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Ranov'la

Chapter 3: Fulcrum

Summary:

Five years after Obi-Wan’s arrival with the Ranov’la, Director Cody and Bail Organa arrange a meeting between two of their top operatives. Neither of them gets what they were expecting.

Notes:

CW/TW: canon-typical violence, canonical past character death. Mentioned death of children.

Codenames refresher:

Obi-Wan = Agent Naak = Peace
Anakin= Agent Kyr’am= death
Cody= Director Buirkan = responsibility
Eirtaé = Vice-Director Saviin = violet
Ranov’la = secret

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was, probably, a very bad idea. But if anyone was going to go through with this very, very bad idea, it had to be Ahsoka.

“You are not seriously considering meeting with a man who calls himself ‘Agent Death’,” Sabé said, “Buirkan’s information may be good, and the people he sends us are always clean, but agreeing to a meeting is another matter entirely.”

Bail shifted slightly in his seat. Like Ahsoka, he’d already made up his mind. “Buirkan isn’t just good. He’s the best. The Ranov’la’s missions are incredibly effective. They keep well away from the watch of the Empire. Even our best spies can’t figure out how many members they have. The problem is, nobody knows who they are or what they want. General consensus is Mandos, but that’s in all likelihood a red herring. Most of them just wear appropriated stormtrooper gear, although Kyr’am is an exception to that. All of them use vocoders. Essentially, we have nothing to go on. If Buirkan wants a meeting, we need to give him one, for information gathering purposes.”

“And none of this tells me why we’re sending Fulcrum, or why they’re sending Kyr’am.”

“I’m going because, from what we’ve heard about Kyr’am, I’m the only person who might be able to fight him and win.” They called him the Human Assassin Droid. As if they knew whether or not he was human. “And because, given everything, there’s a non-zero chance that he’s a Jedi.”

Nobody was that good, that often. It didn’t happen. Ahsoka’s personal bet, if she were a betting woman, was on Quinlan Vos. The empire still had him on their most wanted lists, all these years later.

“And as for Kyr’am,” Bail said, “we were offered a choice. Kyr’am or Naak, which means ‘peace’. Naak’s name may be less threatening, but reports suggest he’s almost as dangerous. He appeared on the scene a few years after Kyr’am, with the same MO. Most likely, he’s the apprentice. With Kyr’am, at least, there’s a chance Fulcrum knows him.”

A chance, probably a stupid one, that she was willing to take.

--

In the last five years, Anakin had made some deliberate changes to Agent Kyr’am’s persona. There were fewer grenades, now. More careful slicing. He was less of a blunt instrument than he once was and more of a laser scalpel. He was just as deadly as ever, but in a way that was less Maul and more Ventress. With Luke in his care, he’d had to make new rules of engagement to protect his son. The first rule was that he and Obi-Wan never went on missions at the same time. One of them always stayed with Luke. Even if Cody and Kix would have done a perfectly fine job looking after him, it was the principle of the thing. So, now that Organa had selected his agent – ‘Fulcrum’ – and requested Anakin’s presence to meet her, Obi-Wan had drawn the straw of taking Luke to visit his Aunt and Uncle on Tatooine for the next couple of days. They would arrive back to meet with Anakin when the mission was completed.

“Let’s go over our objectives one last time.”

“My objectives,” Anakin corrected, because he could. Obi-Wan glared at him. “Fine, yes. My objectives are to determine whether there are any other clones or Jedi in Organa’s organization, and if so how many. We want a meeting with Organa himself to be the next step, because we want to see Leia and only he can make that happen. That meeting can be with one of us or with Cody if it makes him more comfortable. How am I doing?”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said, although he was still visibly nervous.

Anakin patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Ben.”

They’d had the debate a hundred times over the last five years: do we get Leia back? Anakin hated having her and Luke separate. He hated not being able to see her. But Alderaan was the safest possible place for her, and the Organas were the only parents she knew, and taking her away from that for nothing would have been cruel. Leaving her there wasn’t the same as leaving Luke on Tatooine would have been. Even if Beru and Owen were good people, Tatooine wasn’t a safe place even for adults. So, while Anakin had usually voted yes, Obi-Wan had always voted no, and Cody had broken the tie with a second ‘no’ vote. But the incident two months ago where Boil had failed to save a Force-sensitive toddler on Ryloth had changed Cody’s mind. Her family had been wealthy collaborators. It hadn’t mattered. She’d died anyways. So, at two-to-one, they’d overruled Obi-Wan and decided that they were going to try and bring Leia home. He’d helped, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Eirtaé stuck her head out of the ship. “If we’re going to be early to the meeting, we’d best leave now, Ani.”

She was coming with him, as Cody’s right-hand woman and the person who knew most about other sects other than him. He’d drop her at a secret place on a nearby moon and if the meeting with Fulcrum went well, they could rendezvous with her for more information without bringing Fulcrum back to base.

Anakin gave Obi-Wan one last pat on the shoulder. “Make sure Luke only gets into the normal level of trouble while I’m gone.”

Obi-Wan cast his eyes skyward in a vague prayer. “Which spirit did I wrong to deserve to raise two Skywalkers?”

He’d be alright. “May the Force be with you.”

--

Ahsoka arrived at the meeting place two hours before the arranged time to ensure it wasn’t a trap. Unfortunately, Kyr’am had had the same idea. Their ships touched down at almost the same moment. Ahsoka ensured that her lightsabers were well hidden underneath her robes, put on her mask, switched on the vocoder, and slipped from her ship.

Kyr’am had outdone her. He was out of the ship already, weapons plainly displayed. True to Bail’s description, Ky’ram was wearing a Mandalorian-style helmet and chestplate, all black with silver etchings. Except, she noted with some amusement, for a childish painting of a little sun on the very bottom of the chestplate. That was cute, and it made her like him more than she’d expected to like a man called ‘death’. In the Force, he was calm, disciplined, and cautious, but otherwise normal. No Jedi, then, merely a well-trained Mando with good PR.

Perhaps tracking her gaze, Kyr’am adjusted his weapons belt, covering the sun. But the damage to his fearsome reputation was already done.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was deep and rasped, as if he was speaking through some kind of breathing apparatus. Non-human, perhaps? His hands weren’t those of a Kel Dor, but there were plenty of other species who didn’t breathe standard air. “Of myself and Agent Naak, you picked the less diplomatic option. So I intended to be blunt. Would you like to begin by discussing the rebellion, or the Jedi?”

A shiver ran through her, and, instinctively, she reached out into the Force again. He looked so plain, so totally unremarkable in the Force, that she hadn’t thought to give it a second glance. Even though she knew he could do impossible things. But now, if she looked close, she could see the seams in it. It was very nearly perfect and, if he hadn’t told her to look, she never would have seen it. But he was showing her, and so she knew. This was a Jedi, and not just anyone. This was someone skilled and powerful. A master like no one she’d ever known.

What the kriff was he doing pretending to be a Mandalorian bounty hunter and slaughtering stormtroopers in his free time?

The trouble with meeting with another former Jedi, and the reason Ahsoka tried to generally avoid it, was very simple. The easiest way to survive was to collaborate. She couldn’t trust him until she knew whether he was fallen or just lucky.

“Who do you work for?” Ahsoka asked him, signalling her chosen priority. Even if he knew she was Force sensitive, there was no need for him to know anything more than he had to.

His posture shifted, and she could sense amusement in the Force. He was showing off, now. Letting her see how fine his control of how she perceived him was. “I prefer to think of it as ‘working with,’ but I suppose I ‘work for’ Director Buirkan of the Ranov’la.”

He was going to be like that, then. “And who are the Ranov’la, Agent Kyr’am?”

“We’re the enemies of the Emperor. Who are you, Fulcrum?”

The enemies of the Emperor. Not of the Empire as a whole. That was interesting. For Kyr’am, as a Jedi, it wasn’t surprising, but the idea that the entire Ranov’la could be people with personal vendettas against the Emperor… Bail would want to hear about that.

“I’m only a messenger.”

He let her feel his skepticism in the force. Asshole. “I doubt that very much. Would you like to take out those lightsabers at your belt and show me what colour they are?”

She let amusement colour the Force just as he had. If they were doing this, she could afford to show that her precision, if not so fine as his, was nothing to be trifled with. “And you? Where’s your lightsaber?”

--

Fulcrum was definitely a Jedi. How very interesting. Anakin’s mission to determine if there were any Jedi in Organa’s organization was off to a very auspicious start. Or, possibly, a very inauspicious one. They really should have sent Obi-Wan, but Cody had insisted that letting Organa choose between their two most infamous agents would build trust. And, for whatever damned reason, he’d chosen ‘death’ over ‘peace’. Perhaps it was a sign of ill intent on Organa’s part, but he didn’t think so.

“I haven’t carried a lightsaber for a decade,” Anakin told her, which was true. He’d left the Sith lightsaber behind with the mantle of Darth Vader. His phrasing deliberately obscured the fact that Obi-Wan still had Anakin’s lightsaber. They were thinking of giving the crystals to Luke if he wanted to try building his own with them. Anakin still wasn’t sure about the whole idea.

“Because of what colour it would be if you did?”

Fulcrum’s presence in the force was sharp, inquisitive and jaded. Perhaps she took Anakin for a Sith. He could hardly blame her if she did.

He didn’t know, exactly, the sort of man he was. His darkness was far too great to be wiped out, no matter how many lives he saved. Everyone in Ranov’la knew it even if, other than Dogma, they weren’t willing to say it to his face.

“That would be something the Kyber would have to decide.”

“And why don’t you try it and see?” She asked, much as Obi-Wan had, many times before.

“Because it is better, for everyone involved, if the Emperor does not know who stands against him. If I raise a lightsaber again, it will be to end him.”

Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan would face the Emperor until Luke was grown. It was another promise they had made, when they’d decided to raise him together. No orphaning Luke in suicidal attempts on the life of a Sith.

“And your apprentice?” Fulcrum pressed.

How did she know about Luke? How much did Organa know? Anakin’s hands itched for his staff. “I don’t know who you mean.”

“Naak. Does he carry a lightsaber?”

--

Kyr’am doubled over laughing, a weezing, choking sound. The Force roiled with his amusement. Ahsoka felt embarrassment shivering across her montrals. She didn’t even know what she’d gotten wrong, but she knew he was laughing at her.

“You don’t need to be rude about it.”

Bracing his hands on his knees, Kyr’am glanced up at her. “I’m sorry. But if Naak knew you thought he was my padawan…”

So, that was it, then. And they weren’t just friends or associates. Whatever the relationship was between Naak and Kyr’am, it was enough that thinking Naak was his padawan was hysterical.

Well, there was one obvious option. “Were you his, then?”

Just like that, Kyr’am’s presence in the Force vanished again. Ahsoka tallied that as a victory. It felt oddly satisfying to catch him off guard, even if they were probably on the same side. She wasn’t sure what to make of his answer to her lightsaber question, but there had been an honesty to it that she trusted, even if the answer had been non-committal. She thought he genuinely didn’t know.

Immediately changing topic, Kyr’am asked, “what did you want, when you agreed to this meeting?”

A master and padawan who’d survived together. Who were protective of each other. Ahsoka almost hated them for that. For having lived together when all the Jedi she’d loved were gone.

“We wanted to know if you could be trusted. The enemy of my enemy isn’t always my friend. We wanted to know what your true goals were. The strategy of where and when you strike is… opaque, to us. Why did you offer the meeting?”

--

There were a thousand answers Anakin could have given. But he thought back, now, to his first meeting with Obi-Wan, all those years ago. He needed to win Fulcrum’s trust now, just as he’d won Obi-Wan’s trust then. He hadn’t told Obi-Wan he was a Jedi, hadn’t regaled him with tales of heroism in his missions of Kyr’am. Instead, he’d shown him, the whole truth of himself not just in the Force, but in his actions. The first thing he’d done to make Obi-Wan understand the whole, messy truth, was to save Bly. That had been the key, really, to all of it.

“Does the phrase ‘control chip’ mean anything to you, Fulcrum?”

Her expression in the Force sharpened further. If it had been a knife before, now it was a scalpel. “You mean like for droids?”

“Not quite.” Anakin reached up and tapped the side of his helmet. “I mean for people. To make them do things they would otherwise never do. They’re not common, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I assure you they’re very real.”

Her hand drifted back to the hilt of her lightsaber, and Anakin wondered if he needed to go for the electrostaff. It was capable of deflecting a lightsaber, but he hadn’t fought a lightsaber wielder other than Obi-Wan since… well, probably since killing Dooku over Coruscant. The slaughter of the Jedi didn’t count as a fight of any kind.

“You mean the clones,” she said, which was extremely interesting. “What do you want with them?”

“I don’t want anything with them. But Buirkan would like to know how many of them are in your segment of the rebellion. And who, if possible.”

“Buirkan,” she echoed softly, speaking mostly to herself. Her presence in the Force shifted, morphing as she puzzled through the implications of Anakin’s request. Finally, she looked up, a trickle of hopeful light beginning to emerge. “We’ve had reports of Ranov’la agents being clones before, but they all are, aren’t they? That’s why you always send the rebels you free back to us. You don’t need them, they’re not your real targets. You and Naak are Jedi, and they’re all clones. How are you extracting the chips so efficiently before they kill you? How many are there? Which battalions?”

--

Ahsoka wanted to kick herself for not realizing it before. In hindsight, it was so obvious. The names, the armour. They appropriated stormtrooper armour because it was what they had access to, but they painted it. Everyone who met Ranov’la agents talked about the paint. The Mando’a. Even the close relationships with the Jedi made sense.

The only reason she hadn’t put it together was because of the scale of Ranov’la. They were one of the largest and farthest-reaching of all the rebel sects. They had multiple bases, so many men. It had never occurred to her that it would be possible to free so many of the clones. Certainly not for a Jedi. To pull out a single man from imperial lines would have required a tremendous effort, and carried real risk. It was hard enough to extract imperial prisoners who weren’t also actively trying to kill you.

Kyr’am fidgeted with his weapons belt again, the little sun becoming visible once more. “We don’t extract the chips unless our medic deems it necessary for physical or psychological reasons. There’s a Force technique for crushing them into non-function without causing permanent brain damage. It’s delicate, but very possible. I did it to Buirkan a decade ago, and he’s still alive and kicking. But it seems like you already know removal is possible. Is that how you survived Order Sixty-Six?”

Ahsoka nodded. If what he was saying was true, and she hoped and prayed it was, then the pretense was over. She needed to see if any of her friends were still alive. She needed to reunite Rex with whatever was left of his family. “My Commander and I escaped. Faked our deaths together and went into hiding. And you? How did you survive?”

--

What did he tell her? It would be so easy to lie, to make Obi-Wan’s story his own just for this moment and win her trust. But if he did that, and the truth came out – as it would have to, since Organa knew what Anakin had become – then she would distrust him completely.

Obi-Wan should have come, but, of course, they had never thought for an instant that they were sending him to meet a Jedi. A Jedi who already knew about the chips, no less.

“I didn’t,” he told her, and felt her shock wash over him in the Force. “I fell. I helped Palpatine execute the Order. I did awful, terrible things that day. Collaborated for six months before I left, faked my death, and liberated Buirkan on Kashyyyk six months after that. We founded Ranov’la by accident, mostly. Looking for people we knew.”

--

Of course he was a collaborator. Only a collaborator as powerful as he was would ever have been allowed to live. She knew already what she had to do, and braced herself accordingly. First, though, she needed knowledge.

“Drop the shields, Kyr’am. Show me who you really are.” The hilts of her lightsabers were heavy in her hands.

--

So much to lose, so much to gain. “I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

And she was on him so quickly that he had to fling himself back with the Force to have time to block with his staff. The lightsabers – brilliant, beautiful, not red at all – hissed and cracked off of the electrified surface. Anakin deflected them into the ground and, side-stepping Fulcrum, whirled the staff dramatically in front of him.

This kind of thing never would have happened to Obi-Wan.

“I can’t undo what I did,” he told her, retreating backwards across the platform towards her ship, “But I assure you, I lost people to the Emperor just the same as you did. My padawan was–”

Fulcrum grabbed the staff with the force, hooked her lightsabers over it, and leapt over Anakin’s head to press a blade to his neck.

“Your padawan,” she snapped, “is absolutely kriffing fine.”

Since Luke wasn’t here, and Obi-Wan couldn’t scold him, under the circumstances, Anakin felt absolutely justified in saying, “oh fuck.”

--

It couldn’t be true. Anakin. Fallen, alive, here, thinking she was dead. Rescuing clones, why, who? Did he have any of the 501st with him? That meant – it had to mean – that Naak was Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, who was also supposed to be dead. No, it couldn’t be true and yet his reaction, when she implied her identity, was all Anakin.

She could have killed him. She probably should have killed him, after what he’d done. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t, not with the way the Force had burst into radiant colours at the knowledge that she was alive. Not with the way he’d dropped the electrostaff, leaving himself at her mercy. It was that vulnerability, the willingness to die at her hand that truly convinced Ahsoka that it was real. That he could be here.

She turned her lightsabers off, and pushed him away. He fell to the ground beside his abandoned weapon with a heavy thud.

He was whispering something, again and again, voice muffled by the helmet and breathing apparatus. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

“Thank you.” Perhaps he was speaking to the Force.

There was so much she wanted to ask him. A thousand impossible questions.

“Why?”

--

It was just what Obi-Wan had asked him, on the other side of the galaxy in the pre-dawn light on Tatooine where Anakin had found the greatest miracle of his life. His answer was clearer now than it had been then.

“He convinced me that Padmé would die without his help. He offered me the power to save her, convinced me that the Jedi would turn me away, and I believed him. I believed him, and I wanted the power to stop people from dying. To stop losing people.”

Ahsoka reached up, and lifted away her mask and vocoder together. When she spoke, her voice was entirely her own. It took everything Anakin had not to let out an audible sob at the sound.

“I don’t think that worked.”

“And that was why I left. Padmé was dead. I thought our child was dead. I thought Obi-Wan was dead. I thought you were dead. Rex… is he alive?”

“Yes.”

Cody was going to be so kriffing happy. And Luke. Luke had practically been raised on stories about Ahsoka and Rex. They’d been the only people who basically everyone on base agreed were good role models, were dead enough to not be embarrassed about it, and nobody on base had personally killed.

“I thought he was dead. I thought everyone was dead.”

“So you faked your death and started Ranov’la. You mentioned.”

Yes, but, “with Cody, Ahsoka. I faked my death and started Ranov’la with Cody. He’s the Director. And then I ran into Obi-Wan a few years later. He’s Agent Naak. He’s alive.”

--

Of course it was Cody. Running the most well-managed rebel organization in the galaxy. There were few things Ahsoka could imagine more piercingly terrifying than Anakin, with nothing to lose and Cody, with everything to gain, working side by side. No wonder Bail was so concerned about the Ranov’la. He’d been right to be. They could have brought the galaxy to its knees, if they’d wanted to.

But all they wanted, apparently, was their family back. All things considered, there were far worse demands.

--

“This is Fulcrum, checking in. I’m going to be out of reach for a few tendays. The Ranov’la are trustworthy and… well, very dear to me. I’m not in any danger. Sometime in the next two days, Ranov’la Vice-Director Saviin will be in touch with you on this same channel to negotiate further cooperation with the Ranov’la. None of their aims run contrary to ours. In fact, they align very well.”

--

“Agent Kyr’am transmitting re-entry code now.”

“And Vice-Director Saviin’s code?” Static. “Kyr’am, where is Vice-Director Saviin?”

“She’s visiting her sister, Buirkan.”

“Fulcrum reporting in her place, Buirkan.”

A crash. The ear-destroying sound of a microphone being grabbed away from someone. A protracted period of silence.

“Ahsoka?”

“Hey, Master Obi-Wan. It’s been awhile.”

Notes:

Well, uh, that’s the fic? Thanks to everyone for sticking with it and kudos and all of your comments (thank you so much for those!) I do have something else set in this universe nearly ready to be posted next week, which I know I’ve already discussed with many of you called “Luke Skywalker’s Guide to the Ranov’la”, a helpful list from sixteen year old Luke Skywalker of some of the important personages of the Rebellion, and of the Skywalker family.

As always, I am happy to chat about the fic!!

Notes:

I had /no idea/ how to tag this fic so I’d appreciate any suggestions?

Also: I would love to talk about this AU with folks so drop a comment if you want me to ramble at you or answer any questions!!!

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