Chapter Text
In a star system far from Kamino, Cody woke to the distant sound of waves crashing.
The 212th had spilled out across the bluffs overlooking the Harstoni sea, camping out for the night as the Negotiator was repaired and decontaminated. The men had embraced it as a bonus vacation before their formal leave, finding joy in setting up camp for leisure, not as a prelude to battle.
Despite that, it had been difficult for many of the vod’e to settle on Harsto, let alone relax. The proximity to the nearby ocean had stirred up deep fears and memories from even the most stoic of his brothers. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Cody was one of them.
Cody turned over and checked the time on his chronometer. Four hours of sleep would have to do. He would not fall back into worthwhile rest again now.
He shuffled to his feet, taking a rare moment to himself in the limbo before dawn and the day ahead. The 212th may have been on their first leave, but Cody had quickly learned there was always work to be done.
He stepped outside of his tent, letting the flap close behind him, and taking note of the tent beside his own. Its flap billowed gently in the wind, and the next breeze carried the steam of Cody’s acquired caf away as he traced his new General’s steps through the camp.
From the top of the bluff, he spotted the General at the end of a small dock by the sea, legs trailing over the edge, feet grazing the water. Across the horizon, the first lights had begun to rise.
By the time Cody reached the General, purposefully allowing the dock to creak under his weight, the sun had formally embarked on its trek through the atmosphere, the pinks of the morning giving way to oranges and blues. The General spoke without turning around.
“Good morning, Commander.”
“Good morning, Sir.”
“Sit with me?”
Cody stilled. He couldn’t be waylaid for long, behind them the vod'e would be waking soon and there would be work, endless work to be done. He should collect the General and return him to camp, should not be—
“It is merely an offer, not a demand, Commander.”
His General smiled as Cody settled beside him.
They sat without speaking, watching the sun rise and the tides push and pull. On the unfamiliar sea, Cody watched the kar’galar trickle closer, spreading across the water in a fashion true to its name. He tried to ignore the recollection of pelting rain, of pounding footsteps, of blasterfire, that came with it.
“ Loinnir .”
Cody’s eyes flickered to the General, who still looked serenely over the water.
“Sir?”
“ Loinnir ,“ he repeated. “Here, technically loinnir na mara . It’s a Stewjoni term that roughly translates to shimmer of the sea. Do you see the way the light hits the waves, and sends it into infinite directions? That is loinnir .”
“ Loinnir ?” Cody tried the word, turning the feel of it over in his mind, on his tongue. This word, too, had a push and a pull to it.
“Yes, well done. Stewjoni is a difficult dialect to speak, let alone to master. Your pronunciation is very good.”
“Thank you, General.”
“Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan, or Kenobi at least. General feels overly formal for an occasion like this, does it not?“
“I will do my best, Sir.”
The General sighed.
“ Kar’galar, ” Cody offered instead. “That was what we named it. Spilled star.”
“ Kar’galar. ” The General said, savoring the word. His accent was near-perfect, and Cody noticed.
“Do you know Mando’a, General?”
The Jedi stiffened slightly. His measured words did not fully conceal the ache in his voice.
“I learned many years ago, though I do not often have the chance to use it. My speech is quite rusty, though my comprehension is still strong. I believe I've heard the troops speaking it, however, so perhaps I will come to use it again.”
Cody mused over the information. They would have to rise soon—the position of the sun implied they should have returned already. He found he did not want to go.
The General, however, seemed to take Cody’s pensive silence for something more ominous.
“I am sorry if the news of my fluency is distressing. I promise I did not mean to interfere with any of your private affairs.”
“No, Sir. It’s…” Cody hesitated, trying to decide which words were right. He went direct, as he most often did. “It would be nice to know someone understands.”
The General looked surprised. His eyes matched the sea as it had been at dawn, a deep pearl grey.
Cody rose to his feet, picking up his neglected container of caf. They would have to visit the mess tent again before the day kicked in. He offered a hand to the General at his feet.
“Join me?”
Casual, as if they were merely going for coffee, not fueling for a day of reports and the machinations of intergalactic war. Cody hoped it sounded casual.
“Thank you, Commander.”
A cool hand slid into his, calluses sliding past with the slightest friction. In an instant it was over. Cody could still feel the weight of it.
“Please, Sir. Call me Cody.”