The war had begun.
And already, something felt wrong.
Inside the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the air was quiet—but not calm.
Meditation chambers were rarely silent this long.
That alone was enough to unsettle those who paid attention.
Mace Windu stood at the center of the chamber, eyes closed, hands folded behind his back.
The Force moved around him.
Uneasy.
Shifting.
Unclear.
Across from him, Yoda sat in stillness, his presence like a small, steady flame in a growing storm.
"You feel it," Windu said.
Not a question.
Yoda's ears twitched slightly.
"Clouded, the future is," he murmured. "But yes… a disturbance there is."
Windu opened his eyes.
"The war explains part of it."
"But not all," Yoda replied.
Silence settled again.
Then Windu turned slightly toward the star map behind them.
A single system flickered at the edge of the display.
Mandalore.
"It shouldn't matter," Windu said.
"Mandalore is neutral. Fragmented. Politically unstable."
Yoda said nothing.
Windu frowned.
"And yet… something about it doesn't fit."
Yoda's gaze lifted slowly.
"Growing, it is."
Windu's eyes narrowed.
"Yes."
Not just rebuilding.
Not just stabilizing.
Growing.
Too fast, too controlled, too quiet.
"The Force does not move like this without cause," Windu said.
"Hidden, that cause is," Yoda replied.
Another pause.
Then, quietly
"Watch Mandalore, we will."
Across the galaxy, on Mandalore, Jack already knew.
The command chamber was dim.
Only the holotable casts light across the room.
The projection showed the aftermath of the Battle of Geonosis.
Wreckage fields.
Burned-out droid formations.
Republic recovery operations.
And one marked location.
A single blinking point.
Cassandra's voice was calm.
"Target confirmed."
Jack didn't look away.
"Status."
"Local Republic presence is limited to recovery teams. Jedi have already withdrawn."
"Time window?"
"Six hours before full containment."
Jack nodded once.
"That's enough."
The Spartans stepped forward.
Not all of them.
Just a team.
Six figures.
Silent. Equipped. Ready.
Jack looked at them.
"You're not there to fight," he said.
No one spoke.
"You're there to retrieve."
A pause.
"Primary objective: recover the body of Jango Fett."
For sentiment for legacy, for a brother and control.
"Secondary objective," Jack continued, "locate and extract the child."
No elaboration needed; they knew Boba Fett.
"Rules of engagement?" one Spartan asked.
"Minimal contact," Jack said. "You are ghosts."
The Spartan nodded.
"Understood."
Jack's gaze hardened slightly.
"No witnesses."
The holomap shifted.
A second layer appeared.
Kaminoan data streams.
Clone deployment routes.
Production metrics.
"Parallel operation is already underway," Cassandra said.
"ODST teams have infiltrated Republic logistics channels."
Jack crossed his arms.
"Objective?"
"Full intelligence sweep of clone army command structure."
"Determining true chain of ownership."
Jack's expression didn't change.
But the room felt colder.
"Good," he said.
Because that was the real question.
Not who commanded the army publicly.
But who controlled it?
The Spartans turned to leave.
One by one, they exited the chamber without a sound.
Their mission is already understood, and their outcome was already expected.
Jack watched them go.
Then looked back at the projection.
Geonosis rotated slowly.
A battlefield already fading into history.
But its consequences were just beginning.
"Jedi are watching us now," Cassandra said.
Jack didn't react.
"I know."
"Your actions will increase that attention."
"Then we move faster."
Far across the galaxy, the Jedi searched for answers in the Force.
Jack reached up and locked his helmet into place.
The seal hissed shut. "They think this war just started," he said.
Cassandra's voice was quiet.
"It didn't."
Jack looked toward the stars.
"It just became visible."