking up and around the room. Almost no one else seemed to have picked up on his caution, nor the life-changing news their commander had just received. But that was fine. He hadn't commanded their attention, even through hand signals or dadita, and the general was far less likely to pick up on even his slight wariness if everyone else remained occupied in their activities.
Speaking of, Zadé had moved her head to rest on her hands during the time it had taken him to check his comm and grab his pistol. Her eyes were closed, and he could almost believe she was asleep if he didn't know for a fact that she hadn't exhausted herself recently, and that no one in such good condition could fall asleep in a scant five to seven minutes without additional help or incentives.
Before he could begin inching the pistol along his body, closer to its intended target, a hand clamped itself firmly around his wrist, and he looked up in clear annoyance.
It was Dragon, looking a fair bit annoyed himself, face creased in a frown. I've got it, his trooper tapped out in dadita on the commander’s discarded chest plate. He managed to convey his insistence both via his expression and the slight tightening of his grip on Kaya's wrist. After a minute, the commander nodded, determined, and elected instead to pull his lover closer- almost into his still-armored lap- with both arms, while Dragon expertly twirled the borrowed pistol and pointed it straight at Zadé.
It was an almost point blank stun, carefully angled as it was to avoid engulfing Kaya completely. There was no way for him to miss it entirely, and he accepted that since it meant a quicker, more effective subjugation.
As Zadé slumped over fully into his lap and Kaya shook his head to help alleviate some of the numbness, several of the men looked up at the rapid movement. Before anyone could kick up a stink, Dragon quickly returned the DC-17 to its holster, practically jumped around the couch to make sure everyone could see him, and simply said two words.
“Order 66.”
At this, any and all confusion cleared from his brothers’ faces, and a look of firm resolve, even potentially eager anticipation, took its place.
Kaya carefully scooted closer to his discarded armor, out from under Zadé’s limp head and shoulders.
“Suit up, men,” he said slowly, a slight smile returning to his own face.
The troopers of the 108th- those who'd been out of armor, anyway- nodded vigorously and quickly abandoned their entertainment to armor up again.
As Kaya finished securing the last plate in place, he contemplated his helmet, before gesturing to Coppin- who'd been nursing a cup of caf and fiddling with a few scraps of thin bronzium plating and some gription clips until the alert went out- and the clone major dutifully came forward and took the helmet from his commander for safekeeping.
Assured of his decision, Kaya turned back to face the still unconscious Zadé, and paused for a moment to rake his eyes over her beautiful form. But he stopped when they fell on her curved lightsaber, still hanging from the clip on her belt. The commander stooped over slowly and wrapped his fingers around the weapon he had come to love as much as his trusty Deeces. His chest seemed to burn under his armor as his mind drifted briefly to the tattoo that lay over his heart. Still, Kaya quickly shook the thought away, straightened, and abruptly dropped the saber into his upturned helmet in Coppin's hands. The major tilted his own helmeted head slightly in confusion, but didn't say anything.
Finally, Kaya turned back to face his general. He bent down and gently hefted her in his arms. No one seemed the least bit perturbed by the move, and all present simply assembled into two straight lines on either side of Kaya, before falling in behind him and Coppin as they left the rec room.
“Sir?” Dragon spoke up far more hesitantly than the commander would've expected, especially in light of his taking charge earlier.
“Go on, Dragon,” said Kaya easily.
“Permission for Nahra, Natterbloom, Clover and I to secure Padawan Corona Shorm?”
Kaya allowed himself a small smile. They were the perfect team to handle the commander. A good mix of soft and skilled. Vode who wore their hearts on their sleeves as much as they could under the circumstances, and all hardened veterans besides.
“Permission granted. Go collect your men and run them up to speed if they're not already in the know.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Dragon with a salute; trying and failing to keep the excited tremor out of his voice.
As Kaya listened to the trooper’s footsteps break off and recede from the rest of them, he sighed, and involuntarily brought Zadé closer against his chest in a more protective hold.
“Coppin,” the commander started, almost absently, “tell Kirby to meet us ASAP in the brig with the sedatives. Ensure Nat has plenty for Shorm as well.”
“Yes, Commander,” replied Coppin easily.
“Good. We're also going to need binders. Can't be too careful with our Guides, even in Force-proof cells.”
***
Zadé blinked groggily and groaned in discomfort as she came to.
The first thing she noticed was that she couldn't even stretch her limbs out properly- courtesy of the restraints encircling them.
The Jedi master quickly bolted up in alarm, and the abrupt movement sent her toppling off the bunk and onto the floor, once more on her side.
“Easy, ma’am,” said a voice, accompanied by a pair of hands adjusting her so that she knelt against the side of the bunk.
Zadé wasn't nearly coherent enough- despite being wide awake- to recognize the voice that spoke, even as her brain protested that she ought to.
And then, somehow, only in that moment did it register to her that she could neither feel nor touch the Force. Zadé might have panicked at the loss had she not trained in the more down-to-earth skills and techniques of the common galaxy; and struggled with handling the Force in her youth. Though it had been a decade, she remembered the feeling of it slipping through her grasp, unable to connect with it nearly as well as most of her peers. Her control and perception of it had only truly improved during her training with the Matukai- a sect she tried to keep her membership in under wraps, the better to always have an ace up her sleeve.
Though that training would do little to help her now. Cut off and completely unable to feel the Force as she was, and with her men- Force, her own men, she despaired, as she finally registered the white, armored figures with their much-loved cyan markings- serving as her captors.
She took in the holding cell she was in- identical to most others on a Venator, only slightly bigger than her own quarters, and occupied by three troopers- while two more flanked the ray-shielded door in the hall outside.
Kaya himself stood directly in front of the stairs leading up to the door, hands clasped behind his back and looking out through the opening ahead of him rather than behind him at his bound general.
What was going on? Why was she in a cell? Oh, Stars, where was Corona? Was her student all right? Zadé's thoughts raced, but after a moment she wrestled them back down, perhaps more firmly and aggressively than the elder Masters at the Temple would prefer. Stop it. Breathe. THINK.
While Zadé was distracted with locking down her agitation, Kaya turned to face her, finally, and couldn't help the beaming smile that crossed his face as he did. He walked over to stand before his lover, and took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her; bound almost at his feet, eyes wide and pleading, but back still straight in what was perhaps a subconscious show of defiance and resolve.
“Kaya. Kaya, please… Don't do this,” said Zadé softly, sounding almost afraid to let the words escape.
She forced herself to finally look her commander in the eyes, the intense gaze that had first drawn her to him fixed on her; almost reverently, it seemed. There was a definite softness to his features that was at odds with the intensity in his eyes. Kaya's lips quirked slightly, as if he couldn't decide whether to smile or not, before he settled on a calm, relaxed expression.
“Hush, ner Zad’ika. Everything's under control now,” said Kaya, equally softly.
Zadé grimaced, inadvertently showing teeth in her uncertainty and the awkwardness of her situation. Still feeling the slight ache from her abrupt fall, she instinctively looked down at her belly in concern, eyes growing wide in alarm. Almost as quickly, she caught herself and looked all around her in an effort to detract attention away from her slip. Ghost, who was hovering next to Kaya and the cell’s only other resident clone, Coppin, tilted his head curiously and then stiffened.
Zadé froze on seeing his reaction, and prayed that the slowly developing light in her womb was safe. She hunched in on herself as much as she could, trying to curl her shoulders around her front more protectively.
But the clones were very observant men by nature. They'd had to be in an army of identical faces; even after the Jedi- and Jango, in secret- had encouraged them to embrace their individuality, the habits and instincts never really went away after spending most of their lives developing keen eyes for body language and facial expressions.
The commander had seen the whole thing. Zadé was so used to letting her guard down around the clones- around Kaya- that it wasn't hard to piece together her reactions and why she'd had them. But still, Kaya's brain stalled and his thoughts froze, until only one concept- almost an instinct, really- remained at the forefront.
No. She’s…? Oh, sweet Manda, he thought.
Kaya slowly squatted down in front of Zadé and instinctively reached out a hand to caress her cheek.
“Something you forgot to tell me, Cyar’ika?” he asked calmly, finally allowing his lips to turn up knowingly at the end of his inquiry.
Zadé’s eyes went wide again while Coppin's grip on the commander's helmet tightened ever so slightly as his body tensed, and Ghost just crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly satisfied to have his brief suspicions confirmed.
“I- How?” Zadé blurted out, any and all composure gone on seeing the varied reactions of her men and her lover.
Kaya simply gave a sly, toothy grin in response.
“Oh, Force…” the master muttered, looking down at her belly again, then back up to the commander before wincing.
“I'm a smart man, Honey. And we clones had to be sharp, surrounded by the same face all our lives. You know this,” Kaya said with the exasperated tone of a weary crechemaster trying to wrangle unruly initiates.
The commander couldn't help but wink at his lover, even as his expression turned back to one of calm- and despite the absolute elation threatening to tear through his mental shields.
“We- We were busy, Love. I didn't know how to tell you… And a baby in all this? I wanted to wait until after the war… Or the second trimester at least before I said anything! And what would our men-? The Masters- I mean-”
Zadé paused mid-ramble and her face drained of color as she elected to focus on Kaya's DC-15a secured at his hip and his arms hanging lazily off his bent knees, rather than back on his face.
“Kaya- Sweetheart, what… What's going to happen to me? To our child-? And where's Corona? Is she safe? She's not…”
“Shhh, Honey. Ner cyare baar’ur. Calm down. Stress can't be good for the tubie, can it? In fact, Kirby should be here any minute to take a look at you, make sure none of this has adversely affected you; not that I imagine it would,” said Kaya matter-of-factly. "Our ik'aad just makes that all the more pressing."
As the commander spoke, he stroked Zadé’s cheek and occasionally ran his gloved hand through her hair. Zadé deflated as he did, body sagging slightly and far from relieved or pacified, but also too tired and caught off guard by the sheer magnitude of the last several minutes’ revelations and the lack of any real information given.
“There are new protocols in place,” Kaya finally said in lieu of a straight answer to Zadé's questions. “They'll probably need to be modified slightly for us, especially considering your condition. And I won't deny they're harsh, but I know if anyone can complete the protocols successfully, it's you, Honey. You've been the 108th’s steadfast shield- our protector- all through the war. Well, now it's time for us to be yours,” he finished with a soft smile, tipping her chin up to look him in the eyes again and see his sincerity and faith.
Zadé still felt utterly wrung out by all she'd been told, but she was not so out of it to avoid the sharp gasp that escaped her mouth on hearing Kaya's final proclamation and the ominousness surrounding it.
“Protocols? I- Kay’ika, it's true I want nothing more than to stop being the strong general, to stop seeing your lights fade out far too soon, but-”
“It's okay, ner Zad’ika,” Kaya interrupted. “Now you can stop being strong for us. I promise, you'll never have to feel our lights wink out again. Oh, and as for the commander, she's okay, too; I promise. Dragon, Nahra, Clover, and Natterbloom are looking after her as we speak. She’s unharmed, I assure you.”
At this, Zadé crumpled further in relief, even at the decidedly vague, if firm insistence on her padawan's wellbeing. It was something.
“Everything's going to be alright, ner cyar'ika,” Kaya added, almost absently, as his gloved fingers continued to soothe her scalp and rub the tension out of her cheeks.
Force, it was almost mortifying how much comfort Zadé took from his ministrations when the situation itself was so unknown and potentially threatening. What was wrong with her?
Before she could summon her hard-won self-control and try to assert at least some dominance over herself again- if not her circumstances- Kaya pulled his hand away and dropped it back over his knee beside the other. He gave her another almost feral, buoyant grin.
“It’ll be okay again soon, mesh’la. You'll see… I promise; you'll see.”