A change in code

Prologue

“We cannot keep up like this forever!”

“How many more will have to leave or take their own lives before the Council finally does something about it?”

“Isn’t it true that you’re strongest when you have someone to fight for, someone you want to return to?”

Voices like this had grown louder over the past months, ever since the Great Leave—a time when a group of Jedi, who rejected the Order’s no-attachment rule, left the Order. The uprising began after three of their fellow Jedi, unable to cope with the Order’s stance, took their own lives in the Great Hall of the Temple, after being punished for having secret families.

It was clear to everyone that something needed to change. After long debates and protests, the Council finally reached a decision: a change in Code.

While attachment was still discouraged, it was no longer forbidden, provided it didn’t hinder a Jedi’s duties. Masters were now instructed to teach their Padawans about the dangers and the benefits of strong emotions, and all were advised to keep personal relationships private, away from the eyes of the Order, as their role as peacekeepers demanded neutrality.

This change in the Code took place many years before Ahsoka Tano was brought into the Temple as a toddler—young, curious, and full of positive energy. Back then, no one could have predicted the profound impact this child would have on the future of the entire galaxy.

Chapter 1

Big, shiny eyes peeked out from beneath a much-too-large hood, taking in the vast expanse of the Jedi Temple’s great hall.

“Lehta,” murmured a small voice.

“Yes, the temple is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” the man holding the bundled child in his arms replied with a gentle smile. “This is your new home now. Learn well, and I’m sure you’ll grow into a strong Jedi.”

“Anak?” the small Togruta asked.

“Yes, anak,” he confirmed softly.

“Good, Ahsoka. Keep it up,” the Jedi Master encouraged.

The young Togruta sat cross-legged, her eyes scrunched up in deep concentration, a small ball floating steadily before her. Her little hand was stretched out, guiding it with the Force.The Master nodded approvingly before moving on to check on the other younglings.

The wide training hall was filled with about twenty children, ranging in age from six to ten, all attempting the same exercise with varying degrees of success. But Ahsoka’s ball floated the steadiest by far. A feeling of calm settled over her, the quiet hum of the Force wrapping around her like a warm breeze. It reminded her of home—of Shili—where she used to levitate small river stones just to watch them splash back into the water. She didn’t remember much of her early childhood, but sometimes, she still missed it.

Even so, she liked her new life at the temple. Training with lightsabers, learning to control the power that had always existed inside her, leaping through the halls with a freedom that felt exhilarating.

The only problem was the other younglings.

She had heard the whispers. Too loud. Too hyper. Too different. They always spoke behind her back, but she could feel it in the way they avoided her. Most of them were human, and she was… not.

Later that day, after their lesson had wrapped up, Ahsoka lingered near the door.

Sometimes, Master Plo Koon would come by, sharing stories of his missions or meditating with her in quiet companionship. She liked those moments. The old Jedi Master made her feel safe—reminded her, in a way, of her tribe back on Shili.

“Waiting for someone?” A mocking voice cut through her thoughts.

Ahsoka tensed but kept her focus ahead, willing herself to ignore him.

She knew that voice all too well. Vin Dorro. A human youngling, three years older than her, who had decided long ago that he didn’t like her—and made sure she knew it.

“Oh, waiting for Master Plo Koon?” he sneered. “What are you, his pet?”

When Ahsoka didn’t react, he let out a short laugh and sauntered off down the corridor, clearly pleased with himself.

She took a deep breath. Jedi aren’t supposed to get angry.

After waiting a few more minutes, she sighed, finally accepting that Master Plo Koon wouldn’t be coming today. She turned and made her way toward her quarters.

On the way, she passed through a hall where a group of younglings was playing some kind of game. For a brief moment, she considered asking to join—but then she spotted Vin at the centre of it all.

Her excitement faded instantly.

A holobook about an uncharted planet sounded like far better company.

A few years had passed, but not much had changed. Ahsoka was now thirteen—almost fourteen—and excelling in most of her training. Her skills were sharp, her connection to the Force strong. Everything was going well, except for one persistent issue: the other younglings.

Vin Dorro, in particular.

He had only gotten worse over the years. Now, he had turned his taunts toward younger non-human initiates, picking on them the way he had always picked on her. Every time she witnessed it, it set fire to her veins.

"Just don’t think about it. Focus on your training today," she mumbled, adjusting her crop top. She had recently switched to the style for better mobility, and she liked the way it felt—light, comfortable, freeing. The fabric allowed her to take in more of her surroundings, feel the subtle vibrations in the air, the way sound moved. It heightened her awareness, deepening her connection to everything around her.

As she approached the training hall, that connection sent a warning through her senses.

Something was wrong.

She slowed her steps, carefully pushed the door open, and took in the scene.

A group of human younglings, led by Vin Dorro, stood in a half-circle around a small, trembling figure. A young Togruta, no older than six, curled into herself on the floor.

"Another one of you!" Vin sneered. "Do you not get it? You don’t belong here! Go back to dancing for a Hutt’s amusement."

The child shrank further, fear in her wide eyes.

Ahsoka saw red.

That was too much.

In a flash, she was across the room, stepping protectively in front of the young Togruta.

"That’s enough!" she growled, her voice carrying a new, dangerous undertone—a deep, rumbling note, something primal and wild.

Vin flinched but quickly recovered. "You can’t tell us what to do! Y-you—slave child!" he spat, though his voice wavered.

Before anything more could happen, the doors swung open, and Master Rinka—a tall, graceful Tholothian—entered.

Instantly, the younglings jumped apart, feigning innocence. Ahsoka turned to check on the child behind her, but her heart sank when she saw the little Togruta scurry away, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground.

Ahsoka sighed bitterly. Great. Another one in the same situation.

That day's lesson was lightsaber combat. Not with real sabers, of course—just training versions that emitted only a faint warmth when they landed a hit.

The younger initiates paired off, some clashing elegantly, others fumbling through the forms they had learned. Ahsoka waited patiently for her turn, watching as each pair tested their skills.

"Next up—Tano against Dorro," Master Rinka announced.

Ahsoka suppressed an eye-roll. Of course. Who else would it be?

With a quiet sigh, she took a training saber from the stand, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped into the ring. On the other side, Vin was already waiting, the blue glow of his saber casting sharp shadows across his face.

"Begin," Rinka signaled.

Vin lunged first. Reckless. Ahsoka easily blocked him, then dropped low, aiming to sweep his legs. He jumped back at the last second. They circled each other, watching, waiting.

She struck next—stepping left, then darting right, aiming to catch him off guard. He blocked again. Their sabers clashed, and she pushed against him.

Then he smirked.

“What are you even wearing?” he sneered. “Trying to distract me? That’s not a fighter’s outfit. Outfits like that—” his voice dropped, venomous—“they’re for dancing. For pleasure. You should quit now, find a nice man. They’d probably pay good credits for a Togruta like you.”

Ahsoka’s world went silent.

Then, something inside her snapped.

All the years of whispered insults, the cruel jokes, the endless mockery—toward her, toward others like her. It was disgusting.

The rules forbade using the Force in sparring. But in that moment, she didn’t care.

She leapt back, then lunged forward, kicking hard at Vin’s wrist. His saber flew from his grip, clattering across the floor.

The match should have ended there. But it wasn’t enough.

She thrust out her hand, calling on the Force. Before she could stop herself, Vin was hurled across the training hall, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. He collapsed to the ground, letting out a sharp cry of fear and pain.

Silence fell over the room.

Ahsoka stood there, panting.

For the first time in years, Vin looked truly afraid of her.

But the triumph she expected didn’t come. Instead, her stomach twisted.

Master Rinka rushed into her view, hurrying toward the fallen youngling. And only then did the weight of what she had done sink in.

Acting purely on instinct, she turned and ran.

She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get away.

Her feet carried her down the corridors, heart pounding, hands shaking. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she forced them back.

Before she could stop herself, she crashed into something—or someone.

A solid, armored figure.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking up, dazed.

The man before her wore white armor with gray accents and a black visor covering his eyes.

"What is a soldier doing outside Master Plo’s quarters?" she wondered.

"No, I’m sorry, little lady," the man said, his voice warm and amused. "I was standing in the way."

Ahsoka blinked. He didn’t sound like the temple guards.

"It’s alright," she replied, rubbing her arm. "Are you waiting for Master Plo too?"

The man nodded. "He’s grabbing something from the library for the mission briefing."

"Oh, so you’re a Jedi too?" she asked, tilting her head. It seemed odd for a Jedi to wear armor.

He chuckled. "No, not quite. I’m a clone—CC-3636, at your service." He pulled off his helmet, revealing short black hair and sharp brown eyes.

Ahsoka frowned. Clones.

She had overheard much about them in the halls recently—about the battle on Geonosis, the Jedi who had fallen, the Republic’s new army. They were warriors, soldiers who had saved lives. But something about them still felt unfamiliar.

"CC-3636," she repeated. "That’s not a name."

The clone shrugged. "We’re just clones. Won’t live long anyway."

Ahsoka frowned deeper. "That’s not right. Everyone should have a name."

The man smirked. "My brothers call me Wolffe."

Now that was a name.

She nodded, satisfied.

At that moment, a familiar voice broke through the air. "Commander, I’m sorry to keep you waiting," Master Plo Koon said as he rounded the corner. Then his glowing gaze landed on her. "And little ‘Soka, I see. Master Rinka was looking for you—she seemed… rather agitated. Would you like to tell me why?"

Ahsoka winced. She instinctively stepped behind Wolffe.

Plo Koon’s voice remained gentle. "How about you come inside and tell me—and the commander—what happened?"

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding and following them in.

"I swear, I didn’t mean to really hurt him! He just wouldn’t stop!" Ahsoka’s voice wavered slightly as she finished retelling what had happened, her emotions still running high.

Master Plo listened patiently, his expression calm as ever. When she finally fell silent, he gave a small nod.

"I understand," he said. "Let me speak with Master Rinka. Commander, can you keep an eye on her while I take care of this matter? The briefing can wait—we won’t be leaving just yet."

Wolffe straightened, giving a sharp salute. "Sir, yes sir."

Ahsoka let out a quiet sigh of relief. That had gone far better than she had expected. If Master Plo was handling it, maybe she’d only get stuck helping out in the library again. She didn’t even let herself think about what could have happened if things had gone differently.

After Master Plo left, Ahsoka hesitated for a moment before glancing up at Wolffe.

"Can I meet some of your men?" she asked, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

Wolffe considered her request, then gave a small smirk. "Sure. They call themselves the Wolfpack—you know, since they thought it fit with me as their commander."

Ahsoka chuckled. She already knew she was going to like them.

The clone led her through the corridors until they reached a small hangar that had been temporarily repurposed into a training ground. Inside, a group of white-armored clones was gathered, engaged in combat drills and weapons maintenance. The moment the doors opened, they all turned, immediately straightening to attention before saluting.

"At ease, men," Wolffe said, waving them down. "This little one just wanted to meet you all." He gestured to Ahsoka beside him.

Ahsoka offered a shy wave. "Uh—hi."

The clones relaxed, some chuckling as they set aside their blasters and gathered around.

Wolffe began introductions, pointing to each of them in turn. "Ahsoka, meet Sinker, Comet, Booster, Warthog, Travis, and Starshot."

Ahsoka beamed. "Nice to meet you all! I’m Ahsoka Tano—soon to be a Padawan!"

At first glance, they all looked strikingly similar. But the more she observed, the more she noticed the little things—the different hairstyles, the small tattoos or scars that set them apart. Starshot, for example, had a star-shaped tattoo over his left eyebrow.

But there was something else.

Something deeper.

Ahsoka couldn’t explain it, but she felt the difference in them through the Force. It was subtle—like variations in a melody, or shifts in the current of a river. They all carried the same foundation, yet each presence was uniquely distinct.

She must have been staring too long, because Sinker scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Don’t worry about mixing us up—it takes a while to tell us apart."

Ahsoka shook her head. "No, it’s not that. You’re all… different. In the Force."

The clones exchanged brief, puzzled looks.

"If you say so, small one," Starshot finally said with a smirk.

Ahsoka spent the rest of the afternoon watching the clones train, occasionally asking questions. Every now and then, one of them would take the time to explain something to her or share a story about a past mission.

For the first time in a long time, Ahsoka felt truly comfortable around humans.

But then, the doors to the hangar swung open.

Her heart stopped for a split second.

Master Plo Koon stood in the doorway; his presence steady as ever. His gaze settled on her, and he beckoned her forward.

"The Council would like to speak with you."