Chapter Text
It's a drop of rainwater in an ever-churning sea, a ripple so unnoticeable that it's already forgotten. Then the clouds open, and the rain spreads hissing across the waves.
Kote stops in the middle of the hall, Blockade at his right and Fox at his left, when the storm catches his attention faster than a comm can be raised.
A ship; not one of ours, not one of theirs, entirely new. A Jedi? Jedi, or Tyranus, or Sifo-Dyas, or- Kote. Kote? Kote must know. Tell Kote. Tell-
I hear you, Kote rolls smoothly into the storm and ocean both, above it and within it and its anchor all at once. Show me.
The waves part, ushering. Some reverse against the natural pull and push, guiding Kote along and others eagerly pulling at his metaphorical hands. Welcoming, here: Trace trustingly embraces Kote's request and stares with emphasis at the screen at his observation station.
They were right. It's a ship make not recognizable to the vod'e at this point, but the pilots and engineers won't let that gap in their knowledge last for long.
Monitor, guard; good work.
Trace warms with pride and eagerness at receiving praise and new orders. Kote retreats from Trace's eyes, fingering watchful and waiting threads, murmuring further requests.
The flight deck will be clear and manned, Davijaan assures smartly, and Neyo adds grimly, and armed. Kote sends them both his approval and outwardly turns on his heel.
Fox and Blockade are already up to speed, parting around him and efficiently coordinating and reassigning appointments and activities on the schedule.
Shield, quiet, Kote bids as he walks to the projected landing deck; secret, safe. Vod'e fold themselves away, pulling walls and gates and screens of thousands of colors around themselves, smoothing the ocean's choppy surface to a fathomless, featureless depth. Kote bends more beskar around his ribs, containing the cage, and hiding himself plainly among his vod'e- no more and no less. Safety in numbers. Safety in uniformity. Vod'e an.
With the Bond overwhelmingly quiet, they are all merely bodies.
The vod'e have never walked alone. Kote can never forget how it felt and will never subject his vod'e to such a cruel fate.
He walks with his hands held loosely at the small of his back, unhurried. Blockade peels away to join the watchful security detail, and Fox doesn't budge a centimeter out of step with Kote.
In the silent privacy of his shielded mind, just another knot on a string in the stifled Bond, Kote thinks again that Fox deserves more than choosing to act as Kote's secretary. Fox finds no insult in micromanagement. No, the insult would be anyone implying that he doesn't deserve his place at Kote's hand. Kote keeps his thoughts of deserving silent, but he still believes that Fox would thrive all the better as a hunter instead.
Another matter for another day, or not at all. Freedom has its choices, and Kote spurning those choices to choose for himself is no freedom at all.
The ship outside has begun to land, guided by the lit batons of Thresh and Zone out in the rain to ensure their visitor is herded correctly. The ship has an astromech, red, integrated and matching. The viewing transparasteel window is large enough for only a single occupant.
Davijaan and Neyo shift to include Kote and Fox into their number, and together they wait to see who has come for them at last.
The deck doors spiral open to admit a damp natborn, seemingly presenting male, still clutching at his robe to keep the storm from snatching it away. His hair and beard are not as red as his ship and astromech.
"Hello," He greets them with polite caution, blue eyes skirting along their fully armored forms and over the blindingly white interior.
"Hello," Kote returns equally. "This is Tipoca City. What do you seek here?" There isn't anything but the vod'e here now, but the visitor must state his purpose before Kote reveals anything more than an obvious fact.
"Is it?" Only, the stranger claims unawareness of even this little. "Forgive me, but this planet is missing on all the nav-charts I've looked at."
"Is it?" Kote echoes once more, sparing a smoothing thought towards the whispers zinging from vod to vod regardless of shielding. "And yet you've found it regardless."
The man smiles with practiced chagrin for being uninvited and a shade of determination despite it. "I had a name and coordinates to supposed empty space, only to be proven otherwise upon arrival."
It's seemingly a truth, if not a full one yet, and interesting indeed if wholly true after all. Kamino, wiped from the nav-charts, for what purpose? How were the coordinates attained then, by whom? Enough awareness to find them but unknowing that it would be the vod'e that was found. Not Tyranus or Sifo-Dyas then, at least.
"And?" Kote invites pointedly. "What is it you seek here?"
"Ah, forgive me," The visitor half bows apologetically at the repeated demand. "I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am here on behalf of the Jedi Council. I seek an assassin that utilized a poison that I was told originated here on the planet Kamino."
A Jedi after all, at last. There is- or rather was only one person freely allowed off planet that took jobs such as assassination. The Jedi is here for the Prime, not them.
The realization ripples noisily down the Bond, clamoring louder with each shield it rattles. Kote hushes them, wraps them tighter to him, wills them unheard. Knowing the Jedi is how Kote learned to connect and protect the vod'e. They won't be taken from him; not now, not ever.
Obi-Wan Kenobi doesn't seem to notice anything amiss in the spare seconds he waits patiently to be acknowledged.
"I am CMC-03-02224," Kote introduces, untrusting but willing to conditionally cooperate if the Jedi isn't here to collect what's his. "The assassin you seek is in our custody."
Kenobi and his Jedi Council can have the Prime if that's all they sent him here for. It'll be the easiest price Kote has ever paid for his vod'e's freedom.
Kenobi hesitates, looking solemn. "I see. Forgive me-"
Another plea. A sincere request for allowance or a natborn cultural speech quirk not shared by the vod'e? Fox would know.
"-but do you not have a name I might call you by?"
"My Name is not yours to use," Kote refuses without feeling. "You may call me Marshal Commander or Two-Four if ease concerns you."
He is Kote of the vod'e and only for the vod'e. A Jedi- any and all of them- does not deserve to speak it.
"I see," Kenobi repeats, at least pretending to. He folds his hands into his sleeves. "May I speak with the assassin, Marshal Commander?"
"He's unavailable for dialogue at this time," Kote answers honestly, and gratefully accepts the daring risk Fox takes to quietly slip him a number of proposals. "What is your timetable, Knight Kenobi? I can have the assassin roused for you to interrogate or arrange for you to transport him off planet."
"I'm in no rush if my target cannot escape," Kenobi assures.
Kote can't sincerely say he likes the idea of a Jedi lingering about when the vod'e's control over Tipoca City is still relatively recent, but he supposes that it's something he'd have to stomach eventually. What the Jedi will get, however, is vastly different from what they ordered.
Kote half turns to curl a hand behind Neyo's pauldron. "This is CC-04-08826. He'll show you where you'll be waiting. I will join you shortly."
Neyo further straightens under the trust and responsibility. "Sir." A hand signal has a squad forming up around him.
Kenobi accepts the cue without protest, and if he's disconcerted by an armed escort, he conceals it. The Bond opens by cracks and secretive slivers as Neyo leads Kenobi away, towards the ex-Prime Minister's office to wait.
As typical of him, Fox has a multitude of measures and countermeasures to offer when Kote pulls him close to confer. Inwardly, they share observations- yes, the frequent requests for forgiveness is a cultural, polite phrase of speech against imposition- and suspicions in a tight, narrow band that seamlessly transitions into plans of waking the Prime from short stasis and brought before the Jedi. Outwardly, they only stand with their helms tilted together for a few moments before separating.
Fox departs to handle the Prime's transition, leaving Davijaan and the flight deck crew to watch Kote's six as he delves wholly into the Bond. Kote shores up the hesitant and the shaken as he passes vod'e, reinstating his promise that none of them will be taken against their will. He doesn't have all the answers he wants just yet, but he knows exactly who will lower Kenobi's guard to find what they all need.
Ori'vod, Kote asks softly when he finds AC-099's quiet, gentle presence near buried among the bright, popping sparks of the youngest cadets.
Kih'vod, 99 returns, the only one still awake who can call Kote that. What do you need?
99 is instrumental. 99 was overlooked by the Kaminoans, and he was the key to their downfall.
99 digests Kote's memory of the Jedi slowly and carefully, forming similar thoughts and differing opinions. Alright, he accepts Kote's request, I'll meet you there.
Vor entye, Kote murmurs and receives the equivalent of a gentle pinch for giving needless gratitude. He settles back into his body, turning to drop his helmet against Davijaan's.
"It'll be alright, Kote," Davijaan whispers through the vocoder, squeezing Kote's elbow. "We'll take care of each other."
Neyo is still enroute with the Jedi, stubbornly ignoring the polite conversation Kenobi's trying to invoke. Fox hasn't arrived at the labs yet either.
"Get everyone inside and dry," Kote instructs as he lifts away the handful of centimeters that differentiates their heights. "No one goes anywhere alone until the Jedi is gone."
"Sir, yes sir," Davijaan confirms and peels away to wrangle his men and pass along the message.
Kote changes which wrist he holds behind his back as he walks to meet 99 halfway. He takes his time, fabricating the space of comm calls and coordination that the speed of the Bond replaces.
Save for those off shift asleep and those too young to know or care about the Jedi, every vod knows of Kenobi. They're still universally shielded, but proximity and overlap of those shields will still spread the news faster than straight mouth to mouth. News such as this won't be contained.
Neyo's presence suddenly tightens, shield bristling defensively and warding all else out. His squad immediately follows suit, sealing their shields of gaps, and everyone watching retreats that much more into themselves as well in ripple effect. It hadn't taken long for the Jedi to attempt to pry. Neyo's reaction will likely tell Kenobi that his mental probe has been sensed and summarily rebuffed, but that outcome was as good as inevitable.
Kote wants his vod'e shielded to protect themselves and their privacy more than to prevent discovery. The Bond is far too vast to conceal entirely. Better to only flag as a few anomalies than indicate that all share a certain degree of Force sensitivity. Kote is the original source and the anchor, but he's not the sole bearing stone anymore. He's built their system sturdy from the ground up. The vod'e will endure without him if that outcome proves required.
Kote no longer has a read on Neyo and Kenobi's progress, but he trusts Neyo to handle the Jedi and inform Kote if that changes. Fox has made it to the labs. He must've called ahead, because Kote receives a secondhand report given to Fox that the waking procedure has already started on the Prime's tube.
If only the Alpha Clones could be found and retrieved as easily, but the Kaminoans had secreted away their fears thoroughly. The vod'e's best slicers are working in shifts around the clock to crack all encrypted files, so it's only a matter of time until (Kote's trainers, his mentors) their ori'vod'e are recovered. Kote has waited thus far. He can be patient a while longer.
He breathes through the pain the memories carve into his bone marrow, buries it deep among the rest, and keeps moving forward.
"Kih'vod," 99 greets gently, reaching up to accept the arm Kote offers him. "You're distant today."
"The Jedi's prying mustn't find what we'd rather him not," Kote says, sharing a nod with Colt as the escort of 99 is passed over.
Their only Alpha Clone shakes his head at them both for their protectiveness, radiating exasperation and fondness.
"Ori'vod, your shields," Kote reminds 99 as Colt about faces to return to his duties, leaving the pair of elder clones to walk to the office hosting the Jedi.
"He'll find nothing more than I want him to see, Kote," 99 replies, patting Kote's wrist. "Don't fuss."
Kote quiets obediently. 99 is the only one who can still make him feel small, because 99 was there when Kote was small. When Kote lost everyone else, his batch and his mentors, he at least managed to recover 99. It wasn't nearly enough, but the vod'e wouldn't be where they are today if not for 99. Kote couldn't- wouldn't- have done it alone.
99 strokes Kote's wrist soothingly, because he's always been able to tell what Kote's thinking, no matter how tightly or perfectly he shields. 99 is so strong, to remain so positive and filled with warmth even though he's lost just as much as Kote. Kote... isn't. Mercifully, 99 leaves it be for now. There's always another, greater priority.
Guarding the door outside the ex-Prime Minister's office, Stak and Razor salute upon 99 and Kote's arrival. Kote signs for them to be at ease while pushing faint threads of faith towards their shields. They absorb it, pleased, and remain on guard as the elder clones pass.
Neyo and Ponds are on guard within the room, manning opposite sides with the Jedi seated between them in the center. Kenobi stands to meet them, again bowing politely in greeting.
"Knight Kenobi, I present to you AC-099," Kote says, pulling a chair out for his ori'vod on the same side of the desk as the Jedi. "Treat him with respect or you will be removed from Kamino immediately."
"Call me Ninety-Nine," 99 takes over, sitting with deceptive care and his usual lopsided, sincere smile. "Everyone does."
"It's my pleasure to meet you, Ninety-Nine," Kenobi returns, clearly recognizing that 99 is more personable than Kote as he reseats himself.
Kote stands behind 99 at parade rest, wrist in hand at his back, and leaves the chair behind the desk empty. Perhaps Kenobi will grasp the message of that even before he's told.
"The assassin you seek will be brought here as soon as he's able," Kote reports and then cedes the floor.
"We refer to him as the Prime here," 99 states. "His name is Jango Fett: bounty hunter, once Mand'alor, and our genetic donor."
Kenobi uncrosses his legs haltingly, clearly digesting this unexpected information dump.
"You may ask," 99 encourages knowingly.
"I have many questions," Kenobi agrees, blinking deliberately. "But I hardly know where to start."
"Take your time," 99 reassures like he would to any cadet. "Waking the Prime from stasis and getting him prepared will leave us some time."
Neyo and Ponds are too closely shielded to inwardly tell, but Kote can still read the sardonic amusement in the shapes of their parade rest. It is always satisfying for a vod to hear the reminder of just how thoroughly the Prime had been removed as an issue for them.
Kenobi rubs a hand briefly over his mouth. "How did an once Mand'alor come to be a genetic donor on a planet wiped from the nav-charts? Who are you all?"
"He was hired, and we are his clones," 99 answers simply. "Prior to that and outside of what little he told us, his history and jobs beyond Kamino aren't known to us."
"Hired by whom?" Kenobi inquires, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together between his spaced knees.
"Someone referred to only as Tyranus. We have never met," 99 replies and twists as best he can to look up at Kote. "Perhaps Knight Kenobi's questions might be better answered by seeing the contract."
Kote accepts the suggestion, trusting 99 too much to hesitate. Though this one Jedi may be ignorant, surely others have a copy of the contract. Sharing it again won't reveal anything dangerous for the vod'e. He circles the desk to access the terminal and projects the document in a holo for Kenobi to read.
There is silence for a time.
"The Council has no knowledge of this," Kenobi finally shares, sounding thin. "Master Sifo-Dyas has been missing for over ten years."
Over ten years. Kote doesn't still, because he hadn't been moving, but inwardly he seethes with sudden cold.
"Be that as it may, here we are," 99 says, maintaining his lightness and yet again proving he has the fortitude of an Alpha Clone. "Three million strong and another four million in training, commissioned by and for the Jedi."
Kenobi sits back in his chair, appearing overwhelmed.
Kote has no sympathy for him. The rage, renewed, writhes in his beskar wrapped ribcage. More machinations, more manipulations; all uncaring of the vod'e. Behind his back, Kote squeezes his wrist between the bracer and the gauntlet to bruise restraint into his hollow bones.
Calm, quiet. Not yet.
"Cloning is- but I suppose this isn't Republic space, is it?" Kenobi bitterly muses and then references the hanging holo again. "This Lama Su, here. Is it possible for me to speak with them?"
"No," 99 denies and does not elaborate.
All the Kaminoans have been returned to the ocean from whence they came. The saberjowls hadn't cared where the meat came from, just that the waters had been plentiful with food that day.
Kote could have- but it's done now. He has enough memories to keep his nights company. He didn't need or want the Kaminoans to keep.
Kenobi frowns- Kote redoubles his shielding- and doesn't press the rejection. "May I have a copy of this contract to show the Jedi Council?"
"You may," 99 allows, so Kote downloads the document onto a datachip.
He doesn't eject it yet. There may be other documents that need to be copied as evidence either for or against the Jedi's possession of the vod'e.
"Thank you," Kenobi expresses politely, eyes skirting around the four clones in the room once more.
"Yes?" 99 invites.
"I must apologize again," Kenobi begins. "I was presumptuous earlier with- I'm sorry, I've forgotten your numbers."
Neyo subtly stiffens at the reminder and to be addressed. "CC-04-08826."
"Yes. I apologize again for causing you discomfort, CC-04-08826," Kenobi continues gamely. "It was not my intention to pry. I merely intended to gain an impression of your intentions, and in doing so, I mistakenly presumed that no one was Force sensitive here. It was very rude of me, and for that I apologize to you and your people."
Neyo is not one of the bearing stones in the Bond. Kote fits his fingers back around his bruises.
"So if you hadn't been sensed, would you have still apologized for your intrusion?" 99 asks calmly.
Kenobi visibly pauses, and then steels himself. "Admittedly, no, I would not have. If I may explain...?"
99 nods, permissive. Kote's fingers begin to lose feeling from the strength of his grip.
"Jedi possess empathy- to sense another's emotions. It is, by and large, subconscious. We trust in the Force to inform us of threats, but we must also exercise caution and proactive protection. You are armed, outnumber me greatly, and I have sensed many feelings of wariness and mistrust since landing. By reaching out and attempting to gain an impression of CC-04-08826's intentions in more detail, I have breached etiquette, but I hope you now understand that in doing so, I was protecting myself."
"Thank you for your honesty, Knight Kenobi. We are indeed very cautious of Jedi here. It's understandable if you felt threatened," 99 allows generously, far more generously than Kote would've permitted. This is why Kote wanted 99 here to speak for the vod'e this first time.
Kote just wants the Jedi gone. He's long loathed their would-be masters, and learning that the Jedi are supposedly unknowing slave owners impacts little. The clones exist and the Jedi are responsible. His ribs ache to be loosened.
He makes his own shackles to wear. Not yet. He can be patient still.
His comm blinks at the corner of his visor's HUD. Kote's shielding himself in the Bond (from the Jedi) so severely that no vod can reach him there.
"Kote," Fox starts, his voice tight and livid with worry and tension inside his helmet. "We're escorting the Prime to you now."
The last time Kote had sealed himself off so entirely from the vod'e had been the last time Kote had faced the Prime. The time before that, the saberjowls had eaten well. Fox is smart enough to see a pattern out of just two data points.
Kote ruthlessly tightens his ribs, breathes, and loosens his fingers.
"Copy that, Fox," He murmurs soothingly. "The Jedi has many questions for him."
The Jedi's still alive, unharmed. So are the vod'e with him.
"ETA seven minutes," Fox grinds out. He'll be dissatisfied until he has eyes on Kote again.
He has Bacara, Thire, and Thorn at his six. The freshly awake, unarmed and unarmored Prime will have no advantage or avenue of escape. The Prime won't be running anywhere for a long time to come, even after a bacta soak. Kote hadn't been gentle. The Prime isn't a vod. He didn't deserve gentleness.
Kote reactivates his vocoder from being outwardly muted. "The Prime is enroute. ETA seven minutes."
Kenobi looks to him as if surprised or that he'd forgotten that Kote could speak.
"Thank you, Marshal Commander," 99 answers, deferring to Kote's rank out of respect for the wish to keep his Name only among the vod'e.
The Prime won't violate that. He's never known them as anything but echoes and numbers. He didn't Name Kote. He'll recognize Kote- whose armor is closer to the missing Alpha ARCs than the present CCs and CTs- but he should prioritize his known hate for the Jedi towards Kenobi.
Kote nearly wishes he could be as selfish, but he knows how to prioritize what's truly important. He will never walk alone again.
Kenobi, still self-recriminatory over his admitted breach in etiquette, folds his robe over himself as if chilled and says nothing.
Kote wonders if he's noticed yet that they've let him believe that Neyo is Force sensitive without actually confirming whether he is. Neyo may not be Force sensitive as the Jedi know it, but he'll willingly serve as a distraction for the vod'e who are. 99 had been careful to admit nothing and clever to redirect Kenobi's attention inward.
"Knight Kenobi," 99 says now. "May I ask what will become of the Prime if you take him into your custody?"
"The Council will want to question him as well," Kenobi replies, sure of his footing at least here. "He's tied to an assassination attempt on a senator. After the Council learns of this contract commissioned by Master Sifo-Dyas, Jango Fett will also be questioned on his involvement here and this Tyranus figure who hired him to serve as your genetic donor."
99 nods. "And after?"
Kenobi hesitates. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow."
"Will you imprison or execute him on Coruscant?" 99 obligingly prompts.
Kenobi's brow furrows slightly. "I'm afraid that won't be up to me. I'm not on the Council, nor do I serve in the Senate. Execution is not the Jedi way."
A flaw, as far as Kote's concerned. He watches Fox's text comms countdown to ETA on his HUD.
"Then I must emphasize that you cannot allow the Prime free under any circumstances," 99 insists firmly. "No bargains are to be offered. He is to be imprisoned, or he is to be returned to our custody here in Tipoca City."
"I will pass along your message, Ninety-Nine," Kenobi swears, dipping his head, and promising them exactly nothing.
Conversing with someone who amounts to nothing more than a messenger is a large waste of time, even with certain revelations.
Kote releases his wrist to walk around the desk, past Neyo and 99, to wait at the door for the Gen 4 CCs to arrive with the Prime. He meets them outside.
Razor and Stak are still at attention in the hall, and they subtly react with relief when Kote steps out between them. Kote hasn't worried only Fox by pulling himself so far from the rest of his vod'e. He'll have to make it up to all of them later for the fright. For now, he touches Stak and Razor at the small of their backs in wordless reassurance before he steps out into the hall proper, once more assuming his habitual pose.
Fox and Bacara lead, with the beleaguered and limping Prime behind, and Thire and Thorn guarding the rear. Fox won't reveal any weaknesses in front of the Prime and especially not in Kote, but Kote can nonetheless tell that Fox is infuriated with the belief that something substantial happened to Kote while he was absent.
"You brought me all this way to stand on ceremony?" The Prime asks derisively, hoarse from lack of speech and days of recycled air through a tube. "Dictatorship go to your head that quickly, Marshal Commander?"
As if what Kote was made to do could ever be an insult.
"Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi will see you now," Kote replies blandly, pettily relishing in the expression that crosses the Prime's face before Kote steps aside to allow the CCs to escort the Prime into the office.
Fox stays at Kote's side, latching on demandingly as soon as the Prime won't see. Kote allows himself to be held back. Even with 99 in there with the Prime and a Jedi, there's enough of their best Gen 4 CCs also inside to protect 99 until the rest of them can rush the room when signaled. The Bond will inform them all later of what occurs inside. Kote is patient, and the Prime will perhaps cooperate better if Kote's not there to split his focus.
The door closes, leaving Razor, Stak, Fox, and Kote outside. Fox immediately grabs for Kote's wrists, deliberately higher on the sturdy bracers, and jams their helmets together.
"Let me in," He hisses.
His Fox, always so fierce. Endlessly fond, Kote reaches out and envelops Fox within one layer of his shields. This is the closest anyone ever gets to what his ribcage contains.
Kote freely offers his memories of all Kenobi has said thus far. Fox first devours them, then tears them apart. It's always fascinating to observe how Fox's relentlessly analytical mind interprets data. Every micro expression is identified, catalogued, and reapplied in context to the word choice, sentence structure, and cultural speech differences. Kenobi's body language, entirely different from the clones, what each shift in position means for his mental state and how 99's statements affected him. All of it forms a cohesive picture the likes of which only Fox can truly understand.
While Fox calculates and puts new estimates together for future plans, Kote tucks him close and then reaches out to invite Stak and Razor in as well. Both hesitate, duty warring with curiosity, before Stak surges in to sate his interest and pulls Razor through the cracks with him. They watch Kote's memories just once without the fine toothed comb Fox used.
Huh, Razor muses, discontent at the (yet unproven) declaration that the Jedi are unware of the army that they commissioned.
It's osik, Stak agrees more bitterly, what does that mean for us?
Just the same, Kote reminds them with a mental touch like stroking the spine of a tooka; we are not their army. We are the vod'e, and we'll die for no one but each other.
Vod'e an, both CTs faithfully chorus, their presences arching to press into Kote happily.
Shush, Fox commands and shoos the pair off from clinging; Kote, listen.
Kote does. As ever, Fox has assembled an extensive web of contingencies, even without knowing what other information Kenobi and the Prime may be exchanging. The ones where an amount of vod'e accompany Kenobi and the Prime off planet to secure their interests piques Kote the most. Kote agrees with Fox's estimates that Kenobi isn't trustworthy enough to return the Prime to their custody just on a word that isn't his to give. The mere idea, however, of vod'e leaving Kamino without Kote there to protect them makes him feel ill. This reaction is most definitely why, in most of those scenarios, Fox has accounted for Kote's presence in the party offworld.
Tipoca City is utterly theirs, which makes it safe, and has Kote feeling less ill at leaving vod'e behind while only some of them go ahead. He still doesn't like it- his possessiveness is his most dangerous trait- but he could do it.
The Jedi Temple is on Coruscant- a cesspool of natborns and the seat of the Senate that the Jedi would've had their army obey. Be expendable, identity-less products to die in the place of those natborns so the Kaminoans could make their credits. Never.
Kote quickly, habitually buries the thorns of his whipcrack temper so it doesn't scratch his vod'e, but holding them this closely, they can't miss the spike of possessiveness. Accustomed to him regardless, none of the three recoils. He is theirs as much as they're his. Stak and Razor find comfort in it. Fox gives such a strong impression of rolling his eyes that the pair of CTs audibly burst into giggles. They quickly mute their vocoders, but Kote smiles at the brief sound.
Kote's unlike the rest of his vod'e, for a handful of reasons that include by design and by choice. To be accepted still is a treasure that he doubts he could survive losing.
There is a darkness in him that Kote cannot and will not allow to touch his vod'e. He's cultivated it, sought out more, caged it and leashed it to meet his needs. Pain endured is a power made to crush those that inflicted it.
Kote is patient, precise, and organic bodies are so very fragile. Just a pinch, just the slightest amount of pressure, bursts a blood vessel or snaps a ligament, and the scales tip. Why use a cannon when a scalpel will get the job done so much cleaner and faster, with absolute certainty in success?
Kote is Force sensitive, and he has been surrounded by and embedded in the suffering and death of his vod'e for a decade. He takes on his vod'e's pains as his own, and he'll use it to ensure no one forces them to endure pain again.
He's not a Jedi, but he knows enough from learning about them that if they discovered the maelstrom nurtured within his chest, they would call him Sith. He's read their codes and their scripture, from learning how to shield and control the bursts of Force that's leapt to his rage since he was a cadet. To the Jedi, Kote would be irredeemable. He hates sincerely and fully. He clings to his pain, and he will not release his attachments. He may not have a lightsaber, but he's never needed one to maim and kill those that would oppose the vod'e's freedom. He does not regret nearly enough to be 'saved'.
His vod'e, however, are the light that Kote read the scriptures wax about, the light that he has never felt anywhere else, the light that he would do anything to preserve.
He executed the Kaminoans so they wouldn't murder and maim his vod'e any longer. He confronted the Prime alone so no one else would be harmed. He bruises shackles into his wrists and wraps beskar around his ribs to ensure that he does not endanger his vod'e. He guides and shelters the other Force sensitive vod'e so that none of them end up tainted like him.
The vod'e are light and good. Kote isn't. They're protective, loyal, and so deeply caring of one another. They've suffered and died enough. No more. They deserve freedom and gentleness, and Kote will bleed the galaxy to give them what they deserve, even if he must drown to do it.
Not yet, but soon.