The Clone Wars Read online

  Yoda waved his hand and the super battle droid spun in the air, forearm cannons sending bolts ripping through its fellow droids. The other supers fired on the rogue droid, ignoring its protests until it fell silent. Yoda flicked his wrist and used the Force to hurl the inert droid into the others, hard enough to deactivate them all.

  “Heh.” Thire turned to regard the Jedi with newfound respect. “You found us just in time, sir.”

  Yoda looked up at the three clones. “Left behind no one will be.”

  But even as he made this promise, he heard an ominous whir of fast-twitch motors. Three destroyer droids rolled into view and unfolded to stand on their tripod legs, pumping fire at the clones.

  Yoda activated his lightsaber and batted the blasts back at the droids. Their deflector shields flared purple as the blasts bounced off them.

  This was a fight Yoda and the clones couldn’t win.

  “Retreat,” Yoda told the clones. “Cover you I will!”

  He sensed their reluctance, but the urge to obey was more powerful. Jek helped Thire get to his feet and begin hobbling away. Yoda leapt onto Rys’s back, holding on with one hand and deflecting bolts back at the destroyer droids. Spotting a coral fan in the right place, he angled his lightsaber so the next blast severed it, causing it to fall and block the droids’ path.

  A minute later, Thire’s holoprojector beeped. Yoda peered at Katuunko’s small figure, flickering in Thire’s hand.

  “Master Yoda,” the king said. “I hear you’re having trouble with the droid army.”

  “Trouble?” Yoda asked with a smile. “I know nothing of this trouble. Look forward to our meeting soon, I do.”

  Yoda had spotted the canyon while their escape pod was still in the air. Now that he could see it up close, he realized it was a hollow between two enormous coral reefs that had grown over the centuries. It wound its way back and forth, shot through with tunnels leading deeper into the coral. One of the tunnels would make an excellent refuge while Yoda waited for the Separatists to catch up.

  As he led the clones inside, Yoda could feel their unease. The great tree where Katuunko was waiting was in a different direction, and the idea of retreating bothered them.

  “Are you sure we should go in there, General?” asked Thire. “There’s no way out.”

  “Now rest we must,” Yoda said.

  It was cool inside the canyon, and even cooler once Yoda led them into a tubelike passage that snaked into the coral. As he felt his way with his walking stick, Yoda closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, letting his awareness brush the clones’ presences.

  Their minds were open and their emotions were strong. In the Force, they reminded Yoda of children. That made him smile—he liked to say that over his centuries as a Jedi, he had learned more about the Force from younglings than he had from Jedi Masters.

  The clones craved his approval and wanted to please him. But they were worried they would be unable to complete their mission and would wind up ashamed. To fail would be to prove unworthy—to their general and also to each other.

  Yoda made a hmm noise down in his throat as he considered that. The clones’ instinct to obey disturbed him a little, particularly since they were humans.

  Raucous and impatient creatures humans are. And too brief their lives are. End they do just as maturity and wisdom become possible.

  But the clone troopers weren’t ordinary humans. He’d felt the difference the minute he stepped aboard a gunship back on Kamino, at the beginning of the war. The clones had been altered almost from their birth in Kamino’s labs. They’d been engineered, like machines, their brains changed to make them better soldiers. And their rate of growth had been drastically accelerated, Yoda reminded himself. If the clones felt like children in the Force, perhaps that was because in some ways they still were.

  Made for war these children were. Made by the millions. Disposable their makers consider them.

  Yoda was still pondering that when Rys lit a portable lamp, showing the weapons laid out for his inspection: three blasters, a pair of damaged rifles, and a rocket launcher.

  “We’re low on ammo, sir,” Jek said. “Only two grenades, and one rocket for the launcher.”

  “Against a battalion?” Rys asked. “Forget it, we’ve lost.”

  Yoda told himself to stop brooding about the clones’ origins. However disturbing he found their need to be led, it was his duty to lead them. And their mission was his, as well.

  He picked up the two damaged rifles and stacked them atop each other, then ignited his lightsaber.

  “So certain of defeat are you, hmm?” he asked, lowering the blade of his Jedi weapon so that the metal bubbled and softened, then pressing the broken rifles together until the molten metal formed a weld.

  “With respect, General, maybe you should go on,” Thire said. “Let us slow them down.”

  “All around us is that which we need to prevail,” Yoda said, handing the makeshift metal crutch he’d created to Thire. “Come. Sit. Your helmets, remove them. Your faces I wish to see.”

  The clones hesitated but removed their helmets. In the lamplight their armor’s red markings—the color of the diplomatic service—were a muddy brown.

  “Not much to look at here, sir,” Thire said, his voice fuller and deeper without being filtered by his helmet’s communications system. “We all share the same face.”

  “Deceive you, your eyes can. In the Force, very different each one of you is.”

  Yoda stood and approached Rys, tapping his cane on the clone’s chest plate.

  “Rys,” he said. “Always focused on the enemy are you. For inspiration, look to yourself and those around you.”

  Jek regarded the Jedi Master doubtfully, his red-crested helmet cradled in his lap.

  “Jek,” Yoda said. “Concerned about weapons you are. Weapons do not win battles. Your mind, powerful it is, hmm? Outthink the droids you can.”

  Then there was Thire. He was in pain and racked by a need to prove himself, not just as a soldier but also as an officer.

  “Thire,” Yoda said gently. “Rush not into fights. Long is the war. Only by surviving it will you prevail.”

  Yoda settled back on his haunches, peering at the three troopers in the warm orange glow of the lamp.

  “Clones you may be, but the Force resides in all life-forms,” he said. “Use it you can, to quiet your mind.”

  The clones exchanged glances, and Yoda could feel their anxiety ebbing, replaced by peace and purpose. That made him smile—he had taught them their first lesson.

  A moment later, the cave shivered around them, a tremor that was followed by the unmistakable rumble of Separatist tanks nearby. Ventress’s droids had found them.

  Yoda picked his way out of their refuge, followed by the three clones. A line of tanks was creeping through the canyon below, accompanied by battle-droid infantry.

  “Tanks,” muttered Rys. “Is that the best they can throw at us?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve only got one shot left,” said Jek.

  Yoda eyed the droids. “Greet them I will.”

  “General, you don’t plan to take on the whole column by yourself?” asked Thire, leaning on his crutch.

  “Have you three, I do,” Yoda said with a chuckle. “Outnumbered are they. Know the time to help me, you will.”

  As he leapt down into the canyon, Yoda spotted ribs sticking out of the coral, old enough that they’d been transformed from bone to rock. And they were huge—the fossilized bones of some leviathan that had called Rugosa home before the calamity that had boiled its oceans away. A school of neebrays had colonized the ribs and perched atop them, spreading their wings in the late-afternoon sun.

  Past life nurturing future life. So is it always with the Force.

  Yoda eyed the approaching tanks for a moment, then sat cross-legged in the center of the canyon, exhaled, and shut his eyes. He ignored the rumble of the engines, letting his consciousness expand. The neebrays were sparks in his
awareness, craving warmth and food, exuberantly alive. He smiled and let his mind drift farther. Above him were the clones. Farther still, his mind brushed the cool intellect of Katuunko and the knot of anger and need that was Asajj Ventress.

  The tanks had nearly reached him. Yoda felt the neebrays’ fear as they took flight. And then the sound of the tanks stopped, replaced by the chatter of confused battle droids.

  “Shoot him!” he heard Ventress cry out over a holoprojector. “Shoot him now!”

  The time to meditate was over.

  Yoda opened his eyes and let the Force carry him into the air, springing over the lead tank’s barrel. He touched down long enough to get his balance and ignite his lightsaber, then charged a squad of battle droids, his emerald blade already slashing them apart. Then he was under the lead tank, carving a neat circle through its underbelly.

  It smelled bad in the tank, like lubricant and fuel. His lightsaber flashed, guided by the Force. Two droids fled through the rear hatch and he flicked his hand to draw them back, like metal filings to a magnet. Then he was atop the tank, flinging droid limbs into the air.

  The droids posed no danger, but this was taking too long. Yoda sprang from droid to droid until he landed on the barrel of the next tank’s cannon. It fired, hitting another Separatist vehicle, but Yoda didn’t spare the destruction a glance. He was too busy carving through the top hatch.

  Moments later the tank was a smoking wreck and Yoda was on the move again, slashing spindly battle droids and hulking supers apart. He gutted the underside of another tank, feeling heat on the back of his neck when it exploded, and found himself facing more than a dozen destroyer droids. They began pumping energy blasts at him from behind their shields.

  Yoda’s lightsaber was a continuous blur, reflecting bolts to all sides. But there were too many enemies, even for a Jedi Master with the Force as his ally.

  He felt a surge of pride and satisfaction from Thire. A rocket streaked overhead, smashing into a huge outcropping above the destroyer droids. Shorn from its moorings, it plummeted into the canyon, smashing the machines flat.

  “Hmm.” Yoda took a few steps back, to where the billowing dust wouldn’t reach him. Thire had known when to help, as Yoda had trusted he would.

  When the clones reached the bottom of the canyon, they found their general sitting cross-legged on a clump of coral, smiling at a neebray perched on his finger. Another of the little creatures sat contentedly on one of the Jedi’s long green ears. Droid parts, some still smoking, were strewn around him.

  Thire looked around with satisfaction at what their teamwork had accomplished.

  “Learned something today have you, Lieutenant?” asked Yoda.

  “I think we all did, General,” said Thire.

  The neebrays spread their wings and flew away as Yoda hopped down to join the clones.

  “Come,” he said. “Behind schedule are we. Not polite to be late.”

  Yoda kept his tone light, but he knew they had to hurry. Ventress’s droids had failed, humiliating her in front of Katuunko and her master. Yoda knew she would try to erase her shame and hurt with rage and revenge. And her failure was also Dooku’s. Katuunko would choose the Republic over the Separatists, something the ruthless Dooku was unlikely to accept.

  So Yoda headed directly for the coral tree, with the clones marching alongside as quickly as Thire could move.

  They arrived just as Ventress swung her twin crimson blades at Katuunko’s neck.

  The killing strokes never landed. Yoda lifted his hand, freezing Ventress’s lightsabers in place. Ventress snarled and tried to free herself, but only her eyes moved.

  “Jedi Master Yoda,” Katuunko said coolly, as if death weren’t centimeters away. “I am very pleased to meet you at last.”

  “Share the feeling I do, King Katuunko.”

  Yoda shoved Ventress away with the Force and considered the towering hologram of Count Dooku, who was watching from beneath lowered brows.

  “Failed you Ventress has, Count,” Yoda told his old Padawan.

  Ventress’s fury was a storm in the Force.

  “I don’t fear you, Jedi,” she said, raising her lightsabers to attack position.

  Yoda looked over mildly. “Strong you are with the dark side, young one. But not that strong.”

  He raised his hand and Ventress’s lightsabers deactivated, the hilts flying out of her hands to smack into Yoda’s palm. He studied the quality of their construction with idle curiosity.

  “Still much to learn you have,” he said, tossing the lightsabers back to her. “Surrender you should.”

  Ventress’s eyes narrowed as she tucked the hilts into her belt, jabbing at a remote detonator. High above, a fireball consumed Katuunko’s ship, sending massive chunks of coral tumbling in the direction of Katuunko, Yoda, and the clones.

  Ventress was already sprinting for her own ship. Yoda let her go, raising his arms and calling on the Force to stop the falling debris, then directing it to one side so it tumbled down harmlessly a safe distance away.

  “Hmm.” Yoda watched as Ventress’s ship shot skyward. “In the end, cowards are those who follow the dark side.”

  “It’s a pity I wasn’t there in person, my old master,” Dooku said icily.

  “A pity indeed, my fallen apprentice,” Yoda said.

  Katuunko, true to his word, offered the Republic the use of Toydaria as a base and swore his people were at Yoda’s service. Yoda’s frigate soon returned, accompanied by a pair of Jedi cruisers. As the sun set on Rugosa, a gunship carried Yoda, the clones, and the Toydarians skyward.

  “Mission accomplished, General,” Thire said with satisfaction as a medical droid swabbed his injured leg with bacta. “Thanks to you.”

  “Succeed alone I could not,” Yoda said. “Lucky I was to have the three of you. By depending on one another, win the war we shall.”

  Jek looked up from painting battle-droid silhouettes on the barrel of his rotary cannon.

  “Those clankers will never know what hit them,” he vowed.

  “For now, though, it’s back to Coruscant,” Rys said, and Yoda heard disappointment in his voice.

  “For now,” Yoda said, smiling at the three clones. “But see each other again we shall. Feel it in the Force I do.”

  Back in his cabin aboard the Jedi cruiser, Yoda dimmed the lights and sat cross-legged on the floor. There was no beauty or wonder here, just intersections of metal and the thrum of machines in motion, hidden away beneath the surface of things.

  Yoda reached out with his feelings and sensed the minds of the clones surrounding him. Their awareness was similar but not the same—in music they might have been variations on a theme. And, he knew, they would continue to diverge as different experiences shaped the clones.

  Or at least the ones who lived.

  And yet everywhere he sensed the same core desires. To obey orders. To complete missions. To be a good soldier.

  Once again, he found that disturbing. He’d already heard Republic senators discussing the clones as if they were organic droids, bred to fight and expected to die—and no more to be mourned than a droid sent to the smelter.

  Individuals the clones are. Understand that and nurture that we must. Treat them like machines we must not. If we do, lose something far worse than a war we will.

  Yoda returned to his meditation, but the faces of the three clones kept coming to him.

  He saw Rys. He looked faintly surprised, and his eyes were open but saw nothing. His face was speckled with spangles and flakes of color—brilliant scraps that had settled on his cheeks and forehead.

  He saw Jek, in mottled green armor, hand to his helmet as he listened to his comlink. He sensed Jek’s feelings of disbelief and regret—but a moment later those feelings were gone, replaced by the need to obey.

  And he saw Thire, in a helmet with bright crimson flares. He was searching for something. And with him was another presence—one that felt like a vast storm in the Force, full of malice
and greed.

  Troubled, Yoda opened his eyes.

  Visions of the future were a dangerous lure. Jedi had dedicated their lives to thwarting them, only to bring about the very thing they had sought to avoid. To how many Padawans had he delivered that warning over the years? Thousands? Tens of thousands?

  See each other again we shall.

  For the first time, the thought brought apprehension, as well as reassurance.

  “Always in motion is the future,” Yoda reminded himself. “Know this you do. Heed your own lessons you should.”

  The Force would do as it willed, and he would seek to understand that will, and to accept it. It was all he had ever done. It was all any Jedi ever could do.

  HOLORECORDING INITIATED

  DARTH TYRANUS SPEAKING

  Greetings, my master.

  As I record this message, I am piloting a Flarestar-class attack shuttle. I commandeered the vessel from a gang of nefarious pirates. Having only recently escaped their clutches, I am now en route to my personal frigate. How I came to be in such dire straits is no small tale. But I am sharing my experience in full as there may be some benefit in it for you to extract.

  Some time ago, my ship came across a Delta-7B starfighter. Both the vessel and its shattered hyperspace docking ring were adrift in an ice field. The ship appeared to have taken heavy damage. My droid captain ordered it brought aboard for closer inspection but prepped a security detachment in the event of any surprises.

  This proved a wise precaution as the starfighter belonged to none other than the Jedi Anakin Skywalker. And he was still aboard.

  In predictable fashion, the impulsive young Skywalker leapt into action. In moments, he had destroyed several battle droids with his lightsaber. However, one of my B2 super battle droids was able to disarm the boy by shooting his weapon out of his hand. Unarmed and outnumbered, even that brash young fool saw the wisdom in a prompt surrender. He was quickly overpowered, and my droids locked him in a cell, there to await whatever doom you deemed fit when I delivered him to you.