Chapter Text
-and the comm crackles to life in his palm.
“Execute Order 66.”
Cody feels something in him snap. Something boils in his blood, scalding his veins as his breathing picks up- tears well up in his eyes for a moment because every part of him burns. Everything else fades- surroundings, context, meaning- in lieu of emotion. He embraces it, perhaps against his better judgement.
The Jedi.
All of the sudden, Cody felt distant, hollow. Like the air coming in through his helmet’s ventilator was tainted with a cold that chipped at his lungs when he breathed in. He wasn’t quite lightheaded… but the way his vision blurred just a bit at the edges made him feel delirious. It was as though he was watching his brothers blast aside droids on a holoprojector, one that lagged behind just slightly.
His men were picking off the remaining droids in Grievous’s army, and the few that they hadn’t managed to scrap were scrambling to find safety or deliriously walking straight into blaster fire. Cody watched his squadron pick them off with ease, and they each turned to face him, nodding to show that they were ready to follow orders.
Cody felt an itch at the back of his brain. A memory, or maybe a feeling…?
The Jedi. He had his orders. No time for pondering.
It didn’t matter what mission he was here for, or who the original target was. It didn’t matter that his face felt numb, or that his limbs were heavy, or the exhaustion of the past few days had been catching up to him. It didn’t matter that there was a voice in the back of his head whispering that something was horribly, terribly wrong. Cody simply pushed all that aside. Good soldiers follow orders; they don’t dwell.
Cody is grabbing his blaster before he has time to think of any more- all he knows is that there is a Jedi who had just been standing beside him, and that this Jedi must be killed. The Jedi betrayed the very Empire they swore to protect, Cody felt his last reservations give, simple as that. As he aims his blaster at the Jedi’s back, a thought occurs to him. At the very least, this Jedi has done one thing useful for him, for the Empire; made an attractive target.
He fires, but the Jedi’s reflexes tell him the shot is coming and allow him to dodge the blast, and then the next. The man’s robes flutter dramatically as he urges his mount up the rocky wall, but the pair can only move so fast. Cody’s men fire on their target, and Cody’s next shot is aimed at a large rock in the Jedi’s path. The Jedi falls off of his Varactyl mount- which the man accomplishes with an awkward flourish- and sails down into the depths of the sinkhole below, his mount following. He can only hope he made contact. Some voice in the back of his head reminded him that this Jedi was incredibly skilled… he doubted the man was even scathed.
Cody walks to the edge of the balcony and looks over the edge. No sign of Obi-wan. That’s-
-!!!
A sharp pain overtakes him, stabbing behind his eyes and searing down his neck, into his hands causing them to seize and tremble. Cody drops the blaster, but he’s too focused on the pain to notice the clatter as it hits the ground. His fingers twitch as he makes to take off his helmet- he needs to breathe, to see- but he’s going limp faster than he can get a grip on it. The commander’s limbs shake with effort as he tries to orient himself, but it’s a failed attempt; the man crumples awkwardly onto the ground. His right leg is pinned uncomfortably under him but he seems to have lost the ability to make his body move when he commands it.
He’s panting heavily- what was wrong with him!? Cody winced when another intense wave of pain fried his nerves. The sensation is unlike anything he’s been subject to before, he doesn’t know how to brace against it.
His vision swims and Cody quickly shuts his eyes, but that seems to make the pain throbbing at the top of his skull even worse.
The clone commander had only been out for a brief moment, but it had felt like hours before the vertigo eased it’s chokehold on him and allowed him to move again. The first thing Cody became aware of when he came back to himself was the uncomfortable digging of his armor into his side. He twisted to lay flat on his back, took a few deep breaths, and found the energy to pull himself off the ground. Or, he managed to sit up at least.
Cody groaned. Everything hurt. If a droideka bodied him down a few flights of the Utapau city, he was sure it wouldn’t hurt as much as this. He tenderly moved each of his appendages to make sure he was still functioning properly. It all seemed to be in check, just sore and shaky.
The solid ground beneath him helped. Cody allowed himself to breathe a bit more until the urgency of the situation he’d found himself in demanded his full attention; he hoisted himself up. Had he really…?
Cody leaned over the balcony edge, as if that would provide him complete clarity of the situation. It did not. He couldn’t even catch a glimpse of Obi-wan, but he supposed it was more relieving that he couldn’t see the general lying on any of the balconies below. He could still be alive.
Holding onto that semi-comforting thought, the commander peeled himself away from the ledge and snatched up his blaster from where it had fallen. Clipping it to his belt, he looked around at the scene around him. Cody’s men had left the immediate area- they must not have seen their commander collapse, or they would have come to his aid. He scanned the areas further back and spots a few orange-clad figures herding stray droids and managing the civilian’s safety. Just as they had been ordered, but what could have possibly possessed him- possessed his entire squadron- to turn on their general like that…!? Cody knew the order as soon as he’d heard it- Order 66; Execute all traitors to the Empire, execute the Jedi. He wouldn’t have entertained following that for a moment. He knew too many Jedi. There was absolutely NO chance they had all conspired to betray the Empire.
More importantly, he knew himself. Had he been in total control of his faculties, he would have rather jumped off the balcony himself than shot at Obi-wan. So clearly, he hadn’t been in control of himself. How he could explain this, though…
He was pulled from his crisis by the horrible sensation of blood dripping down the back of his skull through the fabric of his blacks. Cody quickly felt the back of his neck, but it didn’t seem damp- as best as he could tell through his gloves. When he pulled his hand away to look, there was no trace of blood.
That’s odd.
At least he didn't seem to be permanently injured, he could be grateful for that much. The rest of his situation, Cody couldn't find it in himself to be very optimistic.
His squadron, his brothers… he had no choice but to leave them behind. This was something far beyond his control. To turn the entire 212th into unobjective, callous, mindless shells- to turn them against Obi-wan, their commander-!?
Keep moving.
Cody may not know what was going on, but he did know that he didn’t want to be caught acting suspiciously or out of place. The last thing he wanted was to be in his own brother’s line of fire. So instead, as he forces himself to move in any direction he could consider forward, Cody thinks of where to go. Where to hide.
He cannot go after his general. Obi-wan would be put in danger if Cody attempted to contact him; if he responds, he reveals his location and the fact that he has survived. If he doesn’t… well, Cody can’t afford to think about that. But besides that, Obi-wan may not even trust him given that he just shot at the man. And Cody would be putting himself under suspicion by trying to contact someone that was just flagged for betraying the Empire. All around, it’s an idea he needs to avoid, regardless of how badly he wants to make sure that Obi-wan is alright. It makes him ache, but he simply has to trust that Obi-wan can take care of himself. He usually does.
Of course, that leaves him alone.
…...
A comm beeps somewhere in the distance, and immediately Cody remembers the communication his squad received right before they landed on Utapau; a distress call from the Albedo Brave. General Jaro Tapal’s ship, requesting assistance. They didn’t have the time to respond- Grievous was a much more pressing matter- but Cody had been adamant on going to the Albedo’s aid once Utapau had been secured.
The call had given him a sick, anxious sort of feeling when he’d heard it- and now he knew why. Or, he suspected. The Jedi’s clones turned, just as the 212th had…
Cody had no idea if Tapal was still alive, or even if it was a good idea to come to his aid, but it was the only sense of direction he had at the moment. If he could help someone, maybe it would help ease the guilt gnawing at him. He wasn’t going to ignore a call for help regardless.
That was it then; Cody needed to find a ship.
Cody skates around the search parties- he can only be thankful for his rank, as it affords him valuable ability to avoid being constantly questioned. No one stops to doubt him on his activities, but they barely nod in his direction as they pass by him anyways. He wonders briefly if the force controlling them is keeping them as single-minded as he had felt earlier. He doesn’t even know why he’s not still affected, and he desperately hopes the freedom isn’t temporary.
No time to think about that now.
Cody’s head still rings. His thoughts are slow like he’s caught in a tractor beam and being pulled in multiple directions, stuck in place. Even in his stupor the commander still finds enough prescence of mind to keep his path clear and his steps deliberate as he heads towards the ships. He autopilots through the Utapauian city, past clamoring civilians who can’t decide if they want to watch the dying battle or flee to safety. Broken heaps of droids, still sizzling with blaster fire and crackling circuits, litter the city. Cody has half a mind to kick at one to make himself feel better, but it’s… probably a waste of time.
Plus, he’d rather not draw attention to himself right now.
Of course, attention is going to be inevitable when you’re a commander in the clone army and your armor is decorated bright orange. Especially when the said commander has found himself standing in the middle of the makeshift docking bay with absolutely no clear direction or motive, looking like a bit of an idiot. A group of clones off to the side were eyeing him, but they kept their thoughts to themselves.
Focus.
Cody scans the area for a suitable ship- which he realized was probably why he ended up here at the docking bay. Find a ship, get the hell out of here. Get to Master Tapal. Right. Where would they go? He’d figure that part out later.
The only ships were the ones his squadron had brought, but they were few and far between. Most of the crafts were still flying overhead, taking care of any droid ships and keeping the skies clear. The rest… well, were mostly larger transports. LAAT/i’s. Those were out of the question; far too noticeable, bulky, and also his brother’s ride back to Coruscant. He wasn’t going to make them cram together on a ship with no room to breathe just because he felt like taking a drop ship.
Cody finally moved further into the bay and away from the quietly judgmental group of clones. Behind the bulky ships were two Y-wings that looked a tad worse for wear. The one on the left was quite literally smoking, sparks flying, wires loose.. the whole works. The one on the right seemed relatively fine- clearly it’d taken a few blaster shots, but that was fairly standard.
The commander approached the one on the right as casually as he could appear, what with the ongoing battle between his panic and his survivalist instincts going on. No one appears to be working on the ship, which makes his little adventure a lot easier. He hopes.
Cody quickly scurries up to the Y-wing when it hits him; if he’s going to follow that transmission, and he happens to find Master Tapal and his padawan, there’s no way he can fit the three of them in a Y-wing. Kriff. There goes that idea.
Cody slooooowly turns back to the LAAT. If he had no choice, then he supposed…..?
Luckily, another ship happened to catch his eye; a Rho-class transport. Smaller, but still plenty enough space to carry himself and two Jedi. Yes, they were mostly used for medical transport, but considering his other options… this was his best bet. Cody quickly hurried over to the ship, again trying to carry himself casually.
The ship was open, the walkway lowered completely. By the looks of it, no clones were on board injured or otherwise. Ripe for the picking.
“Commander?”
Cody freezes, one boot on the walkway. He turns to face the speaker; a single clone. A shiny, standing at the base of the walkway and watching him curiously.
“Soldier.” Cody nods at the man, “You need something?” The clone shifts his weight awkwardly.
“N-Not exactly, sir. Just wondering what you were doing,” the clone looks between him and the open port of the ship, adding hurriedly, “And if you need help, of course. Sir?” Great, just what I need. A try-hard.
“I’m fine, soldier. I don’t need any assistance,” Cody said, turning to continue walking into the ship. The clone took a step closer to him.
“Is there someone injured? Is that why you’re taking the Rho?” the clone sounded eager, excited almost. Cody sighed.
“No, no one is injured. If you must know-” and here, Cody figured he could pepper in a bit of truth, “-I’ve been called away to assist efforts elsewhere.”
“Why not take a Y-wing then? Er, sir!” because this clone just didn’t know when to quit.
“Well I can’t exactly use a Y-wing for transport, now can I?” Cody turned away completely now, boots echoing against the walkway. He could feel the clone burning with questions, but the man only decided to ask one more.
“Sir- what about the Jedi?”
Cody went stiff, hand clenching on the port frame where he’d grabbed at it to swing himself inside.
“What about them?” his voice was clipped. The shiny straightened his posture, looking determined.
“We still haven’t found the traitors body, sir- are we to keep looking? I heard-”
“No.” Cody found himself snapping, and the clone flinched at his tone. He tried again, with a bit more control. “No. Don’t bother. He’s long gone; the squad will redouble our efforts to wipe out any remaining battle droids.” The clone nods, and thankfully hurries off. Cody took a deep breath, unclenched his hands, and finally ended up in the cargo hold of the ship.
Obi-wan had to be alright. Cody didn’t think he could bear it if he had killed his general, his best friend, his… Jedi. The man that he’d gone through hell and back with, the most intelligent and capable person Cody had ever met in his admittedly short life span. Obi-wan was someone Cody was supposed to lay down his own life for, and he’d do it gladly. He’d never felt closer to anyone else, and now Obi-wan could be gone.
He… didn’t have time to think about this. He couldn’t afford to get caught up; this was still war. Focus on the mission.
Cody hopped up into the pilot seat and strapped himself in, sealing the cockpit. He closed the cargo hold and prepped the ship for flight with a press of a few buttons. He plugged in the coordinates from Tapal’s comm and ignite the engine, letting the thrum of the ship relax him. This was familiar, this wouldn’t betray him.
He flew the Rho up towards the Utapauian atmosphere, and luckily no one seemed particularly concerned with a medical transport moving about. He just kept moving upwards- he was afraid that if he looked back, he wouldn’t be able to leave with the safety of his general in doubt.
As his ship launched into hyperspace, Cody wondered if he was too late to save yet another Jedi; if he was going to get there in time, or if he was embarking on a pointless mission.
……
He was going to make it. He had to.