❝Adaptation is the key to survival.❞

・❥・

In the forest clearing, dappled sunlight filtered through emerald leaves, casting shifting shadows across Nyx's still form. She sat cross-legged on a bed of crushed grass, each blade bent beneath her weight releasing the sharp, green scent of chlorophyll. Her shoulders curved inward, a subtle tell of the psychological weight she carried from Moris - that cursed place where shadows had seemed to breathe and darkness had worn familiar faces. While Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan appeared to have shaken off those psychological chains with typical Jedi resilience, the experience clung to Nyx like a second skin, whispering in the quiet moments when her guard dropped.

The rhythmic crunch of military-grade boots against forest debris shattered her introspection. Captain Rex emerged from between two ancient trees, his white armor gleaming like polished bone in the filtered light. Scuff marks and carbon scoring told tales of recent battles across his chest plate, each scratch a story of survival. His presence brought with it the familiar scent of weapon oil and the metallic tang of recently cleaned armor.

"Nyx, are you ready?" His voice, carrying that distinctive Mandalorian accent all clones shared, cut through the forest's ambient symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. Her blood-red eyes - stark and unsettling against her pale features - locked onto his deep brown ones, genetics-engineered eyes that had seen too much war for their years.

"I...I am," she managed, each word falling from her lips like heavy drops of rain. Rising with liquid grace that made even the most basic movement seem like a choreographed dance, she gathered her shoulder-length hair - black as starless space - into a secure ponytail, individual strands catching the light like filaments of silk. "Let's go. I don't want to keep General Skywalker or Kenobi waiting."

The docking bay assaulted her senses as they entered - the sharp tang of fuel, the metallic echo of boots on durasteel flooring, the underlying hum of generators that vibrated through the soles of her feet. Fives' grin split his face like a sunrise, his ARC trooper armor pristine and decorated with the blue markings of the 501st. "Hey there, angel, are you finally back from your little nap?" The tease rolled off his tongue as he nudged Echo, their identical features a mirror of shared mischief.

Echo's armor bore the same distinctive markings, though his carried more battle scars - testament to closer encounters with death. "Watch it, Fives. You're talking to our angel," he chided, voice warm like honey over gravel. The nickname 'angel' hung in the recycled air between them, a reminder of her otherworldly nature that set her apart from these men bred for war.

Nyx felt her lips curve upward, the smile feeling foreign on features that had grown too used to frowning. "It's alright, Echo. He's right," she responded, punctuating her words with a deliberate wink at Fives that sent color flooding beneath his tanned skin, making the distinguished ARC trooper squirm like a fresh cadet. "Now, let's go."

The assembled team stood out against the utilitarian grey of the docking bay: Obi-Wan Kenobi, copper hair neatly groomed despite the early hour, his cream robes settling around him like calm authority; Anakin Skywalker, dark hair slightly disheveled and mechanical hand gleaming dully under the harsh bay lights; Commander Cody in his distinctive orange-marked armor, standing at parade rest with ingrained military precision; Captain Rex, his dual pistols holstered at his hips, jaig eyes on his helmet marking him as a respected warrior; and the ARC trooper twins, Echo and Fives, their specialized armor bristling with extra ammunition and gear. Anakin's question cut through the pre-mission tension: "Are we all set to head out?"

The response came with clinical efficiency: "We go in undetected through carbon freezing, thanks to R2 and his repurposed battle droids." The astromech droid in question whistled softly from his corner, his dome swiveling to track the conversation. Anakin's nod set durasteel gears turning, each click and whir bringing them closer to their next encounter with fate.

The air in the hangar crackled with Ahsoka's electric excitement, her striped montrals practically vibrating with the force of her enthusiasm. She was a living spark of energy, her presence blazing like a newborn star - until Anakin's words came crashing down like a bucket of Hoth water.

"You can't come with us on this mission, Snips. It's far too dangerous for you." Each word fell from his lips with the heavy finality of durasteel doors slamming shut, his protective instincts wrapping around his Padawan like invisible chains.

"What?" Ahsoka's voice cracked like shattered glass, her large blue eyes widening in a mix of shock and betrayal. She whirled toward Nyx with the desperate hope of a drowning person seeking a lifeline. Nyx stood there, a study in otherworldly grace, her blood-red eyes flickering like dying embers as they met Ahsoka's pleading gaze. Those crimson orbs held ancient wisdom and current regret in equal measure.

"I can't go against Anakin's orders, little one," Nyx's voice flowed like silk over steel, each word a gentle but immovable barrier. She glided toward the carbon freezing chamber - a monstrous creation of gleaming metal and hissing pipes that looked more like an ancient torture device than modern technology. "Do as he says, and we'll see you when we come back from the Citadel."

The carbon freezing tubes loomed overhead like the skeletal fingers of some mechanical giant, ready to embrace their living cargo in a cold, calculated slumber. Each one waited with the patience of a predator, vapors curling around their bases like ghostly breath.

Ahsoka's entire being seemed to deflate, her earlier radiance dimming like a star behind storm clouds. Master Plo's approaching footsteps echoed through the hangar with the rhythmic finality of a funeral drum, each step marking another moment of Ahsoka's forced retreat. The young Togruta's usual springy stride had transformed into a defeated shuffle, her feet dragging across the durasteel floor as if gravity itself had suddenly doubled its hold on her.

As she trudged away beside the towering Kel Dor Master, her small form grew more distant, while behind her the carbon freezing chamber awakened with a sinister symphony of hisses and mechanical groans. The machinery prepared to entomb its occupants in their temporary carbonite prisons, while Ahsoka's silhouette melted into the shadows of the hangar, carrying the weight of her master's decision like a cloak of lead across her young shoulders.

The contrast was stark - the team preparing for their dangerous mission into the heart of the Citadel, while one young Padawan learned the bitter taste of being left behind, her dreams of adventure crystallizing into disappointment as solid as the carbonite that would soon encase her friends.

SCENEBREAK

The awakening from carbonite was a dance of conflicting sensations - burning ice and frozen fire coursing through awakening limbs. For Nyx, consciousness returned like shattered glass reassembling itself, each shard of awareness clicking back into place with crystalline precision. Her pale fingers, still carrying the ghost-chill of hibernation, traced patterns across skin that felt both familiar and foreign, seeking out the knots of tension coiled beneath her surface. The teardrop crystal nestled at her forehead pulsed with living crimson light, each beat a counterpoint to her own racing heart.

The metallic tang of the defrosting chamber clung to the air, mixing with the acrid scent of melting carbonite and the sharp bite of recycled spacecraft atmosphere. Through this chemical haze came Anakin's presence, sweeping past like a hurricane barely contained in human form. "Hello, angel. Snips." Two simple words, casual as falling stars, that shattered Nyx's world into chaos.

She whirled around, her movements liquid grace despite the carbon-freeze's lingering embrace. There stood Ahsoka, orange skin still carrying the grey pallor of recent freezing, working out the stiffness in her neck with movements that carried too much satisfaction for someone who had just committed such flagrant disobedience. The sight sent waves of cold dread through Nyx's body that had nothing to do with the carbonite.

A weary sigh escaped her lips as her fingers found their way to the pulsing crystal at her forehead, its warmth a stark contrast to the ice in her veins. "Oh, Ahsoka, you poor, poor child," she breathed, each word heavy with the weight of foresight's burden. The crystal's crimson light cast dancing shadows across her features, highlighting the concern etched there like ancient runes.

Rex's approach carried with it the sharp staccato of regulation boots against metal decking, each step a percussion note in this unfolding symphony of tension. His normally composed demeanor had fractured, revealing the turmoil beneath as his eyes found his young commander standing where she absolutely should not be. "Ahsoka, what are you doing here, General?" The question emerged taut with barely contained concern, his voice carrying the particular strain of a soldier who has just watched carefully laid plans crumble to dust.

"Disobeying orders, that's what she's doing." Anakin's response cut through the air like a lightsaber through durasteel, hot and sharp and dangerous. His eyes, usually warm with affection for his Padawan, had transformed into chips of blue ice that could freeze a star. The intensity of his gaze settled on Ahsoka with the weight of a collapsing temple, and the young Togruta seemed to physically diminish beneath it, her usual vibrant presence dimming like a star behind storm clouds.

Yet even as she shrank from her Master's fury, that indomitable spirit - the very thing that had driven her to such rebellion - refused to be completely subdued. "Sorry, Master, but I can't let you just waltz into the Citadel without some backup," she replied, her voice carrying notes of both steel and silk - defiance wrapped in devotion. The words hung in the recycled air between them, a challenge and a pledge of loyalty all at once, while the rest of the team watched this delicate dance between master and apprentice unfold with held breath and racing hearts.

The soft chuckle that escaped Nyx's lips carried ancient wisdom and gentle amusement in equal measure, her crimson eyes softening as they settled on the young Togruta. "I am here, Ahsoka." The simple statement hung in the air - both reassurance and gentle reminder of the backup that was already present.

Ahsoka's lekku darkened slightly with embarrassment as she shifted her weight, her eyes dropping to study the ground. "Sorry, Master." The words carried genuine contrition, though perhaps not quite enough to suggest true regret for her actions.

"Hmm," Nyx's contemplative murmur drifted through the air as she turned her attention to the imposing structure that dominated the horizon. The Citadel rose against the sky like a monument to imprisonment, its gray walls bleeding into the colorless clouds above. "Well, no matter, let's get going. Master Piell can't wait."

Anakin and Obi-Wan shared one of their characteristic looks - a whole conversation passing between them in a single glance. Years of partnership had honed their ability to communicate volumes in silence. With synchronized shrugs that spoke of resigned acceptance, they fell into step behind Nyx, their boots crunching against the harsh terrain.

The clone troopers moved with practiced precision, their armor gleaming dully in the weak light as they formed up around their Jedi generals. Ahsoka took her place among them, her presence both welcome and worried over, as they began their advance toward the fortress that waited to test their mettle.