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Prologue | A Shadowed Galaxy |

Here it is! The Prologue for Stardust! Please Comment, Like, and Reblog! 😄 ………………………… “GENERAL BILLABA,” LYDIA SAID, dipping her head in greeting to Mace Windu’s former apprentice. The frigid breeze of Kaller swirled around her, and, for a minute, Lydia temporarily shuddered as the crisp wind adjoined her skin; but forthwithly became used to it. The auditory of clones allocating orders and the shooting of guns heartbeat after heartbeat were two foundations of war Lydia was acclimatized to since her first mission with Master Kenobi as well as her brother when they were twelve years old.

She and Anakin were both assigned as Padawans to Master Kenobi, an enervating task indeed, for in their youth years they stirred the pot of trouble constantly. There were times, however, that Lydia noticed Obi-Wan found exultation with his apprentices.

She recalled the countless nights when she and Anakin would furtively leave their dorm room, spar in the training area, and sometimes certifiably behave like responsible Padawans. Oh, how she missed him. He was out on a mission, though, just like her. His stint was to save Chancellor Palpatine from his incarceration after being imprisoned by Count Dooku, the apprentice to the cryptic Darth Sidious, and the Seperatist Army commander, General Grievous.

I’ll ask Obi-Wan about Ani after this mission, she thought.

Lydia artificed her surroundings, familiarizing herself with the vast snow-layered forest, and later consolidating her eyes when she saw facilitating Separatists battle droids steadily paving a way to eventually reach their goal of discarding Billaba and her clones off the battlegrounds. A hand rested on her shoulder, a touch she instantly knew the owner of. She diluted a bit, but was still rigid.

For some reason, whenever she embraced the Sergeant, she felt a hundred times more prudent than normal (including Anakin). She divulged everything to him— her anxieties, her strains, her nightmares, her visions (plus Anakin, too). But he didn’t pillory her. He listened. Honestly listened, and donated her advice she didn’t know subsisted. She will forever be in debt to him.

“Lia,” Hunter said.

Lydia could sense his apprehension about the dilemma in front of them, but she dismissed it.

“I don’t like the odds we’re parrying against. I-”

“Hush, now,” Lydia murmured frailly, lacing her hand with his. The feeling of his hand on hers always brought succor. She gazed at him sideways, coercing an attesting smile. Their faces were mere inches away from each other to the point where she could feel his breath undulating on her face, consigning pulsates of an inkling that was nonnative and that Jedi were verboten to experience. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, disbelieving her own words, but covertly stowed her indecision. “I promise.”

After a minute, she recurdesced her focus to Billaba. “General, I’d like to introduce you to my squad, Clone Force 99.

“This is Hunter. He has amplified senses. He, just like the rest of the boys, have genetic mutations that make them atypical from your average clone. Wrecker here, well, I’m sure you’ve guessed what his mutation is. Superlative brawniness. He can lift a thousand pound boulder without difficulty. Tech, given his name, is basically a living dictionary. There isn’t one topic he doesn’t know too paltry about. If you want facts, he’s your man.

“Crosshair’s mutation is sophisticated eyesight. He can tell you the intricate details of — to us, what seems like a silhouette — a person as if he was there. He’s definitely an introvert, though, but we all dalliance with having him on our team. Also, he’s a sniper. A damn gnarly one, too.

“And lastly, Echo. He originally served under my brother’s Legion, but was later taken captive after we escaped and were all compelled to come to terms that he had perished at the Citadel. However, during the Battle of Anaxes, Rex connected the dots and said something damning: he believed Echo was alive.

“He told me and Anakin that the gambits the Separatists were utilizing were ones he and Echo formulated, and the only reason that they would have known that information is if he were being held prisoner. So we went to Skako Minor to disentangle him. Now he’s one of us and is truly the definition of a soldier.”

In her peripheral vision, Lydia noticed Tech typing away schematics or whatever the hell he inputs into his holopad, Crosshair plucking at his toothpick dangling from his mouth, Echo trying to shove Wrecker off as his brute brother pretended to punch him, and Hunter standing passively behind her.

“Wow,” Billaba countered. She observed Lydia’s squad, contemplated, and queried, “I have one question for you, Miss Skywalker. Why did the Council assign you to this elite group?”

“Because she has the skills necessary to lead us,” Hunter snapped bellicosely. “If it wasn’t for Lia, Lord knows where we’d be right now.”

Billaba’s eyes widened. “Well, Miss Skywalker, the battle is yours. My apprentice will be here any minute. I must converse with my Captains now. May the Force be with you.”

Lydia sauntered over to her friend and embraced her. “And may it also be with you.”

They stood like that until Billaba’s Padawan, Caleb Dume, arrived coasting down a snowbank whilst the forest distended behind him. This was going to be an intriguing battle.

~~~~~

Barraging through the droid army with Hunter at her side made the fight seem like a simulation. His vibro-knife severed through the mechanical configuration of the droids, its hummmmmm matching the harmony of her own weapon that lingualed the same sound. Lydia channeled the Force to hoist several incoming droids in the air and effortlessly flung them aside, each one lashing into the other, sparks later disgorging out due to the impact of the clonk.

“Yah!” she exclaimed as she pressurized her lightsaber into the head of a droid. She whirled around, anticipating more opponents to advance on her, but most of them were destroyed. Only a sporadic amount of opponents remained. She and Hunter eliminated the last couple of droids, and the battleground fell silent. Lydia smirked at the Sergeant as she turned off her teal-blue lightsaber. “Well, that was easy.”

He grinned back, putting his unique knife back in its holster on his arm. “What can I say? You and I together are invincible.”

Her face reddened faintly at the comment and glanced away momentarily, trying to compose herself. She only prayed that his enhanced hearing wouldn’t notice her heart beating so cursorily. Why in the stars do I feel like this when I’m around him? she thought.

Without any warning, her vision blurred and felt deficient as an overwhelming sluice of outlying, harrowing screams accompanied by a chilling, abrupt silence flooded her mind.

“Cyar’ika?” Hunter quipped, but she could marginally hear him. Instead, an inauspicious voice replaced the Sargeant’s alarmed inquiry.

“The time has come… execute Order 66.”

Nurrgghh, Lydia thought. She pinioned her hands into her forehead. What was this? What was wrong with her? Most significantly, what was this ‘Order 66’, and who said that? A heartbeat later she collapsed into the arms of Hunter as if she was stunned, her entire body assimilating as a prodigious waft of mental pain continued to pour into her skull.

“Lia, my dear,” Hunter murmured, wiping away her tears that spilled from her eyes like a river. “What is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia coughed. “We were just standing there and suddenly I felt lightheaded.”

“Lia, Hunter, this is Tech. Do you copy? Something has happened!”

Hunter tapped on the shining quartz-white button to enable the microphone on his commlink. “This is Hunter.”

“It’s Billaba!” the pilot of their starship wailed. “Her own clones murdered her in broad daylight! I need to know if Lydia is okay!”

Hunter was about to reply but Lydia cut him off. “No,” she said muzzily, timidly caroming aside a stray lock of his hair. “Let me respond. He wishes to hear my voice, not yours.”

Hunter steadily nodded and lowered his arm to let her speak to his quick-witted brother.

“Tech, listen to me. I am alright. I promise.”

Hunter glanced at her with a gander that told her everything he was thinking. He already knew she was being fallacious.

It’s because of those goddamn enhanced senses he has, she thought. She always wondered why — of all other possible mutations — the Kaminoans chose Hunter to be the one who was born with abnormal senses.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Tech chided. The way he said it reminded her like that of a mother scolding her daughter for unscrupulous behavior. She inwardly groused. Sometimes she wished Tech wasn’t so cerebral. Truth be told, Lydia dreaded she was mislaying her wits. This fervent, sharp, mental affliction was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

It felt as though her fellow Jedi Knights stationed across the Galaxy were gnawing at her soul, ejaculating for help that would never arrive. Prior to the eerie silence that followed the disturbing screams, the utter feeling of utmost betrayal dusted the Jedi’s suspicions until they ultimately were murdered by their own clones, just like General Billaba. Lydia wondered if she was next.

But wait. Would her team really betray her like that? After all those years of training, bonding, celebrating mission victories, and mutual, wholehearted laughter; would the Batch just throw it all away as if it never happened? Her flight or fight instincts incited, and adrenaline jostled her body. She jumped to her feet and rounded Hunter, igniting her cobalt-blue saber.

“Stay back!” she howled, a tear stinging her cheek.

Hunter blinked, upheaving his hands in metaphorical surrender. “Cyar’ika, what is going on?”

“You know,” Lydia flared. “You know what those clones did to Billaba. You might as well just kill me now.”

“Lia, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop lying to me!” She shouted. “You can stop acting oblivious. You knew exactly what was going to happen to my dear friend. They murdered her. Murdered her, Hunter! Just kill me. I know I’m next.”

Lydia could’ve sworn she saw unobtrusive tears streaming down his face. Hunter toiled to keep his voice . “Cyar’ika, I understand why you think I’m going to turn on you. I’m not. I’ve always been on your side. And I always will be. Please trust me. I improtune you.”

Lydia paused. She channeled the Force to search for any traces of disloyalty about his aura. There was nothing. All there was was a chasmic sense of unadulterated disquietude and… and… something else that took her aback. There was also a profound feeling of unarticulated love for her. The kind of love that Jedi were prohibited to discern.

“Hunter,” she bawled.

He ran to her, embracing her tenderly. She sobbed flamboyantly, viscuding to his shoulders, not caring about her dropped lightsaber that laid between their feet. After a while, she tranquilised. When she lifted her head up, she gulped at how close their faces were.

His eyes traveled to her lips, breathing laboriously. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you but never found the words for it.”

Lydia held her breath. She knew what he was going to say. She felt the same way, too, and she couldn’t harbor it anymore. She cupped his cheeks and pulled his head forward, syncing his lips with hers, closing her eyes in sheer euphoria as they kissed each other cordially. Little did they know something ruinous within their own squad was about to occur.

#Anakin Skywalker #Clone Force 99 #Crosshair #Echo #Fanfiction #Hunter #Omega #Star Wars #Tech #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #Star Wars: The Bad Batch Fanfic #Wrecker

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