In which Kix figures some things out, and human pregnancies do not happen overnight.

The Republic sends a combat photographer to be attached to the 212th until further notice, citing the need for a morale boost. The clones make up a fake clone, citing the absolute fact that it is very funny. Somehow, these two things save the galaxy.

Stone was a solid weight, a shield for the Guard as much as he was able, built from the stone that he was named after. And if he didn’t have that, what did he have, in the end?

“Commander,” High General Windu says, brows raised in suspicion. “This is the Chancellor’s office holo, is it not? May I speak with him?” Fox stares at the general, and then down at the black smudge on the floor where Palpatine’s body used to be. Slowly, subtly, he shifts so he’s standing on top of it. “Uh,” he says. “…No.”