“A change?” Rex asks, bewildered. “We’re already behind enemy lines! Why would the Council change things now?”
Cody looks tired, even over the flickering holo. “Some of Krell’s men made if off his last deployment, said a wandering Jedi Master saved them. They have a heck of a story to tell about Krell’s way of using clones, and from the sound of it, the Council’s about to throw him right out of the Order.”
“Karking hell,” Rex mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “Krell seemed happy enough to leave. They didn’t tell him?”
Cody's smile is crooked. “They might have implied he was being considered for a seat on the Council. There are records of him communicating with Dooku, so they don’t want him to disappear before they nab him.”
Rex is glad the Council has a plan, but at the same time he’s got a whole Umbaran army to worry about and a company with no general to lead them. “So we’re on our own out here?” he asks grimly, hooking a hand over the back of his neck as he slumps forward, already trying to figure out a strategy that will keep them all alive. It was hard-going even with a Jedi around. Without one—
“No,” Cody says definitively, and when Rex raises his head, startled, Cody smiles. “General Kenobi called in a few favors and got you a Jedi. He just commed from orbit, so he should be there at any minute. Obi-Wan vouched for him personally.”
Personally is good, Rex thinks, a little doubtful despite himself. But— “How the hell is he going to land? The Umbarans are shooting down anything that moves in the sky right now.”
Before Cody can answer, Hardcase calls a warning, and blasters rise. A starfighter streaks across the sky, moving at ridiculous speeds for how low it’s flying, and Rex wrenches to his feet, bolting forward with a shout. At his command, the troopers fall back, scattering, but—
There are no bombs dropping, and no gunfire. The ship banks hard, and then slows in a move that Rex knows would make Broadside jealous, practically cutting its engines as it passes overhead. Rex catches a glimpse of the Jedi Order insignia on the wing, a Human pilot who throws up a hand in a cheerful wave, and then the cockpit opens as the ship rolls. A figure drops out, plummeting towards the ground, and Rex's heart leaps into his throat for a bewildering instant.
With a roar of engines, the starfighter accelerates, rolling again and then taking off. It soars straight up, and as it punches through the atmosphere Rex catches the flashes of light that mean the Umbarans are attacking, but he’s got more important things to worry about than one reckless idiot of a fighter pilot. That figure is still dropping, and it’s about to hit—
And then it isn't, because with a flare of familiar robes, the body slows in direct violation of physics. Instead of falling like a brick, the Jedi slows, drifts, and drops to the ground in the center of the clearing as gently as a seedpod in the wind.
Rex takes a step, then pulls up short, still trying to get his heartbeat under control. His grip on his pistols tightens, and he breathes in, then out. Wants to curse, but—Jedi. He’s serving with one of the most reckless Jedi. He should be used to the stunts they pull—and pull off—by this point in his life.
“Sir,” he says, and if it’s a little dry, he thinks he can be excused. “We were expecting you.”
The Jedi pulls his hood back, and he’s smiling, bright and friendly. Human, big, blond, with blue eyes and freckles, and he feels…disarming. Rex can feel some of his tension easing just looking at that smile.
“Captain,” he says, and takes a step forward, pushing back the sleeves of his robe. They're a little too short for him. The whole robe looks a size too small, and the hem of his tunic is scorched. “I'm sorry for the dramatic entrance. Garen had to make it quick.”
The pilot. General Garen Muln, probably—Rex has heard Odd Ball moaning over him often enough, though he can never quite tell if it’s jealousy or adoration, seeing as Master Garen Muln is one of the best pilots in the Order.
“Startled us a little, that’s all, sir,” Rex says, and when the Jedi offers his hand, Rex takes it, clasping wrists with him. He has a firm grip, and the fact that he offered his hand first already makes Rex like him more than Krell. Krell hadn’t bothered to greet any of the clones. Rex probably should have started noticing the red flags right about then. And maybe he shouldn’t be wary of someone General Kenobi picked, but—their last general was apparently a traitor. that’s enough to make Rex want to test him, just a little. “I'm CT-7567, in command here.”
“Captain Rex,” the Jedi says without pause, and his smile takes on a brighter edge, something almost admiring. “Obi-Wan’s told me all about you. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
Rex doesn’t flush, but he’s maybe a little more grateful for his bucket in that moment than usual. “You know General Kenobi?” he asks, which is an idiotic thing to say, but it’s possible Rex is a little distracted by the freckles that cross the Jedi's cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
The man laughs a little. “He’s my little brother,” he confesses, grinning. “In lineage. I was Master Qui-Gon’s first padawan, and Obi-Wan was his third.”
Rex's brows rise. That’s not what he expected to hear. “I didn’t realize that General Kenobi had a brother,” he says, and then pauses. That means this man, with his easy smile, is also Dooku's grandpadawan. That’s…interesting.
The Jedi's smile is rueful. “I think Obi-Wan forgets, sometimes. Xanatos and I were a good bit older.” He blinks, then flushes a little, and says, “Oh, sorry, I'm Feemor. Jedi Master Feemor.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rex says, and actually meets it. “Thank you for coming, sir.”
Feemor flashes him a quick smile. “Obi-Wan told me you're a brilliant tactician,” he says, and Rex chokes and almost trips over his own feet. He does bang his head on a branch that he doesn’t quite manage to avoid, and Feemor deftly catches his elbow before he can fall and make his humiliation complete.
“Careful, Captain,” Feemor says, concerned. “Were you injured? Is there a medic? I know a little Force-healing—”
Rex is absolutely sure he hears Fives wheezing with laughter from behind one of the trees. He’d better sleep with his eyes open for the rest of this mission, because Rex is definitely not about to forget.
“I'm fine,” he manages, and straightens as quickly as he can. “Just—I was just reading up on old strategies and what we could try—I mean, if you think it’s a good idea, sir, but if you have a better idea—”
Feemor laughs a little. “I’d like to hear your plans, Captain,” he says, easy but direct. “If I have anything I think I can add, I will, but you know the situation here on the ground better than I do. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Yes, sir,” Rex says, swallowing. Even General Skywalker isn't so ready to listen to a clone. It’s…startling. “If you're sure.”
Feemor hums, folding his hands into the sleeves of his too-small robe. His expression is warm, quiet, steady. “I'm not one to believe that anything is decided by the chance of someone’s birth,” he says, and the curve of his smile is a little rueful. “We’re all equal here, Captain. I'm a farmer’s son, and you're a clone, and the Force conspired to put us both here, on the same ground, fighting for the same cause. I think that means something.”
Rex doesn’t quite know how to answer that. Doesn’t quite know how to breathe, watching Feemor’s face, the expression he’s wearing. It’s…hopeful.
On a world as dark as Umbara, Rex needs all the hope he can get.
“I'm glad you're here, sir,” he says quietly, and means it with every inch of his soul. It’s good to have a Jedi on their side.
It’s good to have this Jedi on their side.
Feemor flashes him another smile, and the weight and thoughtfulness are gone, buried beneath bright warmth. “It’s good to be here,” he says. “I keep having to hear about everything you manage from our great-grandmaster, and it’s always nice to talk to him, but he exaggerates—”
“Great-grandmaster,” Rex repeats, with a creeping sense of alarm.
Feemor blinks at him. “Master Yoda,” he says, like it should be obvious. “We have tea together whenever we’re in the same system.”
The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. Tea. Rex has had extended exposure to Obi-Wan Kenobi, who sits on the High Council, and even General Kenobi doesn’t refer to Yoda like his favorite old grandfather. That’s…something to consider.
“Right,” Rex says. “Of course. Because Count Dooku—”
Feemor snorts, rolling his eyes. “Dooku likes to harass everyone in his lineage,” he says, disapproving. “But he shouldn’t interfere here, Captain. I'm sure of that. He’s distracted with Obi-Wan right now.”
Which implies that he’s been treating Feemor the same way he has Obi-Wan, taunting him, pushing him to join his cause, trying to get him to turn to the Dark Side. Rex eyes Feemor, then puts a hand on one of his blasters, deciding he’ll just have to come up with a contingency for if Dooku does show up. Rex isn't about to let Dooku snatch a Jedi who’s supposed to be under his protection, even if said Jedi is part of Dooku's lineage.
Maybe especially if said Jedi is part of Dooku's lineage.
“This way, sir,” he says, touching Feemor’s elbow to guide him towards the makeshift command center they set up. “I have maps of the area and the Umbaran forces, if you’d like to look them over.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Feemor says easily, and lets Rex steer him into the trees.
