Irritated beeping roused Obi-Wan from sleep, that and a shaft of sunlight falling across his eyes. Squinting and scowling, he sat up, taking in his surroundings. These weren’t his quarters, on the Negotiator or in the Temple…
Obi-Wan stood, hand going to his hip, thankful to find his lightsaber still hanging there. Low, sloping metal roof and walls, one section covered in hundreds of tally marks, scant few personal items, a sandy floor, and… an odd little droid. It must be the source of the beeping.
The strangely spherical droid rolled forward, domed head tipping back to look up at Obi-Wan, who had the feeling he was being judged, and harshly.
It beeped again and he frowned. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But I don’t speak binary. That’s Anakin’s area of expertise.”
Anakin… where was he? Was he safe? Did he know what was going on?
Well, first things first. He had to find out where he was, and why he had woken up here instead of in his own room. Spotting a small hatch set against the far wall, Obi-Wan walked over and out into the daylight.
Rey woke up far more comfortable then she thought she had any right to be. This wasn’t her raggedy hammock in the walker, or the small, hard bunk that the General had found for her among the Resistance pilots. This wasn’t even the pilot seat on the Millennium Falcon, where she had dozed off once while working on repairs after the Battle of Starkiller Base.
No, this was a properly comfortable sleep couch, in a private room. Judging by the distant hum and blank, metallic walls, she was on board a large cruiser. A thrill of fear went through her at the thought. Had the First Order captured her again? But if they had, why had they given her a nice room instead of a cell block?
Her hand went to her hip, and she breathed a sigh of relief, finding the lightsaber still there. Definitely not the First Order, then. Kylo Ren would have taken the lightsaber immediately if she had been captured again.
Where was she, then? What had happened? The last thing she remembered was laying down in her bunk, thinking back longingly to her quiet makeshift home on Jakku, where she was never disturbed by snoring pilots or landing ships in the middle of the night. She was supposed to leave in the morning for Skywalker’s hidden island…
A sharp knock on the door roused her from her thoughts. “Master? I can’t find Skyguy, or raise him on the comms, and he told me that he’d teach me a new kata this morning. Do you know where he is?”
She didn’t really allow herself to think before getting up and walking over to open the door, which, in hindsight, was a mistake.
A young Togruta girl was standing in the corridor outside, and upon seeing Rey, dropped into a defensive position, hand going to the lightsaber on her hip. “Who are you?” she demanded harshly, much different from the lightly worried tones from before. “What have you done with Master Kenobi?”
“Who?” Rey blinked at the girl, noticing the second lightsaber on her belt.
“Master Kenobi,” she repeated impatiently. “These are his quarters. Why are you here?”
“I don’t know,” Rey said, brow furrowing and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “I don’t know how I got here, or even where here is, or - or anything.”
The girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and Rey felt a brush of the Force against her mind. While the General had admitted to not knowing everything about the Jedi and the Force, she had taught Rey some basics, explained some things that Rey had picked up from Kylo. Rey could feel the Force more fully now, and knew when someone was trying to use it against her.
“Hey,” she scowled at the girl, batting the probe away with annoyance.
The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re a sensitive,” she said. “But you don’t feel like a Sith, or a Jedi. Who are you?”
“I’m -” she bit back the ‘nobody’ that rose automatically to her lips. “I’m Rey.”
“Well, Rey, you don’t feel dangerous, at least,” the girl finally relaxed, settling into a more natural standing position from her defensive stance. “I’m Ahsoka.”
“Hello,” she nodded politely.
Ahsoka’s eyes suddenly fell to Rey’s belt, noticing the ‘saber that hung there. “Hey! That’s not yours!”
“Uh, I can explain?”
Poe woke up in a position that wasn’t unfamiliar (under a ship, surrounded by parts and tools), but the ship itself didn’t really ring any bells.
For one, it seemed to be a lot smaller than his X-Wing, as well as missing the distinctive wing type. While the base paint was a similar gray color, instead of orange accents, this fighter sported yellow. It was also much lower to the ground then his ship, and judging by the sounds around him, was sitting in the back of a busy hanger.
A curious beep sounded next to the ship. Poe tilted his head up to look down, past his boots, to see an oddly familiar blue and white paint job.
The droid beeped again. Are you okay?
“I’m fine,” Poe reassured it automatically, starting to squirm out from under the ship.
You’re not Anakin, the droid told him.
“Nope,” Poe agreed, wondering who Anakin was. A new pilot that the General had found somewhere? “I’m Poe.”
“Yeah,” he said, finally getting all the way out and sitting up. “Hey, I know you!”
R2-D2′s dome swiveled and it’s photoreceptors blinked at him. I don’t know you.
Poe frowned at that. “What? But my droid, BB-8, just woke you up a couple of weeks ago. You told me stories about the first Rebellion while I was cleaning you up!”
That is not in my databanks. What rebellion?
“What -” Poe gaped at the little astromech. “What rebellion?! The one against the Empire! The one that founded the New Republic!”
R2 whirred at him in wordless confusion. Poe shook his head, finally turning to look at the mysterious ship he had woken up under, and couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped him.
“This is an interceptor… this is a Delta-7B! And it’s an Aethersprite-class!” He jumped up excitedly, running his hand over the wing almost reverently. “These things were the fastest ships in the galaxy during the Clone Wars, and for quite a while afterwards!”
R2 beeped a question behind him, but Poe wasn’t paying attention, eyes glued to the little fighter. He leaned up on his tiptoes to look into the cockpit. “Someone’s made some extensive modifications to this one…”
A shout from across the hanger caught his attention and Poe turned in time to see a stack of cargo tip over, as well as all the men in white armor scrambling away to avoid injury.
He felt all the blood drain out of his face. “Stormtroopers…”
Anakin’s first sensation upon waking up was pain, but that was nothing new. Between his awful sleeping habits, his risky stunts in battle, and training sessions with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, he was used to starting the mornings with aches and sore muscles.
This was different, though. This wasn’t a general burning stretch in his shoulders or legs, this felt more… deliberate. Opening his eyes and looking around the chamber as much as he could confirmed his dark suspicions. This was a torture chamber of some sort, and he was strapped to the table in the middle.
He flexed his hands, grimacing as the joints cracked loudly in protest, and went through the usual routine. He had been captured so often, both before and during the war, that it was habit by now.
Search his system for drugs. A quick internal scan brought up… nothing, surprisingly. Not even a Force-inhibitor. What sort of rookie mistake…
Check for injuries. Again, nothing, other then his feet going numb. The restraints on his ankles were a bit too tight, cutting off the blood flow. He tried to wiggle his toes, and while there was definitely movement, there was also a spike of discomfort. He needed to get out of here soon, for the sake of his feet if nothing else.
Check for guards. Just one, standing outside the door, but something felt off. It took a moment for him to figure out what was wrong.
The guard… wasn’t a droid. It was a human, and beyond that, he could feel the exceptionally weak mind within the body. What were the Separatists playing at? Putting a Jedi, especially one well-known for escaping from their prisons, under minimal security, without any sort of Force-inhibiting drugs or restraints, and with only one weak-minded human guard outside?
Either it was a trap, it wasn’t the Seppies, or… well, he couldn’t really think of a third option. In any case, even if it was a trap, he had to get out of here.
A small surge of the Force around his wrists was all it took to free his hands, and moments later his feet were free, too. He stumbled a little as he hit the floor, pins and needles shooting up his legs.
On the other side of the ship, Kylo Ren paused in the middle of arguing with General Hux, eyes narrowing suspiciously behind his mask.
“What is it?” Hux asked impatiently.
“The prisoner,” Kylo said, striding towards the door. “Something is happening. Shut down the cell block, now!”
Cody was in the barracks.
A little odd, considering that he had his own quarters and frequently made use of them, but it wasn't completely out of the question for him to have fallen asleep among his brothers.
What was odd was the cold, impersonal feel of the place. Even though the clones were, as a whole, fastidious, the barracks always felt open and welcoming, small touches like arrangement of armor or posters giving a more personal feel.
But this? This was... sterile. It reminded him eerily of the pod rooms on Kamino - very obviously full of living beings, but impersonal and tightly monitored.
He got out of the bunk carefully, hardly even disturbing the blankets under him. A handful of other bunks were occupied, but they were almost all the way across the room, barely visible through the dim lighting. Something seemed even more off about that, but Cody couldn't quite put a finger on why.
The small locker at the foot of the bed held armor, but...
Cody stared at the helmet in his hands. It was obviously based off of the Phase II armor, but it was also very different, and lacked any distinguishing marks. Not shiny, though. The owner of this helmet had seen battle, and recently if the flaking blood streaks meant anything. Just like the entire room, it felt coldly impersonal. There wasn't even a battalion color on it, or the rest of the armor.
Cody was feeling more and more uneasy with the whole situation, and his heart leapt into to his throat when alarms started blaring. An automated voice called for reinforcements to the cell block and Cody donned the helmet.
Whatever was going on, he didn't like it, and he had the oddest feeling he wasn't supposed to be there at all. However, if there was one thing he had learned during the course of the war, it was that the best way to get answers was to find the source of the trouble, in this case the cell block.
Usually, he would find a Jedi there.
Rex pounded on the door to Cody's quarters. "Hey! Get your lazy ass up, vod! Something weird is going on!"
No answer. No answer on the comms, either. Rex scowled to himself and punched in the override code.
"Cody, I don't know what you're playing at, but - what the kriff?!"
There was a stranger in Cody's quarters. There was an unconscious, clearly wounded stranger laying on Cody's bunk. And Cody was most definitely not there.
Rex put a hand to the stranger's throat, feeling his slow, weak pulse, and cursed, reaching for his comm immediately.
"I need you in Cody's room. Now."
"What's going on?"
"I'm not sure, but there's a man in here who needs a medic."
"A man? Not the Commander?"
"No. I haven't got a clue where he is," Rex growled. "Just get up here, now."
"On my way, Captain."
Rex cut the signal and frowned down at the stranger. First Skywalker, then Kenobi, and now Cody was missing, too? What was going on?