Darth Vader: Shattered Galaxy

Chapter 7

Vader walked among the various copies of them all. Most were identical, but there were several that stuck out for one reason or another.

An Anakin riding on an Obi-Wan's back, a makeshift splint tied to his leg.

A Qui-Gon with part of his robe ripped off, the cloth tied around a wounded arm like a sling.

A version of Obi-Wan and the Dark Woman sitting on a rock, the latter placing a comforting hand on the knight's shoulder, who looked deeply shaken by something.

A Vader with a missing hand, and an Anakin tinkering with the severed cybernetic.

One iteration of himself was even holding up a Dark Woman, her arm over his shoulder, both clearly having been in a fight...almost undoubtedly with each other.

The theory had been right though; there were sixteen of each in total. But that was still Fifteen too many.

"So?" an Anakin questioned, looking between several groups. "What now?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Was this permanent? Could they somehow recombine? Could they even survive as separate entities if they couldn't?

Vader's instincts told him otherwise. They weren't clones in the known sense. Clones were different people with the same genetic make-up. However, each of these copies was all the actual same people, replicated entirely over a dozen times. Even more, the Force regarded each iteration as all being the same life form. Their connection to the Force was divided between them all, which wasn't supposed to be possible.

But neither was time travel, he privately mused.

"Well, let's try the obvious idea first," Obi-Wan said, walking over to another Obi-Wan and poking him in the cheek.

"What are you doing?" a Dark Woman questioned incredulously.

The Obi-Wan being poked sighed in disappointment and pushed the finger away. "Seeing if two copies touching each other will cause some sort of reverse mitosis. Sadly not."

"I'd mock you," an Anakin said. "But this feels like the situation where the one thing you don't try is the thing that works."

"Perhaps some meditation will offer some insight," a Qui-Gon said as he took a seat and crossed his legs.

"I might have a point," another agreed with a chuckle.

"Indeed I might," a third added in kind.

"He's enjoying this far too much," an Obi-Wan whispered to a Vader, who silently agreed.

Every iteration of everyone in hearing range nodded in agreement, while each and every Qui-Gon took a meditative position. The rest continued to ponder and discuss a potential solution to their problem.

Until...

"Where did Qui-Gon go?" a Dark Woman asked, drawing their attention to where one had been.

"This one is gone too!"

"Ours as well."

"They are all gone," Vader summarized bluntly, looking around the area to see they now lacked any copies of the Jedi Master.

"No, ugh, all of me is right here," Qui-Gon answered, standing up from the tree he- or one of himselves at least- had sat under, gripping his head with a pained look.

"Master!" several Anakins exclaimed in relief, alarm, and confusion.

"Are you alright?" Most Obi-Wans questioned in concern.