The blue-white tunnel of hyperspace collapsed around us with that familiar lurch that always made my stomach drop, reality snapping back into focus with disorienting abruptness. The swirling vortex of light gave way to the black void of space, and there, hanging against the star-field like a wound in the cosmos, was Kamino.
The planet looked harsh even from orbit, its surface completely obscured by massive storm systems that churned and roiled across the entire visible hemisphere. Lightning flickered constantly within those clouds, brief flashes of brilliant white-blue that illuminated the turbulent atmosphere from within. The storms were so dense, so all-encompassing, that I couldn't see the ocean surface at all, just layer upon layer of angry gray clouds that seemed to go on forever.
"That's... not exactly welcoming," Derren said from behind me, leaning forward to get a better look through the viewport. "Please tell me we're not actually going down into that."
"We're going down into that," I confirmed, my hands already moving across the controls, adjusting our approach vector and activating the ship's enhanced shielding systems. The Resolute Dawn was built for this kind of atmospheric entry, but that didn't mean it would be pleasant. "Kamino's entire surface is covered by ocean, and the facilities are built on massive stilts rising from the water. The storms are constant, year-round. It's just part of the planet's climate."
"Wonderful," Derren muttered, settling back into his seat and double-checking his restraints. "First a junk planet where it hurts to breathe, then a hot and dry one where everything wants to kill us, and now it's too wet. Can't we just get a break?"
Anakin, who had been silent since we dropped out of hyperspace, finally spoke up. "Could be worse."
Derren turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Oh really? How?"
"We could be on a cold planet with nothing but constant snowstorms," Anakin replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "At least rain is just water. Snow gets everywhere, freezes your joints, makes everything slippery. Trust me, I'd take rain over snow any day."
Derren opened his mouth to respond, then paused, considering. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders in reluctant agreement. "That's actually fair. I'd rather go back to the gladiatorial world, though. At least there the weather was predictable."
I tuned out their banter as we began our descent, focusing all my attention on piloting the ship through Kamino's violent atmosphere. The moment we hit the outer edge of the storm system, the Resolute Dawn began to shake, buffeted by winds that howled and screamed around the hull with almost sentient fury. Rain hammered against the viewport with such force that it sounded like a constant drumroll, each droplet hitting with enough impact to make the transparisteel vibrate.
Lightning split the sky around us, brilliant forks of electricity that arced between clouds and occasionally struck the ocean surface far below. Each flash illuminated the interior of the storm in harsh, stark relief, revealing the true scale of the tempest we were flying through. The clouds weren't just gray, they were layered in shades from nearly white to almost black, churning and mixing in patterns that seemed almost alive.
The ship's sensors screamed warnings at me, detecting wind shear, pressure differentials, electrical discharge, and a dozen other atmospheric hazards. I ignored most of them, trusting my instincts and the Force to guide me through the worst of it. My hands moved across the controls with practiced precision, making constant micro-adjustments to our angle of descent, our speed, our shield distribution.
"How much longer?" Anakin asked, his voice tight. Even he, who had flown through some of the most dangerous situations imaginable, sounded tense. The violence of Kamino's atmosphere was something else entirely.
"Two minutes," I replied, my eyes fixed on the altimeter as we dropped through layer after layer of storm clouds. "The facility should be coming into visual range any moment now."
And then, as if summoned by my words, the clouds parted slightly, and I saw it.
Tipoca City rose from the churning ocean like something from a fever dream, a collection of massive white structures built on impossibly tall stilts that seemed far too slender to support such weight. The architecture was all smooth curves and organic shapes, like someone had taken traditional building materials and molded them like clay into flowing, almost alien forms. Massive domed structures sat atop the stilts, connected by enclosed walkways that stretched between buildings.
The entire facility was illuminated by external lighting that cut through the storm's gloom, making the white structures seem to glow against the dark backdrop of ocean and sky. Landing platforms jutted out from various levels, some occupied by ships, others empty and waiting. I could see the ocean below, massive waves crashing against the stilts with enough force to send spray hundreds of feet into the air, only to be caught by the wind and scattered like mist.
"There," I said, pointing toward one of the designated landing platforms. "That's where we're heading."
I brought the Resolute Dawn in carefully, fighting the wind every meter of the way. The platform was large enough to accommodate ships much bigger than ours, but the crosswinds were so strong that even with the ship's stabilizers at maximum, we were being pushed sideways. I compensated, adjusting our approach angle, using short bursts from the maneuvering thrusters to keep us on course.
The landing struts extended with a mechanical whine that I felt more than heard over the roar of the storm. We touched down with a soft thud that was immediately followed by the hydraulic struts locking into place, magnetic clamps engaging to secure the ship to the platform. Even with all those safety measures, I could feel the ship rocking slightly in the wind, the entire structure swaying with the force of the gale.
"We're down, everyone ready?"
Anakin and Derren both nodded, already unbuckling their restraints and standing. I did the same, moving toward the hatch and keying in the command to open it. The moment the seal broke, the sound of the storm increased a hundredfold, a deafening roar that seemed to fill the entire ship. And then the rain came pouring in.
It wasn't like any rain I'd experienced before. This was a deluge, a solid wall of water that hammered down with such force that it actually hurt where it hit exposed skin. The droplets were large and heavy, driven by winds that had to be approaching hurricane force. Within seconds, the deck around the hatch was soaked, water pooling and running in rivulets toward the lower sections of the ship.
"Go, go, go!" I shouted over the noise, and we sprinted from the ship.
The moment we stepped onto the landing platform, we were completely exposed to the elements. The rain soaked through our robes in seconds, the heavy fabric becoming waterlogged and clinging to our bodies with uncomfortable persistence. My boots splashed against the slick surface of the platform, each step requiring careful attention to avoid slipping.
The air itself was thick with moisture, so saturated that each breath felt like inhaling water. The smell was overwhelming, salt from the ocean spray, ozone from the constant lightning strikes, and underneath it all, a sharp, clean scent that I recognized as antiseptic. It was the smell of the Kaminoan facilities, their obsessive cleanliness somehow managing to permeate even the storm-wracked air outside.
Through the rain, I could see a figure waiting for us near the entrance to the facility. A tall Mandalorian in dark-blue Nite Owl armor stood firm against the storm, seemingly unbothered by the wind and rain that battered against her armor. A blaster rifle was slung across her back, and her posture was straight and alert, the stance of someone who had spent years in combat situations and knew how to maintain readiness even in the worst conditions.
As we approached, running as fast as we dared on the slick platform, she gestured us to come closer, indicating a covered area just inside the facility entrance where we'd be protected from the worst of the rain. We sprinted the last few meters, practically diving under the overhang, and suddenly the noise of the storm was muted, reduced to a dull roar instead of the deafening cacophony we'd been enduring.
I stood there for a moment, gasping, water streaming from my hair and robes to pool on the floor around my feet. Anakin and Derren were in similar states, both of them wringing water from their sleeves and trying to catch their breath. The temperature difference between the storm outside and the climate-controlled interior was jarring, making me shiver as the cold water against my skin met the warm air of the facility.
The Mandalorian who had been waiting for us. She reached up and removed her helmet with practiced ease, the seal breaking with a soft hiss. As the helmet came away, I got my first clear look at her face, and I had to force myself not to react visibly.
"Nice to see you again, Cain," she said, her voice carrying a slight accent that I recognized as distinctly Mandalorian. "I'm Ursa of House Wren. We are a house under Clan Vizsla."
Ursa Wren. Sabine's mother. The realization hit me like a physical blow, and I had to actively work to keep my expression neutral. She was young, so much younger than I'd expected. In my memories of the shows from my past life, Ursa had been a mature woman, a seasoned warrior and leader. But this Ursa couldn't be more than her mid-twenties, still in the prime of her youth and physical capability.
She was tall, easily six-foot-one, which put her at eye level with me and slightly taller than Anakin. Her features were sharp and striking, with tan, fair skin that spoke of mixed heritage, dark hair pulled back tightly in a practical style that kept it out of her face, and brown eyes that had a fierce intelligence to them. There was something about the way she held herself, the confidence in her posture and the directness of her gaze.
She was, I had to admit, objectively attractive. The kind of woman who would turn heads in any room she entered, made all the more striking by the obvious competence and capability she radiated. If I didn't know who Sabine's father was supposed to be, if I didn't have that knowledge from my past life, I might actually consider trying to pursue something with her.
The thought made me pause. Was I really thinking about that? Here, now, in the middle of everything else going on? I forced the thoughts aside, focusing on the present moment.
I quickly recovered my composure and extended a hand toward her. "It's good to meet you again, this time properly, Ursa."
She took my hand in a firm grip, her shake strong and confident. As we shook, I could tell she was studying me closely, not unkindly, but with the scrutiny of a seasoned veteran measuring a newcomer. Her eyes moved over my face, taking in the golden eye, the scars, the mask I wore, cataloging details and making assessments.
"Likewise," she said after a moment, releasing my hand. "When I learned you were Selene's son, I knew Clan Wren was meant to support you. Your mother..." She paused, something flickering across her expression. "She was someone worth following. Come, Bo-Katan is waiting inside."
She turned and led us deeper into the facility, and I followed, acutely aware of Anakin and Derren falling into step behind me. The doors hissed shut behind us, cutting off the roar of the storm with startling abruptness. The sudden silence was almost as jarring as the noise had been, leaving my ears ringing slightly in the absence of that constant background roar.
Inside, the corridors were everything I'd expected from my memories of the Clone Wars series, bright, white, and eerily clean. The walls were smooth and curved, following that same organic architecture I'd seen from outside, with no sharp corners or straight lines anywhere. Bright ambient lighting came from panels set into the ceiling and walls, providing illumination that was almost too bright after the gloom of the storm outside.
The contrast between the chaos outside and the calm inside was jarring. Out there, nature raged with primal fury, wind and rain and lightning creating an environment that was actively hostile to life. In here, everything was controlled, sterile, ordered. The temperature was perfectly regulated, the air filtered and clean, the lighting optimized for Kaminoan vision. It felt artificial in a way that made my skin crawl slightly, too perfect, too controlled.
As we walked, I noticed that the halls were mostly empty. A few Nite Owls patrolled the corridors, their armor marking them clearly as Mandalorians. Everyone had their helmets on, maintaining operational security, but I recognized a few of them by the small personal markings on their armor, unique paint patterns or symbols that helped them distinguish each other even when fully armored.
Some of these warriors had been on Tython during the months of training, helping us establish the ysalamiri forest zone. That area had become a crucial part of our training regimen, a place where we could restrain any Force-sensitives who were troubled or needed to learn control without the constant presence of the Force. It was also where the Mandalorians trained the students, and me, on how to fight and survive without always relying on the Force.
The training had been brutal. By no means easy. A lot of the Jedi had acted like children learning to walk for the first time again, stumbling and falling and struggling with the most basic tasks. That was how reliant we had become on the Force, using it as a crutch for everything from enhanced reflexes to precognition to physical augmentation. Without it, we were just people, skilled people, trained people, but still just people.
It had been educational, though. Humbling in the best possible way. And the Mandalorians there had enjoyed every moment of it, taking perhaps a bit too much pleasure in knocking the Jedi down a peg or two. I couldn't really blame them, there was centuries of history between our peoples, and some of that resentment ran deep.
As we walked through the sterile corridors, I found myself thinking about everything that had led to this moment. The conversation with the Bendu still weighed heavily on my mind, the revelation about what I was, what I could do. A wound in the Force. Someone who could influence those bonded to him without even realizing it. The implications were staggering, and I still hadn't fully processed them.
I needed to focus. There would be time to think about all of that later. Right now, I had a mission to complete.
"Ursa," I said quietly, my voice pitched low enough that it wouldn't carry far in the corridor. "Can I ask you something?"
She glanced back at me, one eyebrow raised slightly. "Go ahead."
I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. "Does it bother you? That I wasn't born into Mandalorian society? That I'm half-Sephi, and now I'm causing a civil war in Death Watch? That some even want me to overthrow Pre and lead them and House Vizsla? Hell, there are even a few talks about me overthrowing the Duchess." I paused, meeting her gaze directly. "How does all that make you feel?"
Ursa stopped abruptly, so suddenly that Anakin and Derren nearly walked into her. They caught themselves at the last moment, both of them sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the sudden tension that had filled the corridor.
She turned to face me fully, rainwater still dripping from her armor to pool on the pristine white floor. For a long moment, she just looked at me, her expression serious and thoughtful. I could see her weighing her words, deciding how honest to be.
"Listen, Cain," she finally said, her voice carrying a weight that made it clear she was speaking from the heart. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have doubts. I was devoted to Death Watch and its cause. I followed Pre Vizsla loyally, hoping to return Mandalore to its former glory, to make us more than just pacifists and shells of our former selves."
She paused, and something shifted in her expression, a hint of old pain surfacing. "But I also followed the True Mandalorians. I followed your mother. And like Bo, I forgot her and their teachings for a time. I let anger and resentment cloud my judgment, let the desire for revenge against the New Mandalorians override the principles I'd once believed in."
Her voice softened just a fraction, though her gaze remained intense. "And if Bo-Katan believes you're the future of House Vizsla and all of Mandalore, then that's enough for me to give you a chance and judge you with my own eyes. So far, you haven't disappointed. I hear how Mandalore is thriving with more beskar ore flowing than we've seen in generations. Not to mention you're uniting us and mending the old wounds between us and the Jedi."
She met my gaze evenly, and I could see the sincerity in her eyes. "As for you being half-Sephi... I don't really care. You carry Selene's blood. You're a foundling and a Jedi, as well as a descendant of Tarre Vizsla. I'd be stupid not to see the symbolism behind all that. So you being part alien is the least of my concerns. Take that however you want."
I exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension I'd been carrying ease slightly. "That's... more than fair. Thank you." I paused, then added, almost without thinking, "By the way, do you have a partner or husband?"
The words were out before I could stop them, and I immediately saw Anakin and Derren's eyes widen, their jaws practically dropping.
Ursa smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're way too green to think you can handle a woman like me, I have no one right now, but start by making your own armor and gaining the darksaber, and then we'll talk."
She turned around and resumed walking, leaving me standing there feeling like I'd just been simultaneously complimented and put in my place. Which, I supposed, I had been.
Anakin leaned toward me and Derren, his voice pitched low but carrying clear amusement. "Well. That went better than expected. I didn't see that last part coming at all." He paused, then added with a grin, "So you have a thing for older women, Cain?"
Derren whispered back, barely containing his laughter. "Yeah, I think he does. That explains the Zeltron girl that came to the temple a while ago. Man, Seris doesn't like her, or the way she hangs around you." He paused, his expression becoming more serious. "But Cain, if Seris finds out about this, you're dead."
I just sighed and kept walking without speaking, not trusting myself to respond. They were talking about Sheera, and just thinking about her made the situation even more complicated.
Sheera was a Zeltron from the planet Zeltros, a striking, red-skinned near-human species native to that hedonistic world that I desperately wanted to visit for a vacation if I ever got one. The Zeltrons were known for their intense emotionality, their pleasure-seeking culture, and their natural empathic abilities that made them incredibly attuned to the feelings of those around them.
Sheera herself was two years older than us, which put her at seventeen, and she was Force-sensitive. She had requested to be trained by us, but some of the other Knights and Masters had argued that she was too old to begin training. Not to mention that since Zeltron culture heavily revolved around intense emotion and physical pleasure, they had a statistically higher chance of falling to the dark side.
The emotional intensity that was natural to them could easily tip over into the kind of passion and attachment that the old Jedi Order had feared.
I had still accepted her into the Praxeum, overruling the objections and placing her in the beginner classes. Master Plo, was on board with it as well. He was technically the Grandmaster, but no official ceremony was had. I was the founder so I had some pull, which confused others, and a few didn't like that I a padawan had so much pull.
But I'm glad I ignored them. Sheera had proven to be a very bright and warm person, someone who took to the lessons and excelled remarkably well. Her natural empathy gave her an intuitive understanding of the Force that many students struggled to develop, and her enthusiasm was infectious.
She was always trying to lighten the mood around the temple and town.
But the problem, if it could be called a problem, was that she had no issue being open with her affection and love. To people who had been deprived of that kind of emotional expression, who had found that part of themselves locked away or suppressed, she seemed scary. Overwhelming. Too much, too fast, and too intense.
It didn't help that she always hung around me and touching me, which I didn't mind per say. It's probably the most affection I gotten in years, besides from Seris.
Seris would get visibly jealous whenever Sheera was near, her normally composed demeanor cracking to show flashes of possessiveness that she tried to hide. But the weirder part, the part that made the whole situation even more complicated, was that I could tell Sheera had a thing for Seris.
She would always try to hang out with both of us together. She liked reading the same books that Seris did, would seek out sparring sessions with both of us, listened to the same music I enjoyed. It was like she was trying to integrate herself into our dynamic, to become part of whatever it was that Seris and I had between us.
Even Josa had made jokes about how the three of us looked like a couple, her teasing carrying an edge of genuine observation. I had ignored her comments, but it was hard for me not to like the sound of that in some way. A silver-haired sephi girl who was beautiful and fierce and brilliant, and a pink-skinned, white-haired beauty who was kind and bubbly but had a demon-like hedonistic nature lurking beneath the surface. And they were both mine.
I stopped that train of thought immediately, forcing myself to focus on the present. Between what the Bendu had told me about my weird power, my ability to influence those bonded to me without even realizing, the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally entangle myself between two girls through some unconscious cosmic Force manipulation. That would be wrong on so many levels, a violation of their autonomy and free will that I couldn't stomach. It was already being weird being mentally older by decades.
No. I needed to focus on Kamino, on the mission at hand. Everything else could wait.
We continued down the corridor in silence, the only sound the soft padding of our boots on the pristine floor and the distant hum of the facility's systems. Eventually, we reached a set of doors that looked more heavily reinforced than the others we'd passed, with additional security measures visible in the frame.
The holding chamber.
Ursa keyed in a code on the panel beside the door, and it hissed open with a pneumatic sound. Inside, the room was larger than I'd expected, with multiple sections divided by transparent barriers. Medical equipment lined one wall, and several chairs and benches were scattered around the space.
Bo sat in the corner, leaning against the wall while another Mandalorian, a medic, judging by the equipment they were using, cleaned and treated her face. I could see immediately that she'd been in a fight. Her cheek was bruised and swollen, already turning an ugly purple-black color. One eye was darkened, the tissue around it puffy and tender-looking. A thin cut split her lower lip, still seeping blood despite the medic's efforts to seal it.
I stepped forward immediately, concern overriding protocol. "Bo, are you okay? What happened?"
Bo-Katan looked up at me and smirked despite the obvious pain the expression caused her. "Jango didn't go quietly," she said, her voice slightly distorted by the swelling in her lip. "Even without his armor or weapons, he's still a formidable man. Fought like a cornered nexu when we tried to restrain him."
She winced slightly as the medic applied disinfectant to the cut on her lip, the antiseptic clearly stinging. "But the moment we put hands on his clone son, just to move him to a secure location, mind you, Jango stopped fighting immediately. Not that we were actually going to hurt the kid. We're not monsters. But Jango didn't know that, and the threat was enough to make him cooperate."
I nodded, understanding. Jango Fett's love for his son Boba was one of the few genuine emotional connections the man had. In the original timeline, that love had been what drove so much of his actions, what made him more than just a mercenary. It was good to know that held true here as well.
My gaze shifted to the side of the room, and I felt my breath catch slightly. The Kaminoans sat there in silence, four of them arranged in a semicircle, their long necks and large eyes giving them an almost alien appearance that was both fascinating and slightly unsettling.
I recognized them from my memories of the Clone Wars series. Lama Su, the Prime Minister of Kamino, sat in the center, his posture perfect and his expression unreadable. Nala Se, the Chief Medical Scientist, sat to his right, her large eyes fixed on me with an intensity that suggested she was already analyzing everything about me. Ko Sai, another Chief Scientist and skilled genetic engineer, sat to Lama Su's left, her hands folded neatly in her lap. And Taun We, an aide to Lama Su, completed the group, her expression curious but cautious.
They were all watching us with that peculiar Kaminoan stillness, barely moving, their eyes taking in everything. It was unnerving in a way I couldn't quite articulate, like being studied by beings who saw the world in fundamentally different terms than I did.
I turned back to Bo-Katan, forcing myself to focus on the immediate situation. "We brought someone else," I said calmly.
She raised an eyebrow, wincing slightly at the movement. "Oh?"
I took a breath, knowing this was going to be controversial. "He's a Zabrak. Right now he's heavily sedated. He's the Sith Lord known as Maul. His lower body is gone, replaced by some kind of mechanical spider-leg apparatus. I need him treated and kept under heavy sedation until we can figure out what to do with him."
Bo-Katan's expression hardened immediately, her eyes narrowing. "Why bring someone like that here? Why not just kill him and be done with it?"
"That's what I said," Anakin interjected from behind me.
I just sighed, turning to face Bo-Katan fully. "Bo, he is the key to proving who the Sith Lord in the Senate is. Maul was Sidious's apprentice. He knows things, has information that we desperately need. If we can heal his mind, get him stable enough to communicate, he might be able to give us the evidence we need."
Bo-Katan stared at me for a long moment, clearly weighing the risks against the potential benefits. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine. But if he becomes a problem, if there's even a hint that he might escape or cause trouble, I'm putting a blaster bolt through his skull. Understood?"
"Understood," I agreed.
She turned her head slightly, addressing one of the Mandalorians standing guard near the door. "Koska," she said sharply. "Take two others. Retrieve the alien from their ship. Place him in the adjacent med room and tell the scientists to hook him up to every monitoring system they have. Sedate him heavily, I want him so drugged he couldn't wake up if the facility was exploding around him."
I recognized that name immediately. Koska Reeves, from the Mandalorian show. So she existed here too, part of Bo-Katan's inner circle even at this early stage. I couldn't see her face through the helmet, but I could tell from her body language that she was fairly young, probably not much older than Bo-Katan herself.
Which made me think about something I'd noticed before. Either the writers of the shows hadn't taken into account the ages of the characters when writing and casting, or some Mandalorians had really good genetics and aged like Saiyans, aging a little slower to stay in their prime fighting condition longer, especially if they were consistently in stressful battles. It was an interesting thought, and one that might explain some of the inconsistencies I'd noticed.
Koska nodded immediately, her movements crisp and professional. She gestured to two other Mandalorians, and the three of them headed out of the chamber, presumably toward our ship.
I turned to Anakin and Derren, meeting their eyes. "I need you two to make sure no one tries anything stupid. Walk around the facility, keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. I'll handle the negotiations with the Kaminoans."
Anakin nodded, looking relieved to have a clear task. "On it. Hopefully I can find some food around here. I'm starving."
Derren stretched, wringing more water from his sleeves. "As long as I can dry off first, I'm happy. These robes weigh about fifty pounds right now."
The door hissed shut behind them, leaving me alone with Bo-Katan, the Mandalorian medic, and the four Kaminoans. The silence that fell was heavy, weighted with expectation and tension.
I moved to the center of the chamber and lowered myself to sit on one of the benches, positioning myself so I was facing the Kaminoans directly. I made sure my posture was respectful, open, showing as much deference as I could manage while still maintaining my dignity. These beings held the key to so much of what I needed to accomplish, and I couldn't afford to alienate them.
"Hello there," I said evenly, my voice calm and measured. "I regret that we're meeting for the first time in person like this, under these circumstances. I would have preferred a more formal introduction, but events have forced our hand."
Ko Sai tilted her head slightly, the movement oddly bird-like. "You are Mr. Dawnstar," she said, her voice carrying that peculiar Kaminoan accent, each word precisely enunciated. "I believe we were doing a commission for you and your employer, Sir Noctis. Can you explain what is happening? Why have armed Mandalorians occupied our facility?"
I straightened, meeting her gaze directly. "Yes. I believe that is the fair thing to do here, considering everything. You deserve to know the truth about what you've been involved in, what you've helped create."
And then I explained everything.
I told them about the Sith's manipulation of the Republic, how Darth Sidious had orchestrated the creation of the clone army through layers of deception and false identities. I explained the clone army's true purpose, not to defend the Republic, but to be the instrument of its destruction, the tool that would allow the Sith to seize control of the galaxy.
I described the coming collapse of the Republic, how the Clone Wars would tear the galaxy apart, how billions would die in a conflict engineered from the start to have only one possible outcome. I told them about the Empire that would rise from the Republic's ashes, a totalitarian regime that would crush freedom and individuality beneath its boot.
I explained Kamino's eventual occupation, how the Empire would take control of the cloning facilities and use them for their own purposes. I told them how the clone army would be discarded once it outlived its usefulness, how the clones they had created with such care would be cast aside like broken tools, replaced by conscripted stormtroopers who were cheaper and more expendable.
And I told them about Kamino's eventual fall, how the Empire would eventually decide that the Kaminoans knew too much, had too much dangerous knowledge, and would move to eliminate them entirely.
Throughout my explanation, Lama Su listened without interruption, his large eyes fixed on me with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable. The other Kaminoans remained similarly still, absorbing everything I said without visible reaction.
When I finally finished, the silence that fell was profound. For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Lama Su folded his hands in his lap, the gesture somehow conveying both consideration and skepticism. "You offer dire predictions, Mr. Dawnstar," he said, his voice carrying that same precise enunciation. "But do you have any proof of these claims? Surely you understand that we cannot simply take your word for such extraordinary accusations."
My voice sharpened, frustration bleeding through despite my efforts to remain calm. "Look at the facts. A clone army based on one man's genetic template. Billions of credits invested in secret. Enough soldiers to conquer entire star systems. You may not see the moral or political danger in what you've created, but you should have. You're intelligent beings, you had to know that an army of this scale could only be intended for one purpose."
Lama Su responded coolly, his expression not changing. "The creation of armies and their purpose is not our concern. We are scientists, not politicians or military strategists. The credits were paid in full, through legitimate channels. What the army is used for is irrelevant to us. The clones were bred to fulfill their purpose, whatever that purpose might be."
Bo-Katan, who had been silent until now, scoffed loudly. "You built a weapon that can conquer worlds, and you don't care how it's used? You're happy as long as you get your credits? That's the most morally bankrupt thing I've ever heard."
I raised a hand, cutting off her response before she could continue. "Enough, Bo." I turned my attention back to the Kaminoans, specifically focusing on Nala Se. "This army is backed by the Sith. Not just funded by them, but designed according to their specifications, created to serve their purposes."
Nala Se's eyes narrowed slightly, the first real reaction I'd seen from any of them. "Why should the ancient enemies of the Jedi concern Kamino? Sith or not, they are paying customers. Their credits spend the same as anyone else's."
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a more intense register. "Because everyone suffers under Sith rule. Everyone. They don't care about contracts or business relationships or mutual benefit. They care about power, and they will do anything to acquire and maintain it." I paused, then added, "And because your clones carry inhibitor chips, biological programming with command phrases built in. Why do you think those chips can't be used against their creators?"
The room went completely still. Even Bo-Katan, who had been shifting restlessly, froze.
Nala Se stared at me, and for the first time, I saw genuine surprise in her expression. "How do you know about the inhibitor chips?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of something that might have been alarm. "That information is classified at the highest levels. Even most of our own staff don't know the full details of their function."
I met her gaze steadily, letting her see the certainty in my eyes. "Because I know more than you think. Because I've seen the future that awaits if we don't change course. And because I need you to trust me when I say that the Sith will betray you the moment it becomes convenient."
Lama Su's voice cut through the tension, cold and measured. "Trust is difficult when one is held at blaster point or at the end of a lightsaber, Mr. Dawnstar. You speak of betrayal, but you have occupied our facility by force. How is that different from what you accuse the Sith of planning?"
Ko Sai turned to me, her expression thoughtful. "What happens to Kamino if we side with you? What guarantees can you offer that our situation will improve rather than simply trading one master for another?"
I paused, considering my words carefully.
"That depends on you, on the choices you make going forward. If you work with me, Kamino will keep its autonomy. You'll keep your profits, in fact, I can guarantee they'll increase significantly. But you will have to adhere to stricter ethical codes regarding cloning and the treatment of clones."
I let that sink in for a moment, then continued. "The clones are living, breathing, thinking people. Not animals to be used as you please, not products to be sold to the highest bidder. They deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, to have rights and protections. That's non-negotiable."
"Is that all?" Lama Su asked, his tone suggesting he expected more demands.
I shook my head. "No. I'm forming a new Force-sensitive order and a new government. I have support from Outer Rim systems, Mid Rim systems, and even some Inner Rim allies. This isn't about forcing anyone to join, it's about creating an alliance that doesn't have the same corruption and systemic issues as the Republic. We won't let big businesses and corrupt officials ruin the galaxy the way they've ruined the Republic."
I paused, then added, "Kamino will receive consistent funding and support. More than that, you'll become the lifeline of medicine in this new government. Your expertise in genetics and cloning will be invaluable for developing treatments and cures for diseases that have plagued the galaxy for millennia."
Ko Sai spoke softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine interest. "I've seen your projections for the hybrid clone army. The genetic models you've proposed could potentially produce Force-sensitive clones without the clone madness that has plagued previous attempts. The applications for medicine would be revolutionary, we could fix issues with organ and limb replacements that have been unsolvable for centuries."
I nodded, feeling a spark of hope. "And more. I'll share ancient Force-related knowledge with you, alchemy, healing arts, techniques for manipulating biological systems at the cellular level. Knowledge that's been nearly lost since the Jedi's golden age, preserved only in the most ancient holocrons."
Nala Se's breath caught audibly, her large eyes widening. "That could revolutionize medicine in fields we haven't even been able to study properly. We could surpass every other medical facility in the galaxy, achieve breakthroughs that would save billions of lives."
My expression hardened, my voice taking on a more serious tone. "It will also help us stop Force-based biological atrocities and anomalies that threaten the galaxy. Believe me, there are many of them, Sith alchemy experiments, ancient plagues, genetic weapons. This won't be a Kamino-only project. You'll spearhead it, yes, but you'll be working with the brightest minds in the galaxy from all walks of life. Consistent funding, access to knowledge, and security for your people and your work."
I leaned back slightly, my gaze moving across all four Kaminoans. "I know this isn't the way you'd prefer to be presented with this opportunity. I know the circumstances are far from ideal. But it's a better deal than the Sith will ever give you, and it's an honest one. I'm not trying to deceive you or manipulate you, I'm trying to save you from a future where Kamino becomes just another casualty of the Sith's ambitions."
I paused, then added one more piece of information. "Plus, the Sith are already two-timing you. They're creating a more elite team of clones and outsourcing their production to the Arkanians. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't let that happen to me. They're already planning to replace you, to make you obsolete. Is that really the kind of business partner you want?"
Silence followed my words, heavy and profound. I could see the Kaminoans processing everything I'd said, weighing the risks and benefits, calculating probabilities and outcomes with the cold logic of scientists.
Finally, Lama Su spoke, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "The Arkanians, you say..." He paused, something flickering across his expression that might have been anger or wounded pride. "Very well. We will halt the Jango Fett clone production for now. We will proceed with the genetic mapping for this hybrid army you've proposed."
I exhaled deeply, feeling tension I hadn't realized I was carrying ease from my shoulders. "You won't regret it. I promise you that."
"As long as you have the credits and can guarantee Kamino's protection and independence, I believe we won't regret it," Lama Su said evenly. "This other knowledge you promise is yet to be fulfilled, so we will reserve judgment on that. As for this new government you're proposing, I will keep my expectations low for now." He paused, then added, "I will have to inform Tyrannus about this development, of course. He is our primary client."
I added quickly, urgency creeping into my voice, "Do not inform Tyrannus. He is working with the Sith, he is a Sith himself, in fact. Count Dooku and Darth Tyrannus are the same person. If he comes looking for a progress update, make something up. Tell him there have been minor delays, technical difficulties, whatever you need to say. But keep accepting the funding as usual, and don't give him any reason to suspect that anything has changed."
I continued, "I will leave a contingent of Mandalorians and Jedi here for extra security. If any Mandalorians come that aren't on the cleared list, do not let them pass. If Dooku himself shows up, contact me immediately through secure channels."
Lama Su's eyes flickered with something that might have been understanding. "So he was involved in the Sith plot from the beginning..." He paused, then inclined his head slightly. "Very well. Consider this arrangement discreet. We will maintain the appearance of business as usual while working on your project in secret."
I nodded, relief flooding through me. "Thank you. I'll need you to send some of your scientists to Tython as soon as possible, a small team, maybe three or four of your best geneticists. We can begin the DNA collection process there, and they can start familiarizing themselves with the Force-sensitive subjects."
I continued, "Also, please forward me a complete copy of the officer training program you've developed for the clones. I'll be making some adjustments to it, adapting it for our purposes. And send me recommendations for instructors who are capable of teaching both Jedi and normal civilians how to become effective troopers and officers. We'll need people who can bridge that gap."
I gestured toward a containment unit that had been brought in earlier, one that I'd specifically requested. "This is a ysalamiri," I said, indicating the strange, salamander-like creature inside. "Study them thoroughly, they're the key to cloning Force-sensitives successfully. They create a bubble in the Force that nullifies Force abilities, which prevents the clone madness that normally results from trying to clone Force-sensitive beings. Understanding how they work will be crucial to the hybrid army project."
Lama Su inclined his head. "We will have all of this arranged immediately. Our scientists will be ready to depart for Tython within the day."
I turned to Bo-Katan, who had been watching the entire exchange with a mixture of interest and skepticism. "Will you donate DNA for the project?"
She stiffened immediately, her expression hardening. "Why would I help create more abominations? More fake Mandalorians who were grown in tubes instead of being born and raised in our culture?"
I replied gently, trying to make her understand. "They're people, Bo. Living, thinking, feeling people who deserve a chance at life. And your blood matters, you're from one of the most prestigious Mandalorian bloodlines. You need an heir for your house, especially if your sister doesn't have any children. I'm not saying you need to do it now, but think about the future. Think about what it would mean to have warriors carrying your genetic legacy, trained in Mandalorian ways, upholding the values you believe in."
Bo hesitated, and I could see the internal struggle playing out across her face. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine. I'll think about it. But you better make sure I don't regret this, foundling. If these clones dishonor the Mandalorian name, it's on you."
I smiled, genuine warmth in the expression. "I promise. I'll make sure they're trained properly, that they understand what it means to be Mandalorian. They'll be warriors you can be proud of."
I stood, my body protesting slightly after sitting for so long. "Now, take me to Fett. It's time I met the template for the Republic's army face to face."
The meeting with Jango Fett was shorter than I'd expected, but no less intense for its brevity.
They'd placed him in a secure holding cell, one with reinforced walls and multiple layers of security. When I entered, accompanied by Bo-Katan and two other Mandalorians, I found him sitting on a bench, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert and calculating. He was a compact man, not particularly tall but radiating a sense of coiled danger that made it clear why he'd been chosen as the template for the clone army.
His face was weathered, marked by years of combat and hard living, with dark eyes that missed nothing. Even without his armor, even unarmed and imprisoned, he looked dangerous. There was something in the way he held himself, the confidence of someone who had survived countless life-or-death situations and come out on top.
"Jango Fett," I said, keeping my voice neutral and respectful. "I'm Cain . I'm here to make you an offer."
He looked me up and down, his expression unreadable. "An offer. From the people who attacked my home and kidnapped my son. This should be interesting."
I didn't rise to the bait, keeping my tone calm. "I'm offering you protection and a true standing in a reborn Mandalorian society. Your own house, with all the rights and privileges that entails. Credits, of course, more than you're currently being paid. And most importantly, your son's safety. Boba will be protected, educated, trained in Mandalorian ways. He'll have opportunities you never had."
Jango's eyes narrowed slightly. "And what do you want in return?"
"Your cooperation with the hybrid army project," I replied honestly. "Your genetic template, your expertise, your knowledge of combat and tactics. And eventually, your loyalty to the new government we're building."
He was silent for a long moment, studying me with those dark, calculating eyes. Then he said, "You're asking a lot for promises. Why should I trust you?"
I took a breath, then said, "Because I'm Selene's son."
That got a reaction. His eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise breaking through his carefully maintained composure. "Selene... Selene Vizsla? The True Mandalorian?"
I nodded. Bo-Katan stepped forward and pulled out the black pearl necklace, the one my mother had worn, the one that had become a symbol of her legacy. She held it up so Jango could see it clearly.
"She was my mother," I said quietly. "She died when I was young, but her legacy lives on. I'm trying to rebuild what she and Jaster Mereel started, a Mandalorian society based on honor and strength, not just violence and revenge."
Jango stared at the necklace for a long moment, and I could see something shifting in his expression. Memories, perhaps, of a time when he'd believed in something more than just credits and contracts.
Finally, he spoke, his voice harder than before. "Listen here, kid. Actions talk more than words. If you're serious about all this, about rebuilding Mandalorian society, about honoring your mother's legacy, then prove it. Kill Pre Vizsla. Take the darksaber. Disband Death Watch and unite the clans under a banner worth following."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense. "Until then, the only thing you have with me is a contract with credits. I'll work for you because you're paying me, but don't expect loyalty or belief. Those have to be earned."
He paused, and his expression softened just slightly. "I'm sorry about your mother. She was a hell of a warrior and a hell of a woman. One of the few people I ever truly respected. But if you can do what you're claiming, if you can actually unite Mandalore and create something worth believing in—then you'll have my loyalty. No credits needed."
Then his expression hardened again, and he looked directly at Bo-Katan. "But threaten my kid again, and my blade will go through each and every one of your hearts. I don't care who you are or what cause you're fighting for. Touch Boba, and I'll kill you all."
Bo-Katan only nodded, accepting the threat without flinching. She understood, she might not like Jango, might not approve of his mercenary lifestyle, but she respected his devotion to his son.
I nodded as well, meeting Jango's gaze steadily. "Pre's time is almost up anyway. I've been planning his downfall for months. When the moment comes, I'll challenge him properly, take the darksaber, and unite the clans. You have my word on that."
Jango studied me for another moment, then nodded slowly. "We'll see. Actions, not words. Remember that."
As we left the holding cell, I felt a strange mixture of emotions. Jango Fett was a complicated man, a mercenary and a killer, but also a father who loved his son fiercely. In another life, in another timeline, he would have died on Geonosis, killed by Mace Windu in the opening battle of the Clone Wars. His son would have spent years consumed by revenge, becoming a bounty hunter in his own right.
But maybe, just maybe, I could change that. Maybe I could give both of them a better future.
I made the decision to leave Maul on Kamino, at least for now. He would be the first patient for the healing techniques we were developing, a test case for whether we could actually repair the kind of catastrophic mental and physical damage he'd suffered.
For his destroyed mind, I would need to send Jedi healers, Master Fay, probably, and maybe some of the others who specialized in mental healing. And I would need to contact Mother Talzin, to let her know that her son was alive and that we were trying to help him.
That would be a delicate conversation. Talzin was powerful and dangerous, and her relationship with Maul was complicated. But I thought, I hoped, that she would be willing to work with us if it meant saving her son. It would be a good surprise, a way to strengthen the alliance we were building with the Nightsisters.
The journey back to Tython was quiet, all of us lost in our own thoughts. Anakin meditated in the back of the ship, working through his feelings about Maul and everything that had happened. Derren slept, exhausted from the constant travel and stress. And I piloted, my hands moving across the controls automatically while my mind wandered.
When we finally dropped out of hyperspace and Tython appeared before us, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. Home. Or as close to home as I had in this life.
We landed on one of the temple's main platforms, and as the ramp lowered, I could see a small group waiting for us. Seris stood at the front, her silver hair catching the afternoon sunlight, her expression carefully neutral. Behind her were Master Fay and Shaak Ti, both of them looking curious about how the mission had gone. And off to the side, I spotted Barriss, her young face showing concern.
As I stepped off the ramp, Seris smiled, a genuine, warm expression that made my heart skip slightly. "I passed Talzin's test," she said, her voice carrying pride and satisfaction. "The Nightsisters will arrive on Tython in a few days. Mother Talzin herself will be coming to formalize the alliance."
"That's excellent news," I replied, returning her smile. "I knew you could do it."
Then Seris walked up close, intimately close, close enough that I could smell her. She always smelled like spring air and something sweet, like flowers blooming after rain. It was intoxicating in a way I couldn't quite articulate, making my thoughts scatter slightly.
Anakin, Derren, Fay, Shaak Ti, and Barriss were all watching us with obvious interest, their attention focused on the two of us with an intensity that made me acutely aware of every movement, every breath. I felt nervous with so many eyes on me, uncertain about what Seris was planning.
I thought she wanted a hug, so I extended my hand to relieve the awkward tension, offering a handshake like an idiot.
Then all I felt was pain.
Seris grabbed my arm with lightning-fast precision, her grip like iron despite her slender build. Before I could react, before I could even process what was happening, she flipped me clean over her shoulder with an ease that spoke of countless hours of training. I slammed into the ground with a loud thud that knocked the air from my lungs, stars exploding across my vision.
"Ow...!" I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
But she wasn't done. With a smooth, fluid transition that would have made any martial arts master proud, she locked me in a perfect armbar, her legs wrapped around my arm, her hips positioned to apply maximum leverage. The position was textbook perfect, and I knew from experience that if she wanted to, she could break my arm with minimal effort.
"What did I tell you about lying to me, Cain?" she said sweetly, her voice carrying that dangerous edge that I'd learned to recognize as a warning sign.
Behind us, I could hear Anakin and Derren collapsing in laughter, their amusement at my predicament clear and unrestrained. Fay and Shaak Ti simply walked away, apparently deciding that this was between Seris and me and not worth their intervention. Barriss put a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her own laughter but not quite succeeding.
"Seris...ow...ow... I'm sorry...!" I managed to gasp out, the pressure on my arm making it hard to think clearly.
She tightened the hold slightly, and pain shot up my arm. "OW!"
"How will you make it up to me?" she asked calmly, her voice still carrying that sweet tone that was somehow more threatening than any angry shout would have been.
She squeezed slowly, applying just enough pressure to make her point without actually causing injury. Through gritted teeth, desperately trying to think of something that would satisfy her, I managed to say, "How about... a date?"
Seris froze, her grip loosening slightly. "...What?"
"Off planet," I continued, seizing the opportunity. "Just the... two of us... tomorrow! We can go anywhere you want. Your choice. No missions, no training, no responsibilities. Just us."
She squeezed once more, harder this time, and I couldn't help it, I screamed. "OW!....OW!" The sound was so loud that nearby birds scattered from the trees, taking flight in a flurry of wings and startled chirps.
Then, abruptly, she released me. She stood gracefully, her movements fluid and controlled, and I could see her ears twitching slightly, a sign of emotion that she usually kept carefully hidden. She had her back turned to me, but I could sense through our bond that she was pleased, maybe even a little flustered.
"I suppose that's the least you can do," she said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. Then she walked away, and I could swear I saw her smiling.
Anakin and Derren were still smirking, clearly enjoying my humiliation. Barriss came up and knelt beside me, gently rubbing my arm where Seris had locked it, her healing abilities already working to soothe the strained muscles and tendons.
I lay there on the ground, gasping, my arm throbbing, and thought about Seris. She was always so reserved, so controlled, maintaining that perfect composure that made her seem almost untouchable. But she had that cute shy side she tried to hide, the vulnerability that only showed in brief flashes. And then there was her fierce side, the warrior who could flip me over her shoulder and lock me in an armbar without breaking a sweat. Like she could kill me and look absolutely beautiful while doing it.
I sighed, staring up at the sky. Yeah... she's definitely my type. Gods, I should probably just give in at this point and admit how I feel. But she's too young. No, we're still too young. We have time. We can figure this out later, when we're not in the middle of trying to save the galaxy.
But even as I thought it, I knew I was just making excuses. The truth was, I was scared. Scared of what it would mean to admit my feelings, scared of how it might change our dynamic, scared of the responsibility that came with loving someone in a galaxy that seemed determined to tear everything apart.
Later. I'd deal with it later.