3
Wisteria's unconscious form lay near the fire, her breathing steady but shallow. The clones gathered around her, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. Crus gently covered her with a sheet, then turned to his brothers, his face a mask of worry.
“She's just a kid,” Crus said softly. “And she's saved our lives more than once.”
Fang now stabilized but still a little sore nodded from where he lay. “That magic of hers is something else. Not like anything I've seen the Jedi do.”
Mech, who had been meticulously inspecting his blaster for damage, looked up. One of the other clones, a soldier with a slight limp and a distinctive stripe on his helmet, spoke up. “We need to figure out what to do next. We cannot stay here forever. We need a plan.”
Crus nodded, glancing around at the assembled group. “We should start with introductions, I am Crus, you already know Fang and Mech. What about the rest of you?”
The clone with the stripes on his helmet stepped forward. “I'm Stripe. Took a hit during the battle, but I'm still in the fight.”
Another clone, his helmet adorned with a small emblem of hawk wings, introduced himself next. “Hawk. I was part of the forward assault team.”
The last clone, younger and with a faint scar across his jaw, gave a small salute. “Name's Rookie. This was my first deployment with the 501st.”
Crus nodded. So only Stripe and Hawk were veterans, taking in their names and faces. “Alright, Stripe, Hawk, Rookie. We need to keep our perimeter secure and make sure Wisteria is safe. She’s our priority right now.”
Fang shifted slightly, wincing at the movement. “We should also think about finding a way to communicate with command.”
Mech frowned. “Our comms are shot. We’d need to repair them or find another way to send a signal.”
Stripe nodded. “I'll take the first watch. Hawk and Rookie, you two check the perimeter. Mech, see if you can salvage anything useful from the droids.”
The clones moved with practiced efficiency, each taking on their assigned tasks. Crus stayed by Wisteria’s side, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of movement. The monastery was a good shelter amidst the chaos.
As the hours passed, the clones returned with their findings. Hawk and Rookie reported the perimeter clear, though the jungle outside remained a constant threat. Mech managed to salvage some parts from the droids, but not enough to repair their comms.
“We'll have to make do for now,” Mech said, setting down a small pile of components. “Maybe Wisteria can help us figure something out when she wakes up.”
Crus nodded, his gaze returning to the unconscious girl. “She’s more resourceful than we give her credit for. And her magic... it is something special.”
Fang chuckled softly. “She's tougher than she looks. But yeah, we need to figure out how to get off this rock.”
Stripe, who had been silently watching the door, spoke up. “Her magic... it’s like she’s wielding a different kind of power. The Jedi have their lightsabres and the Force, but Wisteria’s magic... it’s like she’s bending reality itself.”
Hawk nodded in agreement. “I've seen Jedi do incredible things, but Wisteria’s spells are more... direct. More versatile.”
Rookie, who had been listening intently, asked, “Do you think the Jedi would know what to make of her? Maybe they could help.”
Crus considered this, then shook his head. “Maybe. But we cannot count on that. For now, we look after her ourselves.” It was selfish of him to think that way but something about the kid just stirred every protective instinct in him, she was his little sister.
Wisteria stirred slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips. Crus leaned in closer, checking her condition. She was still deeply unconscious, but her colour was better, and her breathing more regular.
“She’ll be alright,” Crus said, more to himself than the others. “We’ll make sure of it.”
As the night deepened, the clones settled into a watch rotation, their focus unwavering. They had a new mission now: to protect Wisteria, find a way to communicate with their command and survive. Wisteria was their charge their kid. As they stood guard over her sleeping form, each clone silently vowed to protect her with their lives, no matter what happened. It was a funny thing they had only just met the kid and yet they would kill for her, die if needed. It should have been worrying yet they had never felt more at peace than when they were around her.
The first light of dawn crept through the stone windows of the monastery, casting a soft glow on Wisteria's sleeping form. Crus and his brothers had maintained their vigil through the night, their watchful eyes scanning for any signs of danger. As the sun rose, Crus gently shook Wisteria awake.
“Morning, Wisteria,” Crus said softly.
Stripe approached Wisteria as she finished a small breakfast of rations. “How are you holding up?”
“I'm alright,” she replied, her voice steady. “Ready to keep going.”
“Good. We need to clear out more of the monastery and see if there are any more survivors. Are you up for it?”
Wisteria blinked sleepily, then sat up, stretching her sore muscles. Despite the exhaustion and the strange new world, she found herself in, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. “Alright. Let's go.”
The group gathered their gear and prepared to move out. Crus took point, with Fang and Mech close behind. Hawk and Stripe followed their blasters at the ready. Wisteria walked beside Rookie, her hand in hand.
As they moved through the monastery, the ancient halls echoed with their footsteps. The once grand structure was now a maze of crumbling stone and overgrown vines. Despite its dilapidated state, it still held a certain majesty of a bygone era.
They encountered the first group of droids in a large, open chamber. Hawk signalled for the group to halt, then gestured for Fang and Mech to flank the droids.
“Wisteria,” Crus whispered, “use your magic to take out as many as you can from here. We'll cover you.”
Wisteria nodded, focusing her energy. “Stupefy!” she whispered, sending a bolt of red light towards the nearest droid. The spell hit with precision, deactivating the droid instantly. She followed up with another spell, “Expulso!” A blue wave of energy erupted from her wand, obliterating a cluster of droids in one go.
The clones moved in, their blasters firing in coordinated bursts. The droids, caught off guard, were quickly overwhelmed. Within moments, the chamber was clear.
“Nice work,” Fang said, giving Wisteria an appreciative nod and a pat on the head, one that had her leaning into his hand.
They continued deeper into the monastery, encountering, and dismantling more groups of droids along the way. Wisteria's magic proved invaluable, her spells providing the edge they needed to stay ahead of their enemies.
As they entered another large hall, they heard a faint groan coming from a darkened corner. Crus raised a hand, signalling the group to stop. “Over there,” he whispered, pointing to the source of the sound.
They approached cautiously, weapons and wand at the ready. Wisteria's light revealed a clone trooper lying on the ground, his armour damaged. He was injured but alive. It looked like he had fallen through the floor as evidenced by the hole.
Rushing to the fallen trooper's side. The clone's eyes flickered open, filled with pain but also recognition.
“Hawk... thought I was done for,” the trooper rasped.
Wisteria knelt beside him, her wand already moving. “Hold still. I can help you.”
The clone, his face etched with pain, nodded weakly. Wisteria focused her magic, her voice steady. “Vulnera Sanentur,” she chanted, the golden light enveloping the injured clone. Slowly, his wounds began to heal, the pain easing from his features.
The clone’s name was Breaker. He managed a weak smile. “Thanks, kid. Didn't think I'd see another sunrise.”
Rookie stepped forward, offering his hand. “We’ve got you, Breaker. Let’s get you back to camp.”
Wisteria finished her spell, then leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. “He should be stable now, but he needs rest.”
Rookie carefully lifted Breaker, supporting him with one arm over his shoulder. The injured clone winced but managed to stand with Rookie’s help. “Let’s get you back,” Rookie said gently.
Back at their makeshift camp, Rookie gently lowered Breaker onto a makeshift bedroll near the fire. Wisteria checked Breaker’s wounds once more to ensure they were properly healed, she was surprisingly good at first aid and healing in general, it also helped that she enjoyed it, some of her best memories were when her friends would visit her when she was in the infirmary.
“Thank you,” Breaker said, his voice filled with gratitude. “You saved my life.”
As Wisteria drifted off to sleep, the clones gathered quietly around the fire. They cast glances at her, lying there peacefully despite the chaos they'd all faced together.
Mech adjusted his equipment and leaned in thoughtfully. “Problem is, we’re stranded, and our comms are toast. We need to find a way to get a distress signal out and they’ll know to come for us.”
Stripe raised an eyebrow. “Only general I know would come this far is General Skywalker,” he muttered. “He’d go to the ends of the galaxy if he heard some of his men were in trouble.”
“But we’d have to get the message out there,” Fang interjected. “Skywalker can’t help us if he doesn’t know where we are. We’d need to find a transmitter strong enough to reach the fleet.”
Crus looked around at his brothers, then glanced back at Wisteria, who was murmuring softly in her sleep, her face peaceful despite the exhaustion etched into it. “Then we keep moving,” he said, his tone resolute. “We push through, find a way to get her to safety—and the rest of us, too.”
The group set out once more, Wisteria in the middle with Crus and Fang leading the way. Mech, Stripe, and Hawk brought up the rear, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of droids or other threats.
They moved through a series of corridors and chambers, encountering pockets of resistance from battle droids along the way. Wisteria's magic and the clones' blasters made quick work of the mechanical adversaries. Each victory brought them closer to securing the entire monastery.
In one particularly large chamber, they found a control room filled with damaged equipment. Mech immediately went to work, examining the consoles and trying to bring them back online.
“This might be our best chance to get a signal out,” Mech said, his fingers flying over the controls. “If I can get this equipment working, we can contact the nearest GAR station.”
While Mech worked, Wisteria and the others kept watch, their eyes ever vigilant. The sense of anticipation was palpable, and Wisteria felt a growing bond with her new allies.
Suddenly, a faint noise caught Wisteria's attention. It sounded like a weak, muffled cry for help. She motioned for Crus and the others to follow her as she moved toward the source of the sound. They entered a small, dimly lit chamber where they found another clone trooper, barely conscious and trapped under debris.
“Help... me,” the clone whispered, his voice hoarse with pain.
Crus and Rookie quickly moved to lift the debris, carefully freeing the injured trooper. Wisteria knelt beside him, her wand at the ready.
“Hold on,” she said gently. “I'm going to help you.”
“What's your name?” Wisteria asked as she worked.
She began to cast her healing spell, the familiar golden light enveloping the clone focusing on his wounds. Slowly, the injuries began to heal, and the clone's breathing became less laboured.
The clone managed a weak smile. “Name's Rusty. Thought I was a goner.”
Fang helped Rusty to his feet. “You're safe now. We'll get you back to camp.”
Rusty nodded, leaning heavily on Fang as they made their way back. Back at the camp, Rusty was made comfortable alongside Breaker. Wisteria ensured they were both stable before turning her attention to the others.
“Mech, any luck with the communications?” Crus asked, his voice tinged with hope.
Mech looked up from the console, a small smile on his face. “I think I've got it. The equipment is old, but I managed to get a signal through. A command should be receiving it soon.”
A sense of relief washed over the group. They had secured the monastery, found survivors, and now had a way to contact their command. It was a small victory, but it meant the world to them.
“We should continue exploring,” Hawk suggested. “There might be more survivors or valuable intel we can gather.”
Stripe nodded. “Agreed. But first, we need to make sure Wisteria gets some rest. She's been pushing herself too hard.”
Wisteria opened her mouth to protest, but Crus gave her a stern look. “You've done enough for now. Let us handle the next sweep.”
She sighed, knowing he was right. “Alright. But call me if you need me.”
As the clones prepared for another round of exploration, Wisteria found a quiet corner to rest. She watched them move with precision and care, a sense of pride swelling within her.
In the vast expanse of space, aboard the Venator-class Star Destroyer “Indomitable,” General Pong Krell received the incoming transmission. His four arms worked the controls with fluid precision, his dark eyes narrowing as he read the message from stranded clones on Teth. He had been en route to Teth for clean-up operations, but the news of additional survivors was not what he had hoped for.
“Great,” Krell muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “More clones to accommodate when we’re already running low on resources. After this Kamino is next for disposal and a new clone and resources.
Despite his disdain, he knew he couldn’t ignore the call for help. The council is already on his case for his high mortality rate, but ought he remind them that this was war. With a resigned sigh, he activated the comm system. “CT-9534, change course to the coordinates provided in the transmission. Prepare for rescue and extraction operations along with the usual.”
The bridge crew acknowledged the order, and the ship altered its trajectory. Krell leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing with the logistics of fitting more clones hopeful their previous General adheres to the regulation manual. The last few he picked up were a little too free in their thinking and a field execution was needed.
Back at the monastery, Wisteria and the clones had gathered around the central chamber, waiting for any response to their signal. Mech continued to monitor the communications console, his eyes flickering with anticipation. Crus paced back and forth, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.
The crackle of the console drew everyone's attention. Mech adjusted the controls, and a stern voice filled the chamber. “This is General Krell. We have received your transmission and are en route to your location. Prepare for extraction. Estimated arrival in one hour.”
Hawk let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “Thank you, General. We have injured clones and one civilian in need of medical attention.”
Krell's voice, laced with impatience, responded, “Acknowledged. Be ready for immediate departure upon our arrival. Krell out.”
The comm went silent, and the clones exchanged relieved glances. Wisteria, though exhausted, felt a surge of hope. Help was on the way.
“Alright, you heard the General,” Crus said, turning to the group. “Let's get everything ready for extraction. Gather supplies and secure the injured.”
Rookie and Hawk moved to help Breaker and Rusty, ensuring they were stable for transport. Wisteria assisted where she could, her wand at the ready to provide any additional healing needed. The clones worked efficiently; their training was evident in their coordinated efforts.
As they prepared, Stripe approached Wisteria. “General Krell isn't the most forgiving Jedi according to our former General... Stay close to us when he arrives. We'll make sure you're taken care of.”
Wisteria nodded, appreciating the warning. “Thank you, Stripe. I trust you and the others.”
An hour passed quickly, and the sound of approaching gunships filled the air. The clones moved to the entrance of the monastery; their weapons ready but lowered. The gunships landed just outside the monastery doors, their doors opening to reveal more clone troopers in familiar white.
General Krell emerged from the lead LAAT, his imposing figure and four arms making an immediate impression. His expression was one of barely concealed irritation as he approached Crus and the others.
“Report,” Krell demanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Hawk as the designated leader of their little group stepped forward, standing at attention. “Sir, we have five survivors, including two injured. A civilian who has been assisting us.”
Krell's gaze shifted to Wisteria, his eyes narrowing. “A civilian? In the middle of a war zone?”
Wisteria met his gaze. “Yes, sir… I've been helping the clones with my abilities.”
Krell's eyes flicked to her stick, a sneer forming on his lips. “Abilities, you say. We’ll see about that. Get on the gunship. All of you.”
The clones helped Wisteria and the injured onto the gunship, securing them for the journey back to the “Indomitable.” As the gunships lifted off, Wisteria looked back at the monastery, a sense of melancholy washing over her.
As they flew higher in the LAAT she watched as the clones on the ground became nothing but little ants milling around but she knew the truth they were collecting the dead and anymore that their group had missed in the jungle.
As the LAAT soared through the skies, Wisteria allowed herself a moment of reflection. She was far from home, in a galaxy she barely understood, but she was not alone. The clones had become her family, and she theirs. With this, she moved closer to Mech holding his hand the hand grip was too tall for her, he looked down helmet still on but tightened his grip and that was enough for her. The future was uncertain, but for now, they had each other. And that was enough.
The transition from the dilapidated monastery on Teth to the pristine hanger of the Star Destroyer was jarring for Wisteria. The stark corridors, the hum of machinery, and the disciplined march of clone troopers were all so different from the vine-covered stone of the monastery, the purple jungle and the fresh air.
As they disembarked from the LAAT, General Krell stood waiting, his imposing figure dwarfing those around him. His four arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes bore into Wisteria with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
“Follow me,” Krell ordered, leading Wisteria and the clones through the labyrinthine corridors of the ship. They eventually reached a sterile briefing room, where Krell gestured for Wisteria to sit.
Crus and the other clones hovered protectively nearby; their loyalty was evident in their tense postures. Krell noticed but ignored them, dismissing them to register themselves to his battalion, focusing solely on Wisteria.
“State your name and Planetary Identification,” Krell demanded, his voice authoritative.
Wisteria opened her mouth to respond, but instead of Basic, the language that emerged was Parseltongue, the serpentine language she had inherited from her connection to Voldemort. “My name is Wisteria Potter.”
The sibilant hissing shocked everyone in hearing distance, Wisteria most of all. She hadn't meant to speak in Parseltongue, especially not in this situation. She saw confusion flicker across the clones' faces, but it was Krell's reaction that was most surprising.
His eyes widened slightly, and then he responded in the same hissing language. “I did not expect to hear this language here. What are you doing here child? War is no place for Kin” Krell asked, his voice still harsh but now tinged with a hint of intrigue.
Wisteria's eyes widened in astonishment. “You can understand me?”
Krell nodded, his expression unreadable. “Of course. It is a scared tongue of our culture child; one I did not anticipate finding in a hybrid. Tell me, Wisteria Potter, where are you from?”
“I'm from a planet called Earth,” Wisteria replied, switching back to Basic but still reeling from the unexpected connection. “It's very different from here.”
Krell's gaze intensified. “Interesting. I sense a strong force present within you…I have decided that you will become my padawan. You will learn to harness your powers under my guidance.”
Krell gestured for Wisteria to follow him. As she walked away from the clones, she felt a pang of loss. Krell led her through more corridors up through elevators until they reached a small, private chamber. He closed the door behind them, the hum of the ship's systems providing a constant background noise.
“You have great potential, Wisteria Potter,” Krell said, his tone more contemplative now yet still in parseltongue. “But potential must be shaped and controlled. You will learn discipline and strength under my tutelage.” Krell's lips curled into a semblance of a smile. “For now, you must rest. Training begins tomorrow.”
As Wisteria settled into the small, spartan quarters Krell had assigned her, she thought of the clones, of Crus, Fang, Mech, and the others. They were her friends, her family in this strange new world. She promised herself she would return to them.
The next morning, Wisteria woke early, the hum of the Star Destroyer a constant reminder of her new reality. She dressed quickly, noticing brown robes had been laid out for her. Her mind buzzed with anticipation and nerves about what her first day of training would entail and if she had time to see Crus and the others. General Krell was waiting outside her quarters, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the sterile grey walls of the ship.
“Come with me,” Krell commanded, his voice as stern as ever.
Wisteria followed him through the winding corridors until they reached a small, dimly lit room. The walls were bare, and the only furniture was a single meditation cushion in the centre of the floor.
“Sit,” Krell instructed, gesturing to the cushion.
Wisteria obeyed, settling herself on the cushion and trying to calm her racing thoughts. Krell stood before her, his four arms folded.
“Today, you will begin to learn the ways of the Force,” Krell said, his tone almost reverent. “Close your eyes and clear your mind. Focus on your breathing.”
Wisteria did as she was told, closing her eyes, and taking slow, deep breaths. She could feel Krell's presence, a dark and powerful force, guiding her.
“Reach out with your senses,” Krell continued. “Feel the Force around you. It binds the universe together, connects all living things.”
Wisteria concentrated, extending her awareness beyond the confines of the room. She could feel the faint hum of the ship's systems, the presence of the clones and crew members going about their duties. But as she pushed further, she felt a vast, pulsing energy that seemed to stretch out infinitely.
“That's it,” Krell's voice echoed in her mind. “Reach further. Feel the stars, the planets, the life and death that surrounds you.”
Wisteria's senses expanded, the Force enveloping her in a whirlwind of sensations. She saw stars and galaxies and felt the birth and death of countless beings. The sheer magnitude of it all was overwhelming, but she was captivated by the beauty and complexity of the universe.
She pushed further still, her consciousness soaring through the galaxy. She could sense other beings attuned to the Force—Jedi meditating, battles being fought, lives being lost and saved. It was all so much, too much, and she felt herself beginning to lose control.
“Come back,” Krell's voice suddenly cut through the chaos. “You've gone too far.”
Wisteria tried to pull back, but the weight of the universe pressed down on her, threatening to crush her under its immensity. She struggled, feeling herself slipping further away.
“Focus, Wisteria,” Krell's voice was more urgent now. “Come back.”
With immense effort, Wisteria began to reel herself in, her awareness retracting from the far reaches of the galaxy. She could feel Krell's presence like a beacon, guiding her back to the small meditation room on the Star Destroyer. Slowly, she regained control, her breathing ragged as she opened her eyes.
Krell was watching her, his expression unreadable. “You overreached,” he said simply. “The Force is powerful, but it must be approached with caution and respect. You cannot let it consume you.”
Wisteria nodded, still trying to process the experience. “I felt... everything. It was overwhelming.”
Krell's gaze softened slightly, a rare moment of understanding. “The Force can show you the entire universe, but you must learn to navigate it without losing yourself. That will come with time and practice.”
Wisteria took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I understand. I'll be more careful.”
“Good,” Krell said, his tone returning to its usual sternness. “Now, We will continue your training, additionally from now you will only speak in parseltongue, not the language of the lesser people. You would do well to call me master and not interact with the clones, they are a distraction.”
Wisteria was trying so hard not to make a face. Of course, the first Jedi she would meet would be Snape 2.0, Potter's luck was universal in strength. However, it was time to get back to meditating. It was weird how the force came so naturally to her much like magic did. One was internal the other external, yet both worked in simultaneously strengthening the other.
Krell watched Wisteria, his mind turning over the unpolished power she displayed. Her untamed raw energy was impressive—dangerous, even—and though she had yet to master her abilities, her potential was like a smouldering fire waiting to be ignited. He knew that with the right guidance, and a strict hand, he could hone her abilities to become a potent weapon for his plans.
Still, there was something strange, a mystery hidden beneath her surface. As he watched her settle uneasily, her bright eyes still wide from the meditation exercise, he noticed an unsettling shadow around her, something beyond his immediate comprehension. It wasn't simply the echo of a life lived elsewhere, a naivety to the Galaxy; it was darker, older—a presence beyond what even the Force could define. He couldn't quite place it, but it made him wary. She was too young to carry such a weight, yet it lingered, an invisible tether linking her to something ancient and powerful. He sensed her connection to death, to forces that went beyond his understanding of the Force.
"Power comes with a purpose," he mused aloud, his voice a low hiss in Parseltongue, the language he demanded she now uses with him. "You have potential, Wisteria. But I sense...something else in you, a darkness that neither I nor you fully understand." He felt it pulse around her, subtly drawing him in, whispering in tones he’d only heard from his darkest visions. If she had ties to this energy, perhaps it could be used. Perhaps, with the right shaping, she might tap into powers beyond any Jedi or Sith.
But she would learn, he thought. Soon, she would understand that discipline, obedience, and strength were all that mattered. He would lead her to power, but first, he would strip away her attachments, her distractions—the clones she clung to like a child would a favourite toy.