Chapter Text
and we all still die,
yeah we all still die,
what will you leave behind?
yeah we all still die.
---
Amidst a graveyard of ash and blood and metal, Darth Tranyc counted bodies.
For each one, he bent down to check their comms, remembering their codes. Some of them carved their names into their armour or programmed it into their comm, a sign that they were once alive. Not all of them did. Those he would never know.
He repeated each name and code under his breath, a silent prayer to their souls as they reentered the Force. Each an unnecessary death in a war neither he nor the fallen men wanted any part of.
The General - he refused to call him Master, the word acid on his tongue - insisted he was too sentimental. It was a weakness. Tranyc always considered it a strength.
Their armour was painted the grey-lime of Monnk’s men, their Jetii long since retreated with those he could save.
Tranyc did everything he could to save these men, but it was never enough. He was never enough.
Every day he resented the moment the General marched into his quarters on Kamino and claimed Tranyc as his apprentice.
One of his Clankers waited for him at his cruiser when he was finished, repeating names under his breath like a prayer. Owl, CT-8881, Lirrt, Cheyk… He shot the droid, unwilling to deal with its metal-plastic face. He had technically won this fight. He didn’t feel like a victor. His hands were stained with blood, and he had to hold them under a hand-sonic before he got to the cockpit.
The droids could technically fly him, and he could rest - but he had no interest in trusting his life in the hands of vode-killers.
Except he had no right to call them vode, not anymore. But he did anyways. No one else heard his thoughts, his shields had always been his strongest application of the Force, so in the privacy of his mind he still considered them family.
The General had left a comm for him, congratulating him on the victory, drawling about how this was another great day for the Separatist movement. He shut it off before it was two sentences in. It was all for show, the praise and the speech - each day he was certain the General was teetering closer to the light, though he was sure it was all due to his grand-padawans subtle nudges throughout their rare encounters.
Another thing the General had taken from him.
The ship took off smoothly, and he navigated it out of atmo and towards the nearest Hyperspace lane.
There was one small victory. One man Tranyc had found minutes from death, who was tucked in his ship with two stim injections and enough bacta to keep him alive until he could get him proper medical attention.
He pressed his face against the wheel for a moment, breathing.
He missed Rex.
---
General Dooku peered down his nose at Tranyc, both hands clutching the tea his apprentice had made for him on instinct. Tea was familiar, human. Even though Tranyc much preferred caf, he drank tea because both the General and the man that haunted his dreams loved it.
“You are upset.” The ever-observant detective of a General said cooly, sipping on his drink.
“I usually am.” Tranyc replied, slowly stirring the thin spoon of honey into his drink, purposefully not looking at the other man. He counted the faux-tiles on the small kitchen wall. Last time he had counted this wall, there were 178.
“What bothers you?”
Tranyc narrowed his eyes and kept counting. He was certain the General was well aware what upset him - it was the same thing that upset him since the war began. His sentimentality.
“You are too light to be a Sith.” The General had taunted once, a few months after taking him in, sneering down at Tranyc’s shaking body as the boy pushed himself back up.
“Then why did you pick me?”
His comm buzzed on his wrist, and he checked it. The vod he had managed to recover was stable, under observation. He sent a confirmation back to the medic.
Tranyc was a distrustful bastard, but the medic would keep quiet and keep anyone alive for the right price, no questions asked. He was sure the protection of a powerful Sith offered influenced her willingness to help. She had a family to take care of, one he could use against her should she fail him.
“My grandpadawan is being sent to an event on Shu-Torun.” The General began, seeming to recognize Tranyc’s reluctance to talk and moving on elegantly. “Trying to keep the trade with the Republic alive, I presume.”
“You want me to intervene?”
“I want you to observe, and intervene if you get a chance. I doubt it will be easy to get Shu-Torun on our side, they have been… resistant, in the past.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Tranyc poured his drink down the sink, and he could hear the General sniff in displeasure at the wasted tea. Tranyc saluted, quickly, and marched off to find some formal clothing that would fit Shu-Torun customs.