Chapter 5
“I’m not asking for special treatment,” she said firmly. “I’m asking to fight. To be where I’m needed. You have entire divisions forming. Let me lead one.”
“Mace Windu’s expression remained unreadable. “We understand your frustration, Knight Monore. But your unique skill set serves the Republic best when you are not bound by a battalion.”
“With all due respect,” Thalia said, jaw tight, “that’s not your call to make without considering what I am capable of. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“Your talents are not wasted,” Ki-Adi-Mundi added. “We may need them for missions that require absolute discretion.”
“There are plenty of Jedi capable of discretion,” Thalia said, barely holding back. “I’ve done more than my share. This time, I want to stand beside my fellow Jedi—not sneak through the shadows and watch.”
The Council gave no final word, merely a silent dismissal.
By Force did the council piss her off sometimes, it was hard to keep her cool sometimes.
The sound of troop transports hummed through the air outside the Temple. Thalia stood near the overlook, watching the endless lines of clone battalions deploying into the warfront. The sky above Coruscant was gray with smoke from ships constantly coming and going—symbols of the war that had only just begun but already felt endless. Battalions stood at attention, ready to meet their generals and begin their fight.
Obi-Wan approached, his cloak rustling softly behind him.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, coming to stand beside her. "I didn't know until you came in."
Thalia didn’t look at him. She was upset with the Council, and even though she knew he had no part, she was a little upset with him as well. “They said it would be a ‘logistical complication’ if I were called to go undercover again. Better to keep me flexible and easy to redirect.” Her tone was bitter. "They have me as a floater, jumping from Battalion to Battalion."
Obi-Wan offered a sympathetic glance. “You’re more than capable of leading, Thalia. There are so few of us now, they have to keep options open."
"Unbelievable. You agree with them,” she snapped, turning to face him. “There are more Shadows more suited for deep-cover missions. I’ve been undercover for years, and for what? To be shoved aside now when people are dying. On the principle of 'just in case?'"
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, understanding but clearly frustrated. “You think I didn’t argue the same thing? They believe your adaptability is too valuable to confine you to a single command.”
“It’s a war, Obi-Wan,” she said, voice tight with frustration. “And I’m a Jedi Knight, not some pawn to shift around a board whenever they feel like it. You and I have more experience on the battlefield than most do."
He said nothing, and the silence between them crackled.
After a long moment, Thalia drew a slow breath and nodded toward the staging area. “Let’s go meet your battalion.”
They walked together through the hangar corridors. As they passed rows of gathering clones, Thalia's presence drew more attention than Obi-Wan's. The moment they entered the area where the 212th Attack Battalion assembled, tension sparked in the Force.
Clones turned to look at her. More than a few faces shifted from curiosity to alarm. Whispers passed, barely heard over the rumble of deployment.
A trooper muttered, “Is that… the tray girl?”
Another clone gave a subtle nod, stepping slightly behind his brother.
Thalia didn’t flinch. She kept her chin high, though inside she could feel the weight of recognition. It wasn’t just the blast or the cafeteria incident back on Kamino—it was the story that spread after. The Jedi Knight who launched a food tray like a missile and nearly took out Jango Fett. She was almost proud that she terrified people just from stories, but at the same time, if she was to work with hem, she wanted them to respect her not because they are scared of her.
She swept her eyes across them, steady. One trooper in the back visibly stiffened when her gaze went over him. A clone Commander approached then, saluting Obi-Wan.
“General Kenobi,” he said. Then his gaze flickered to Thalia. “General Monore. I am CT-2224.”
Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed slightly. “CT-2224?” he repeated, uncertain. “Is that… your name?”
The clone stood a little straighter. “That’s the designation the Kaminoans gave me, sir.”
Thalia blinked, her posture stiffening. “They call you by a number?”
The Commander nodded once, expression neutral. “Yes, ma’am. All of us. It’s how we were identified during training. By our CT numbers.”
There was a short silence, heavy in the air. Obi-Wan and Thalia exchanged a glance, unsettled.
Thalia’s voice was quiet but firm. “What do you want to be called?”
The clone hesitated, then said, “Most of the others just call me Cody.”
“Cody,” Obi-Wan repeated with a nod. “That’s what we’ll call you, then.”
Thalia’s expression softened, but her eyes still shimmered with that deep, distant grief—the same one that had never really left her since Kamino. “No one deserves to be reduced to a number,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Cody gave a respectful nod. “Understood, General.”
Thalia gave a short nod, her voice calm. “We met once, Commander. Sort of. I don’t think I gave the best first impression.”
Cody raised an eyebrow, but his tone was even. “Your landing was certainly memorable, Sir.”
Obi-Wan gave her a side glance, the edge of a smile twitching at his mouth. Thalia groaned under her breath, sending a subtle nudge through their Force bond. Say anything, and I swear I’ll launch the next tray at you. Their bond hummed quietly, an anchor against the sea of uncertainty around them.
Thalia looked out over the 212th and sighed softly. “They’ll follow you,” she said to Obi-Wan.
“They’ll follow us,” he corrected gently.
She didn’t reply, but her eyes lingered on the sea of armor ahead of them, flickers of the past and the war ahead dancing in her thoughts.
She swept her eyes across them, steady. One trooper in the back visibly stiffened when her gaze went over him. A clone Commander approached then, saluting Obi-Wan.
“General Kenobi,” he said. Then his gaze flickered to Thalia. “General Monore. I am CT-2224.”
Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed slightly. “CT-2224?” he repeated, uncertain. “Is that… your name?”
The clone stood a little straighter. “That’s the designation the Kaminoans gave me, sir.”
Thalia blinked, her posture stiffening. “They call you by a number?”
The Commander nodded once, expression neutral. “Yes, ma’am. All of us. It’s how we were identified during training. By our CT numbers.”
There was a short silence, heavy in the air. Obi-Wan and Thalia exchanged a glance, unsettled.
Thalia’s voice was quiet but firm. “What do you want to be called?”
The clone hesitated, then said, “Most of the others just call me Cody.”
“Cody,” Obi-Wan repeated with a nod. “That’s what we’ll call you, then.”
Thalia’s expression softened, but her eyes still shimmered with that deep, distant grief—the same one that had never really left her since Kamino. “No one deserves to be reduced to a number,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Cody gave a respectful nod. “Understood, General.”
Thalia gave a short nod, her voice calm. “We met once, Commander. Sort of. I don’t think I gave the best first impression.”
Cody raised an eyebrow, but his tone was even. “Your landing was certainly memorable, Sir.”
Obi-Wan gave her a side glance, the edge of a smile twitching at his mouth. Thalia groaned under her breath, sending a subtle nudge through their Force bond. Say anything, and I swear I’ll launch the next tray at you. Their bond hummed quietly, an anchor against the sea of uncertainty around them.
Thalia looked out over the 212th and sighed softly. “They’ll follow you,” she said to Obi-Wan.
“They’ll follow us,” he corrected gently.
She didn’t reply, but her eyes lingered on the sea of armor ahead of them, flickers of the past and the war ahead dancing in her thoughts. Obi-Wan stepped forward, raising his voice just enough to carry through the hangar.
“We know you’ve been trained for this your entire lives. But for us—this is not the Jedi way.”
He glanced at Thalia, who stepped up beside him.
“We are one of the few Jedi that have seen battle before,” she said. “We’ve fought. We’ve bled. But for the others… war was never the plan. We were trained to serve peace. To listen to the Force. Not to lead armies.”
Obi-Wan continued, “Yet, here we stand—alongside you. That means we’ll make mistakes. We’ll learn. We’ll grow into this, as you already have. But we don’t want to lead just soldiers. We want to know the men behind the helmets.”
Thalia added, “We don’t want numbers. We want names. Stories. Faces. Because if we’re going into battle together… then we have to trust each other. And trust doesn’t come from ranks or orders—it comes from understanding.”
Obi-Wan looked across the battalion. “You’re more than what the Kaminoans made you to be. You’re not just copies. You’re individuals." There was a long silence. Then, quietly, a few clones straightened. One gave a faint nod. Another shifted his stance, the tension in his shoulders easing.
Cody stepped forward and saluted. “Understood, Generals.”
As the battalion began to disperse to their respective stations, a familiar presence moved swiftly toward them. Anakin’s steps were loud and full of purpose, boots echoing off the durasteel floor. His robe fluttered behind him as he approached, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Thought I’d find you two here,” Anakin said, coming to a stop just beside Thalia. “Tried to track you down before the briefing ended, but Master Windu caught me. Again.”
Thalia arched an eyebrow. “Imagine that. You dodging official protocol.”
Obi-Wan gave him a wry smile. “It’s becoming a pattern.”
Anakin shrugged, then looked between them, his smile fading slightly. “You’re really going, huh? Different systems. Different fronts.”
Thalia softened. “Looks like it.”
“You always said the war would change everything,” Anakin said quietly. “But I didn’t expect this part—everyone scattering.”
Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll see each other again. Often, I imagine. The war might take us to different places, but we’re still fighting the same battle.”
Anakin grins. “Probably.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Before you go… I wanted to say something. To both of you.”
He stepped closer, casting a glance around to ensure no one else was listening.
“I know the Jedi don’t exactly encourage attachments,” he said, keeping his voice low, “but I don’t think it’s wrong to care. We need people we trust. People who bring us back to ourselves.”
Thalia tilted her head, brow furrowed. “Anakin…”
He glanced between them. “You two—there’s something between you. I can feel it in the Force. You don’t have to say anything. I’m not judging. I just… I want you to know that whatever it is, I think it’s good. And you’re lucky to have each other.”
Obi-Wan blinked. For a moment, he was speechless.
Thalia found her voice first. “You’re not wrong.”
There was a beat of silence, then Obi-Wan stepped forward and placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll watch over each other. And you—you do the same with Padmé.” Anakin’s breath hitched slightly, eyes widening, but Thalia merely smiled. Obi-Wan gave a quiet, amused sigh. “The Council may not see it. But we do.”
Anakin exhaled, looking both relieved and stunned. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Thalia leaned in and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Stay safe, Anakin." They held the moment for a beat longer—three Jedi, not just comrades, but family. Then Anakin turned and strode away, the weight of war settling back onto his shoulders.
Obi-Wan and Thalia stood in the quiet that followed, watching him go.
“Think he’ll be all right?” Thalia asked softly.
Obi-Wan’s answer was equally quiet. “I hope so.”