The LAATs descended into the arena.
Clone troopers poured from the open bays before the gunships had even properly touched down, white armor flooding into the sand as blue blaster bolts ripped through the surrounding droids.
I stared.
...
BADAAAAASSSSS!
Oh, that was beautiful.
Rows of pristine white armor.
Perfect formations.
Identical rifles.
Soldiers actually moving like soldiers.
Something deep in my Irken brain was practically purring.
I jumped aboard the nearest gunship.
Well...
Not technically the nearest.
I made damn sure Shaak Ti was boarding it first.
I knew she survived Geonosis.
There was absolutely no shame in attaching myself to someone with confirmed plot armor.
Just before the LAAT lifted away, I took one last look across the arena.
And there it was. Jango Fett's helmet.
THE HELMET.
My eyes widened.
Sorry, Boba.
HAHAHAHA!
I threw out my hand.
The helmet ripped from the arena floor and flew through the chaos, narrowly missing a clone before smacking directly into my palm.
Got it. Set complete. i stored it
The gunship lifted.
Shaak Ti and several other Jedi immediately began speaking with the clone officer aboard. Landing zones. Enemy movements. Things above my pay grade.
I was still a Padawan. A lowly little Padawan.
I leaned against the side of the gunship and finally opened my status.
I hadn't gotten a chance since escaping underground.
My eyes went straight to my class.
Necromancer — Lv 12.
...
I blinked.
Then looked again.
Level twelve.
TWELVE?!
I had been eight before all of this! (before the movie events started)
Four levels!
I'd gained more levels today than I had during most of the last decade!
Tusken village. Geonosians. Arena.
"Padawan…what are you thinking of?"
"No..nothing master"
My excitement must've leaked through the Force because Shaak Ti suddenly looked toward me.
Her expression confused me for a second.
She looked...
Rough.
I'd rarely seen her anything except composed.
Elegant.
Calm.
Now her robes were scorched and torn.
Her breathing hadn't completely settled.
Dust covered her skin.
And beneath all of that...
Something heavier.
She'd just felt over a hundred Jedi die around her.
People she'd trained beside.
People she'd known for years.
Friends.
Students.
Masters.
All extinguished in minutes.
Meanwhile, I was standing there internally celebrating a level-up.
...
Maybe not the best emotional timing.
Her eyes remained on me.
"I see..."
Her brow lifted slightly.
Before she could pursue that—
"General."
The clone officer turned toward her.
"We'll be landing shortly."
Shaak Ti's attention shifted.
Thank you, nameless clone.
I looked through the open side of the gunship.
And immediately forgot the conversation.
Holy shit.
The entire horizon was at war. Hundreds of clone formations were deploying across the desert. LAATs screamed overhead. AT-TE walkers descended onto the battlefield, their massive legs unfolding beneath them. Droid formations stretched far across the landscape.
This was an actual war.
And apparently...
I'd chosen the wrong fucking gunship.
Our LAAT descended directly toward the main frontline.
I leaned outward.
"...Oh."
The gunship touched down.
Shaak Ti grabbed my shoulder. She pulled me along.
We jumped from the LAAT.
Almost immediately, squads of clones began assembling behind us.
No discussion.
No introduction.
They saw Jedi and automatically formed up.
Wait.
Were they expecting us to lead them?
I looked up.
Another LAAT passed overhead.
And through the open bay I caught sight of—
Anakin.
Obi-Wan.
Their gunship didn't stop.
It just kept flying.
Away.
Toward Dooku.
Toward the plot.
I stared after them.
"You motherfuckers!"
They disappeared into the distance.
What kind of injustice was this?!
They got a dramatic chase scene.
I got assigned to the meat grinder!
I turned around.
Then actually saw the battlefield clearly.
...
Oh.
The humor vanished.
A wall of clone troopers advanced across open ground.
No trenches.
No barricades.
Barely any natural cover.
Just hundreds of men walking forward and firing into an equally massive formation of battle droids.
Red and blue bolts passed between both armies.
Missiles streaked overhead.
Explosions threw bodies into the air.
Clone troopers fell.
Droids fell.
Then the soldiers behind them stepped over the bodies and continued advancing.
Something inside me stirred.
At first...
Excitement.
Deep.
Primal.
My antennae stood high.
My heart accelerated.
My legs wanted to move.
This.
THIS.
This was what Irkens were made for.
Not meditation.
Not Jedi philosophy.
Not sitting in a Temple debating attachment.
War.
Conquest.
Battle.
My entire species had been bred around this.
My feet began moving without conscious thought.
One step.
Then another.
Toward the frontline.
I almost let myself disappear into the feeling.
Then I glanced backward.
Shaak Ti hadn't followed.
She stood completely still.
Staring at the battlefield.
Her expression looked nothing like mine.
Shock.
Disgust.
Horror.
The sheer scale of it seemed to have stunned her.
Thousands of living beings dying across kilometers of desert.
A clone brushed against her while repositioning.
"General!"
Shaak Ti blinked.
The contact seemed to break whatever hold the sight had over her.
I watched her recover.
Then turned forward again.
Something was still pulling me toward the fighting.
My walk became a jog.
Then a run.
Then a sprint.
"General!"
A clone shouted after me.
Another turned as I passed.
Training from the last decade said—
Lightsaber.
My hand should've reached for it.
Instead—
SUMMON.
An Irken light machine gun dropped into my hands. The same one from Naboo.
...
Oh.
That felt better.
I braced it against my waist.
Pulled the trigger.
BRRRRRRRRRT!
Pink plasma tore through the air.
I grinned.
Now this was civilized warfare. Blaster fire screamed past me. Clones shouted. Droids marched forward through smoke.
"Protect the General!"
Several troopers formed around me. Two knelt. Others fired standing. Blue bolts joined my pink barrage.
One clone beside me jerked backward. A bolt punched through his chest plate.
Another dropped seconds later.
I looked around.
...
Why the hell were we standing out in the open?!
There was nothing here!
No barricades.
No fighting positions.
No trenches.
No cover except wrecked vehicles and corpses.
The realization hit me harder the longer I looked.
The entire line was doing this.
Thousands of clones simply advancing through direct fire.
My excitement started twisting into something else. Frustration. Then rage.
What fucking idiot planned this?!
In the Irken Empire, whoever ordered something this incompetent would be labeled defective and quietly removed before lunch.
Another clone dropped.
Then another.
The front kept moving.
I seized the nearest trooper with the Force.
"WHOA—"
He flew backward.
I pulled him directly toward me.
His boots left the ground.
His helmet stopped inches from my face.
"WHY ARE YOU ADVANCING WITH THESE LOSSES?!"
The poor bastard sounded like he was being strangled.
Probably because, technically, I was holding him in the air.
"S-SIR! ALL FORWARD UNITS HAVE BEEN ORDERED TO ADVANCE!"
...
That's it?
That's the fucking strategy?!
Advance?!
I released him.
He collapsed onto his knees.
I turned toward the others.
"COVER!"
Several helmets turned toward me.
"FIND COVER! THAT'S AN ORDER!"
"YES, SIR!"
"YES, GENERAL!"
The clones scattered.
Or tried to.
There wasn't much cover to find.
A few crouched behind pieces of destroyed machinery.
One dragged a wounded brother behind a wreck.
Two others—
...
Oh.
They were using dead clones as cover.
Wonderful.
At least they were trying.
But there was nothing else.
My machine gun dropped from my hands.
I stared at the open ground ahead.
Anger continued building.
Stupid.
This was so fucking stupid.
I raised both hands.
Fine.
If there wasn't any cover...
I'd make some.
I reached through the Force.
Down.
Into the ground.
Nothing.
Come on.
My clawed fingers curled into fists. The tips dug into my palms.
I pulled.
The ground trembled.
"Come on..."
Blaster fire continued around me.
Someone screamed. Another clone fell.
I pulled harder.
Nothing useful.
"COME ON!"
My frustration snapped.
MOVE!
Both arms shot upward.
The earth answered.
RRRRRUMBLE!
Several meters ahead, the ground suddenly erupted.
Clones stumbled backward.
A thick wall of compacted earth tore upward from the battlefield.
Four feet high.
Nearly two feet thick.
Long enough for an entire squad.
Everyone stared.
DING. Skill gained: Geomancy (Lv 1 / 10). - Earth itself can channel your power.
"GET TO COVER!"
That got them moving.
Troopers rushed behind the wall.
Some crouched.
Others rested rifles across the top.
Almost immediately, their firing improved.
They weren't desperately shooting while walking anymore. They could aim. Brace.
...
Geomancy huh. I was trying to use regular telekinesis to make the wall...
I stared at the notification.
After all those years trying to learn pyromancy...
After sitting in the Temple staring at candles like an idiot...
After trying to make fire appear through sheer spite...
I got mud magic.
My knees suddenly buckled.
"Oh..."
The ground rushed toward me.
I caught myself on both hands. I suddenly felt like I was running on empty.
Drained.
Two clones immediately grabbed me.
"General!"
They pulled me behind the wall and propped me against it.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Give me..."
I sucked in a breath.
"...a moment."
That had taken a lot more out of me than expected.
My anger was gone too.
Like somebody had opened a valve and drained everything at once.
I leaned my head against the dirt wall.
The two clones were still staring at me.
Mostly because I was staring blankly at a System notification they couldn't see.
One looked toward the other.
I probably appeared mildly brain-damaged.
Then—
BOOOOOOM!
An explosion nearby shook the entire barricade.
Dust dumped onto my head.
Right.
Battle.
"Why are you two still here?"
The clones straightened.
"Sir?"
"Get back to the fight!"
"YES, SIR!"
Both immediately repositioned.
I summoned an Irken plasma rifle.
Then peeked over the wall.
Our little section was doing considerably better.
Unfortunately...
That created another problem.
Everyone else was still advancing.
The frontline had moved forward while we stayed behind.
We were becoming an isolated pocket.
In the distance, I could see other Jedi leading clone formations.
And they were doing exactly what we'd been doing.
Walking forward.
Blades raised.
Troopers firing from the hip beside them.
Some formations were mowing through droids.
Others were getting shredded.
...
Fucking dumbasses.
I pushed myself upright.
Fine. If nobody else was going to build cover...
I would.
I ran along the edge of my first wall.
Stopped. Focused. Pulled.
RRRUMBLE.
Another section of earth rose. This one came easier. Much easier.
Long enough for another dozen troopers.
"USE IT!"
They didn't need to be told twice.
I kept moving.
Another wall.
Then another.
Short fighting positions spaced across the line.
Nothing fancy.
But enough to kneel behind. Enough to reduce the number of men getting killed.
It was exhausting.
But manageable.
Then—
The earth shook.
Not from me.
Everyone looked upward.
A starship was falling.
A huge Separatist vessel descended through the atmosphere trailing smoke.
It struck the ground kilometers away.
BOOOOOOOOM!
The impact rolled across the battlefield.
Then came the dust.
A massive wall of sand swallowed everything.
"DOWN!"
Visibility disappeared in seconds. Red and blue bolts flashed through the dust like lightning.
I raised one more small barricade.
Dropped behind it.
Then fired toward the enemy positions my PAK had marked before visibility disappeared.
Gunships somewhere overhead. Missiles screaming through the haze. AT-TE cannons booming. Clone voices. Explosions.
Then—
Something purple appeared through the dust.
I stopped firing.
...
What?
A purple glow.
Then every instinct I possessed screamed simultaneously.
DANGER!
I dropped.
Not crouched.
Not ducked.
Flat.
Face-first against the ground.
And then—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
White.
Heat.
Pressure.
Then nothing.
...
...
...
"Huhhhhh..."
~~~
Silence.
Complete silence.
At least for the first few seconds before my consciousness properly returned and immediately started freaking the fuck out.
Something hurt on my left side. Not horribly. More like a distant, throbbing pain that my brain hadn't quite decided what to do with yet.
I tried opening my eyes.
Bad idea.
"AH—"
Dust and sand immediately blasted into them.
I squeezed them shut again. Slowly, feeling began returning to the rest of my body. Wind tearing across my skin. Blaster fire. Explosions. Something heavy firing repeatedly in the distance.
My lungs suddenly demanded air. I tried coughing. There wasn't enough air in me to actually do it.
I sucked in a shallow breath.
My thoughts were still scattered when I remembered something incredibly obvious.
My PAK.
Why the hell was I trying to manually figure out what was wrong with me? I had a computer attached to my spine monitoring every biological function in my body.
I focused inward. Diagnostics immediately appeared.
Oh.
My left hand was gone.
Not broken.
Gone.
Everything below part of the forearm had been completely obliterated.
There were burns across my left leg and torso too. Skin charred. Muscle damaged.
What hurt most was knowing I just ruined Jango Fetts fit.
I couldn't really feel most of that.
Guess all those Pain Resistance levels finally paid off.
Someone had apparently dragged me out of the open while I was unconscious.
The remains of my arm had been tightly wrapped, along with some of the worse burns.
So at least somebody had found me before a B1 walked over and shot me in the face.
I reached for the Force.
Healing was harder than usual.
My concentration felt muddy.
Still, I managed to push energy into my body.
Warmth spread through my chest.
The worst of the pain faded.
Then exhaustion slammed into me again.
Okay.
That's enough of that.
I finally risked opening my eyes.
Carefully this time.
I was lying behind an earthen barricade.
One of mine, judging by the shape.
The dust storm still covered almost everything.
Red and blue flashes appeared through the haze in every direction.
I planted my right hand against the ground and tried pushing myself upright.
A hand immediately pressed against my shoulder.
"Sir, you've taken a serious hit. I recommend you withdraw from the battle."
I turned.
A clone trooper was crouched beside me.
I scowled at him.
He actually leaned back slightly.
"Give me a status report, trooper."
"Y-yes, sir!"
He straightened instinctively.
"After you were incapacitated by the rocket strike, the frontline continued its advance. One of the enemy core ships was brought down shortly afterward. Its impact caused the dust storm."
I moved my tongue around inside my mouth.
Blood.
Definitely blood.
Great.
I missed a capital ship getting blown out of the sky just like I missed the start of the arena battle.
The universe hated me.
Then another thought occurred.
Status.
I opened it.
CLASS: Necromancer (Lv 13 / 100)
HP: 8 / 270
MP: 150 / 150
SP: 16 / 270
Eight fucking HP.
Okay.
That rocket had come considerably closer to killing me than I'd realized.
On the bright side—
Level thirteen.
Nice.
My SP caught my attention next.
Sixteen.
I couldn't remember ever seeing it that low.
My PAK normally restored stamina so quickly that the resource may as well not have existed.
Apparently getting partially exploded was one of the few things capable of overwhelming it.
I watched my HP for several seconds.
Eight.
Then—
Nine.
...
Oh.
Good.
The PAK was working.
Slowly, but working.
"Sir?"
I blinked.
The status vanished.
The clone was still watching me.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
I absolutely was not.
"Help me up."
He hesitated.
"Sir—"
"Up."
"Yes, sir."
He slung his rifle aside and hooked an arm around my waist.
With his help, I managed to stand.
The moment weight touched my left leg—
Pain shot through me.
"FUCK."
My knee nearly buckled.
I shoved away from the trooper before he could catch me again.
"I'm good."
I was not good.
But after a few seconds, I found a position where I could stand.
Mostly.
I finally looked at my left arm.
Bandages.
Then nothing.
Just a wrapped stump where my hand used to be.
...
That was going to take some getting used to.
My new body hadn't existed for more than a few hours and I'd already managed to blow pieces off it.
Impressive.
I opened my inventory.
A small Irken blaster appeared in my right hand.
One hand was enough.
I turned toward the clone.
He'd picked his rifle back up but was still staring at me.
"Take me back to the battle."
There was a brief pause.
Then—
"Yes, sir!"
He saluted.
I appreciated the enthusiasm.
He moved around the barricade.
I limped after him.
The front had advanced so far that my original earthworks were practically abandoned.
We'd won enough ground that they were useless now.
Ahead of us, red and blue blaster bolts flashed through the dust.
Clone silhouettes appeared and disappeared.
So did droids.
Somewhere in that mess was more XP.
And apparently that was enough motivation for my dumb ass.
~SOON AFTER~
My limp gradually disappeared.
The burns stopped screaming every time I moved.
Strength returned to my legs.
My PAK was repairing me continuously now that I wasn't actively being blown apart.
The hand, unfortunately, remained very much absent.
Diagnostics estimated that replacing something that complicated would take considerably longer.
Dozens of hours, probably.
As we advanced, I developed another habit.
Clone body?
STORE.
Droid body?
STORE.
Broken B1?
STORE.
Dead Geonosian?
Sure.
STORE.
I tapped whatever I could reach with my boot as I passed.
I'd sort through the pile later.
Waste not, want not.
My right hand remained raised as I moved.
Whenever a red bolt appeared through the storm—
Precognition pulled at me.
Left. Duck. Stop.
I returned fire blindly.
PEW! PEW!
Sometimes I couldn't even see what I was shooting at.
The little pulse of experience was the only confirmation I'd actually hit anything.
I refused to pull out my lightsaber.
Absolutely not.
Deflecting blaster bolts sounded impressive until you remembered there were hundreds of droids shooting at you from beyond visual range.
And if I charged close enough to cut them apart, every clone following me would have to cross the exact same open ground.
I wanted to raise more earthworks.
Couldn't.
I could feel it immediately when I tried.
My will was drained.
The Force was there.
My MP was full.
But actually forcing the ground to move required something else.
Concentration.
Intent.
Mental stamina.
Whatever the hell it was, I didn't have enough of it left.
So we kept moving.
At least some of the clones had adapted.
A few were prone now.
Others crouched whenever they stopped to fire.
Good.
Progress.
Still—
We needed cover.
Cover.
Cover...
I stopped.
Wait.
...
Oh my God.
I was an idiot.
I raised my hand.
SUMMON.
A bedframe appeared in the middle of the battlefield.
The clone beside me stared at it.
Okay.
Maybe not that one.
SUMMON.
A refrigerator appeared. Then a couch. A nightstand. A dining table.
Nearby clones stopped firing long enough to look at me.
One slowly turned his helmet toward the couch.
"What the..."
"GRAB THIS SHIT AND PUSH FORWARD!"
Nobody moved.
I pointed at the furniture.
"COVER!"
That got through.
Five clones grabbed the couch.
Two took positions on either side and started pushing it forward.
The other three crouched behind it and fired over the top.
Would a couch stop repeated blaster fire?
Probably not.
Did it give them something between their bodies and incoming plasma?
Absolutely.
Another pair tipped the refrigerator onto its side.
They pushed.
Stopped.
Fired.
Pushed again.
Finally—
Hoarding pays off.
I tipped a dining table onto its side.
Dropped behind it.
Rested my right wrist along the edge.
Several clones joined me. Red bolts ripped through the dust.
PEW! PEW! PEW!
Not ideal.
But better than standing in the open.
A clone beside me ducked as a bolt punched through the tabletop.
"General, this cover isn't going to last long!"
I fired twice.
A distant B1 collapsed.
"Keep moving it!"
The clones shoved the table forward.
Nearby, the couch squad advanced alongside us.
Farther down, I watched a refrigerator roll several feet, stop, and immediately become the firing position for four clones.
~MUCH LATER~
I wish I could say I changed everything.
That my stupid dirt walls saved thousands.
That some brilliant battlefield decision of mine completely changed the course of Geonosis.
They didn't.
The battle mostly ended the way I remembered it ending.
The Separatist leadership escaped.
Dooku escaped.
The Republic technically won.
If you could call it that.
Of the roughly two hundred thousand clones committed to the battle, only around eighty-five thousand were still capable of fighting by the end.
I'd spent the entire battle watching clones get cut down, but hearing the actual scale afterward was different.
There were just...
So many.
The only major difference I noticed immediately involved Anakin.
Apparently he'd still lost a hand.
Not most of his forearm like I remembered.
Just a clean cut straight through the wrist.
Which, honestly, looked worse somehow.
He was sitting on a medical bed while droids worked on attaching the replacement when I walked in.
My own left arm was still wrapped.
No hand.
Just a slowly regenerating stump.
Anakin looked at it.
Then at his own mechanical replacement.
Then smiled.
"We match."
I stared at him.
"You've had that thing for five minutes."
He lifted the new hand and flexed the fingers.
"Still counts."
"You got yours replaced immediately. Mine has to grow back."
"Sounds like a you problem."
The bastard even held his new hand beside my missing one like he was comparing them.
"Twins."
"Keep talking and I'll make you lose the other one."
He laughed.
Shaak Ti was considerably less amused when she finally found me.
Actually...
I've rarely seen that woman angry.
Disappointed?
Frequently.
Concerned?
Constantly.
But genuinely angry?
That was new.
"Dabo."
The way she said my name immediately told me I was fucked.
"Master."
"Where were you?"
...
"Fighting?" After that joke the next 20 minutes were a lecture.
Eventually, I found myself sitting inside another LAAT.
This one wasn't heading toward combat.
Thank God.
I leaned against the interior wall and let the engine vibrations run through me.
The battle was finally over.
For today, anyway.
Because I knew exactly what Geonosis meant.
The Clone Wars had started.
~LATER~
There was still one little problem before Anakin and I could return to Coruscant and explain our extremely successful escort mission to the Jedi Council.
Padmé.
More specifically— Padmé and Anakin.
Officially we were escorting Padmé back to Naboo.
Unofficially? We were preparing for a wedding.
It took them only a few hours to organize everything.
Anakin invited me, obviously.
Which was how I ended up traveling back to Tatooine with the happy couple so we could collect Shmi and the Lars family.
Shmi nearly exploded with happiness when Anakin told her.
I was slightly less surprised.
Mostly because I'd already watched this happen in a movie. Back at the Lars homestead I made the wedding cake. I was also the fucking caterer.
I set up a small recording droid too.
If they were going to illegally marry behind the Jedi Order's back, someone needed good footage.
We returned to the villa on Naboo.
Same lake. Same mountains. Same ridiculously gorgeous sunset.
Everything looked exactly like I remembered.
There wasn't any dramatic orchestral music playing in the background.
That made it surprisingly awkward.
Anakin and Padmé stood together overlooking the water.
Shmi was there.
Cliegg. Owen. Beru.
Me.
A couple droids.
Small wedding.
Then they kissed.
And that was it.
Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala were married.
Shmi immediately started clapping harder than everyone else combined.
The Lars family joined in.
I lifted my one remaining hand.
"WOOOO!"
They eventually separated and looked out toward the sunset.
Then back toward all of us.
Both smiling.
...
Damn.
They really were happy.
They were just two idiots in love.
Shmi couldn't contain herself anymore.
She practically rushed them.
Anakin disappeared into a hug.
Padmé joined a second later.
Shmi said something quietly to both of them.
Eventually she stepped back.
Which apparently meant it was my turn.
I walked over.
"Congratulationsssss."
I drew the word out as obnoxiously as possible.
Anakin grinned.
Padmé smiled.
Although hers became noticeably more awkward when she looked at me.
Then—
BZZZZT.
My little recording droid floated over.
Anakin looked up.
"What is that?"
"Oh, nothing."
The spherical droid stopped above my palm.
A hologram projected beneath it.
There they were.
Anakin.
Padmé.
The kiss.
The entire ceremony.
Beautiful quality too.
I smiled.
"Haha! Just wait until the Council sees this!"
Anakin's face changed instantly.
"Dabo!"
He released Padmé and actually took a step toward me.
"You can't!"
The fear on his face was incredible.
I started laughing.
"I'm joking!"
"You—"
"That look on your face was priceless!"
I caught the droid as it descended.
Then tossed it toward him.
Anakin caught it with his new mechanical hand.
I pointed at him.
"Keep that safe."
He looked down at the droid.
"This is probably the happiest day of your life."
Padmé smiled.
I continued.
"Apparently everything goes downhill after marriage."
Her smile disappeared.
Anakin stared at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I waved my good hand.
"Anyway, I'll stop being a party pooper."
I started walking backward toward the villa.
"You two have a honeymoon to get to."
Anakin immediately looked uncomfortable.
Padmé turned red.
I grinned.
"Have fun!"
"Dabo."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
I turned around. And left them alone. Behind me, Shmi started laughing.
~~~
My hand was still growing back. There were a lot of things I should probably be worried about. Naturally, I had one priority.
Coruscant.
I had her face burned into my memory.
Green skin. That smile. The proposition I had stupidly turned down because, at the time, I had lacked some fairly important equipment.
That Rodian.
"First thing I'm doing when I get back..."
The Clone Wars could wait five minutes....