Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BD knew something was up when he powered on and was not in Cal’s lap . Granted, that was not a wholly uncommon experience, Cal liked to get up early and meditate, but he was always somewhere nearby. Now, BD was unable to find his Jedi anywhere.

The last time BD was separated from his Jedi, someone was actively trying to turn him into scrap metal and hurt Cal. No, that would not do. Whoever took him and his Jedi had left him restraining bolt-less, and BD was going to use that to his full advantage.

He was going to find Cal and get him out of wherever they were. And Greez was going to have to sleep with one eye open because, if BD found out it was due to his gambling again, BD could not be held responsible for his actions.

But, first, he had to find his Jedi. 

The interior of the room screamed Imperial, and it set BD’s wiring on edge. Okay, so maybe Greez wasn’t responsible this time, but that made things much, much more complicated. 

It was a storage room of sorts, everything neatly filed and sorted. There were no explosives, to BD’s dismay, but there were scattered medical supplies that could be handy. Ah, but Cal wasn’t there to open his stim dispenser. 

Opening his rather sparse beginnings of a map, BD made sure to place a rather larger marker for the closet, so he could bring Cal here immediately when he found him.

BD stepped slowly out of the room, managing to keep the sound of his movements to a minimum. He had the advantage, and he wasn’t going to lose it this early on.

The hallway was sterile, extremely bright, and mercifully empty. BD took off immediately, sticking close to the walls, cataloging every turn into his memory bank. He had more close calls with groups of Imperial troopers than he felt comfortable with, but he was close, he could feel it.

“Have you met the new commander yet?”

“Not yet, but I heard the little Jedi is the nervous type.”

“Oh, he’ll come around soon enough. I do know the General has been eyeing some of the armor shipments, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we see the Captain trying to get the kid to wear some within the week.”

“Oh, that would be a sight to see. Jedi drop armor like pippin’ hot rations. The Captain's gonna have a stroke.”

“True, but have you met General Tapal? I’m not sure the kid can get away with armor stripping habits with him as a mother tooka.”

That was… an interesting conversation to overhear. BD was sure Tapal was the name of Cal’s former teacher, and, if BD was right in his assumptions, it was apart of one twisted ploy the Empire was playing. Oh, he was going to have so much fun setting off the explosives when they escaped. And he was going to get his little feet on some explosives, regardless of what Cal might say otherwise. 

He just needed to get Cal off the hell-ship first. Now, just where was his Jedi? The ship was turning out to be massive, and he’d quite prefer to find Cal sooner rather than later. The scouts he evaded seemed to be talking about his Jedi in a rather odd manner, and none of them gave him any clues to his destination, much to his ever mounting distress.

His planning was abruptly cut short when he ran into something solid and very much alive. BD prepared to shock the flesh wall in front of him as he gazed up to see familiar green eyes peering down at him. BD powered down his electrified foot, bouncing around excitedly.

Cal! He found Cal!

But, Cal didn’t look like Cal. He looked so much smaller. Softer, even, and he was missing his characteristic scars. His hair was also super weird! The boy was definitely his Jedi, but why did he look like a baby human? That didn’t make sense!

“Uh, hi buddy. Are you lost?”

❅

It had been about a standard week since Master Tapal took him on as a Padawan, and Cal still found it hard to leave his quarters when he didn’t need to. He had nothing against the men of the 13th, but Cal still had a hard time feeling like he belonged anywhere within the battalion. He still wasn’t even sure why Master Tapal asked him to be his Padawan.

He knew that it could take a while for Padawans to adjust to their new apprenticeships, especially in the middle of the war when they’re thrown into command. The Creche Masters made that abundantly clear as they began transitioning to their trials. But, Cal still felt so far out of his depth, and it scared him.

He was so grateful for Master Tapal, and he didn’t want to mess it up. 

But, Master Tapal, while assuring Cal he could take his time to acclimate, was insisting he get acquainted with the ship and crew. So, Cal found himself wandering aimlessly through the hallways. Although, he did keep flinging himself into different turns and alcoves when he spotted troopers milling about.

He would familiarize himself with the ship like his Master wanted, but he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable introducing himself to the men.

His hesitance with running into anyone was how he found himself nearly tripping over a poor droid. The little droid was a small unit and not a model Cal himself was familiar with, but the build was reminiscent of exploration designated designs. His apology was stuck in his throat when he saw the aggression fleeting from the little droid and morphing into unbridled excitement. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “Uh, hi buddy, are you lost?” The little droid chirped in buzzing joy and an underlying sense of confusion, but it didn’t seem to stop them from almost immediately climbing up his side and to his shoulder.

The little droid was beeping incessantly, seemingly checking him over and threatening anyone that might’ve hurt him. “Woah, woah, slow down, little buddy,” he urged, stunned at the flare of protectiveness radiating from his new companion. “No one’s trying to hurt me. Are you okay? Is someone trying to hurt you ?”

He really hoped no one on ship was trying to hurt the little droid, but he was going to have to get to Master Tapal as soon as he could if there was. 

The droid seemed to hesitate at the question before bombarding Cal with questions of their own, further confusing Cal in their absurdity. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, little buddy. I’ve never been bigger than this, but Master Che does say she thinks I’m due for a growth spurt in the future.”

More confusing questions were thrown his way. “Empire? Imperial? I’ve never heard of them, little buddy. Did you climb aboard a while ago? I haven’t been onboard for any of the previous campaigns, but I can ask my Master to get you home if you need it.”

A grumbled series of whistles were his response. The little droid gripped tighter onto his robes, tugging him to move. “Where do you need me to go?” The tugging grew harder when they responded. “The Landing Bay? Why would- oh, I can’t do that, buddy. Let’s go talk to Master Tapal; he’ll get you home.”

The tugging became even more insistent, and it was clear the little droid was not okay with going to see his Master. And, that was… not a good sign. They didn’t look like a Seperatist design, but they also didn’t look Republican. While they seemed really nice, Cal knew he was always a sucker for a little droid. 

He patted the droid’s foot. “Let’s go see my Master, and if he can’t do anything then we’ll go to the Landing Bay, okay?” It most definitely did not soothe the droid, but Cal was already making his way to the main deck. “Don’t worry, buddy, my Master won’t hurt you.”

He hoped. If the little droid was a Seperatist plant, Cal wasn’t sure what he could do for them. Maybe he could convince the tech repair crew to do a fresh re-programing for him? Cal knew there was a fifty-fifty chance of that working, but he’d love to get the little droid set up with a nicer owner, someone who would take care of them, if he could.

Speaking of. “What’s your name, buddy?” It would be nice to know what to call them and what name to potentially pass on. “BD-1? That suits you buddy. It’s nice to meet you, BD.” They whistled happily, rubbing their head on his cheek.  

Oh, Cal liked this droid, and he had never hoped so much that there was a very boring explanation for everything.

❅

Master Tapal was, in fact, not as happy as Cal would’ve hoped. “Padawan! I know you haven’t been on the front for long, but you need to be more cautious! You have to think things through; you’re a commander now.” 

Cal bowed deeply, shame tinging his very soul. “Yes, Master. I understand.”

His Master sighed softly. “Thank you, Padawan. Please, hand the droid over to Felix over there, the one with the yellow sash. He’s the head of the tech department; he’ll check out the stowaway.”

Cal dipped his head in acknowledgement, racing over to the trooper while trying to detangle an extremely apprehensive BD from his robes. “Felix, sir! I’ve got a BD unit for you to check out, but they don’t want to let go.”

The trooper chuckled at his plight before attempting to help him. 

That, it seemed, was a bad idea as BD jolted almost immediately, electrifying his foot when Felix put his hands on Cal’s shoulder and tried to get between him and the trooper. Cal tried to grasp at the foot, making BD halt the electricity when his hand got close. “BD, it’s okay! He’s not going to hurt you or me. It’s okay. Please let him give you a check up, buddy.”

BD didn’t seem entirely convinced, but without electrifying their foot, they couldn’t quite struggle successfully. That also left the concern of the electric foot becoming a problem the moment Cal wasn’t a barrier. 

“Hey, buddy. If you’re nice to Felix, I can come get you once he’s finished, okay? But I can’t do that if you fry him. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

It was obvious that BD was not happy what-so-ever with his predicament, but Cal kept his hardest stare on them until both them and Felix were safely out of the main deck. 

Now, hopefully BD wasn’t a spy plant. Cal was going to feel really, really guilty if he wasn’t able to fulfill his promise.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. “You did good, Padawan, even if you were a bit reckless.” Cal glanced up at his Master and became very self-aware of the shame and guilt tinting his presence. “That little droid seems to like you. If they get cleared, I might just have them keep an eye on you on the field.”

Cal beamed. “Really?”

His Master hummed. “Your Creche Master said you could be reckless. I could always use another set of eyes on you on the front.”

Cal’s face bloomed a deep red. “I’ll work on that, Master.”

“Be sure that you do.” There was a surprising undercurrent of mischief in Master Tapal’s voice. “Now, I hear you haven’t met the men yet. I think now would be a good time to get a head start on that.”

Somehow, Cal’s face grew redder as his Master led him to the different officers on deck.

This was not how he planned to spend his afternoon.

❅

Why did his Jedi have to be so… so clueless and reckless? He needed to get Cal out off this ship and to the Mantis immediately, but his Jedi wouldn’t listen to him. It was becoming quite the frustration, and he would’ve made his way back to Cal if the trooper hadn’t restrained him so quickly.

Oh, Maker, what kind of situation did they find themselves in?

Despite BD's protests, the check-up was thoroughly conducted and, surprisingly, went smoothly enough. The most BD really had to complain about was rougher handling than he would’ve liked, and he was beginning to think he would be able to leave this place in one piece.

That is, until Heavy Hands started messing with his memory banks. 

The man managed to knick the cords binding BD's legs together as he searched for an opening, allowing BD to swiftly maneuver his way out of his bindings. Once freed, BD kicked his legs at the arms of the trooper, whistling loudly and angrily as Heavy Hands tried to hold him down. He managed to get a good hit in, causing the man to grunt and pull away briefly.

“I told the General we should’ve stocked up on restraining bolts.” The grumble fell from the man’s lips as BD’s victory became short lived. Heavy Hands grasped his wildly flailing limbs, holding him down long enough to knock the side of his head.

It only took an aggressive thump for his holo-projector to flair to life against his will, a thought that annoyed BD to no end. He yelled at the man the only way he knew how, beeping erratically, desperately prying away the man’s now lax hands. 

It took BD longer than he’d like to admit to notice the man was no longer paying attention to him.

No, no. That honor went to data entry the man managed to spring loose.

A man, a save file of an old holocron Cal copied for preservation, spoke softly but urgently.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen. ”

Chapter Text

BD booked it the moment he got his holo-projector under control. He dragged several machines with him in his haste, many of the wires ripping harshly from his ports. There was not much in him that cared, though, as he bee-line ran to find his Jedi. 

He didn’t know what they did to Cal, but BD was going to have to drag his Jedi to the hanger and get them as far away from here as possible, even if Cal protested. They had to get back to the Mantis . They could help Cal.

Maker, he was back at step one again. 

At least he had the makings of a map this time. He hadn’t gone far from where he had first run into his Jedi, and, through careful backtracking, he should have a good chance at success. 

Granted, Cal had always been a wanderer, so BD was probably going to have his work cut out for him. 

Jaro examined the holo-projector in front of him with crossed arms. The poor officer, Felix, scrambled in his office after losing the little droid, unit BD-1 if Felix was correct, with a handful of partially transferred copies of the droid’s memory banks.

It seemed this BD-1 was much more capable than they originally thought.

In their haste to escape, the droid managed to rip all the wiring out of the copy and transfer equipment, leaving what little data Felix managed to scavenge in partial form. Jaro dismissed the officer almost immediately with an order to find the droid and keep it away from his Padawan.

The only complete recording was a rather disturbing message coming from one Master Kenobi. He doubted heavily the content of the message, but the man in the recording was the spitting image of Master Kenobi.

And, well, the Force rang true with every word the recording uttered.

Confusion radiated from his very being as he continued through each small snippet. Most were only a clip of words that, without context, made very little sense. He did start to make out common names, like Merrin, Cere, and Cal . 

A young man with a head full of red hair made up many of the memory files, and Jaro couldn’t ignore the distinct familiarity that surrounded the young man, and it made him immensely anxious as he started to accept the conclusions he was coming to.

He was going to fail his boy .

Resolute, he comm’ed his oldest Commander.

“Sir?”

“Find my Padawan and schedule a patrol to guard him. I want that droid found, and they will certainly try and get close to our newest member. Do not let them, Commander.”

“Don’t let the General weigh you down too much, kid; he’s just a by-the-book mother tooka.”

“Oh, yeah. If he ever gets you down: one, come to me. Second, keep in mind that we once saw him try and out rodger a clanker because he wandered on to the front, post battle, while doped up on painkillers.”

“Oh Force, Hypo nearly had an aneurysm when he did that. Seeing him try and single-handedly drag the General back to medical was the funniest sithspit I’ve ever seen.”

Talking with the officers wasn’t as terrifying once the conversation started. Cal had to admit he was embarrassed that he let his anxiety control him like that and tried to morph his face into a replica of his Master’s stoicism.

“Oh my Force, Vibro, he’s doing it . He’s doing the Jedi face. ”

“I know; it’s so adorable .”

Okay, technically those words were probably not meant for him to hear, but he wasn’t going to let them know that he could. Well, that was if his wrinkled nose and heated cheeks didn’t expose him like the traitors they were.

A hand ruffled his hair. “Embrace it, kid. You’re too cute to be intimidating.”

“You know, you could use that to your advantage.”

“You could use your big ol’ tooka eyes to get the Commander and General to requisition the good rations.” 

The conversation morphed into different takes on how Cal could use his rank and cuteness to their cumulative gain. They kept roping him in, discussing how they could work together to achieve goals he wanted as well. 

It was a relief to meld into the ranks so well. If Cal was being honest, he didn’t feel that there was much they would have in common, and, therefore, their ability to get along would be greatly hindered.

Really, it was nice to be proven wrong.

Cal tried to stifle a yawn with his hand as the conversation dragged on. Desperately trying to recover, he hoped none of the men noticed. 

He was unsuccessful. Large hands reached around him and lifted him across a pair of broad shoulders. Cal made a small noise of half hearted protest, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at how easily he was lifted and carried.

Looking towards the man currently carrying him, Cal noticed it was in fact the Commander. A man who had spoken relatively little, aside from a ‘don’t let the General get to ‘ya,’ after he joined the conversation later on. The surprise and confusion left him without any words to free himself.

“A commander is most effective when well rested.”

And that was that.

Things were not going well. The Tapal-impersonator kept a constant guard on mini Cal, and it was making it ridiculously hard for BD to get him alone. He could see that it was making his Jedi antsy as well, and BD was going to have to work with that.

He kept watch on his Jedi, but BD knew that his guard knew he was doing that. The search parties were getting ridiculous, and BD was running out of time.

He tried to grab his Jedi’s attention outside of the awareness of his guard through several means. Small noises, rolling bolts, a desperate attempt to leave an approximate of an emotional impression in his tracks. All for naught.

The most successful attempt so far involved playing brief audio clips to draw Cal’s wandering attention. Unfortunately, the Commander that was always a couple of steps behind his Jedi foiled his plan and just picked Cal up and walked away.

BD let out a frustrated series of beeps and ventured on.

It had been several rotations since he’d seen the little droid off, and Cal still felt pretty guilty over not checking up on them. In his defense, he had a guard - more like a babysitter, he mentally grumbled - who wouldn’t let him anywhere near the engineering department.

He was beginning to enjoy spending time with the officers, don’t get him wrong, but the protective detail was becoming a bit overbearing. Cal wanted to explore the ship, much like he originally planned all those rotations ago, but it was becoming near impossible with his shadows.

A soft ting resounded as a small bolt rolled before his feet. That was another thing. He knew BD was always around the corner, beckoning him, but the little droid never really showed themselves. Cal was certain he almost saw them, once, but the Commander just picked him up and away to the mess hall before he could.

Master Tapal’s training sessions were becoming both longer and shorter with every passing rotation. His lessons were morphing into something much stricter and harsher than he remembered, and Cal was finding it hard to keep up. They were straying from more traditional Jedi teachings and dipping heavily into survival and hand-to-hand combat.

Master Tapal’s towering frame made a formidable opponent on its own, but without his saber, Cal was finding it increasingly unfair.

Outside of lessons, Cal almost rarely saw his Master. This turned out not to be solely a him problem as many of his appointed babysitters complained about his Master’s lack of presence. It was also impacting his fellow Commander who was slowly turning into a vibrating ball of intense stress and unregulated caf consumption with a mounting pile of half completed flimsiwork.

It was all becoming a little too much.

Another ting, another tiny bolt, and Cal made up his mind. He was going to shake his tail and find BD once and for all. If he found the little droid, maybe, just maybe, everything would return to the normal he so desperately craved.

And he would still fight to find a home for BD out of it.

“I’ll keep an eye out, Master Tapal.” With a bow, Master Kenobi faded from view, leaving Jaro to his own thoughts. 

Relaying the recording he discovered obviously shook Master Kenobi to his core, and Jaro regretted adding to his fellow Jedi’s rather overflowing plate. But, he had to remind himself, it was necessary. Master Kenobi shared his thoughts on the matter, and, since it was evident it involved the ginger, Jaro needed his input and help.

The authenticity of the droid’s memory banks was becoming less and less doubtful, and Jaro had to be honest that it terrified him. From the bits and pieces he could piece together, the galaxy BD came from was not a kind one, and it was certainly not gentle to his boy.

If Jaro failed his boy once, then he was going to make sure it never came to fruition.

“I’m Cal Ke-” … “after the Purge-” … “restore the Orde-” … “betrayed by those we prote-” … “-‘m trash, just not approved tra-” … “BD’s the only reliable o-” ... “-elieve in you, too, bud-” ... “found me on Bracca an-”

Bracca . That’s where they were stationed next. And, if his suspicions were correct, it was a planet that held nothing but tragedy for their futures, but he just didn’t know when or how or why .

Jaro needed that droid. He knew the little menace was attached to his Padawan, but he refused to use the boy as bait. There were scouts stationed at every corner of the Albedo Brave , and many more surrounded Cal with the direct orders to catch the slippery thing, but there had not been one sighting.

Just an increasing number of mechanical failures near his Padawan’s shifting location. There may have been no sightings, but the evidence was clear. BD was floating around somewhere in his Padawan’s shadow, but they were just clever and scrappy enough to evade detection.

Jaro would be impressed if it didn’t endlessly frustrate him.

Engineering was under strict orders to keep silent on the recordings, not a word was permitted to be uttered, even to superior ranks. Jaro knew his confusing, contextless commands and increasing secrecy was stressing his Commander out, but he just couldn’t share this information with any of the ranks until he had things sorted.

Master Kenobi’s recording suggested the clones betrayed the Jedi, fatally so, and that wasn’t a warning Jaro was going to take lightly.

He loved his men with every fiber of his being, but he wouldn’t risk the lives of his entire culture, his boy, if he could help it.

Which is why he needed that elusive droid.

He let his frustration flow through him and out into the force, taking a calming breath to center himself. Nothing would get done if we wallowed in his agitation, so he collected himself and started doing what he could for the time being.

Which meant another subversive debrief with his men.

Maintaining a presence on the main bridge must’ve been something he’s been neglecting as his appearance threw many of his officers off kilter. Guilt swam in his chest, but he quickly released it, approaching the main holotable before addressing the crew that gathered around him like lost, confused loth cats.

“Nav?”

“Yes, General Tapal?”

“Change our course from Bracca to Coruscant.”

“Sir?”

“We’ve got a stowaway, and we cannot risk them escaping while combating an invasion. We’ll dock on Coruscant, regroup, and do a clean sweep. No one is allowed on or off the Albedo Brave until that droid is found, understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Commander Kestis is not to be used as a lure for the stowaway, but I want an extra patrol to sweep the areas around him at all times. They are not to interact.”

Artificial air blew softly through his hair, and it’s stale quality prickled his skin. Nuts and bolts dug harshly into his skin as he made his way through the vents, his breathing traitorously hitching every time he landed on a piece of sharp, risen metal. Unwilling tears welled up in his eyes with each flash of pain, combatting the dryness that threatened to set in as he fought through the strong current of the air.

So, maybe crawling through the air ducts wasn’t Cal’s brightest idea. How was he supposed to know? All the holo-films made it seem so easy!

His trek was going much slower than he planned. He had to slow down his crawl significantly, lest the pounding of his knees and creaking of the vents gave away his location. And if his noisiness didn’t do that first, then the whole thing giving way under him was another high possibility.

Honestly, he was never going to be able to watch those holo-films the same way ever again.

Still, this was the only way Cal could really think of to shake off his tail. Under the guise of a refresher break, he’d crawl through the air ducts until he ran into BD. See? Simple. Well, as Cal was discovering, not so much.

He was honestly kind of surprised that he hadn't run into BD yet. The little droid was always around trying to gain his attention. Were they really going to disappear once they finally garnered it? Maybe the patrols already found them?

No, no. That couldn’t be the case. If BD was found, certainly his guard would diminish, and, recently, it only seemed to grow in number. Unless something else was going on, in which case Cal would really like to be informed for once.

Another sharp edge bit into the palm of his hand, piercing through his rather thick gloves, and broke the delicate skin, drawing a fine line of blood. Cal tried to stifle a hiss. He really hoped this venture wouldn’t be for nothing. 

When he would be caught, because, surely at this point, he was going to be caught before he achieved his goal, he was going to lose his access to the air ducts.

Not like he wanted to go back once he’s out. Really. It sucked crawling through them. Holo-films were liars.

A soft chirping came from his right. Oh, thank the Force .

Cal tried to maneuver his way to the small intersection as quickly and as quietly as he could. It was a tedious and slow process, one that Cal found he lacked the patience for. “BD?” The whisper was supposed to be quiet, but in his effort to keep his voice as low as possible, it rasped roughly through the vents.

Another whistle that continued as it grew closer to him.

“BD? Over here.” The droid was in his face in an instant, mechanical eyes roaming all over him as their little feet grabbed hold of his hand and tugged him forward. “Not in here, little buddy.” Cal located an opening a little farther ahead, ushering his companion forward so he could break the covering and jump down with them in his arms.

As luck would have it, he landed in a storage closet of some kind and away from prying eyes.

BD trilled happily, shifting to one of the shelves with urgency. Cal peered over, still holding BD firmly in his grasp, and noticed the various stim canisters that filled the box the droid started tapping insistently.

“You want stims?” That in and of itself was a bit confusing, but BD nodded the best they could and pointed towards their head. Cal gazed curiously at the dome of the droid’s head, poking the small notches that lined the sides.

Whistling sharply, BD made it very clear that Cal was pressing all the wrong buttons. With a soft apology, he went about resetting everything he activated before eventually stumbling upon an opening to a small cavity with a few glistening, clinking stims.

“Just how many of these do you use, BD?” A series of chimes that sounded suspiciously like his Jedi was very dumb and got hurt often . Cal hummed. “You belong to a Jedi?” A happy chirp. Cal shifted to grab a few stim canisters to fill the small container.

Losing a few stims couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Well, you should let Master Tapal know that.” Cal gently shut the container, patting the droid’s head fondly. “That way we can get you home, little buddy.” With a jolt, BD shook and let his displeasure be known, causing Cal to lose his grip momentarily.

That was all the little droid needed as he dropped to the ground. “Sorry, BD!” Cal tried to reach down and grab the droid, but he slipped his grasp before grabbing onto Cal’s robe and gesturing towards the door. “Well, of course we’re leaving. I just need to comm Master Tapal first.”

That seemed to be the last straw for BD. The little droid pounced, grasping at something , before hobbling up and away, disappearing into another air duct. 

Cal stood in shock, his mind reeling while trying to process just what had happened. “BD!” He straightened his robes, moving forward with the intent to just go back to his quarters and sleep. BD could have fun in the vents, Cal was never going in them again.

Well, that was until he noticed his lightsaber was missing off his belt.

“BD!” The shout was much louder this time, and he’d regret losing control of his volume later. But, with a mix of dread and disdain, he had to enter the air vents once again. Grasping at the nearby shelving, he hopped his own way up back into the vents, narrowly missing the patrol that entered soon after.

Oh, he was going to be in trouble. Not as much, though, as he was going to be if he was caught without his lightsaber.

Master Tapal’s lessons were exhausting on a good rotation. Cal wasn’t sure he’d make it through the next one if his Master caught wind of him losing his saber. The thought poured iced down his spine, and further motivated him to venture forward without notice. 

BD wasn’t being quiet, much to both Cal’s relief and immense dread. It meant he had no problem tracking the droid down, but it also meant that they were both very much closer to getting caught and Cal still did not have his lightsaber .

He could hear the muffled shouts of “ Cal!”  and “ Commander! ” follow him through the vents. Cal hung his head for a moment, both accepting and regretting what was surely about to come.

“BD!” He whispered harshly, tracking the little droid to another opening in the vents. “Give me back my lightsaber, please, little buddy.” The droid looked up at him, back down to the vent, and, with a soft chime, jumped down .

“BD!” Cal crawled over to follow him down, surprisingly falling into one of the smaller hangar bays. He didn’t have the time to really ponder why the bay was so empty as he snapped his eyes to the little droid hopping around excitedly. “BD! Get back here!” 

The little droid whistled innocently, bouncing his way up a nearby ramp. “Don’t you dare-” BD vanished from sight again just as several alarms began blaring. Cal grumbled as he rushed onto the ship BD disappeared into.

“BD, come on, buddy. I really need my lightsaber.” He wandered through the small vessel, dipping into what looked like a cargo hold to begin his search. “BD?” The question echoed through the room, nearly over taken by the bang that indicated the shutting of the main ramp.

Cal ran from the room as the engines flared to life and felt the ship jolt as it prepared to take off. “Oh, BD, no.” He scrambled towards the direction of the cockpit and desperately stumbled his way in. “BD, Stop! We need to get off!”

The droid whistled a negative and pushed the vehicle forward. “You can’t just take off while in hyperspace. You’re going to tear this ship apart!” BD chirped again, claiming that the flag ship was at a standstill, and Cal really didn’t believe it until he glanced out the viewport. “BD, I want off.”

Another whistled negative. Cal pushed his way forward and looked for a disengage button. BD announced that they didn’t have much time, and Cal should just sit down before he got knocked over.

Cal shook off the concern and continued his search. The little droid grabbed his ropes, once again, and pulled him into the copilot seat. “BD!” The droid ignored him, and the vessel was instantly in the air and zooming out of the hangar bay.

Cal caught a glimpse of the Albedo Brave behind them, and noted, with dismay, that it took off into hyperspace soon after their escape. He let go of his feelings into the force, and took control of the navigation from his position.

“Well, BD, you got your wish. We’re off the Albedo Brave .” The droid chimed happily, hopping away from the navigation panel and towards a room Cal could see comms residing inside. Something dropped in his lap, when the little droid made his exit, and Cal glanced down at his saber, now safely in his grasp once again.

He held his lightsaber close to his chest and took a deep breath, steadying himself before moving forward.

The ship was idle, with no real coordinates set up, and Cal took advantage of that. He pounced on the pilot’s seat and began setting course to Coruscant before BD could interfere. He crossed Bracca off his list of destinations when he noticed the Albedo Brave moved in a direct distinctly away from the planet.

He wasn’t sure why their flagship changed course so suddenly, but he would just have to meet up with them once he landed on Coruscant. 

Rubbing this thumb across the hilt of his saber, Cal began to wonder if he would’ve been in less trouble if his Master had just found him in the air vents and saber-less.

Chapter Text

Chaos. That was the only way to describe the bridge at the moment. Completely, utterly chaotic. Men were running in every direction, several running furiously through different computers, and many more shuffling through every nook and cranny the large vessel had to offer.

And none of it was enough.

“I want him found, now .” Jaro’s voice may have been stable, but the anguish and distress were clear. Cal had broken away from his guard hours ago, and now not a single person on board could find him. The thought stirred something traitorously like despair and regret in his gut.

Almost as if they never heard him, the men around him barely uttered a “yes sir” as they continued their respective tasks. Taking a deep, nearly shuddering breath, Jaro reminded himself that the men were already doing the best they could to find his boy, and he would be of no use if he let his emotions control him.

It was devastating to consider that despite all of his safe-guards, Cal still slipped away and could be seriously hurt, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He hadn’t figured out how the holographic version of himself failed his boy, and yet here he was, failing his boy all over in a way he never considered.

“General!” The exclamation pulled Jaro from his spiraling thoughts, and a small security comm was shoved into his surprisingly open and waiting hands. He peered curiously up at his officer, urging him to continue. “I think I found where the Commander went.”

Jaro hovered his finger over the play button. “Thank you, Glitch.” He started the recording, his shoulders threatening to slump when he saw his Padawan follow the droid onto a small carrier vessel which departed almost instantaneously.

Glancing at the time stamp, he realized it was all during their very short stop for their change of course.

Oh, Force, that droid was way more crafty than he imagined.

“I have my team tracing the tracker that was onboard,” Glitched added after the holo phased out. “We haven’t gotten a ping yet, but we are close.”

Jaro bowed his head, both in respect and relief. “Thank you. Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir-”

“I got it!” A fresh faced shiny ran up to them, a datapad in hand. “They’re a few parsecs away, near an asteroid belt. I have the coordinates right here.”

Jaro quickly took the datapad. He noted, in dismay, that while the two hadn’t managed to go far from their initial position, the Albedo Brave was currently too far away for a speedy recovery. “Find the battalion closest to their destination and hail them immediately.”

“Yes, of course, Master Tapal. I will send out a patrol immediately. I will send an alert once we have made contact.” The comm fizzled out, and Cere stared at the empty space in front of her. A missing Padawan, one taken off a flagship, no less, was an immediate cause for concern, and Cere debated heading the search party herself. A master would be a safer option for the Padawan, but Cere wasn’t sure if she could leave her post.

And, if Tapal was correct, the actual risk involved was probably slim. The droid he mentioned was indeed curious, and she would have to be sure to secure them alongside the kidnapped Padawan. If the droid was as attached to the youngling as they seemed to be, that would be no problem.

But, a missing Padawan was not something to be taken lightly, and Cere was going to have to act accordingly.

Mind made up, she comm’ed her Padawan. “Trilla, meet me on the bridge immediately.” She could feel the teenager’s concern radiate in the Force, and while she had managed to taper it down, small tendrils of worry still wormed its way around the Padawan.

While normally not a cause for concern, Trilla had begun being anxiously wary around Cere just a few rotations ago, and it hadn’t ceded through many of their joint mediations. She knew her young Padawan had a vision of sorts, but the girl outright refused to explain what shook her so.

Cere, rightfully, was very, very concerned.

And it made her prematurely regret her decision.

Despite several desperate attempts, BD was unable to hail the Mantis nor any of the crew individually. He pondered, briefly, if that meant they had all been taken and separated, and if BD had much more of his work cut out for him.

Everything was beginning to get extremely complicated and wildly out of hand, and it was all honestly way above BD’s paygrade.

At least he had Cal, even if he was, somehow, a baby human and didn’t know who BD was or where he actually was. Nothing was really making sense anymore, but he was glad Cal would continue to be his one constant.

With a small grain of hope, BD sent out an emergency signal to the Mantis , with thin veiled, desperate desire that the crew was just ignoring their comm frequencies instead of something far, far worse.

BD hopped off the holo-table and bounced his way back to Cal’s lap. 

His Jedi wasn’t the… happiest with him, at the moment, but BD didn’t regret what he did. He’d gladly accept Cal’s grumpiness in exchange for his safety. His crawl into his Jedi’s lap was surprisingly much easier than he anticipated, and he poked his head around to see what held Cal’s attention so heavily.

He was… self piloting? BD whirled softly, budding his head against his Jedi’s arm.

Cal snapped out of his stupor, glancing down at BD, but, fortunately, not shaking him off. “The hyperdrive is broken.” The boy tapped a few more buttons on the navigation panel. “The hangar bay we left was the repair bay. It’s why it was so empty, buddy.”

A hand landed on his head, and Cal’s words were warm and friendly, but BD could sense the underlying caution and frustration that surrounded his Jedi. The boy hummed. “It’ll take a while, but we should make it to Coruscant in a few rotations. The Council will return you to your Jedi.”

Ah, He would have to find a new destination to navigate their ship towards, but they had enough time for BD to sort out where .

Cal's words were also a bit more curt, and less bantering in nature, than BD would’ve liked, but he would work his way back up. He was nothing if not a persistent. 

BD whistled sadly, settling more firmly in his Jedi’s lap as a sigh escaped the boy. “I know you were scared, buddy, but this was not a… good plan. Trust me, next time, please?” An emotion that BD couldn’t quite place danced across the wide eyes that peered down at him, and a desperate grip wrapped around his small frame.

BD might not regret what he did, but he did regret making his Jedi feel so alone and wary. He bumped his head into his Jedi’s chin, releasing a mechanical equivalent of a purr and snuggling in closer. It wasn’t the yes his Jedi was looking for, but the comfort was quickly soothing him.

The hand on his head rubbed soft circles, and BD melted under the touch. “Why’d you not trust Master Tapal, BD?” Cal murmured, shifting forwards to lean against BD and gaze out at the stars that slowly moved past them.

He considered the question. Any answer he could think of would not settle well with his Jedi, and he was running the risk of Cal not trusting his responses if he stuck too close to the truth. It was a question he was going to have to dance around.

BD booped, moving backwards to look Cal in the eyes. “You didn’t know him?” His Jedi repeated, blinking. “But, BD, you don’t know me.” Oh, so far from the truth that was, and it stung to consider it Cal’s reality.

With a whistle, BD tapped Cal’s chest. “I remind you of your Jedi? But that’s not a reason to trust someone!” BD was satisfied by the amused astonishment surrounding his Jedi’s features, successfully lighting up the mood the tiniest bit

Cal sighed softly. “Then why did you want us both to leave?” 

That was the question, wasn’t it? The one that hung around his Jedi, brought to light when the cloak of “why me” was ripped away. The one that BD was hoping to bypass answering by hailing the Mantis . The one he knew he had to tread carefully with.

Resolute, BD whirled and released a series of beeps. “You’re Jedi is missing? Oh, BD, that’s why you really should’ve spoken to Master Tapal. If anyone can find your Jedi, it would be him.” BD released a noncommittal too late as he peered over to check the navigation panel. “Who’s your Jedi? Maybe I’ve seen them at the Temple.”

Ah, Maker, the questions BD couldn’t answer were coming one after another, huh? 

BD shrugged the best he could aside a low whistle. “Wait, you don’t know your Jedi’s name? What happened?” Quickly, he tried to relay his experience in the engineering room, and how maybe, just maybe, it may have corrupted his memory files a bit. The biggest stretch of the truth this rotation, it seemed. 

“Oh, that’s not good, BD. When we get to Coruscant, I’ll see if I can help you with those. Or maybe I could get Master Skywalker to help.” At BD’s inquisitive noise, Cal elaborated. “I’m decent at mechanics, but Master Skywalker is the Order’s best. He takes over the mechanics classes from time to time, and Master Kenobi is sometimes there, telling us to ignore his ‘completely unnecessary and unreasonably risky piloting advice.’”

BD nodded and stored that piece of information away for later. 

“Do you know where you last saw your Jedi?”

What would be a safe planet to direct Cal towards? Zeffo was a no-go, it was still crawling with imps, and their recent venture through the Ventator wreckage upped the ante. While Bogano was their safe haven, once, Imperial appearances followed them planetside there now-a-days. He wasn’t quite sure Cal would handle the wildlife on both Kashyyyk or Dathomir. 

Although… Merrin had finally unconjured her undead sisters, and the night brothers had seemingly vanished a while ago, but the spiders and wild beasts would surely still be a challenge. Not to mention how the dark energy that was woven through the entire planet always affected his Jedi negatively. He wasn’t sure how Cal would fair in his younger form.

BD honestly had no idea. He relayed such after much too long of a pause. “I’m sorry, BD.” His Jedi was sad. Oh no, that wasn’t good. He snuggled close to the boy again, trying his best to morph into an assuring sort of comfort.

His Jedi hummed again, curling around BD as they continued to drift gently through space.

“Anakin, my boy! How are you?” Palpatine stood quickly, throwing his arms wide open and gesturing the boy closer. Darkness swarmed around his future apprentice deliciously, and Palpatine his plans would soon bear glorious fruit. Just a few more prods and he should be set.

The boy shuffled closer, anxiously taking his usual seat across from him. “It’s always nice to see you, Chancellor,” he said after a beat. “I’m as good as can be off the front.”

Palpatine offered a warm smile, despising the way it felt but loving the way it made his future apprentice melt. “You spend too much time on the front, my boy. You deserve some rest.” He settled back behind his desk. 

That sparked something in the boy. “I shouldn’t be resting! I should be back on the field with my men, ending this war!” Electricity Palpatine knew only he could see exploded around the boy, the back of his hair rising with his words.

So close . “Of course, my boy. I only meant that you work so hard and deserve some time to rejuvenate where you can. The republic is lucky to have you as their star General.” While the boy settled physically, he simmered in his roaring emotions and it was an image Palpatine enjoyed greatly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” The steam threatened to fade, and Palpatine set to rekindle the flame.

“Nonsense. You were only frustrated. It’s completely understandable.”

“It’s not right. I should have more control over myself. I’m a Jedi.”

“Anakin, my boy. I care about you as a person not a Jedi.”

The words were the balm to Palpatine’s rotten soul, even if they were only half true. The boy processed his words for a few seconds before accepting them, and Palpatine cackled internally. “Now, tell me what’s been on your mind. I’m here for you.”

The boy fileted, attempting to get comfortable in his office's rather stiff seating. Regardless, his future apprentice's determination sang in his words. "Well, Obi-Wan and I are grounded for the time being. Something about a concerning comm from a friend."

"Oh?"

"Well, I… well, Obi-Wan and the Council have deemed everything confidential, and I don’t know much besides the snippets I overheard. But, I trust you, and if anyone needs to be informed, it’s you, Chancellor.”

Palpatine leaned in curiously. “What happened, my boy? I promise, I won’t let word of this spread past these doors.”

“Well, from what I could gather, one of the Generals stationed close to the Outer Rim found a droid that had terrible recordings on it.” The boy paused, clearly unsettled and distressed.

“It’s okay, take your time.” Palpatine stood and reached forward, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What kind of recordings?”

He drew a long breath. “The recordings… they’re about the destruction of the Republic. And, I wouldn’t believe them! But, Obi-Wan and some other Jedi are apparently shown in them, and I know Obi-Wan doesn’t joke around like that.”

Oh, this wasn’t good. It could be a mere prank, but the Force was unsettled as of late, for once, not due to his own actions. Palpatine wasn’t one to ignore possible knights dressed as pawns on his board. “These recordings are from a droid, you say?”

“Yeah,” his future apprentice paused, rubbing his chin in a way that was so Kenobi that it made Palpatine’s blood boil. “I think I heard that it was a BD unit, but that has to be wrong because those units don’t distribute for another couple months.”

Curious. Too curious. But, he could twist this. “It would be a terrible thing, for the Jedi Council to make up a tale so ludicrous for their own gain.”

The boy tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

A dramatic sigh. “I can’t help but wonder if this is all an elaborate plan to test your loyalty and possibly be a desperate power grab.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’ve spoken about how the Jedi have always questioned your ability and loyalty, my boy, and something like this could be a story to test your loyalty to them. And to me. If they stretch it enough, they could even garner more power for themselves in the Senate.”

“Chancellor... surely, you must be mistaken-”

“Of course, I would never want that to be true, my boy. Just food for thought.”

His words certainly shook the boy, keeping him nicely distracted through their meeting. Enough so that he left early, leaving Palpatine to begin the process of removing the new, unexpected pawn from his steadily closing chess match.

Opening his comms, he set about getting his hands on that droid.

An absurdly large bounty should suffice.

So, pirates were not what BD planned for. It was something he probably should have factored in, given their lack of hyperdrive and general defenselessness, but it strayed from his attention until it was too late. As it was, he had tried hiding his Jedi in the air vents.

Despite his significantly smaller stature, Cal’s weight broke the vents, and he had fallen through right into the invader’s waiting arms, much to BD's immense dismay.

There was something familiar about the head of the invaders, but BD didn’t quite have the time to ponder it. 

He crept his way through the boisterous Pirate’s den, keeping his movements restricted to various ventilation shafts where he could. It was surprisingly easy, much more so than his time on the Imperial flagship, and the thought made him cautious.

Eventually, he managed to find his way into a communications room of sorts. The familiar figure from earlier stood before a holotable, waiting impatiently for whoever they were hailing to answer.

It wasn’t Cal, but BD was willing to find a way to make this discovery useful.

The image flickered to life, and the sight of Greez lounging was one that made his wiring electrify.

"What do you want?" The words were a drawl, annoyance woven into the latero's entire being.

Cal's kidnapper shook his head with mirth and threw his arms open. "Is that any way to speak to an old friend?" 

"Get on with it, Sorc."

Oh. Oh . That's where BD knew this man from. He kidnapped Cal before! Because of Greez no less. Oh, BD was going to have a talk with the pilot when he got his legs on him.

And by talk he meant an explosive conversation.

"Fine, fine. I thought you might want to know that we picked up your magic kid."

Greez looked as confused as BD was infuriated. "I don't have a kid." The words made BD want to bounce up the holotable and exclaim you don't now , and keep Cal from out of his reach forever .

Y'know, after rigging the Mantis with explosives.

After gathering Cere and Merrin, of course.

"Your sabacc face won’t help you here, Dirtus. He was sending your emergency signal to your prized ship."

"You mean the Mantis ? I got her a week ago. I haven't even flown her yet, much less set up the comm system."

That was… odd. Greez had been piloting the Mantis for years before BD and Cal came along. Not to mention, Greez flew the Mantis through the Hord's battle arena weeks ago. Very openly and obviously to boot.

He really couldn't be that dumb, could he?

At that moment, BD wasn't sure to which man he was asking that about.

"Then how'd he have your emergency signal and your ship's specific frequency, hm? I won't have you play me dumb."

"Honestly, I don't know, but the kid's not mine. Go mooch credits off some other poor sod."

"If he's not yours, then I'm sure you won't mind me using him as my arena's opener or selling him off, will you?"

"I couldn't care less, Sorc. I just want to get back to my Sabacc game with your boss."

"Good, good. Glad we're in agreement, then."

"There wasn't anything to agree on."

The umbaran waved a dismissive hand, still clearly unconvinced of Greez's argument.

"Oh, before you go." Greez snapped the attention of the man one last time. "Don't try selling a Jedi kid. The moneys great, sure, but you'll almost always get an angry Jedi equipped to wipe out you and your crew in turn. It's just not worth it."

"You're just saying that because he's your magic kid."

Greez threw his hands up. "Take my advice or not, your choice. I'm just saying that your boss won't be too happy that his upper management crony got half his forces taken out by a Jedi."

The man abruptly shut off the comm with a bang. Startled, BD couldn't help jumping into the paneling of his vent, the noise altering his Jedi's kidnapper to his location.

"What do we have here?"

BD tried to scurry off, but he was yanked back harshly and his leg nearly popped out its socket at the motion. He was lifted high in the air, upside down by one of his legs, and a restraining bolt shoved into his side. The man looked at him with a sick curiosity before a strange form of recognition dawned over his features.

"Boys, we're gonna be rich!"

The various crew members crowding the comms center cheered loudly as the man took BD from the room, his grip never changing, swinging BD to-and-fro with the swinging of his arms. BD chriped angrily, unable to muster the energy to pry his hand away.

The man chuckled. “You’re gonna set me for life.” They stopped their long, disorienting trek in front of a laser-protected cell. Inside slept Cal, curled uncomfortably, and BD immediately ceased his meek struggling.

The man stepped inside the cell, shutting the laser field behind him as he chucked BD at one of the walls and approaching his sleeping Jedi. BD saw him grip Cal’s chin, too harshly if he might add, and tilted his Jedi’s face towards his own.

“It’s a shame you're so young. A Jedi would’ve been a perfect opening champion of my arena.” He ran a hand through Cal’s hair. “But you’ll sell nicely.” He dropped Cal’s chin and promptly left the cell.

BD spewed as many expletives as he knew at the man’s retreating back before moving towards his Jedi, curling in his lap, listening to his steady breaths as he tried to get his thoughts together.

Nothing made sense.

Greez had the Mantis for years before BD and Cal came along. And the latero's lack of acknowledgement of Cal's existence was incredibly off base, even for Greez.

Not to mention, the pilot didn't look the same. BD wanted to blame it on a crappy holoprojector, but he couldn't deny that Greez looked younger, his skin inexplicably smoother alongside a head full of a lot more hair.

It was off putting, to say the least.

Furthermore, Sorc Tormo made no sense. The man was a well known crime lord, and his death match arena had been, and was currently, a well known staple in the criminal underworld since the Republic fell.

Here, Tormo was being called a crony, a lacky, and he claimed his infamous arena hadn't even made it off the ground yet. 

It all wasn't making any sense.

Maybe… no.

Well, actually maybe.

Maybe BD was the one out of place.

Too many things weren't adding up, and BD being the outlier was way easier to compute than any other alternative. Didn't make it any easier to really accept as reality, though.

Gazing at his very, painfully young Jedi, BD began to accept that maybe, just maybe, he was the one out of time. And, if that was the case, BD may have messed up quite a bit.

Not that he’d return his Jedi to the clone battalion. Cal was always so hurt and confused by their sudden betrayal, and BD wasn’t going to let him go through it again if he could help it.

He just needed to figure out where Cal would be safest from everything, maybe find a way to stop the Jedi from dying, and get both of them out of this cell. Glancing in the direction of the force field locking them in, he knew not in that order.

“How has your investigation gone, Master Kenobi?” There wasn’t anything Jaro wanted to do more right now than find his Padawan, but there wasn’t anything he could do while they were in hyperspace. Instead, he’d take advantage of the spare time to coordinate with his fellow Masters.

“I and several others have dug through the recordings you sent over, and, Master Tapal, they appear to be completely genuine. Despite the obvious fact that there is no way they have ever been recorded in the first place.”

That information was unsettling but not entirely unsurprising. “This leads to some distressing conclusions,” he confessed, feeling the weight of the galaxy start to fall in on him.

Master Kenobi hummed. “I’m not entirely happy about that either,” he said with a soft sigh. “I contacted Master Cordova. He says he has placed a preorder on a BD-1 unit, but it’s not expected to release for two standard months.”

“Curious.”

“He also offered his aid if you were willing to bring him into the investigation.”

“I may take him up on that.”

“Have you found the wayward droid, yet? The complete recordings will go a long way in determining how grounded in reality they are.”

There was a beat. “Unfortunately not, Master Kenobi. It seems that…” he paused, gathering his words. “The droid managed to take off with my Padawan when we changed our destinations. We’re currently tracking them down.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that.” Master Kenobi stared at him sadly. “If I can be of any help, please let me know.”

Jaro bowed. “Thank you, Master Kenobi. I’ll keep you updated.”

Master Kenobi returned the bow, cutting his connection shortly after, leaving Jaro to his thoughts.

When Cal woke up next, he slowly stirred, taking in his surroundings, and almost immediately beginning to shake harshly. “BD? Where are we?” BD perked up, maneuvering to bump his head against his Jedi and calm him down. It had no effect, and reality dawned on his Jedi, his breathing turning short and rapid in a very concerning manner. He shook his bound hands fruitlessly, the Force-suppressing restraints further freaking his Jedi out.

Oh, Maker, it was a panic attack. 

BD had always had help when it came to Cal’s panic attacks, fortunately, as BD lacked many of the necessary parts to calm his Jedi down. It was, very quickly, turning to bite BD in the metaphorical shibs.

Booping softly, he tried to get his Jedi’s attention to no avail. He tapped his shoulder in effort to ground him. With no response, he moved to try chattering nonsensically which resulted in little positive effect. Everything he tried was a futile effort.

Maker, what could he do? Wait-

He shifted in Cal’s lap, moving to position his holoprojector outwards, desperately hoping that the restraining bolt would be lax enough that he could project. Fortunately, his prayers seemed to be answered, and his projection flickered to life.

The image was fuzzed over, displaying almost nothing thanks to the restraining bolt, but the audio was as clear as BD could have ever dreamed of at that moment. “Breathe with me. In… and out. That’s it. In… and out.”

The soft voice and audible breathing of Cere filled the tiny cell, and, for a moment, BD feared it had no effect. But, slowly, Cal’s attention shifted to the fuzzy recording, his breathing struggling to follow along to the words.

Slowly but surely, his Jedi calmed and his breathing steadied. Even long after Cal got his breathing under control, BD left the audio playing until he was absolutely sure his Jedi would be alright.

Small hands wrapped around BD’s body and pulled him close. Cal pressed his head firmly against BD’s own with steadying breaths slowly morphing into soft, quiet sobs. It was then that BD realized Cal was missing his very necessary gloves. He cooed into his chin.

“Oh, BD, your Jedi really loved you.” Cal slowly fell back into a dreamless sleep, and BD set about trying to fry his cuffs in any way he could.

He was half an hour into his ineffective effort when a soft shuffling of feet drew BD’s attention. He withdrew from his Jedi’s embrace and gazed past the force field that served as a door, noting that those footsteps were quickly overcome by the sounds of various blasts and explosions.

Oh, that was unfair. BD wanted to blow this place up.

A face suddenly appeared in his visage, and BD recoiled.

“So you are back as well.” The Second Sister, one Trilla Suduri, casually stated. She peered over him and into the cell, registering Cal’s presence soon after. “Ah. So is he.” BD whistled harshly, trying to block the girl’s path when she slashed open the force-field and sauntering in. “Oh, relax. I’m not going to hurt him.”

She shook Cal’s shoulder, ignoring BD’s immediate protests, jerking the boy awake. Cal’s eyes were wide and wild, and he immediately tried to pull away from the sith’s hand. Surprisingly, BD noticed, the girl made no move to force further contact. 

“It’s alright, Cal. I’m Padawan Trilla Suduri. I’m here to rescue you.” The words were light but confident, and, much to BD’s immense confusion, sincerely genuine. His Jedi gazed at the girl for a long moment before melting and taking her offered hand. “Let’s go.”

With a wave of her hand, the cuffs fell to the floor, and Cal slumped as his senses overwhelmed him before steadying out the best he could. The sith waited for his equilibrium to return to him before motioning for them to follow her out.

Cal reached down to pick up BD, holding him against his chest as they ran out of their cell. BD, to his credit, tried to warn Cal not to trust the girl, but Cal insisted that she was another Jedi and he should trust him this time. Like he promised.

Oh Maker.

They were stopped in their tracks by a bounty hunter, one extremely short in stature, and clad in overwhelmingly green armor. Their blaster was casually pointed at the sith. “The droid.” The voice sounded much younger than BD anticipated.

Cal gripped BD tighter and turned slightly to block him from view. Well, somewhat. The girl, too, moved in front of him and his Jedi. “I found them. Go find your own droid.”

“I got you in here, Jedi. Give me the droid.”

“You didn’t get me anywhere. Now, move.”

The bounty hunter grounded their feet, firmly blocking their way. “You used my entrance as a distraction to land. You’re welcome.” They held their other hand out. “I’ll take the droid as payment.”

“Not a chance.”

“Give me the droid, and you and the kid can go. Don’t give me the droid, and I will take it by force, you and the kid be damned.” Cal curled more protectively over BD, and he had no idea how to tell him that he refused to have his Jedi get hurt for him.

“You can try.” There was cocky arrogance surrounding the sith, and a sly smirk danced across her face. The bounty hunter had their blaster drawn in a second, aimed directly at the girl. They fired immediately, the sith swiftly dodging the shot.

From the sound of impact, the weapon was a slugthrower. Oh, this bounty hunter was crafty.

Much to BD’s ever-growing dismay, Cal jumped in front of the sith. “Why do you want my droid?”

The slugthrower lowered with Cal’s interference. “Why do you think? The bucket of bolts has a bounty the size of a disreputable Senator.” They waved his Jedi over. “I’ll make sure you can leave if you hand it over.”

Cal twisted, trying desperately to keep eye contact with the hunter’s visor and keep the front of his torso, where BD was securely strapped, hidden. “I won’t let you hurt BD.” His Jedi shifted hesitantly but protectively.

They were yanked back by the sith who still stood with such casualty that BD wouldn’t quite comprehend. “You heard the kid. It’s his droid. Meaning it’s Jedi property. I’m sure a bounty hunter like you wants to avoid unnecessary conflicts with the Jedi.”

The hunter scoffed. “Like I care about Jedi . The droid being one of yours makes it way more valuable to me.” 

An explosion rocked the station behind them, and both combatants stopped their arguing to turn towards the sound. “Did you rig the Landing Bay to explode ?” The girl questioned, astonished.

“Obviously, I thought I’d have my droid and be out by now.”

“Our ships were there, nerf for brains!”

“Maybe yours was.”

“What in the galaxy do you mean by that? You landed there, right next to me.”

“I mean, it wasn’t my ship. Do you really think I’d land my ship on this junk heap?”

The girl seethed. “Forget it. Come on, Cal. We’re going to go hijack a ship.” And, with that, she dramatically turned and stormed off down a nearby hallway, Cal attempting, and, admittedly, struggling, to catch up to her.

To BD’s surprise, the bounty hunter made no further comment, and they made their trek in relative peace.

The Landing Bay, while in ruins, was at least semi-functional. All the ships landed there, however, not so much.

Well, there was one ship left standing. It was, well, Cal and BD’s original vessel, and calling that functional was a bit of a stretch, to say the least. The sith held no reservations and quickly ushered them onboard. 

They made their way to the cockpit easily. It was there, though, that smooth sailing seemed to come to a crashing halt.

The bounty hunter from earlier jumped into the co-pilot seat, taking control of much of the navigation as they could. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doing?” The sith - maybe BD should start referring to her as Trilla?- exclaimed, swatting away the hunter’s wandering hands from the navigation panel.

“What does it look like? I’m piloting.”

“I thought you said you still had a ship.”

“Never said that. I only said I didn't bring my ship here.”

“So, go get your own ship, if you’re so confident in your ability to leave.”

“I am, so I am.”

Once again, Trilla seethed, taking advantage of her position as pilot and getting the ship moving out of the exploding base. “Since I’m feeling generous ,” she ground out, turning to face the bounty hunter. “I’ll drop you off on the closest planet, hm?” She shifted gears, pushing the ship to move to hyperspeed.

Which it, unsurprisingly, did not.

The hunter leaned back, arms crossed behind their head. “No, I don’t think so. This junk heap doesn’t have a hyperdrive, so if you want to get anywhere, you’ll have to board my ship, and I’ll drop you off.”

“Oh, you are insufferable.”

“Part of the job. Anyways, I’m attached to an asteroid at the end of this belt, so if you just head straight, I'm sure even you couldn’t miss it.”

“Would be a shame to blow it up, y’know, by accident.”

“Oh, then I’d get to spend the last of my living days surrounded by your kind words. Lovely .”

Their bickering continued, and Cal slipped out, BD still tucked in his arms, to the small kitchen. “I’m starving, little buddy.” He placed BD down on one of the countertops, shuffling through the fridge before giving up and grabbing an old ration from one of the cupboards.

He grabbed a stool across from BD, and sat for a moment in silent contemplation. “I have a Force ability called psychometry. It means that when I touch things, bare handed, I sense their Force Echo. A lot of times it's just vague feelings or emotions people have left behind, but sometimes I see things, like people or places or really strong memories.”

Cal picked at his ration bar, absorbed in his movements, pausing his words. Of course, BD knew all of this, but he wanted his tiny Jedi to continue, so he cooed assuringly. “Well, when I hugged you earlier, I got a Force Echo from your Jedi, and I saw a planet I believe was called Dathomir.” 

“I guess what I’m saying is… I think your Jedi might be on Dathomir, little buddy.”

And, with that, BD squeaked.

Chapter Text

Losing a Padawan Commander was an odd occurrence, and the idea of it happening twice in a handful of standard rotations was not something Notch would expect. As it was, they were assigned to Commander Suduri to provide backup and assure she left the mission as unharmed as possible.

They truly didn’t account for her just splitting off from them immediately and cutting all her comm frequencies.

General Junda had warned that Commander Suduri was acting off as of late and they needed to keep an eye on her. As in, they were not to let her out of their sight. And Commander Suduri managed it almost immediately.

So, when explosions started sounding, they were, rightfully, panicked.

By the time they made it to the source of the explosions, all they found was the trashed remains of a criminal base. There wasn’t much left in tact and almost all life inside was gone, but they trudged through, anyways, desperate to find either Commander alive and among the rubble.

The further they went, the more and more unlikely that was becoming.

Half the squad departed to search the surrounding asteroid belt, searching the area for any sign the Commanders were there and left before the building was blown to barely contained pieces.

When searching what seemed to be the destroyed communications room, he found a small, relatively intact bounty puck. He ignited it, out of mere curiosity or desperation, he’ll never know, watching as the image of their droid target came to life. A price tag so high he’s sure he’d never seen that many numbers before shot up below it.

Ah, kark, that wasn’t good.

His comm cackled to life, and he powered down the puck. “Sargent Notch? This is Thirteen.”  

“Did you find anything?” He was probably going to regret the lack of formality later if any of the upper ranks caught wind of it, but for now he didn’t care. 

“We found a republic carrier at the edge of the belt, sir, and we believe it’s the vessel we were tracking. But there’s no one onboard, and it’s been stripped bare.”

Oh, kark- “Was it pirates?”

“I don’t think so. It’s too clean of a sweep, and there’s no sign of damage or forced entry outside of a broken air vent. The engine’s still hot, too. It just seems abandoned.”

“Okay, report back to the flagship with anything you can bring back. We’ll rendezvous onboard when we finish our sweep.”

“Yes sir.”

The comm fizzled out and Notch rubbed his temples harshly.

He had an idea of what was happening, and none of it was good. And he was the one who was going to have to report back to the General.

“Sparks, see if you can find any surviving security footage, specifically of any areas surrounding the hangar.”

“On it.”

Why couldn’t Commander Suduri just stay with the team?

Kark it all.

The bounty hunter’s ship, BD decided, was a run-down rust bucket modified to the brim to be just above functional. The kid - BD was certain they were young, and if he had to guess, they were Cal’s age - was obviously proud of the mediocre craft. It reminded him of Greez but with a much worse ship and ten times the defensiveness.

When they first arrived, BD mentioned the less than optimal conditions and almost received an electric prod in response. That, of course, did not go over well with Cal, and his Jedi has been avoiding the kid since.

At first, Cal and him settled down in one of the more obscure rooms, safe out of sight of any other passengers, and his Jedi was perfectly content with it. That was until the night cycle started, and Cal marched out, with a soft declaration of finding BD’s Jedi.

BD’s thoughts were a whirlwind. He knew Cal was going to see something when he touched him, but Dathomir was low on his list of expectations. And now Cal was quite determined to make his way there, to a planet BD did not want a tiny version of his Jedi near, to find a Jedi who wasn’t there. Or anywhere, really.

They made it to the cockpit easily, and Cal slipped in, using the pilot’s light slumber as the distraction he needed to get to his objective.

Ah, but Cal didn’t really have a Jedi to search for. Not that he really did in the first place; BD was banking on Cal reverting back to his adult self before he had to deal with that. But now, he was fairly sure that was never going to happen, and his little Jedi was determined to find someone who did not exist.

Oh, Maker, he was really in it now.

He whistled curiously, bouncing beside Cal who was crouching below the Nav, hiding from the pilot as he messed with the circuitry. “I’m gonna get us to Dathomir, buddy.” The words were barely audible, and BD was sure if it wasn’t for his manufactured hearing, he wouldn’t have noticed Cal was even speaking.

There were sparks, Cal hissed, and a hand suddenly shot down and yanked Cal from his perch. “What in the blazes are you doing to my ship?” There was the commanding voice of the bounty hunter, no longer muffled by their helmet. They tried to hold Cal up and off his feet in an intimidating manner, but it failed spectacularly. The kid was simply too short and of too similar height for it to even work.

Cal was placed down, but a strong hand kept him in place and eye level with the hunter.

Glancing up, BD noticed that he was very, very right in his earlier assumptions. The kid couldn’t have been older than his Jedi! Why wasn’t anyone looking out for this kid? Why were they traveling on their own? Who allowed this? Oh, when BD found them, they were going to hear words -

His thoughts were interrupted by Cal’s sheepish response. “Setting course for Dathomir?”

The kid did not look impressed. “By hot wiring my ship?”

Cal shrugged with feigned innocence. “You were asleep.”

There was silence as the hunter glared sharply at his Jedi, seeming to consider him fully before letting him go and heading back to his seat and shuffling through a nearby compartment. “You’re ballsy, kid, I’ll give you that, but that isn’t enough to get me to go anywhere near that system with a ten foot pole.”

“Kid? You look the same age as me- wait, I need to go to Dathomir!”

“Then go with your own damn ship. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fix what you broke.”

With a huff, Cal picked BD up, and they left the cockpit, Cal’s dismay clear in his expression.

“Wherever they went, my Padawan is surely with them.” Cere’s calm voice flooded his small, empty communications room. “The remains of her flyer were found in the ruins.”

Jaro frowned. “Cere-”

“Our bond is still active, if muted. She’s very much alive.”

He hummed, crossing his arms and cradling his chin in his hand. “What leads you to believe she’s with my Padawan?” He didn’t want to deny Padawan Suduri may have found and ran with his Padawan, hells, he'd prefer it, but he wanted to know why before jumping to conclusions.

“We found hazy, very broken footage that suggests they both left together. It’s too corrupted to find much outside of a brief shot of the Landing Bay.” Cere was holding a datapad, swiping across its surface. “I’m sending it to you now.”

Jaro glanced at his own datapad, resting softly in his hands as a sharp ping sounded. He studied the file silently, for just a moment. “That’s a relief, but, Cere, we should probably consider that this doesn't show anything, really. We're still back at square one.”

“I know, but we did find the ship they left on - I believe it was the republic carrier we were originally tracking- on a nearby asteroid. It was stripped clean according to GAR regulations, so it’s safe to assume the Padawans left it behind on their own volition.”

Hm. “Are there any nearby spaceports?”

If they left, they may have stowed away on an escaping carrier.

But, off an asteroid? That didn’t add up.

Someone had to have picked them up, intentionally.

Maybe they made a deal with a fleeing bounty hunter? That was… less than ideal. He didn’t want to consider all the ways that could backfire on his Padawan.

He barely liked remembering that he still didn’t know where his boy was.

“Already on it. I’ve sent several teams to neighboring systems to reconnaissance. One’s a Bounty Hunter hub which seems promising. I’ll keep you notified.” Oh, thank the Force.

It was unfortunate, though, that Cere was stretching her own forces thin to find Padawans due to Jaro’s mistake.

“Thank you. I’ll send some men to aid you in the search.” It was the least he could do. He already abandoned his own post, and he was sure many of his men would jump at the chance to help in the find their missing Commander.

He moved to cut the connection, but Cere stopped him. “Before you go, there’s something else you should see.”

“Oh?”

Another swipe across her ‘pad and another ping from his own. “That little droid of yours got themselves into some trouble, it seems.”

Jaro stared down at the listing that shot up on his screen, dread slowly forming in his gut. “Why didn’t you start with this?” His voice was strained, and he couldn’t help the way his datapad’s case cracked lightly under his grip.

He should’ve been notified about this first.

Cal, with his soft heart and bold determination that led Jaro to claim his apprenticeship in the first place, wouldn't leave that droid, and, if he were correct, that droid definitely would not leave Cal.

This development put his Padawan in a very dangerous position.

He needed to find his boy.

“I wanted you to know the Padawans made it out alive and confirm how we were currently proceeding while you had your head on straight.”

Jaro grimaced. “Cere-”

“I say that,” she stressed, cutting him off before he could continue. “Because I couldn’t think straight when I found out, and it’s not even my missing droid.”

With a begrudging nod, he had to agree with his fellow Master’s judgement.

“Don’t get me wrong, Master Tapal. I respect your wisdom and ability as a Jedi Master, but it’s completely understandable - acceptable - to be concerned about your Padawan. I’m still worried about Trilla, myself, and she’s both older and more experienced than Padawan Kestis.”

His heart broke at the reminder. His Padawan was thirteen and he was missing and he wasn’t there to prot-

“Breathe, Jaro. We’ll find them, I promise.”

He normally didn’t believe in the notion of promises, the silly little things, but he would hold Cere to this one.

The bounty hunter wasn’t kidding when they said they’d drop them off on the first planet. Fortunately, it was a spaceport hub, so Cal and Padawan Trilla would have an easy time negotiating for a lift off planet.

The hard part would be trying to find a way to the Core, but Cal had faith in Padawan Trilla’s ability. Not that Cal wanted to go back to the Core. He was going to Dathomir, even if he would have to find a way around Padawan Trilla to do just that.

Time was of the essence. He had no idea how long BD’s Jedi would be on Dathomir.

Padawan Trilla currently had a strong hand on his shoulder, keeping him close as they navigated through the busy port. The hunter had walked with them, briefly, before splitting off to barter for fuel. Ever since, Padawan Trilla kept him and BD firmly attached to her side.

Alas, all it took was for her grip to falter once for Cal to wander off and get lost. In his defense, he didn’t mean to. He just saw a cool poncho, is all, and he thought Padawan Trilla would be right behind him. Honest!

He stared at the bright pink fabric of the poncho in question, wondering just how much trouble he was going to be in with Padawan Trilla. He couldn’t even pin this one on BD, this time. She’d be able to find him, right? She had to be a Senior Padawan, so she had to be able to feel him in the Force.

Granted, he also could probably feel her in the Force, but not as precisely or accurately. Not to mention, there were tons of different signatures in this place, and it was hard for him to differentiate between them.

It also didn’t help that he felt constantly watched; the thought sending occasional shivers down his spine and making him all too aware of the cost his potential lack of awareness would cost him.

Yeah, it might not be best to sink into the Force currently.

He continued to thumb the fabric of the poncho, letting BD crawl from shoulder to shoulder as he examined their surroundings.

“Wanna try it on?”

The voice of the shopkeeper shocked him and he whipped his head upwards. They were an elderly human woman with a kind smile. She gestured towards the poncho Cal was still holding, and he flushed before nodding shyly.

The shopkeeper chuckled, beckoning him to grab the fabric and come towards her. She helped place it over his shoulders, around BD, and fit it on him. “It’s a bit big, but that shouldn’t be a problem for a growing boy like you.”

Cal flushed once again and tugged at the hem of the poncho. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Not a problem, honey. Now, where's a youngin’ like you headed to?”

Cal considered the question. Something felt off, and he honestly couldn’t tell if it was the eyes on his back that still hadn’t vanished or the woman in front of him. She seemed nice, and BD hadn’t outright attacked her yet, which had to mean she had to be somewhat trustable.

Well, BD would’ve outright attacked Master Tapal. Maybe BD would electrify anyone?

Nah, he hadn’t shocked Padawan Trilla, yet. BD was just scared at the time- that’s why he hadn’t trusted Master Tapal.

The question itself was fairly innocent, they were in a spaceport, but something didn’t quite sit right with Cal.

“Home.” It was close enough, it just withheld specifics and wasn’t where he was really trying to go. He should just take off the poncho and go find Padawan Trilla. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. He just needed a way out of talking to the shopkeeper.

The woman hummed. “By yourself, dearie? The Galaxy’s a dangerous place to travel on your own.”

“I’m not-”

“Here, if you stay with me ‘til closin’, I can set you up with some trustworthy people to get you home safe. And I’ll even let ‘cha keep the poncho, on the house.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve-”

“Nonsense, I insist.” She reached for his wrist, and Cal was surprised to find her grip entirely too strong for an elderly woman. He immediately tried pulling away, but it was no use, and BD started barreling down his arm in his defense.

He didn’t make it far, though, before another hand shot out and grabbed the woman’s wrist and the sound of a blaster cocking reached his ears. Cal glanced towards the newcomer, utterly surprised to see the bounty hunter from before staring straight at the shopkeeper.

“Let the kid go, Mati.” Oh, there was ice in their voice. What was going on? What was the shopkeeper doing? Where did the bounty hunter come from-

“Stay in your lane, Fett. This is my haul.” The sugary sweetness that laced the shopkeeper’s words was gone, and he felt the grip on his wrist tighten. Oh, that was going to bruise.

What did she mean by haul? Did she want BD too? He wouldn’t let her - anyone - take BD, but that didn’t explain why she grabbed him. 

Maybe she knew the pirates from before? Cal didn’t have anything to do with that! Everyone else set the explosives, he just left. But that didn’t explain what she meant by haul… Gah, nothing was making sense, and he just wanted to leave but the hand on his wrist was tight and unrelenting. 

At this point, Cal was a bundling mixture of confusion and fear, and he really, really didn’t want to be there anymore.

It wasn’t very Jedi-like, but, currently, he couldn’t find the will to care.

The bounty hunter - Fett? - pushed the blaster closer to the woman’s face. “I’ll only say it once more, Mati. Let the kid go, and find a new puck.”

There was no movement. “You should’ve known better than to run the Brood fowl.”

“Fine, have it your way.” A shot rang through the room, and much of the ambient noise died down to a null in response. The shopkeeper expertly dodged, saving her skin but costing her her grip.

Cal took full advantage of the moment and rushed back. Fett grasped the back of his robes and pulled him towards them before ushering them both out of the little shop. Quickly. 

Cal faltered in his step, nearly tripping over his own feet in their haste, and Fett reached down to pull him upwards again. He opened his mouth to speak, what of, he didn’t know, but the hunter cut him off. “No time, kid. We need to go. Suduri’s at the ship.”

Wait, Padawan Trilla was back on Fett’s ship. Wait. Fett was bringing them back on their ship? But why? They were here to find transport off-world because Fett didn’t want them onboard.

Just what was going on?

They were followed each step they made, and Cal could see clusters of people trying to cut off their path with every twist and turn. Fett fired shots in their directions and bundled the three of them towards different pathways and crevices when the opportunity arose. 

"Wait, over there-"

"Kestis!"

"Com-"

Who?

Cal turned to investigate the voices, BD whistling high in alarm, but Fett grabbed his shoulder roughly and pushed him to continue forward. "Wait, I think I know them... I think they know me..." Cal tried to explain, scrambling to process everything.

Fett pushed him forward again with a sharp shake of his head. "Don't get distracted. No one's friendly here."

Was he... Well, the shopkeeper ended up being malicious to an extent Cal couldn't fathom or anticipate, and she seemed friendly enough at first...

Cal nodded, begrudgingly agreeing with his assessment and continuing their fast pace. Fett was right. He needed to move, and he couldn't stop for every person that called his name. What if they were like the shopkeeper?

He didn't like thinking about that... he refocused on the chaos around him, and how Fett was using their significantly smaller forms to disappear into crowds and weave through bustling traffic.

Fett pulled them towards a wall, forcing them into a crouching position as another armored and decidedly unfriendly face moved past them. Before Cal could sigh in relief, a blaster shot fizzed past their heads.

Wait, was that shot blue?

A stunner?

He didn't have much time to really question that as Fett pushed him further behind them, momentarily keeping him from sight.

It seemed that for every person they evaded, two took their place. Fett hissed something he couldn’t quite decipher before kicking in the air vent behind them and chucking him in.

Force, not another. BD ushered him forward, stating that Fett told them to follow them from the vents.

Oh, okay. He could do that. He could do that, surely. He shuffled forward as quietly as he could, tramping down on his fear, and gazing out the vent doors to follow Fett’s progress. The bounty hunter was maneuvering through the crowds, mercilessly shooting down different pursuers.

The scene made his stomach churn. Cal gulped and looked away, trusting in the Force to guide him. Sounds of blaster fire combined with small, continuous Force sensations overwhelmed his senses, and Cal was greatly regretting not finding some kind of spare gloves to wear. 

Why were there so many emotional impressions in an air vent? Cal grumbled unhappily, scooting forward as fast as he could go without either breaking the vent or making an absurd amount of noise.

BD was concerned, that was for sure. The little droid stayed ahead of him, but his gaze stayed solely focused on Cal. He reached forward and patted the little droid on the head. “It’ll be alright, BD.”

Now, Cal wasn’t quite sure he believed those words, but he did desperately want BD to believe them. From the way BD was looking at him, he didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he, thankfully, didn’t comment on it.

Pushing forward, Cal focused all his energy on just going as far as he could for as long as he could. The Force swirled around him calmly if uncertainly, and it helped Cal just keep breathing as he tried not to focus on his chaotic, overwhelming thoughts.

There came a point where the vent came to a sudden stop, the Force was quiet, and Cal had no idea what to do. He began thinking through several improvisation routes just before the vent gave out below him.

Kark. 

He scrambled for some kind of way to cushion his fall because falling meant getting hurt, and getting hurt meant getting caught, and he just wanted to leave, oh, Force-

Small hands grabbed at his struggling frame, slowing his dissent. BD gripped his shoulder tightly but made no sound, and that alone confused Cal. 

“Good job. Now let’s go.”

He was safe- Fett caught him and he was safe.

Once Cal was standing on the ground with only a spare moment to gather his equilibrium, Fett bolted with a hand grasping Cal’s robes to keep him with him. Within seconds, they ran onto the landing pad.

The bay was flooded with unwelcoming faces, and Fett pulled them to the side. Above, Cal could see the hunter’s ship maneuvering around, both avoiding and taking blaster fire. “Hang on.” Cal didn’t have time to ask Fett exactly what he meant before they were all in the air and headed towards the hovering craft.

“What are you doing?!”

“Getting us away from the people who want to kill us, obviously.”

Cal tucked his face into his hands as blaster fire barely missed either of their heads. “By killing us first!” Fett laughed, full on laughed, at his response. They continued to zoom through the atmosphere, going much higher than Cal would’ve ever been comfortable in simply a jetpack.

It seemed, though, that this discomfort was not universal. Hunters from before followed behind them, and Cal could feel Fett’s aggravation. It only took a moment of deliberation before Cal shifted in Fett’s grasp, grabbed the hunter’s spare blaster from his hip, and shot at those on their tail.

He tried to keep it as minimally injurious as possible, aiming for their hands and jetpacks, but judging by how they were shouting and swerving out of control, he wasn’t sure he managed it. Not to mention, his aim was atrocious . He had never really shot a blaster before, and Fett’s constant shifting was not helping.

The was an odd sort of smug satisfaction radiating from Fett, but Cal didn’t have the energy to pester the other. He was exhausted, but he kept aim beyond Fett’s back with BD as a guide as they made their way back to the ship.

It was probably only half a minute later that they managed to tumble back onto Fett’s ship, but it felt like an absolute eternity. The moment he hit the ground, the blaster dropped from his grasp as he tried to catch his breath. 

He was safe. He was safe. They made it. They were safe-

Once the door was secure, Fett dropped him like a hot ration and rushed to the cockpit.

“We need to leave, now.”

Padawan Trilla followed behind him, irritated. “Yes, I know. What do you think I’ve been doing in here, filing my nails?”

Cal shook himself from his spiraling thoughts, trying to stay in the here-and-now so he could find out just what was going on.

Fett scuffed, and Cal tried to keep along with what they were doing. “It would explain why my ship now has several new dents. Were you even trying to dodge?” The bounty hunter slammed his hand on the Nav. “Looks like you got your wish, kid. We’re going to Dathomir.”

“Dathomir?!  What the kark are you on-”

“Hey! We’re like the same age- ”

BD bounced around at Cal’s feet, whistling in relief and interrupting their exclamations. “I know, buddy. I’m glad we made it out of there too.” He reached down and hugged the little droid tightly to his chest.

Safe. Safe. Safesafesafe.

“You better explain what just happened down there, Hunter.” Padawan Trilla approached Fett aggressively, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Fett pushed her hand away. “First off, It’s Fett. Boba Fett. He/him. Nice to meet you.”

Padawan Trilla scowled. 

Fett sighed and tossed a handful of small, circular objects in their direction. Images sprang to life, and Cal could see bounty listings for him, BD, and Padawan Trilla mixed in with several he didn’t recognize. He hugged BD closer to himself.

“Turns out the Brood did have surviving records of our escape from one of their bases, and they are not happy. Welcome to the Haxion Brood’s Most Wanted List.”

“Why didn’t you just turn us in, Fett?” Padawan Trilla held the list up in her free hand, a sharp edge to her words.

“I’ve been blacklisted by the Hunter’s Guild for saving your sorry shebs in the first place, so you owe me. Big.”

Padawan Trilla dropped her accusing finger. “Care to explain Dathomir, then?” She shifted the topic, shifting her weight to one side and crossing her arms. “That’s a horrible place to bring kids.”

Fett shrugged. “The coordinates were already in the system, thanks to the kid the other night. And, the planet’s remote enough to stay out of notice for a few rotations, so I can focus on repairs. Wait, did you just say kids -”

“Mhm.”

“Just what do you think you’re-”

“Hit your growth spurt, and maybe you’ll have some footing in this argument.”

“If you wanted to fight, you could’ve just asked.”

“Sorry, I don’t fight children.”

“I’ll have you know-”

Cal shuffled away from the two, huddling into a nearby seat and patting BD’s head. He was still utterly confused, but, at this point, he was more than willing to ignore it in favor of playing dejarik with the little droid.

He was safe. They were safe.

They were safe.

Chapter Text

Buuna VI was a standard smuggler moon. The lighting was shotty, there were shady shops milled about, and the smell of blaster fire was ever-present. Seedy individuals could be seen at any vantage point, drinks in one hand, blasters in the other. Any attention came with sharp eyes of ill-intent and the promise of misfortune.

In all, Sargent Notch would not recommend.

The crowds were hard to squeeze past, and he was sure wandering hands kept trying to sneak into his supply packs. His vigilance paid off, fortunately, and he only managed to lose a handful of credits and a stim pack. 

It seemed, however, that his squad was not as lucky.

“I swear, Sarge. I have no idea how they managed to snag my blaster.”

“How did I lose my coat? Wait, how did you lose your gloves, Eyepatch?”

“I don’t know! It’s these outfits, I swear! Nothing’s as secure as it should be!”

Notch rubbed the crook of his nose as his men squabbled and listed their stolen gear. He was going to have to add training sessions in evading pickpockets to the shinies’ docket. This was ridiculous. Sharp was their key marksman, and he just lost his blaster.

Force, it was one of the best ones they brought planetside.

He drew a deep breath. No matter. They’d make do. They were trained for this.

He was saved from having to calm his men down by the sudden approach of Guild, who ran forward, waving a couple of metal pucks in the air. Guild, as it was, was one of their best suited undercover ops. He had an eye for design and a honey-laced tongue that gave him an advantage in stealth and retrieval. 

It was missions like these that Notch was extremely fortunate he was assigned to his squad.

“Sarge, you will not believe what I found,” Guild was at their side momentarily, and his words quickly squashed his squad’s compounding commotion. “These guys are sharp, by the way. Had to snag a hat and visor for anyone to speak to me.”

One of his men perked up. “Oh! You can do that? Could you snag me a new coat? I, uh, lost mine.”

Guild blinked. “What-”

“Now’s not the time,” Notch interrupted, redirecting his squad’s attention. “What did you find, Guild?”

“Right,” Guild held up the metallic pucks from before. “This is a smuggler’s moon, yeah? Well, I managed to get a bounty broker to sell me some high-profile bounties. You know, to see if I could find anything on the droid’s listing. Anyways, I found this on one of the local guild’s most wanted lists.” 

He placed the puck flat on his hand and ignited it. From a glance, it didn’t look out of the ordinary, but closer inspection had him noticing the blurred faces of two very familiar Commanders.

“Who else knows of this?” Notch questioned, swallowing down the anxiety that threatened to build up.

Guild bit his lip. “As far as I can tell, most people planetside. The list’s pretty public, and most of the locals are bounty hunters of sorts.”

Notch grit his teeth, several of his men hissing curses at the news. “We’ll inform the General once we’re in the air. Has anyone located-” The sharp whistle of blasterfire cut through his words, and all of their heads whipped to the source.

Wasn’t there a no-weapons policy planetside? Granted, it seemed overwhelmingly unfollowed, themselves included, but such rules at least kept conflict and commotion to a near minimum.

So, just who decided to loudly break it?

The source seemed to be a small clothing shop a little ways away, and, without any sort of context, Notch was at a loss for just what went down. But, from what he could tell, it involved what seemed to be a couple children and an elderly woman.

Odd.

Wait, was that-

Notch whipped back around, glancing at the ignited pucks. It was.

“I think that’s Commander Kestis!” One of the men to his right loudly whispered. Oh, that was Glitch. Wasn’t he from the 13th, under the young Jedi’s command? He’d be a good pick to approach the boy, if that was the case.

“Wait, over there, isn’t that Commander Suduri?” Notch followed Eyepatch’s excited pointing. Yes it was. And she was running in the complete opposite direction.

Of course .

“Glitch, Sharp, you’re with me. We’ll go get Commander Kestis. Guild, Eyepatch, Sparks: you go get Commander Suduri. We’ll rendezvous at the ship, got it?” 

A Chorus of “Yes, sir!” before they split off. 

…

Things did not go according to plan, if the sight of the vaguely familiar smuggler’s ship cutting through the atmosphere, carrying the wayward commanders, was any indication.

He was just so- so small, inexperienced, impulsive. His lightsaber grip was rudimentary at best, and his grasp of the force was that of a youngling. Sure, he was basically a youngling, but it made her all the more frustrated.

Why did someone give themselves up for him? Why did his Master die to protect him, a child who couldn’t do anything? A child who was only going to be eaten alive, unable to do anything. The mere thought made her want to chew her fingernails off.

Why, why was he so special that he was chosen to live on and she wasn’t? She had the skills to survive, the ability to hold on and protect. For all intents and purposes, she was a much more worthy candidate to rebuild the Order, to maintain and protect it. 

Why… why was she disposable but he wasn’t?

Trilla wanted to throw him off a cliff. She wanted to bundle him back up on the ship and properly teach him how to survive. She wanted to leave him right then and there and just take the hunter’s ship and hide away. She wanted to take the kid and hide him away from the ever forming Empire.

She didn’t know what to think! 

She owed the kid, owed the bumbling Padawan he would become. Now that she had him here at her side, she felt the softly sparking desire to take him with her, to teach him to survive.

They were both abandoned by the disaster of the Senate and the betrayal of the Order. He may have been protected by his Master, for whatever reason she couldn’t begin to fathom, but he was left to a life of a measly scrapper.

No, Trilla knew his potential was wasted there. She could help him reach it; they would be unstoppable. Together, they may be able to scrape by, to survive under the ruthless thumb of the empire.

But, why, why, why? Why him? Why not her?

It was incredibly unfair, and the opportunity in front of her only served to rub salt in a gaping wound. He had everything she had so desperately wanted, and even with a new chance, she would never get it- forever beyond her strained reach. But he, this painfully normal child, got it free of charge, and a part of her wanted to give it to him.

How disappointing.

A small hand snuck into her grasp, tiny fingers wrapping around her palm with nothing more than a slim cloth barrier.

He reached out to her in search of comfort, seeking her hand for security as a young child normally would with a trusted adult in an uncertain environment.

“Padawan Trilla?” The voice was soft, hushed from sleep. She hummed. “Will Mast-” he yawned. Why didn’t he just wake up before speaking to her? Maybe he’d be less clingy- “Will Master Tapal be mad at me?”

Force. How would she know? Why would she care?

“Why.” She didn’t mean to respond. She didn’t need to. And it came out more as a dismissive statement than an open response, but the kid either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She could respect the latter.

“Well, I…” ah, there he goes. “I, uh… Well, BD…No, I followed BD, when he left, you see? And, I don’t think Master Tapal wanted me following him in first place, but BD- well, I’m pretty sure BD wanted me too, and I just had to know why, you know?”

A sharp pain stabbed through her temple. Jedi Masters couldn’t care less, they’ll just throw you away, why should you care. She couldn’t give him the answer he so obviously wanted- reassurance, a don’t worry, he’ll still care for you. Even just the thought made her want to rip her brain out of her head and throw it out the port and into the cold expanse of space.

But, if she wanted to… Well, now’s her chance.

“Jedi Masters have a tendency not to listen,” she finally settled on, noting how the boy’s shoulders slumped immediately after.

“Oh,” his grip tightened momentarily. “Are you.. Are you sure? I didn’t mean to, really. If I explained-”

It was her grip tightened this time. “Jedi are duplicitous traitors,” the words slipped through gritted teeth before she really knew she was responding. The boy sucked in a sharp breath. Ah, she was too harsh. “Just be prepared if you want to return.”

A weight leaned into her side before quickly pulling back. It seemed like a battle between the boy’s desire for the security of physical comfort and the fear of being perceived during a moment of emotional vulnerability. The hand was still solidly grasping her own.

“If?” the boy questioned, narrowing in on such an innocuous but important piece of her warning. It was an impressive display of observational skills in relation to what she’d gathered on his poor display of intelligence so far. “What do you mean…?”

Perhaps, she’d forgotten she relied on his ability to parse out the old hermit’s puzzle. He had the uncanny ability to surprise. “You don’t have to go back,” it was best to soften her words, for now. “You have one foot out the door. It’s an opportunity not many have.”

“I…” the boy trailed off, finally uncurling his hold and pulling away, the piece of cloth softly falling between them. His eyes were downcast towards the dirty floor, not meeting her gaze. “I don’t know.”

It was a rotation later, in the middle of hyperspace, that Cal’s lack of gloves was becoming immensely detrimental.

“You okay there?”

Everything on Boba’s ship was overwhelming, and Cal was finding it hard to function without his gloves. How did one ship have such strong Force echos? Cal couldn’t figure it out, but the constant emotional feedback was exhausting.

Looking up at Boba, Cal shook his head. “It’s just… everything is so overwhelming, here I mean. I don’t have my gloves, so I’ve been touching everything and everything is so much.” The words were out of his mouth before he could really find a way to describe it.

Boba just stared at him. Oh, that didn’t make much sense, did it? Yeah, it didn’t. Cal opened his mouth to rephrase his wording, but Boba looked away from him and was pulling off his gloves. “What are you doing?”

The gloves were chucked at him. “You need gloves, yeah? Take ‘em. I’ve got more lying around.”

Cal fumbled with the gloves, quickly trying to fit them on. The gloves themselves were a close match to his own hands, if a bit shorter and wider. The feel was new, and he was relieved to discover no immense emotional imprint outside of faded grief. “Thank you.”

Boba nodded. “Where’s the droid?”

Where was BD? Oh, right. “Charging.” BD had spent the better part of the past week helping him navigate the ship without touching anything. When his battery ran dangerously low, his little companion was immensely reluctant to power down and charge, but Cal insisted and refused to accept no for an answer.

Putting BD down for a few hours also opened up the opportunity for something… ill advised. He just had to test something Trilla said. Not that Boba needed to know that.

What was done was done.

“I was wondering what the battery life on that thing was. Gotta say, impressive for something snack sized.” Boba turned and waved him to follow him. “Alright, come with me.”

Cal flexed his fingers in the gloves, trying to get a feel for them as he jogged up to the bounty hunter. “Where are we going?”

Boba patted the blaster on his hip. “Blaster training.”

“I- but… why?”

“You’re a wanted criminal now, kid. You need to have some kind of aim.”

“I can aim!”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen tookas with better aim than you.”

Cal flushed for what felt like the millionth time the past week. “I tried! It was hard! I like my lightsaber more…”

Boba laughed. “That’s why I’m going to show you how. You’ll be learning from the best, kid.”

Halting suddenly, Cal glared softly at the hunter. “Can you stop that?” He crossed his arms and tried to look as serious as possible. 

Judging by Boba’s amused look, he failed. “Hm?”

“Calling me kid. We’re the same age. I’m Cal.”

Boba stared at him for a long moment. Oh, did he make Boba mad? He didn’t mean to- “Alright, Cal. I’ll give you that. Call me Boba.” A hand shot out in greeting, and Cal returned the gesture, shaking his hand.

They arrived at a small room decked out with various target boards. Boba grabbed something from a nearby table and placed it in Cal’s palm. “It’s set to stun, you’re good.”

Cal hadn’t even noticed he tensed. Relaxing, he nodded. 

“This will be yours from now on. It has stabilizing aid, but shots take longer to reload and it lacks a punch. Should be good for you for now.” Boba set up a nearby target droid. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

—

“Hi, Master Tapal! I can’t say much, but I wanted to let you know I’m alright. Did you know BD belongs to a Jedi? I think I found them, so we’re going to go pick them up. I can’t let you know where, though. Boba says it’s dangerous. I’m technically not allowed to comm anyone, either, but I wanted to let you know I’m okay. We’ll try and get back to Coruscant as soon as possible!”

“Cal- what are you doing in there?”

“Krif- I mean, oops. I gotta go. Let Padawan Trilla’s Master know she's safe too. Bye!”

The pre-recorded holo-message fizzled out. Jaro drew a breath, steadying himself as he pressed repeat.

The boys were at the ramp the moment the ship began its descent. Cal traced the ridges of the vembrace on his wrists, a compromise from Boba over Cal’s lack of armor, anxiety beginning to prickle beneath his skin. 

He really knew nothing about Dathomir, outside of brief pieces of cautious tales he overheard as a youngling. An overwhelming sense of darkness saturated the Force as they broke through the atmosphere, and he could already feel the echoes of something dark, dark, wrong, grief, mourning-

“You know, Dathomir is home to witches,” Boba’s voice filtered roughly through his helmet, his arm slinking around Cal’s shoulder to pull him close and tearing him from his thoughts, almost completely wiping them from his mind.

“What? Really?” He responded, unable to keep the curiosity from seeping into his voice. “Do you think-” His eyes quickly darted over to BD, who sat securely on his shoulder.

“They’re all over the place, but they’re sneaky- don’t like visitors.”

“Woah.”

“Yep, and I bet I can find one first.”

“Wait- I want to find one too!”

“Then beat me.” There was a brief pause. “Though, you can always admit defeat now, and you can follow me. I know I’m just that good.”

“What? No! I’ll find one first- you’ll eat those words!”

“You’re on. Loser is on dish duty the rest of the cycle.” Soft clinking of metal filled the air as Boba tapped the blaster hanging off Cal’s hip with his gloved finger. “Remove the stun setting on that thing, by the way.”

“Oh- right, thanks!” He fumbled with the safety, trying to keep himself acquainted with the blaster and the way it weighed in his hands. He dearly missed his saber- the smooth glint of unmarred metal, the shine of fresh kyber, a new weight so familiar yet foreign. He had a sneaking suspicion on just where it could be, but he wasn’t sure on how to ask Padawan Trilla about it.

“Sure, k- Cal.”

He still wore Boba’s gloves, from that day. They were a relief, and he hadn’t asked for them back- Cal wasn’t inclined to return them if he absolutely did not have to. The rough leather was warm and secure around his fingers, the faded echoes that once resided in them having washed away with use, the padded exterior enhancing his grip where his hands would normally falter. And, nevermind, Cal wasn’t Boba could get them back without a fight.

The ship settled on the surface, shaking for just a moment as it adjusted to gravity. Light peaked from the rim of the ramp as it began to shutter open. Cal looked over at Boba expectantly, bouncing on the balls of his feet to run off first. All concerns about the planet pretty much purged from his mind with all of his focus zeroing in on beating Boba.

They threw their feet forward, momentum building for a sprint, when a hand grasped the back of his tunics and threw him backwards. Judging by the loud crash of metal beside him, Boba suffered a similar fate.

“Nice try, but I think I have a few more years of experience landing ships than you to fall for that one.” Padawan Trilla’s voice wove across the narrow entryway, dripping in a sort of contempt Cal couldn’t place.

“What-”

“I was worth a shot if it meant not having to drag your sorry ass the whole-way ‘round.” It had been a while since Cal had heard just how harsh that Boba could be, all sharp edges and explosive energy. It was odd to experience, though, and not be on the receiving end of it.

“Right. I think you have the wrong impression on who would be dragging who here.”

“Wanna find out?” Boba’s smile was sharp, deadly, a stark contrast to the youthful fullness of his face.

“You’re all bark, no bite, kid-”

“You wanna go?-”

“-but that’s beside the point. You did hear yourself, earlier, I assume. About the Witches of Dathomir? Ah, probably not, so let me refresh your memory-” her condensing words were cut off as Boba’s helmet flew through the air and quite nearly into her face. “ Kark- what the hell, kid?” Ah, but her hand, placed in front of her face, wasn’t as lucky.

A small hand bundled the tunics at his shoulder - there were going to be so many wrinkles - pulling him haphazardly down the ramp. “Go, go, go go go,” It was Boba who was muttering, dragging Cal beside him as he secured their exit.

As their feet touched the dusty surface, the hand gripping his tunics released him, and Cal felt his feet stumble to make up for the lost support. BD tightened his hold on his shoulder, beeping softly in concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay, buddy,” he assured, idly patting the little droid's head as he looked around.

The first thing he noticed was the dry sandiness of the air, the light but rough way it blew through his hair, spurring a slight wince of sympathy as Cal recalled how Boba sacrificed his helmet.

The sun was bright, bathing the planet in an orange glow, contrasting with the soft purple of the shadows cast in its wake. What looked to be buildings and homes were embedded into the cliffsides, an echo of loss and abandonment and loss dancing through them with the wind. Cloth hung from cords between buildings, withered with lack of care and exposure to the unrelenting sun.

An eerie sight to behold.

A force pushed him forward, nearly toppling him over as he tried to keep up. “We don’t got forever; she’ll be out soon,” it was Boba, his voice beginning to travel farther away. “Be back in 30 if you don’t find one - I’ve got repairs to do still- and don’t make me come save you”

“I’ll find you some washing gloves, because I’m gonna win!”

“Yeah right! In your dreams!”

So, it seemed, Cal’s dreams were reality, Boba sourly thought.

For all he did to get them planetside, from distracting the Jedi as they landed to chucking his precious bucket at her face, he still managed to get caught first by the enraged Jedi - weren’t they supposed to, you know, not do that? Eh, Boba already knew Jedi were two-faced murderers, so it really shouldn’t surprise him.

But here he was, repairing the fuel pump, the metal of his ship blistering as it overheated from the planet’s hot-shebs sun, watching as the Jedi returned with the k- Cal and another kid in tow.

Holy Kark, did he actually manage it?

The new girl was short, though her height seemed to rival Cal’s, but that wasn’t much of an achievement. Her skin was a dirty white like that of days old snow, hair similar to the silver of newly minted beskar, amber eyes, glinting like the ashes of a freshly smothered fire, narrowed in a cold glare as she bore holes into the back of the Jedi’s head.

Oh, they just might get along.

She held Cal’s hand in a tight grip, but judging by his excited face and the white outline surrounding his knuckles, Cal didn’t seem to mind. Wait, where was his glove- he just bought those, the ungrateful-

The little droid permanently glued to Cal’s shoulder chirped happily as it maneuvered to lean closer to the girl. It wasn’t obvious, but it looked as if she were responding, voice soft and quiet, barely a murmur, loud enough for Cal to hear and cheerfully respond to, but quiet enough that the wind couldn’t find a grasp on it.

There was mumbling coming from the Jedi, huffs of frustration masking her words well, but Boba could make out some of it, pretty much being able to boil it down to: “Damn kid befriend a witch, again.”

Interesting.

“Oh, Boba! Hey, Boba!” His attention drifted back over to Cal, who was excitedly waving his free hand through the air. The kid was covered in dirt, and what looked to be guts - spider guts? - and slime. The blaster, once new and shiny, was caked in crusted dirt and goo. Just where did he go? The girl wasn't in the same state of disarray, but, looking at the way the end of her hair frayed and darkened and slime curled around her fingers, she was around for some part of what Cal got into. Fought, most likely.

He felt a rush of pride at the thought- Cal actually managed to fend for himself with a blaster, all because of his instruction - but a part of him felt slight shame. Maybe he shouldn't have separated them.

Nah, he was fine. He was alive, right? A little survival training never hurt anybody.

Boba grunted and titled his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Hey.” 

The ki- Cal lifted his other hand in the air, keeping a hold of the girl’s - is she a witch? She has to be - grip despite the motion. “This is Merrin!” The girl - Merrin - waved hesitantly, her hostile expression falling somewhat as she glanced at Cal. “Go ahead, tell him!”

“Hello,” she said, finally. Her voice resonated like the unassuming, slippery edge of an icy walkway, unsure but teetering on dangerous. “I have been told to inform you that you are on, and I quote, ‘dish duty.’” There was a hint of amusement in her tone, like the remnants of a chuckle that had never been uttered.

Kark. He could already see Cal’s gleeful stare, basking in his achievement and Boba’s future suffering. Shouldn’t have bet on that.