Setting: Tipoca City, Kamino | Secure Barracks | Cloning Chambers
Time: Just Before the Jedi Arrive
Bo-Katan crouched atop the spine of a Kaminoan transport rail, the wind slicing past her helmet. Rain poured in vertical lines, the perpetual storm of Kamino hammering her crimson armor.
She raised a clenched fist. Behind her, three stealth squads—each handpicked—stopped in perfect silence.
Through her visor, Bo switched to infrared. The massive cloning facility ahead glowed with biothermal activity. She saw it now:
Rows of young men in formation, blank-eyed and perfect.Two generations nearly matured, the second batch barely beginning their combat imprints.Separate rooms marked ARC-Phase Simulation—elite training already initiated.Automated systems humming in precision.A war, already born, just waiting to be named.
Bo's jaw tightened.
This isn't Mandalorian legacy… it's genetic slavery.
She marked a hallway with a silent ping. "We move."
They moved like ghosts—slipping through blind corridors, bypassing security cameras, disabling retinal locks with precision.
Then… in one wing, Bo held up a hand. Her visor zoomed in.
Jango Fett.
Alone in a sealed chamber. No armor. Simple black fatigues. A blaster on the table nearby. His back turned.
In his arms… an infant clone. The boy was quiet, barely awake, swaddled in a dark blanket.
Bo signaled her squads to halt.
She stepped through the door, alone, letting the hiss of it closing announce her.
Jango didn't turn.
"Figured someone'd come for me eventually," he said. "Didn't think it'd be a Kryze."
Bo's voice cut through the quiet.
"You gave our culture to a cloning tank."
He slowly turned, expression unreadable. "And you gave it to your sister's pacifism."
They stared.
Bo tilted her head. "Put the child down. You and I settle this. One on one."
Jango's lip curled. "You'll let me suit up?"
Bo nodded. "We fight on our feet. Not as butchers."
Jango laid the infant gently into a cradle in the corner. Then, slowly, methodically, he donned his armor—chestplate, gauntlets, boots, helmet.
And so did Bo.
The room sealed. Just the two of them. Two warriors born from the same fire—but walking opposite paths.
There were no words.
The second the helmet sealed, Jango lunged—a shoulder tackle into Bo's ribs, slamming her against the durasteel wall.
She grunted and ducked under his elbow, slamming a fist into his ribs.
The clash was brutal. Close. Bloody.
Jango struck like a hammer—barely held fury behind steel.Bo moved with precision—surgical, relentless.Gauntlet blades screeched across armor.Elbows cracked against jawplates.Blood splattered the pristine floor as Bo's knife scraped Jango's thigh.Jango headbutted her hard—enough to dent her visor.
Then he threw her into the wall, again.
"I trained these clones to survive," he growled. "What did you do, Bo? Paint armor and make speeches?"
She smiled beneath her mask.
"I did something you never had the spine to do."
She let him slam her again—then brought her gauntlet blade up, stabbing deep under his armpit where the armor was weakest.
Jango howled. Bo twisted the blade.
And then, using the last of her strength, wrapped her arm around his throat and choked him out, slowly, steadily, with the calm of a killer.
He kicked, punched, but her leverage held.
One minute. Two.
And then… silence.
Bo pulled off his helmet. Bloodied. Barely breathing.
She exhaled.
"Secure him," she said into her comm, breath shaking. "He's alive. For now."
Her squad rushed in.
She knelt by the child and stared at the boy.
"Not his fault," she muttered. "None of them asked to be born."
Then she activated her encrypted line.
Onboard the approaching Jedi diplomatic cruiser, Cain sat meditating with Plo Koon and Fay when the signal came through.
He stepped aside, flicked on the private channel.
Bo-Katan's face appeared. Blood on her cheek. Visor cracked. Eyes steady.
"Jango's down. We've secured the infant. He's alive—barely."
Cain nodded slowly, not surprised—only relieved.
"I need to speak with him. Not as a Jedi. As someone who understands what he is."
Bo arched a brow. "You think he'll talk?"
"I think he'll listen to someone who doesn't see him as a monster."
She paused.
"He fought like death incarnate."
Cain's voice darkened. "And now, he'll help us stop one."
Cain, Anakin, and Seris walked quietly down the stark white corridor of Tipoca City, away from the polished discussion chambers where Masters Fay, Adi Gallia, Obi-Wan, and Plo Koon met with Prime Minister Lama Su and his sterile advisors.
"We're going off-script," Anakin muttered, eyes flicking to passing clone troopers.
"They won't miss us for twenty minutes," Cain replied. "Long enough."
Seris fell in beside them. "What are we looking for?"
Cain's eyes narrowed. "Answers the Kaminoans won't volunteer. Proof of everything they're hiding."
They turned down a sealed maintenance wing. Cain tapped a code into the override panel—a code Bo-Katan gave him.
The door opened.
Bo was waiting.
Bo-Katan stood with two Mandalorian warriors in scout armor,. Behind them—subdued Kaminoan techs, lightly restrained, and two datapads filled with stolen archive data.
She turned as the three Padawans entered.
"You're late," she said with a smirk.
Cain grinned. "We had to keep up appearances."
Anakin walked past her, staring through a small glass partition into a sublevel training room, where children no older than six stood in formation, repeating rifle drill patterns with unnerving precision.
"…This is wrong," he muttered.
Seris stepped up beside Bo. "What did you find?"
Bo handed Cain one of the datapads. "Records of accelerated aging, behavioral programming, and projected life cycle."
Cain scrolled quickly.
"Clone mortality by age 30," he whispered. "And they're training them as if they'll never be civilians. Just… weapons."
Bo nodded. "Kamino's been paid well to keep them efficient. The Jedi didn't authorize this."
Cain looked up. "No. But someone did."
They moved deeper into the base. Bo-Katan led them to a hidden sub-level hangar, a storage bay for unused armory prototypes—long abandoned and off the grid.
In the corner, surrounded by her loyalists, sat Jango Fett, bound to a reinforced chair. His armor had been removed, but his glare was still sharp.
He looked up as Cain approached.
"So the little Jedi comes to judge," he growled.
"I didn't come to judge," Cain said. "I came to show you what's coming."
Jango smirked. "I already know. War. Profit. Legacy."
Cain's golden eyes narrowed. "Not the kind you think."
He stepped closer. "I'm not the Jedi Order. I don't serve the Republic blindly. I serve the people still worth saving. You could be one of them."
Jango spat at the floor. "Not interested in being saved."
Cain didn't blink.
Then… he reached forward with the Force.
The room dissolved.
Cain's voice echoed like thunder in the silence of the Force.
"Let me show you how your legacy ends."
In a burst of light, Jango's mind was pulled into a shared vision.
Geonosis. He fights. He dies. Beheaded by Jedi Master Mace Windu. Boba, barely ten, watches in horror—cradling his father's helmet. He grows—hardened, alone, fueled by hate. Becomes a killer. A bounty hunter feared across the stars. One day, he's hunted himself. Broken. Cloned. Abused. In the end, Boba dies forgotten—another tool in someone else's story(Hiding how he becomes the new ruler of Mandalore) .
And the clones…
Used in a war not theirs. Ordered to turn on the Jedi. Slaughter their generals. Die in meaningless skirmishes or are discarded, aging out in back alley slums. No honor. No future. Just silence.
Jango gasped, snapping back to the present. His muscles trembled with rage—but his eyes were changed.
Cain stood still, calm. "You were meant to raise warriors. Not fodder."
Anakin stepped forward. "You wanted a son. Not a thousand slaves."
Seris added softly, "There's still time to make this right."
Jango looked down. For the first time, he was silent.
Cain crouched before him. "You don't have to join the Jedi. You don't even have to like me. But I'm offering you a chance to be part of something that saves more than your name."
Bo folded her arms, watching carefully.
Cain finished:
"Or you can die in the mud of Geonosis, and leave your son to a life of blood and loneliness."
Jango looked up slowly.
"…What do you want me to do?"
Later, in the hangar bay, Bo-Katan's teams prepared for extraction.
Cain stood with Jango at the edge of a landing platform, the rain battering them both.
"I'll help," Jango said quietly. "Not for your Jedi code. For Boba."
Cain nodded. "That's enough."
Bo stepped beside them. "He stays with me for now. I'll keep him out of the Kaminoans' reach. When the time comes, we'll use what we know."
Cain turned to her.
"I need you to take this intel to Mandalore. Hide it. Lock it away until I call for it."
Bo raised a brow. "What if you're dead?"
Cain smiled faintly. "Then make sure the next me finds it."