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The transmission came through encrypted—priority red. Only one man used that level for you.
Palpatine.
You were already on a job halfway across the mid rim, credits in hand, target bleeding out behind you. But the moment his message came through, you abandoned everything. You didn’t hesitate.
Meet me at the Jedi Temple. Do not be late. – S.P.
⸻
You’d walked into war zones with less tension in your shoulders.
The Temple was beautiful in the way ancient weapons are—elegant, polished, deadly. You moved past towering statues and sacred halls, every Jedi you passed giving you the same look: mistrust. Unease.
Good. Let them squirm.
As the war room doors slid open with a soft hiss, all eyes turned to you.
You stepped in slow, measured, the weight of a dozen stares pressing down your spine like a blade. The room was war incarnate—strategy, power, command. And it watched you with silent judgment.
Standing at the forefront:
General Obi-Wan Kenobi, composed as ever, hands folded, a silent storm behind his eyes.
Beside him, Commander Cody, helmet under arm, chin set, already assessing you like a battlefield.
General Anakin Skywalker, lounging in that casual defiance he wore like armor, flanked by Captain Rex, who stood just a little too stiffly for comfort.
Then there was Master Mace Windu, an immovable pillar at the center of it all. His commander, Ponds, stood at his side—stoic, calm, the kind of soldier who watched everything and said little.
Further down, Master Kit Fisto offered a diplomatic nod, the faintest flicker of curiosity in his eyes. His clone, Commander Monk, mirrored him: collected, but his fingers tapped an idle rhythm on his vambrace like he already expected things to go sideways.
And finally, Aayla Secura, calm and unreadable, with Commander Bly behind her—silent, stern, and entirely unimpressed.
At the center of the room, waiting with a smug patience, stood Chancellor Palpatine.
He turned toward you with a grandfather’s smile—one that always felt like it was hiding teeth. “My friends,” he said, “allow me to introduce someone who has served the Republic with discretion and remarkable skill.”
You stood taller, letting your eyes sweep across the room.
“This bounty hunter has been a valuable ally to my office for some time. Her knowledge of Separatist operations is unmatched, and her methods…” His smile deepened. “…are effective.”
You caught the way Cody’s jaw tightened. Rex’s brow furrowed. Bly looked like he’d rather shoot you than shake your hand. Even Windu’s expression soured like something had curdled in the Force.
“She will accompany you on the invasion of Teth, and she has been assigned a special task—one that is not up for discussion.”
He let the weight of that hang for a moment, then stepped aside, gesturing toward the table.
“Now, shall we begin?”
⸻
Rex found you first.
He’d been trailing behind Skywalker, but as soon as the war meeting ended, he broke off and caught up to you in a quiet corridor overlooking the city below.
“You’ve got some nerve,” he said without greeting.
You turned slowly, raising a brow. “Missed you too, Captain.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “What the hell is going on? Since when are you chummy with the Chancellor?”
You tilted your head. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
You stared at him for a moment. That familiar crease in his brow. The way he clenched his jaw when he was confused or angry—usually both. He still looked good in his armor. Still looked at you like he wanted to pull you close and shake you at the same time.
“I do what I’m paid for,” you said quietly. “Same as you.”
“This is different. He trusts you. They’re being told to trust you. And you’ve burned every side you’ve ever stood on.”
You didn’t answer.
And that’s when Skywalker appeared behind him.
“If the Chancellor trusts her,” Anakin said, arms crossed, “then so do I.”
Rex’s mouth parted, confused.
You looked between them. Skywalker’s gaze wasn’t warm—it wasn’t trusting, not really. It was calculated. He was watching how Rex would respond. How you would react. Testing.
“Well,” you said after a beat, “that’s one of us.”
Skywalker smirked, then walked off without another word.
You and Rex stood in silence.
“I’m not the enemy, Rex,” you said softly.
He looked at you for a long time.
“I just don’t know who you are anymore.”
And then he walked away.
⸻
Teth was chaos.
The invasion was in full swing—blaster fire lighting up the canyons, LAATs screaming across the sky, droids collapsing by the dozen under the Jedi-led assault. You were technically assigned to General Secura’s squad—but “assigned” was a loose term. In truth, you were never meant to stay.
Not according to the Chancellor.
Your objective wasn’t battle.
It was extraction.
One target. A child. The son of a Separatist senator. Rumors whispered of his gifts—how things floated when he was upset, how animals followed him like shadows, how he dreamed of things that hadn’t happened yet.
Force-sensitive.
Palpatine wanted him. And the war on Teth was just the perfect smoke screen to get in and get out unseen.
You were already dressed for infiltration—slim-cut armor under your usual gear, hair pulled back, weapons light but sharp. You slipped into one of the forward camps to “check in” before vanishing into the deeper jungle. Just long enough to draw attention—and spark some tension.
⸻
You strolled into the republic outpost with a slow sway in your hips, sweat glistening at your collarbone, a bit of battlefield grit clinging to your boots. The clones were mid-prep, chatter low and urgent.
Commander Monk caught your eye first—leaning against a crate, half-armored, running diagnostics on a vibroblade. He looked up when you approached, a slow smirk forming as he straightened.
“Well,” he said, voice smooth and lazy. “They didn’t say you’d be this pretty.”
You tilted your head, smirking. “They say a lot of things. Some of them are even true.”
He stepped closer, eyes flicking from your face to your hips. “Tell me—are you here to help with the front lines, or just give the troops something nice to look at before they die?”
You leaned in, close enough for your breath to ghost across his jaw. “What if I said both?”
Behind you, Commander Cody passed by with a datapad, slowing just slightly as he caught your voice. His expression was unreadable, but the sideways glance he shot Monk was cold.
A few steps behind him, Rex came into view, muttering something to a trooper. When his eyes landed on you—and how close you were to Monk—his jaw tensed so tight you could hear his teeth grind.
You grinned to yourself.
“Anyway,” you said, pulling back from Monk, “I’m off. Try not to miss me too much.”
He raised a brow. “Can’t make any promises.”
You winked—and slipped out of camp like a ghost.
The child’s location was buried deep within a fortified compound—a Separatist safehouse tucked into the cliffs. He was guarded, but not like a military asset. More like a precious heir.
You got in easy.
You always did.
The boy couldn’t have been more than eight. Pale-skinned, solemn-eyed, with dark curls and quiet power that made the hairs on your arms rise. When you reached for him, he didn’t flinch. Just asked:
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” you said gently. “I’m getting you out of here.”
He didn’t resist.
He followed.
You stole a sleek Separatist craft on your way out—just one of a dozen abandoned during the Republic’s assault. Before long, you were rising through Teth’s atmosphere, the battle shrinking beneath you like a dying ember.
You didn’t check in with the Jedi.
Didn’t respond to transmissions.
Just disappeared.
⸻
The rendezvous was barren, wind-swept rock. Palpatine’s shuttle waited like a dark bird, wings hunched, engines humming.
You stepped off your stolen ship, the boy at your side, hand in yours.
Palpatine stood waiting. Hooded. Smiling faintly.
“It is done,” you said.
He gestured. Two guards took the child—gently, but without warmth. The boy looked back at you once, uncertain. You gave him the softest nod you could manage.
When the guards disappeared with him into the shadows, you turned to the Chancellor.
“What do you want with him?”
Silence.
You stepped forward. “You said I’d be paid. You didn’t say I’d be complicit in whatever that was.”
Palpatine’s smile thinned. “You’ve done a great service to the Republic. I advise you not to question what you don’t understand.”
You held his gaze.
And then turned and walked away.
⸻
The battle was won.
The Separatist forces had scattered like ashes in a storm. Teth’s jungle was a smoking mess of twisted metal, scorched bark, and the distant whine of injured ships groaning through the atmosphere.
But despite the victory, the war room was tense. Too tense.
Because one particular wildcard had vanished.
“She was last seen in Sector Eight,” Rex said, tapping a red blinking point on the holomap. “Near the outer ridge, just after we pushed through the southern lines.”
“She gave some excuse about ‘scouting ahead,’” Cody added, arms crossed tight over his chest. “But no one’s heard from her since. No comms. No visual confirmation.”
Skywalker paced. “You think she ran?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Rex said, jaw clenched. “She was being vague the whole campaign. Smiling like she had a secret.”
Obi-Wan raised a brow, ever calm. “She always has a secret.”
Across the table, Master Windu’s expression was carved from stone. “And the Chancellor insisted she be included in this operation?”
“Yes,” Kenobi confirmed, voice edged. “Personally. Claimed she could be trusted. That her presence would be an asset.”
“She hasn’t just disappeared,” said Aayla, frowning. “She vanished—mid-campaign. No distress signal, no call for evac, no trace.”
Mace’s voice was low and hard. “I don’t like it.”
From the shadows near the edge of the tent, Commander Monk muttered, “I liked it just fine until she ghosted.”
Rex gave him a sharp look. “You’re saying she planned it?”
“I’m saying someone who moves like that doesn’t just wander off.”
Skywalker crossed his arms, uneasy. “She’s not exactly known for sticking to orders.”
Cody shook his head, expression grim. “She’s not one of us. She was never one of us. She does what she’s paid to do.”
“And who’s paying her now?” Mace asked.
Silence.
They all glanced at each other.
And that silence was louder than the gunfire outside.
Later that night Rex stood at the edge of the jungle, helmet off, listening to the forest hiss and settle. His grip tightened on the comm link in his hand—static was all it offered.
“She didn’t even say goodbye,” he muttered.
Behind him, Cody walked up, quiet as always.
“She didn’t have to.”
Rex sighed. “She was talking to Monk before she left. Laughing. Flirting.”
“You jealous?”
Rex didn’t answer.
Cody gave a humorless chuckle. “We both know she was never going to stay.”
Rex’s jaw flexed. “I still want to know what she took with her.”
“Me too,” Cody murmured. “Me too.”
They stood there in silence, staring out at the smoke, wondering where the hell you’d gone—and what kind of game you were playing now.
Because disappearing without a trace was one thing.
Disappearing under the nose of two Jedi Generals, four clone commanders, and an entire battalion?
That meant you weren’t just clever.
You were dangerous.
⸻
The light was soft. Too soft.
The war had made the Jedi wary of stillness, and yet the Council chambers were quiet, every breath measured as Windu finished reviewing the final report.
“She vanished mid-operation,” he said, tapping the datapad. “Left her assigned sector without clearance. Never checked in. The child of a high-ranking Separatist senator was confirmed missing within the same timeframe.”
Obi-Wan nodded, arms folded in his robes. “I’ve already confirmed with Republic Intelligence. The senator’s entire estate was found abandoned two days after our withdrawal from Teth.”
“She was never meant to be embedded in that sector,” Aayla added, sharp. “She insisted on being close to the front. Claimed she worked best that way.”
Kit Fisto let out a low hum. “And yet she slipped past Jedi, clones, and Separatist scanners. Not many could pull that off.”
“She’s not just some bounty hunter,” Windu said. “And it’s time we stop pretending otherwise.”
Anakin looked up from where he sat near the window, frowning. “You think she’s a spy?”
“I think she’s dangerous,” Windu said. “Too close to the Chancellor. Too good at disappearing.”
Master Yoda’s eyes opened slowly. “Warn the Chancellor, we must. Dangerous this could become.”
⸻
The office was dimly lit when the Jedi arrived, cloaks still dusted with the desert wind from Teth.
Palpatine greeted them with his usual gentle smile, hands folded, tone gracious. “Masters. What can I do for you?”
Windu stepped forward. “This is about your… associate. The bounty hunter.”
Palpatine raised a brow. “Ah. Her. Yes. A most resourceful ally.”
“She disappeared during a mission we allowed her to join,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “And the child of a Separatist senator vanished at the same time.”
“And she has yet to report to anyone,” Windu added. “Not to the Jedi. Not to the Republic.”
“She reported to me,” Palpatine replied smoothly. “She was carrying out a parallel task under my authority. And she completed it. Efficiently.”
Windu’s voice darkened. “Why were we not informed?”
The Chancellor’s expression didn’t change. “Because the mission was delicate. Sensitive. And because I am well within my rights to employ allies of the Republic when circumstances require.”
“She cannot be trusted,” Windu pressed. “And if she continues to operate under Republic protection—”
“She served the Republic,” Palpatine interrupted, voice suddenly steely beneath the velvet. “She followed orders. She succeeded where others failed. And I personally look forward to working with her again.”
A beat of silence.
“I’d advise you to show her the respect she’s earned.”
The Jedi exchanged tight looks. None spoke.
But in that silence, something changed.
⸻
The music thrummed low, the scent of Corellian whiskey and fried rations thick in the air. Clones lounged around battered metal tables, laughter and banter bouncing off the walls as holo-screens flickered with highlights from the latest front.
Rex sat with a few of his men near the back—Fives, Jesse, and Kix, boots up, drinks half-empty, a rare moment of peace carved from chaos.
Then the bar doors slid open, and everything changed.
You stepped inside like you owned the place—black gloves, low-slung blaster, a smirk like a secret, and just enough sway in your step to turn every head. And you wanted it that way.
“Well, well…” you purred, eyes locking with Rex. “Still alive, Captain?”
Rex blinked, caught between surprise and irritation. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”
“I missed you,” you said sweetly, sliding into the booth uninvited. “Didn’t you miss me?”
Jesse let out a low whistle.
“You ghost us mid-campaign, and now you wanna play friendly?” Rex muttered, jaw tight.
You tilted your head, reaching for one of the drinks at the table without asking. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy, Rex.”
“She’s dangerous,” Kix murmured under his breath, nudging Fives.
“She’s hot,” Fives corrected.
You winked at him.
Rex glared.
“You’re drawing attention,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I am the attention, sweetheart,” you replied, leaning in just a little too close. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
Then you stood just as suddenly, smoothing your jacket. “Anyway. Just wanted to say hi. You boys behave now.”
You turned on your heel and made for the door, leaving Rex simmering in the wake of too much perfume and not enough answers.
You stepped out into the cool evening air, only to come face to face with a familiar Jedi.
Kit Fisto.
He stood still, robes draped around him like calm waters, but his expression was taut. Watchful.
“Master Fisto,” you said lightly. “Didn’t peg you for the bar scene.”
“I wasn’t in the bar,” he replied evenly. “I was watching it.”
You raised a brow. “Well, that’s not creepy at all.”
He ignored the jab. “You’ve been avoiding the Temple. Avoiding questions.”
“Busy girl,” you said. “Chancellor keeps me on a tight leash.”
Kit stepped closer. “You disappeared during an active campaign. Then reappeared on Coruscant with no debrief. And now you’re… fraternizing.”
You smirked. “With who, exactly?”
“The clones,” he said simply. “Rex. His men. I saw how you looked at them.”
“Maybe I like men in armor,” you replied, flippant.
“Or maybe,” Kit said, voice low and steady, “you’re gathering leverage. Getting too close. Making soldiers trust you.”
Your smile faded just a little.
He didn’t flinch.
“You’re not a Jedi,” he said. “You’re not bound by our code. But they are still our men. And I don’t know what game you’re playing with them, but I see through it.”
You stared at him for a beat, silence thick with tension.
Then you stepped close, eyes narrowed with challenge. “You don’t like me, that’s fine. But don’t mistake attraction for manipulation, Master Jedi. You should know better.”
Kit’s expression didn’t change. “Then prove me wrong.”
You lingered, lips twitching.
But then you were gone, slipping back into the shadows with a flutter of your coat—leaving only questions behind.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3